Lions of the Sea

46

Marina went back to the cabin with a copper pot full of hot water. Castillano spun around when he heard her, startled once more. She left the pot on a wooden plate on the table, thinking the Spaniard looked like a touchy cat, jolting at every noise he heard.

It was plain to see he wasn't afraid, despite his situation. What was getting on her nerves was that he looked astonished all the time. What had he expected? To be loaded in chains and locked up in the hold? To be beaten and tortured? She shook her head to herself, opening the small cupboard by the bookshelf. That was what they did, the Spaniards, always leaving a bloody trail wherever they went.

Castillano frowned when he saw her grab a china cup and a jar with loose-leaf tea, a spoon, the sugar pot, and put everything on the table by the pot, along with two clean white clothes.

"You'll have to fix your dressing yourself," she said. "My surgeon is too busy. And I don't have servants to make your tea."

She left the way she'd come, not even glancing at him. Castillano needed a moment to notice he was gawking at the things on the table. Good Lord, he really wished it were all a dream, and Alonso's snores would wake him up like any other night.

He dropped a pinch of tea in the cup and filled it with hot water, then he wetted one of the clothes in the pot. The wet fabric smelled of lavender. He left the blanket on the back of a chair and unbuttoned his shirt. Only then he noticed the small blood stain below his left shoulder. Something she seemed to have noticed before him.

Under Castillano's feet, the main deck looked like a hive. Marina had the men with minor wounds look after the ones with grave injuries, so everybody able to work could help with the repairs and the bottom pumps. They needed to fix the Phantom's hull as soon as possible. Until they did, even that simple spring storm could send them down.

The girl was everywhere, helping Pierre to deliver warm water and cut more bandages, assisting Bones to stitch a wound, joining those that cleaned the rubble.

She took a break to bring Morris hot wine. He was sawing boards a few steps away from the largest hole in the hull. All of a sudden the deck was filled with menacing growls, and they heard the distinctive shuffle of unsheathed blades. They turned together and found all the pirates looking aft with knives and even swords in their hands. Marina snorted and brushed past them. Morris followed, curious.

And there he was. Castillano had come down the cabin ladder, stopping when he saw the pirates' hostile attitude.

"What's this, gentlemen?" she asked, irritated.

"The Lion, pearl!" Jean replied, pointing at him.

"I have eyes on my face, Jean. So what? Let him do whatever he wants. We've got more important things to do."

They all gawked at her.

"But it's the Lion!" Gerrit insisted.

Marina snorted again, one hand on her hip and the other pointing at Castillano. "Look at him! Does he look dangerous? It's a man, gentlemen, flesh and blood. And only one good arm. What're you afraid of? That he might take the Phantom over?"

Morris chuckled, and those around him did the same. The Spaniard still stood halfway down the ladder, and Marina's words had made him stiff as if she'd slapped him. Especially when the pirates traded quick looks and lowered their blades.

Marina clapped her hands. "Come, come! Back to work, gentlemen!"

The pirates turned their backs to Castillano and resumed whatever they were doing. He was trying to decide whether he should feel relieved or take mortal offense when he met Marina's scowl.