Lions of the Sea

4

Adrien Wan Claup walked out of the cabin still talking to his lieutenant and halted, frowning. A group of his men had dropped their chores to gather by the starboard ladder. His lieutenant stepped up to scold them, but Wan Claup spotted the bottoms of a dress among his men's legs and stopped him.

"It's okay, Charron. It's Marina," he said, smiling. "Finish up here and take the royal share to the Governor."

"Aye, Cap'n," the man grunted.

Wan Claup approached the group alone as the men laughed and cheered.

"She's got you!"

"You made it, pearl!"

"I'm betting on her next time, old wolf."

A handsome, fit, blond youngster in his early twenties glanced back from over his shoulder. He saw Wan Claup coming and stepped back, smiling back at him.

Behind him, a sailor in his forties, an old scar stretching across his face, held up two short ropes tied in complex knots, comparing them up close.

"The welcome party was early, Cap'n," said the youngster.

"And looks like it couldn't wait on land," Wan Claup said.

Another sailor in his forties turned to him. "Look, Cap'n! The little pearl beat Maxó!"

Maxó dropped the ropes to fish inside his shirt, growling. When Wan Claup joined the group, all the sailors were putting a silver coin on the hand of the girl who stood among them with a triumphant smile.

Wan Claup swallowed a sigh. Back after three months at sea allowed him to notice how much Marina had grown over the last year. Not only in height. Turning twelve, puberty already showed in a way her children's dress couldn't hide anymore. In a couple of years she'd be an outstanding beauty no man would ignore. And by then, Tortuga was the last place on earth Wan Claup wanted Marina to be—well, save Port Royal; he wouldn't want his niece anywhere near Jamaica's New Babylon either.

The girl saw him and forgot everything to stretch her arms out to him. "Uncle!"

Wan Claup held her tight and turned to the youngster. "Morris, I'm stealing Maxó and De Neill away for a while."

"Sure, Cap'n." He turned to the two sailors in their forties. "Take the captain ashore and come back right away."

"No need, gentlemen," said Marina, and chuckled at their faces. "You don't think I walked on water to get here, right?"

She nodded to the gunwale. The men looked over it and saw the small boat floating by the Sovereign, where two boys rested on the oars.

Marina closed her fist on the coins in her hand. "Now I can pay them. Thanks, old wolf."

Maxó snorted while the others laughed again.

"Let's go, then," said Wan Claup.

He preceded the girl down the ladder, trying to decide what should worry him the most: that his niece had beaten Maxó—who had been born with a line in his hands, give or take—or that she'd done it in order to earn the money, to pay for a service she'd gotten on a promise and a smile.

"It's Morris' birthday tomorrow," Marina said while the boys rowed the boat eagerly toward the docks. "Can we invite him over for dinner?"

Wan Claup wasn't surprised that Marina recalled his bosun's birthday. Morris had been one of the many orphans left by piracy. Marina's father had taken him in when he was six, raising him until he was able to provide for himself. Morris had seen Marina come into the world, and he'd always been a big brother to her.

"Maybe after so many weeks at sea, Morris has his own plans for the occasion," he replied.

The girl huffed. "He can very well dine with us and come back down to Cayona later. Taverns won't be closed."

Wan Claup didn't hide his disgust, hearing her speak like that.

Marina lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry," she muttered. "It's just that I got something for him, and I'd like to give it to him on his day."

"We'll send him a note later." Wan Claup couldn't help a smile when his niece grinned.

"Thank you, Uncle!"

In early 1667, Cayona's docks were always busy as a beehive, and that morning was no exception. Despite being a French colony, Tortuga received people from all over Europe, and conversations filled the air in a hundred languages, even in Spanish.

Wan Claup and Marina made their way hand in hand toward the street running outside the port, parallel to the shore. Soon they saw the small coach waiting outside the general store.

"You came with your mother?" asked Wan Claup. "Why didn't you wait for me with her?"

"She let me go for you. She had shopping to do and she knows I get so bored going from one store to the next."

"I see."

A young woman in her mid-twenties, clad in severe mourning black, waited by the coach. The men walking by would tip their hat at her.

"Doña Cecilia," they would say.

She smiled back every time. Nobody used her French name anymore. Not since she'd wedded the bold Andalucian come to Tortuga to become a corsair for Le Roi Soleil.

She waved her hand high at them. When they reached her side, Wan Claup kissed her hair and helped her into the coach. Marina followed. Sitting in front of mother and daughter, he thought it was hard to find any resemblance between them. While his sister had his marble skin, fair hair and blue eyes, Marina reminded him of her late father more every day. The man who hadn't been only his brother-in-law, but also his captain and his closest friend. Marina had the same bright coal-black eyes and his raven hair.

Wan Claup looked out to escape further reminiscences. It was always good, being back home. The salt in his blood grew upset whenever he stayed away from the sea for too long, but he loved to spend some quiet time on land with his small family.

Something he'd taken time to grow fond of.

Not a year after the tragic death of Marina's father, Wan Claup's wife had passed in labor, delivering a dead boy. Then he'd moved in with his younger sister and his five-year-old niece. But the grief seemed overwhelming on land, and he felt only the sea could wash away the pain of the losses. So he would only come back to land when he had no other choice, and sailed away again as soon as he could.

Until a hurricane had caught him at open sea, and had almost taken his life and his boat. When he made it back to Tortuga, the shipyard's owner told him to get a new boat, for it'd be faster and cheaper than fixing the sorry waste of a ship he'd brought back. But Wan Claup wouldn't have it. He loved the Sovereign too much to just get rid of it. So he told old Lombard to restore it anew, no matter how long it took or how much it cost.

Over those months marooned at home, away from the sea, he rediscovered the everyday little joys of family life. His sister had grown into a sweet, wise woman, a friend he'd never expected to find. And little Marina had received all the love Wan Claup had never thought he'd had a chance to give after losing his son. The little girl loved him back deeply, and soon Wan Claup had taken the place her father had left vacant—that man everybody spoke so highly of, but she hardly remembered.