A little crowd filled Cayona's docks when the word spread about a solitary damaged ship coming back, while there were still no news of Laventry's fleet. And more people gathered when they recognized the Phantom. The pirates moored half a mile away from the shore, close to the headland the ship would circle the next day to visit Lombard's craftsmen. They had everything ready to go ashore, and they gathered on deck.
Morris helped Marina up the hatch and the girl slip under her arms the crutches they'd made for her two days earlier, as soon as she was able to stand on her feet. She still wore around her head the white strip of silk the Maracaibo women had given her, and with her mother in mind, she'd changed her breeches and light top for trousers and a long-sleeved shirt. However, she still couldn't wear her boots.
She would've liked to linger onboard a little longer, but she didn't want to scare her mother, sending her men ahead. She saw they'd mounted what they called 'her swing'—a square board hanging from two ropes. They'd used it to help her reach the maintop the very day they'd left Maracaibo. The men heaved the ropes around a sheave and lifted her up to where Oliver waited for her. They'd refused to come back down until late at night, sharing the feeling that they needed at least a whole week up there, enjoying the wind and the horizon, to recover from what they'd been through. Now they'd hung the swing from a block over the gunwale to lower her down to the boat waiting for her.
Marina looked around and spotted Alonso at the other side of the ship. Over that week, the Spaniard had stayed away from the crew, always gloomy and downcast. The girl had respected his attitude, picturing how difficult his situation was. But it was about time he shook the crows that seemed to flutter around him and accepted his new circumstances.
She smiled at him. "Let's go, Captain, before my mother launches a boarding party," she said gently.
Alonso didn't like to see all the pirates turn to him, and he had no choice but join Marina and Morris. Maxó, De Neill and some more already waited on the boat. She rested her hand on the gunwale and caressed and patted the wood softly, that gesture that came to her naturally. She would've rested her face on it, to thank the ship for enduring so much, but she knew that would stir her crew's superstitious fear. So she looked around one last time and sat on the swing.
Nobody told Alonso to grab an oar, and for the first time he felt awkward, not taking part of an activity with the pirates. It'd been a hard week, and many times a bitter, resented regret had overcome him. While angels and demons battled in his chest, he'd confirmed all that Castillano had observed after spending only a few hours on that ship was overly accurate. That crew was like nothing they'd ever seen under any banner, least of all the black flag. And their bond to Marina was out of the world.
But a traitor is always a traitor, and Alonso had expected to be treated as one. However, he'd never been target of murmurs or sneers. He'd been welcomed onboard as a guest of their captain. And like her, they respected his need of solitude.
They were approaching the shore when the crowd opened to give way to a young woman dressed in mourning black, who ran to stand at the very end of the dock.
"Mother!" Marina shouted happily, waving her hand high.
Cecilia waved back and waited there. Her smile faltered when she saw that Marina needed help to get off the boat, and the crutches De Neill handed her. But the girl threw her arms around her neck, laughing, and she chose to leave any questions for later.
She grinned at the others and turned to the grave, distant young man who waited a couple of steps away, so out of place in his Spanish uniform at that pirate harbor.
"Mother, let me introduce you to Captain Alonso," Marina said in Spanish, signaling him to come closer. "He's a friend of Captain Castillano's and he—"
"Will stay with us, of course." Cecilia flashed a warm smile at him, stretching out her right hand to shake his.
Alonso tried to hide his jolt, being introduced like that to the Ghost's widow, and shook Cecilia's hand with a respectful nod.
People made way for them toward the street while Marina argued with Maxó, who complained about her invitation to dinner that night. When they reached the coach waiting for the Velazquez, Cecilia turned to the pirate.
"Rabbit stew," was all she said.
Maxó took a deep bow. "I'll be there, Doña Cecilia," he replied while the others laughed.
Marina made a discreet sign for Alonso to get in the coach too, trying to not look too amused at the Spaniard's surprise since he was introduced to her mother.
