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...
As soon as the Phantom moved away from the first frigate, the Trinidad approached it to help the crew, already jumping to the boats to keep from sinking with their ship. Meanwhile, the three captains saw the Phantom barrel away to the west into the Gulf of Honduras. The second frigate turned half a point alarboard to catch up on that side when she reached the pirate ship.
"We tried by starboard," said Alonso.
"Pay attention, Lorenzo," said Castillano. "You're about to watch the maneuver you don't believe possible."
Lorenzo frowned at his friend's smirk, but did as he said and raised his telescope again.
"There goes the first broadside," Castillano explained.
The Phantom's sails shifted back and the pirate ship resumed her race, barreling alarboard from behind the frigate.
"And there goes the rudder," said Alonso.
"And the last broadside," said Castillano. "To the waterline as well. We were lucky."
"And more incendiary bombs!" cried Lorenzo, seeing the smoke rising from the second frigate's sails.
"Definitely lucky," said Alonso. "They boarded us, instead of setting us on fire."
Castillano lowered his lens and faced the Trinidad's captain with an ironic smile. "And thus, dear Lorenzo, a—how old can she be, Luis? Fifteen, sixteen?"
"Aye, she didn't look older than that."
"This is how a fifteen-year-old girl has sunken half the Windward Fleet in only two battles."
Lorenzo Carreras frowned, stunned, his lips moving without a sound. Castillano patted his shoulder, knowing how he felt out of bitter experience.
"Let's help our men, Lorenzo. The dogs will seek shelter in the keys to patch up their ship, and they'll try to give us the slip at night. You are sure the Admiral and Lucero will be here soon?"
"In a few hours."
"Good, with them we can make sure the dogs won't leave the Gulf if not in the hold of our ships and in chains."
Lorenzo just nodded, still stunned, and left them to instruct his crew. Alonso studied his friend for a moment and raised his telescope again.
Castillano had closed his, blue eyes fixed on the waters west of the Trinidad, where the Phantom had already disappeared. "Did you notice the shots from the on-deck guns fly by her?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Whoever designed that ship is a damned genius." Castillano saw Alonso's questioning frown and shook his head. He stepped up to the gunwale, still scanning the Gulf of Honduras opening before him. He would've laughed out loud. The black-eyed child knew her ship and her crew damn well, and she played hard every time.
Watching from a safe distance the maneuver the Phantom had used against the Lion had allowed him to appreciate it better. And even though he'd hidden it, he was astonished once more. How come nobody had ever used it before? He pursed his lips, fighting back his laughter. The key couldn't be her youth, nor her origins. The secret had to be her being a woman. Just like men didn't kick each other in the crotch, they learned to sail from other men. But who would've lowered himself to teach a girl? So she'd surely had nothing but what little she was able to learn by hearing stories about her father and her uncle. And her own imagination. No limits, no rules. That was what made her formidable.
He realized his thoughts were stained by a respect that vexed him more than he was willing to admit. It didn't matter if she was the best captain of the Caribbean Sea. It didn't matter she was a woman—a child! She was more dangerous a seadog than her father had ever been. She was a threat that had to be captured and punished.
Just like the lady from Santo Domingo had said, after telling him about the child: it'd be a pity when they caught her and hung her. The die was cast. And he'd make sure she fulfilled her gallows destiny.
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Onboard the Phantom, Marina granted everybody a while to celebrate and relax.
"Briand, butcher's bill and damage report," she said then.
"Aye, aye, pearl!"
She congratulated Philip and held De Neill tight.
"Let's hide in the keys at Bonacca, De Neill," said Morris after congratulating both pilots.
"So close to Trujillo?"
"The Spaniards deserted the Bay Islands after kicking the English out. Nobody's coming to bother us there."
Before leaving the bridge, Marina glanced one last time to the east. Like she'd thought, the third frigate was busy helping the crew of the sinking one.
Below deck, the wounded were getting to the sickbay.
"No kills and only a dozen wounded, pearl. Two seriously injured," the surgeon reported. "So you can take care of the repairs, 'cause we're fine here."
The girl nodded, smiling, and headed to meet Jean, patting shoulders and shaking hands with the wounded as she went.
"Only a dozen wounded against two bloody frigates?" Morris repeated, amazed. "How can it be?"
Marina winked at him. "It's no magic, my friend—it's the Phantom."
Jean showed them that all the cannons were unharmed. The hull, however, needed urgent repairs. The three of them checked the damage to the upper works. Several gunports had doubled their height.
"I only had three minor wounded," said Jean. "We stayed low as you said and the balls came in and out without touching us."
Marina caressed the hull, smiling, and turned to Morris. "The Phantom seems designed solely to fight against frigates. See?" She pointed at a broken gunport. "Our cannons are just below the batteries of regular war frigate. So we hit straight their cannons' foot, and their guns hit too high to damage ours. That's why we're better off today than against the Lion, which is similar in size to the Phantom."
Morris shook his head slowly, smiling too. "Whoever designed this ship, he deserves a toast."
"A generous toast," added Jean, making them laugh.
"Of course," the girl agreed. "We should repair as much as we can right now and take a break in the afternoon. We still have a frigate left outside the Gulf."
"Are we giving them the slip at night?"
"Unless you have a better idea. I can't think of any other way to cross to Jamaica in one piece."
"The wind usually blows from land after sunset," said Morris. "That'll make it easier for us."
Jean smiled. "Lanterns off and complete silence, like your father taught us, pearl."
Marina pressed her hand against the hull a moment longer. "Let's give the men one or two mugs of rum with lunch, as a reward," she said. "They'll be fresh by nightfall."
