Lions of the Sea

45

Marina took Castillano to the bridge and made him stand where he could be seen from the frigate, the pistol still pointing to his head. It'd been quite a surprise, finding him there. Not only alive, but already on his feet and in shape to fight. One lucky strike.

Castillano stood where she'd put him until the Phantom was a hundred yards away from the Trinidad. Then he leaned forward a little, taking his right hand to his wound.

"Sit," she said. "There, on those ropes."

He did so slowly and let out a sore sigh. Marina stood in front of him and glanced back. They were bringing more lights to the weather deck, for carpenters to assess the damage and set men to start working on the repairs.

"Where are we going, De Neill?" she asked.

"We can only go south, pearl," the pirate replied from the helm. "Sailing too close to the wind isn't safe, at least until we fix the masts."

Castillano kept his head low, his face turned to the taffrail, to conceal he understood what they were saying and heeded every word.

"If you say so. You okay?"

"Aye, pearl, don't worry."

"Where are Morris and Briand?"

"Below. I'll go grab them for you."

"No need."

Maxó went to the bridge with a candle to light the stern lamp. "You should go change those wet clothes, or you're catching a cold," he chided her.

Castillano couldn't help turning his face toward them, but kept his eyes down.

Maxó's chin pointed at him. "You're not killing him today either?"

"That'll depend on his friends."

"Hum!"

Morris joined them and shook his head, anticipating Marina's question. "Twenty dead, thirty wounded," he said in a dull voice.

Castillano heard her suffocated cry and needed to fight back his impulse to scowl up at her. They'd boarded a bloody war frigate! What had she expected? They'd gotten away with it fine enough!

"How's my ship?"

"With damned balconies instead of gunports," Maxó snarled. "And only three working guns on the starboard battery below deck."

"The foremast is damaged," said Morris. "They'll try to fix it in the morning, but we need to replace it."

"And in the meantime, we cannot hoist much cloth," Marina muttered. She breathed deep and nodded. "Then unfurl as much as we can. Forget about setting a watch. Our wounded and the Phantom come first. I want everybody working. Those who can't help with the repairs should help Bones. They'll have to take turns for a one-hour shut-eye."

"Marina, if we keep this course—" Morris left the sentence unfinished with a suspicious glance at Castillano.

"I'm sorry for my friend Charron," she replied.

Maxó let out a rough laughter. "The pearl's damn right."

"Go change, pearl. I'll watch him. Don't you get sick on us, that's the last thing we need."

"You have more important things to do, Morris."

"Away, you snots. I'm watching him."

"Watch, old wolf," Marina repeated, giving him her pistol.

"Aye, aye. I won't touch a single hair of your new friend's head. Want me to bring him a tea, too?"

"I'll be back as soon as I can."