Lions of the Sea

58

Marina wasn't surprised when the next time the locker door opened, it was to let two soldiers in. She stood up. Overnight, using her teeth and fingers, she'd managed to open small holes along the rips of her shirt. Since some stray miracle had kept the ribbon hanging from her messed braid, she'd woven it through those holes so she didn't need to grab her shirt to keep it closed anymore. Which was good, because the soldiers gripped her arms and pretty much dragged her out of the locker. They strode so fast that she didn't have a chance to even see her men's faces. But she did hear their insults at the soldiers.

They took her all the way up to the weather deck. Marina tripped out of the hatch, blinded by daylight, which she was seeing for the first time in three days. They wouldn't let her shield her eyes with her hands, so she could only lower her head and keep her eyes almost closed while the soldiers dragged her forward.

They locked her chain to the first cannon on the larboard side, spun around and left. Marina straightened up slowly, her eyes still half-closed, and she didn't fight a smile. The sun was still low on the horizon and there was no trace of clouds. She could tell that was one last gift from Castillano, but she didn't dare to look around for him, just in case her smile got him in trouble. So she sat on the cannon, her back turned to the rest of the ship. Lucky her, the way they'd locked her chain allowed her to rest her arms on the gunwale. She lifted her bare feet to the gun base, turned to look east and forgot about the rest of the universe to enjoy the sea, the wind and the sun.

Lorenzo saw her on his way to the bridge and frowned. "Did you already gave her a ring?" he asked, joining Castillano and Alonso.

"They're still negotiating the dowry," Alonso replied.

"Maybe it's our last chance to get him married, with that temper of his."

They kept teasing Castillano, who chuckled as if nothing they said had anything to do with him.

Marina spent the whole morning there, still as a statue, while the Trinidad sailed into the Gulf of Venezuela. The sun had just reached its zenith when La Barra showed up ahead. It was a strip of land that seemed to close the access to the Lake of Maracaibo behind it. And at its end, the Spaniards had built the San Carlos fortress, or castle, as they called their forts.

Marina tried to ignore it. Nothing, nobody could change what would happen there, and she didn't want to spoil her last minutes with the sea. Behind her, the whole crew worked on the mooring tasks, while the sturdy walls of the castle loomed taller over the frigate. Soon the soldiers came back for her, and one of them grabbed her while the other released her chain from the cannon. She risked a glance at the bridge as they took her toward the larboard ladder. She saw Castillano frowning as he talked to two other officers. One of them was the one with him on the Lion, and when he'd boarded the Phantom. Looked like they were pretty close.

"And why can't you send your lieutenant?" Castillano argued. "I had plans!"

The other two pursed their faces, like asking what the hell he was talking about.

"My lieutenant is staying in charge of the Trinidad, and I have to go see the governor, to tell him about the gift we're bringing him and see what he wants to do about it." Lorenzo patted his arm. "I'm sorry, Hernan. You two are the only ones I trust to take the prisoners ashore."

Castillano rolled his eyes and snorted, annoyed. Just when he'd thought he'd gotten rid of the child for good, that Lorenzo jerk made him her escort!

"I'm leaving in twenty. You guys go ahead. But keep them near the docks, in case we have to take them to the city."

"Yes, darling," Castillano growled.

Alonso headed down the bridge. "I'll go get them."

He passed by Marina, and she couldn't help noticing the way he glared at her. Then the soldiers made her turn around to climb down the ladder to a boat waiting by the hull. She met Castillano's eyes one last time. He watched her with a disgusted grimace.

They made her sit in the middle bench, surrounded by a dozen soldiers with muskets, pistols and swords. She kept her face up to the frigate, waiting for her men.

But the only one that came down the ladder was Alonso, who sat at the tiller behind her and loosened the line, commanding the oarsmen to row.

The girl glanced back from over her shoulder and saw no trace of her men.

Only when they moved past the frigate she saw them, on another boat rowing parallel to hers, with Castillano in full uniform standing at the bow. The pirates saw her too, and the girl had to signal them to stay put. The boats kept a dozen yards in between them, but Marina's eyes stayed on her men, smiling as much as she could.

They kept her apart from them until they were all taken to a walled yard inside the castle, close to the dock. Only then she was allowed to join them, inside a tight circle of soldiers that stood only three steps away from them. As soon as they left her there, Morris raised his chained hands to make room for her. She stuck to his chest and held the other pirates' hands with a reassuring smile. She whispered she was fine, but she couldn't say anything else because the soldiers ordered them to keep quiet, raising their muskets with menacing scowls.

They weren't allowed to speak, nor sit. But none of them complained. Marina stayed in Morris' protective embrace, her head resting on his chest. Being with him, with the other four just a step away, was the most comforting thing in the world for her. It allowed her to gather her courage for what lay ahead.

It was a hot noon, and the Spaniards left them there for a couple of hours. Their only comfort, despite their being weak, sweaty and thirsty, was that their guards weren't having a better time in their thick uniforms and fully armed.

Finally they were taken back to the dock, where they boarded a boat all together. It headed south into the Lake of Maracaibo. Two more boats full of soldiers escorted them, led by Castillano and Alonso. Sitting with Morris, Marina risked another look at Castillano. He was standing at the bow again, dressed up in his best uniform and locked up in a sullen silence. He never even glanced at the prisoners.

Soon the boats slowed down to dodge the ships moored near the harbor and the small boats and canoes that came to welcome them. After the slaughters carried out by L'Olonnais and Morgan over the last five years, captive pirates always meant a holiday in Maracaibo. A celebration everybody took part in, no matter their age and condition.

Castillano swallowed his curses at so many people coming to greet them. In the end, that was the whole point of taking the dogs there—showing the citizens that the Armada did its job protecting them. An escort sent by the Governor waited for them at the last dock of Puerto Piojo, around Arieta Point. Still swearing under his breath, Castillano took a look at their route from the harbor to the Governor's palace.

"Damned fools!" he snarled, and had to stop himself from looking back at the child, resting in the blond giant's thick arms as if they were the safest place on earth.

They wanted to show the prisoners off. But in order to make the procession as long as they could while staying on the way to the Main Square, they would have to walk down the whole street running by the port. The area visited by those who worked the hardest and earned the least. The street most of the brothels and taverns opened their doors to. Those brainless wigs hadn't stop to think that parading Marina through that part of the city would only earn the child sympathy and compassion from the poorest people of the colony.

His mood didn't exactly improve when he found the cart that the escort had brought. Great! They would give her a podium to stand on, for everybody to see her beaten face, her ripped clothes and her stray-puppy eyes! But he was wrong. The Governor's idea was even worse! The cart was for the dogs. Marina was to walk behind it, chained to its box.

"Like hell," he replied when the officer leading the escort explained the Governor's plan.

But Alonso's hand flat on his chest forced him to step back. His friend shot a warning look at him and turned to the officer. "Of course, Commander. We'll do as the Governor wants."

Castillano looked away, setting his jaw. There was no point in trying to convince his friend he didn't want to protect Marina, but the morons waiting five streets away with their fancy laced coats and their wigs.