**English version of the WATTYS 2019 WINNER story**
1672, Caribbean Sea.
He lost everything for her. She risked everything for him.
But maybe love is not enough to bridge over so many deep differences between them, and the only way for them is goodb...
Morris and Dolores hung wide hammocks for her and Alma in the cabin. She was reluctant to explain Marina's attitude, saying it wasn't her place.
"You should ask her," she said. "I'm sure she could use a chat with her best friend."
Alma wouldn't leave Castillano's side and Marina had declined dinner, busy below deck, helping Bones. So Morris had dinner with Dolores and Alonso, the three of them looking for any subject to talk about in order to avoid mentioning the battle against the frigate.
Along with Marina's chest, Cecilia had put up another one for Dolores. There was no room for the luxury dresses she liked, but the new, quality clothes she found there comforted her more than any fashionable garment. Especially because she didn't need help to get dressed and undressed.
However, Morris didn't offer that kind of assistance. When they were left alone in the cabin, they readied it for the night and he took Dolores hand to kiss it.
"I'm afraid I lost that beautiful heart-shaped brooch you sent me," she said.
Morris smiled. "Right now I can only offer you this one," he replied, guiding her hand to his chest. "But if it's not enough, I can find a brighter one for you to use."
To his surprise, Dolores blushed, a wet spark in her green eyes. She looked down with a slight frown. "I... I have nothing to offer to you," she muttered. "My husband took my fortune, I was never able to conceive, I even think I'm older than you..."
Morris pinched her chin gently to make her face him. "Do you think I care?" he asked. "I only want a chance to love you and make you happy. And if we find it good for us, we can build a life together. If not, nothing will chain us to each other."
Dolores breathed deep, controlling her feelings. She didn't remember any man speaking to her so frankly and with such affection in her whole life. "Don't you mind that maybe I can't give you any children?"
"Our occupation leaves enough orphans to fill a house with children whenever we want." He smiled, and kissed her forehead, because she was too moved to answer. "Try to rest. You're safe now."
Dolores managed a nod. Morris kissed her hand one last time and left the cabin.
As soon as he got back on deck, he heard the sweet sound of Oliver's flute flowing from the maintop, playing a melody that seemed designed to make a rock weep.
After the battle, the Phantom had taken a long tack northwards. Now they had to keep a northeast course to sail around the Yucatan Peninsula. Morris made sure Philip and the other pilot had it under control, then he checked the night watch men were all sober and sharp. Those were heavily-traveled Spanish waters, on a course that would take them near the coast. They wouldn't be safe until they circled Catoche Point. Only then they would leave behind that strip of sea, about a hundred-mile wide, between Yucatan and the western end of Cuba. And that would take them almost two more days.
He grabbed a line to climb to the gunwale, looked ahead for a moment and stepped on the first ratline.
Oliver didn't pause his melody when Morris' fair head showed by his legs. Morris folded his arms on the platform and rested his chin on them, looking up at Marina. The girl was sitting with her back against the mast, her legs stretched and her feet hanging over the platform's edge. She chuckled under her breath when she saw Morris, messing his hair. She turned to Oliver and nodded. Morris hoisted himself to the platform to give the pirate room to climb down. When they were alone, he sat by Marina in silence.
The Phantom was so weatherly that they felt only a little sway up there. It was a warm clear night and the wind blew gently, cooling the heat of the day. Marina leaned to rest against Morris' side and he rounded her shoulders with his arm.
"Feel like telling me what happened?" he asked.
She shook her head.
He let the silence pool for a couple of minutes, until he heard her sigh.
"Don't let it rot inside, my pearl. You have better things to do than waste your energy in dragging a burden that's not yours."
"How do you know it's not mine?" she muttered.
"Because the papagayo lice know you."
The girl giggled, patting his chest. "You're traumatized."
"Tell me about it. I still have some left, if you want."
"Argh!"
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Sunrise found them up there, still talking.
Pierre soon called them to breakfast, like they were children. Dolores was still sleeping, so the cook improvised a table for them on the bridge, with a barrel and stools, where he served tea, orange juice, cold meat and cheese. And an apple pie that earned him a world of praise and gratitude from Marina.
The morning crew came up to the weather deck in no hurry, still yawning and rubbing their eyes, chewing the last breakfast biscuit. The night shift left their post, intending to get a bite before going to sleep. The sun, still low over the horizon, gilded the sea before the Phantom, warming up the steady east wind. Sisal's shores drew a dun line astarboard.
Marina and Morris lingered at their barrel table after breakfast when Alonso and Alma showed out the fore hatch, holding Castillano up. They helped him go to the gunwale and sit on a roll of ropes, his back against the first starboard cannon, face to the bows.
"What is he doing up?" Morris murmured.
"Do you remember Maracaibo? What was your way to break my fever?" Marina replied.
"Taking you out, even it was only a boat in a lake."
She smiled. "Castillano spent the last two months locked up in his house."
"Oh, well, makes sense."
Alonso left Alma with his friend and headed for the bridge in no hurry. Marina greeted him with cup of tea, which he thanked with a quick smile. Morris offered him his stool.
"Would you bring them breakfast, please?" Marina asked him.
She didn't say who she meant, but she didn't need to either. Morris nodded with a wink and left her alone with Alonso. The girl turned her gaze to the sea.
"What are you going from here?" she asked after a long silence.
Alonso kept his eyes on his slice of pie, that tasted delicious. "While you were away, I got in touch with a merchant in Santiago," he replied in his calm, composed way. "He's an operator who knew Hernan's father and he trades all over the Caribbean, from New Spain to the last of the Windward Islands.
Marina just nodded.
"He's a pretty special man. He offered to employ us both. He doesn't care we're wanted for treason, and I don't think the heresy charge would bother him."
"So you're becoming merchant sailors," Marina said with a mild smile.
"At least we'll keep sailing."
"And you will live there, in Santiago."
"Yes. Don Carlos said he will give us a house to live."
Marina looked up at the rigging, observed it for a moment and nodded again. "We can be there in five days."
"I had thought you could take us to Port Royal. Guess we can find passage to Santiago there."
Marina smiled wider, a little mocking. "If somebody recognizes the Lion, the only place you're going is the slave market. If you're lucky to stay alive. I'm taking you to Santiago."
