The Rapier

Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

I broke the surface of the salty water, forced to kick my legs to keep afloat, and spun wildly, disoriented and infuriated. The Fortuna bobbed in the ocean beside me, and two men with longbows stood at its side their arrows pointed at me. Any chance I had to climb back aboard my ship and rescue Elena was lost, and I would be no good to her dead. Surely my life and the promise of gold was the only thing keeping Elena alive as it were.

I shuddered to think what would become of her as I swam towards the dock, unable to look back for her without breaking down in tears. She was crying, her anguished sobs of my name too much for me to bear. There was nothing I could do but climb the dock hand over hand and pull myself ashore, walk the empty dock to the mainland and leave my love, my life, behind. Not only did Byron have my rapier, the sword my father had given me on his deathbed, but he held Elena, and I couldn't allow myself to believe that she would be at all safe while I was gone. I pressed my curls out of my face and wiped the hot tears from my eyes.

i I am Remy De Saviola, pirate lord of the seas, /i I thought to myself. I already had a plan. It was dangerous and unlikely to work, but it was the only way I could save everything. Elena had to wait only until night fell. I would find a place to hid out of sight of the Nuevo Fortuna, and then steal aboard as soon as possible, find Elena in the brig, kill Byron and retrieve my rapier, and then explode the ship with good timing and a little luck.

The hardest part now was just to wait. The Lost Island sat in the most arid of climates, where winters were mild and summer temperatures induced madness. Millions of flies seemed to inhabit the shady spot where I rested and planned, wishing for even a glimpse of Elena through the slats of the crates I hid behind. The only thing I could make out were the armed watchmen who scanned the water with drawn crossbow in search of me, or anyone else who would approach the ship by sea. I'd have to swim deep and fast if I wanted to avoid their arrows that night.

The heat of the afternoon only started to cool once the sun fell below the horizon, and the clouds reflected pink and orange light. By then I was sitting, leaning against a crate, half asleep, trying to decipher a conversation that had been going on for two hours now in English, a language I rarely spoke.

The Lost Island began as a settlement for exiled criminals and political refuges hundreds of years ago, when my father's great great grandfather Lord De Saviola sat upon the throne of Spain. It was he who exiled hundreds of his own disobedient peasants in response to an uprising he had neither the time nor the resources to combat.

Over the centuries the Lost Island became home to pirates and smugglers, a waypoint between two highly populated countries, and a perfect stop along a trade route Oporto to any town near Madrid, in Spain. Then, when slavery became outlawed in most places, and frowned upon in most others, the Lost Island was the easiest place to sell men, women, and children without a provost to oversee all transactions. It was the biggest black market hub, the busiest stopping point for illegal activities, and the most dangerous place this side of the sea. And since the Lost Island was the perfect place for black market crime, the language most often used switched from traditional Spanish, to slang, and then to English, spoken by prosecuted Protestants of Britain.

Needless to say I was alone in the world without a friend. I relentlessly repeated my plan in my head, hoping to work out all of the kinks before I ever took the first step.

When it came time to wade into the calm dock water and disappear below the sea line I was ready. I waded in the shadow underneath the dock for a long moment, regulating my breath. It would take a long time to swim underneath the Nuevo Fortuna, but it remained necessary. I dunked my head under the water and peered out in the darkness. The murky water remained a hazard, but the faster I rounded the ship the faster I could be up the anchor and into the brig, where Elena was sure to be.