1670, Caribbean Sea. She's the daughter of a legendary pirate. He's a Spanish captain. Their countries are at war. Their fathers killed each other. And they were destined to follow on their steps.
But sometimes destiny isn't written in stone: it's w...
While the pirates fired back, the Royal Eagle moved to the north, around and away from the battered Lion. As soon as they were far enough, Laventry ordered to turn around, and while at it, he had the gunners unload the larboard cannons against the Spanish warrior. The Royal Eagle turned west, using the Sovereign as a shield to sail past the Lion. And at the same time, the pirates that had remained onboard Wan Claup's ship jumped to the water, swimming for the lines the men threw from the Royal Eagle to climb onboard. The last men left loaded the wounded on boats and rowed on Laventry's wake until they were able to reach his ship.
It was about time.
The second warrior, even dismasted, had seriously damaged two of the small ships, leaving them to sink. Harry's Sparta had sailed past Tortuga's northernmost cape with half a dozen small boats, that barreled to help those still engaged in combat with the second warrior. But the frigates had already shown on the horizon and would be in range within a couple of hours.
Harry let the others go ahead and took the Sparta toward the Royal Eagle. Morris jumped onboard, looking around upset.
"Where's the pearl?" he yelled.
Nobody bothered to answer, too busy setting the ship on her way home.
"Morris!" Laventry called from the bridge.
The young man ran to him. "What happened? Where's Marina?"
"Below deck, I reckon. Wan Claup's injured, boy." Morris' face reflected horror. Laventry shook his head, grimacing. "Go with him. I'll join you as soon as I can."
South of there, Harry managed to cover the smaller ships from the Lion's fire, for the Spaniards were still eager to fight and kept firing their starboard guns. Harry waited for them to rescue all the survivors from the battle with the second warrior and ordered all the ships back and away to the northwest. Behind them, the sails of the Armada's four frigates were only three miles away.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Below deck at the Royal Eagle, Marina got herself a bucket of water and washed herself the best she could. She ripped the bottoms of her shirt and tied the strip of cloth around the cut in her arm. She saw Maxó walk by with Charlie Bones, the Sovereign's surgeon, who followed him soaking wet and dripping water, but with his leather case. She followed them back to the weather deck and to the cabin. Maxó's eyes widened when he saw her there, but fought back his surprise to stop her.
"Let Bones see him first, pearl," he said, closing the door behind the surgeon. "What the burning hell are you doing here?" he asked, lowering his voice. Then he spotted the blood on her shirt and turned pale. "You're wounded!"
"It's just a cut, old wolf. How's my uncle? Is it bad?"
The pirate shrugged. "The bullet went in and out, pearl. That's usually good. But I cannot tell you what it did him inside. He lost a lot of blood and passed out before we could take care of him."