Alonso sat in front of them and kept his eyes down, his brow slightly furrowed. He'd never thought Castillano's name would open any door in Tortuga. Especially not one with the Velazquez, considering there was no way Marina's mother knew what his friend had done for her daughter.
Before Cecilia could ask a single question, the girl said, "I'll tell you everything later, Mother. For now, you only need to know that I'm here only thanks to Captain Castillano and Captain Alonso here, despite himself."
Cecilia turned to him and he was forced to face her. She leaned a little to cover his hands with hers and smiled at him once more.
"And for that I'm in your debt forever, Captain. I truly hope you won't regret it much, nor much longer. Whatever mercy and generosity lie in our hearts come from God and know no banner."
Alonso could only nod and look down again.
Marina swallowed a smile. If there was a person able to throw down the bitter walls of remorse and self-contempt surrounding the Spaniard, that person was her mother. And knowing her, the girl trusted it wouldn't take her long to achieve it.
Alonso looked out the window as they left Cayona to the east, down a solitary road up to a thick strip of woods. They came out of it to a prairie surrounded by hills. Circled by tropical and fruit trees, Alonso spotted the large one-story house, white walls under a red-tile sloping roof. The coach was heading to a circle outside the front door, with flowerbeds around a stone fountain. Both wings of the house spread from those gates.
Cecilia stopped him when they got off the coach. She stood before him and studied him for a moment. Then she turned to Claude, who helped Marina with her crutches.
"Claude, please, grab a horse and go see Courtois," she said. "We need three full suits, my brother's size. Shirts, socks, boots, everything. Tell him I need them right away."
"Yes, ma'am. I won't come back till he gives me all of it."
"Thank you."
Marina noticed Alonso's surprise when he heard some of what Cecilia said. She shook her head, smiling. "Don't bother refusing, Captain. Indulge her as a courtesy. Taking care of others is what makes my mother happy."
Cecilia cut off Tomasa's, Colette's and the maids' racket greeting Marina and set them to work. They needed to make dinner, open the guestroom and ready baths for the travellers.
A moment later, Alonso found himself in a large, luxurious bedroom with a picture window to the garden. He was still wondering what he was supposed to do when Cecilia knocked on the door and came in with several boxes of clothes, which she left on the tall canopied bed.
"Until your clothes arrive, Captain," she said. "I'm afraid our tailor likes to take long only to show off. Your bath will be ready soon. If you don't want to rest before dinner, the library is behind the double doors at the end of this hall. I think you'd find something to keep yourself entertained. Or feel free to explore around. No door is locked for you here."
Marina dismissed Tomasa before taking off her clothes, assuring the black woman she didn't need assistance with her bath. But her mother showed up straight from Alonso's room, and the girl couldn't keep her from seeing the wounds all over her legs. They were healing fine, but it was plain to see they were no mere scratches. So she had to tell Cecilia what had happened to her in the hold of Maracaibo's Bishop.
Cecilia brought herbs for the water, covered the tub with a cloth to keep the heat and sat down to listen to her daughter, since Marina decided to tell her all that had happened, starting with the night battle against the Trinidad.
Still speaking, she finished washing herself and allowed her mother to help her out of the tub. She wrapped herself in her bathrobe and they headed together for the girl's room. Cecilia grabbed her scissors and put to smooth over the girl's spoiled hair, so it would grow healthy and even. And she was grateful for the excuse to stand behind her daughter, so Marina wouldn't see the tears she couldn't fight as she listened to her story.
"I don't think Castillano killed my uncle, Mother," Marina said when she finished her account.
Cecilia agreed. "The man you describe doesn't match one who shoots from behind, not even in battle."
"I agree. I've wondered why he never corrected me, you know? And I think he must've felt that telling me would be like justifying or excusing himself."
"He's a proud man."
Marina nodded with a mild smile. "Like a lion."