Lions of the Sea

22

Towed by one of the Armada's frigates, the Lion left the Windward Passage to the west. The hull hadn't taken heavy damage, and the carpenters had used the day to fix the only hole on the waterline. In the middle of the night, only the watch remained on the weather deck. Below deck, surgeons from the four frigates helped tirelessly the Lion's one to watch over the many wounded in battle against the seadogs.

The rest of the crew tried to get some rest. The next day would only bring more hard work, in order to keep repairing the damage those demons had caused. The Lion's men were as proud of their ship as their captain, and they were not willing to be towed to port. That would've been humiliating. They meant to moor in Veracruz sailing by their own means. And that would demand tireless work from every last one of them.

A boat left the flagship and two young men rowed among the warships to the rear of the formation. The Lion caught up with them soon. The men secured the boat and climbed the ladder. A midshipman tipped his hat at them when they reached the deck.

"Everything in order?" one of them asked.

"Everything fine, Lion," the officer replied.

"Thank you, Tomasillo," the young captain said with a quick smile. "May we still have a tea this late?"

"Aye, Lion. I'll bring it in a moment."

"Captain Alonso and I will be on the bridge."

"Aye, Lion."

The officer hurried away and the young men headed aft together, nodding at the soldiers' greetings.

"Thanks for having me, Hernan," said Luis Alberto Alonso when they reached the bridge. He was a tall, skinny young man in his early twenties. "I really wasn't in the mood for Lope's mocks."

Hernan Castillano shook his head, his deep blue eyes moving over the shadowy sea behind the Lion. "Lope has already lost two ships, Luis. It's just a regular thing for him. He can't get what you feel, being forced to sink your Coronado."

Alonso shrugged, grimacing, and gazed at the sea with his friend.

They'd met ten years earlier, at the Academy in Cadiz, and after graduating, they'd left no stone to turn in order to be sent to the Americas together. And they'd made it.

Still trying to believe their good luck, three years earlier they'd set sail from Cadiz, commanding two brand new warrior ships, the Lion and the Coronado, which combined the brigantine speed with the strength and capacity of a frigate. Two jewels of nautical engineering meant to shine bright in the annals of the Armada of the Americas.

But when they arrived in Veracruz, the Great Admiral didn't authorize them to join the Windward Fleet like they wanted. Instead, he said they needed to become familiar with the Caribbean Sea and kept them a whole year patrolling the Gulf of Campeche and "running bloody errands," like Castillano used to said, chewing on his anger.

Only in the summer of 1668, after the English privateer Morgan led a swarm of seadogs against Chagres and Portobelo, the Great Admiral allowed the two young captains to meet with the Armada. But the Fleet Admiral trusted his three-deck galleons and spurned the warriors, that carried only twenty guns. So Castillano and Alonso found themselves back to unimportant patrols and errands.

However, they took their chance on those dangerous waters, and managed to come across more than four unaware pirates. That way they established their reputation among the officers from their own generation, and their elders and superiors didn't take long to follow.

Soon all the King's men admired the quick-tempered young captain with his rebellious blond mane and a warrior with the perfect name to suit him: Lion.