Lions of the Sea

39

The Phantom's crew didn't care about missing the expedition to Maracaibo. All those able to sail and fight where at the docks at sunrise to work on readying the Phantom to set sail, and boarded the boats with Marina and Briand. Morris and Maxó stayed at the dock, in charge of completing the crew among the two-hundred men that showed up, hoping they'd be chosen to sail on board the legendary ship.

Foreseeing that defeating the Lion would bring reprisals, Jean and Marina had decided to relocate three cannons on each side of the weather deck, to have a larger range of fire against tall ships such as frigates. They would've rather add more guns, but the extra weight would affect their speed and maneuverability, and everybody agreed that doing that to the Phantom was a true sin.

That morning, Jean and his gunners were all over the Phantom, making sure the on-deck batteries had been properly placed and tied. Else, the ship's bobbing would let them loose to roll around like unstoppable several-ton battering rams.

The day before, Briand had found half a dozen swivel guns in perfect shape at the general store, and Marina had decided they'd be a great investment to improve the Phantom's armament.

To make it up to his men for not joining Laventry's fleet, Marina decided to set sail to the west when they left the Windward Passage, and they spent the next week wandering between Jamaica and the Cayman Islands, lurking around the routes of the Spanish merchantmen crossing between Santiago and the main land.

"Two preys in six days. Not bad, pearl," said Maxó, raising his mug of rum at the girl. "Maybe soon they'll allow you to use the black flag."

The others laughed with him. It was a bright night, as calm as only the nights at sea could be. Marina, Maxó, De Neill and Morris were sitting near the bow after dinner, enjoying the cool breeze blowing from the east.

"Laventry must be about to leave Cayona, right?" said De Neill.

Morris nodded. "Tomorrow, as far as we know."

"Good riddance," said Maxó, shrugging. "Two more merchantmen like the last one, and we'll have earned more than if we'd joined the expedition."

Marina looked up, gazing at the million stars blinking above their heads. Bones was playing a smooth tune on his violin and the dice and card games were coming to an end. The pirates finished their day.

If Laventry's information was accurate, the Windward Fleet should be near the Gracias A Dios Cape, some three-hundred miles southwest from where the pirates were, and heading south. She trusted that was a safe distance between the Phantom and the Armada, even though it was only one day sailing downwind for the Phantom.

They too called it a day soon after. Only the night shift remained on deck. Morris was about to follow Maxó and De Neill below deck when he noticed Marina had stopped on her way to her cabin. The girl lingered near the mainmast, her face turned to the south. He approached her, curious. She scanned the dark horizon, a mild frown shadowing her eyes, as if looking for something. But there was nothing there.

A chill ran down Morris' back. The only time he'd seen her do something like that had been before the battle against the Lion, when she'd seemed to guess where the Spaniard warrior was before the lookouts even spotted it.

"Pearl?" he tried, keeping his voice down.

Marina took a moment to face him.

"What's up?" he asked.

She shook her head, turning to look south again. "Nothing. I was just admiring the night." She forced a quick smile. "Night, my friend."

Morris watched her head to the cabin and approached the man in charge of the watch. "Keep an eye on the south," he said.