Tears of the Caribbean

Sir Guy could see the uncertainty.

"I...I just don't know," she wept. "I love my husband but...but..."

"But?" he repeated, hoping for an opening.

"I...I don't hate you," she said.

Not what he was looking for but again, better than a kick in the nuts. "I will leave you be, let you get some rest. Be assured I will not come to your bed chamber uninvited. I will give you time to settle what feelings lay in your heart," he told her before leaving.

By the time he got down to the beach, the sky was a blaze with the fire of a new sun. He needed to start the healing process. As it stood, his whole right arm was useless to him. The sand was still cool from the night as he sat down and struggled to remove his boots with only one hand.

Camila watched from the ramparts as he charged the morning tide and plunged head first into the salty therapeutic waters. She scampered to the spyglass at the top of the stone tower for a better look. She could see the agony in his face as the warm brine washed over his freshly burned flesh. She found herself wondering if the Marquis' would be so brave.

After a short time he was joined by his friend. "That's more like it," Jack called out from the shore line.

Sir Guy came closer so they could talk.

"How's the arm?"

"Sore--very sore. What happened to the man of war? We didn't fire on her did we?"

"Of course not; I would never fire on one of her majesty's ships. No, we simply outran her."

"Good," the captain replied with relief. "We need to Careen the Devil's Mist and get her handsome in case we run into trouble again the next time out."

"Yes, sir." It was so good to see his captain calling the shots again. "Let me know when you're ready and I will help you get that arm back in shape," he said before leaving to relay the captain's orders to the crew.

Over the following days, Camila watched as the captain worked through excruciating pain to regain use of his right arm. She couldn't help but admire his resolve.

She and the Marquis' had been married for almost four years but war with the Dutch and the English had stolen their time together. She loved him very much and dreamed of the day when the wars would end and she would bear his children.

It seemed like a life-time ago that he told her of the new world, a world where they could finally raise a family together. It sounded like heaven but like all things worthwhile, it wasn't quite that easy; there was still trouble with the natives who lived there first. The Marquis' would take his fleet and help the conquistadors vanquish them before sending for her. Finally, after a year of worrying, she received word from her love. Arrangements had been made for her to join him in Saint Augustine. There they would live happily ever after.

Now as she and Asha watched the captain painfully strive for the ability to do battle again, she could not deny having feelings for him. He was most definitely a man of courage and determination; a man with his own moral code and the conviction to fight for what he believed in.

As soon as the ocean waters helped loosen some of the stiffness in his arm, the captain engaged his friend to help get him back into fighting shape. When he first tried to pick up a saber he couldn't even hold it. It would probably take months for him to get back to a hundred percent but after only days of practice he was already on his way to once again becoming the most feared swordsman in his King's service.

***

It took a while to collect a sizable crew and make ready the Santiago. She had to have several repairs, be heaved down for a thorough cleaning, and fitted with more cannons. The whole process took almost a month but for the Marquis' it was a life-time.

"We've started loading her with provisions," Juan told him. "We should be ready to set sail by tomorrow, sir."

The Marquis' was studying a map of the Caribbean islands. "Good. Black sails?" he asked without looking up.

"On board, sir."

He pointed at one of the islands. "We'll start here, at Cuba."

"Sir, Cuba has been under attack by the Dutch. I..."

"I don't care, Juan. Cuba is a Spanish settlement. Someone there may have word on the fate of the San Cristabol. If we have to fight the Dutch to get ashore then so be it," he barked. "I'll sink the whole damn Dutch navy if I have to."

"Yes, sir."

That night the Marquis' fought for sleep but it was a losing battle. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, hopes, and prayers. He ran through every possibility he could think of. Some of the islands were inhabited by countries hostile to Spain. It would be extremely dangerous sailing those waters but he could not let that stop him from finding his wife. At least now, with the Santiago under him, enemy ships they came across in their search would be bounty for his King.

In spite of a sleepless night, the Marquis' was energized with hope as he climbed aboard the ship. It was with the true belief that he would see Camila again, that he asked the captain for full canvas. After all the sails had been lowered the final order to brace around forward was given and they navigated toward the open sea.

On the third day they first saw land and was happy to see no Dutch ships in the Cuban waters. It was the largest Spanish settlement in the Caribbean and had two major shipping ports, Baracoa and Santiago de Cuba. Between them there were dozens of ships going back and forth to Spain and other ports of call. The Marquis' thought it was a good possibility that someone may know something of his bride but after more than a week, a visit to both ports was fruitless.

There next stop was Puerto Rico but again, no one knew anything of the San Cristabol or the Marquesa. The stopped at a few more friendly islands but it was always the same. The Marquis' was getting desperate. They'd been at sea for more than a month but was coming up dry. He thought long and hard about his next move.

There had been no sight of land for two days when Juan was summoned to the Marquis'' cabin. He was studying the same maps he had before as his friend entered. The Marquis' looked up and noticed a worried look on Juan's face.

"Is something wrong," he inquired.

"Well, sir, the men are getting a little nervous. We are getting dangerously close pirate waters again."

"Yes I know, Juan; take a seat. I've been calculating our route and I figure we are within half a day of sighting Saint Crox."

"Saint Crox, Sir; but it is a pirate strong hole. The entire island is swarming with them."

"Juan, I can't give up—I won't give up. I was hoping someone in our own Spanish seaports would have news of some kind but there's been nothing, not a word. The only other thing I can think of is to hit some of the Pirate inhabited islands. I know it's dangerous but I've worked out a plan."

As frightened as Juan was, he was not about to let his friend down. He scooted his chair closer to the table and reached up to steady the hanging lantern so he could see better.

"I don't want to be seen approaching the island, it's too dangerous so I want to furl the sails for now and just stay a drift until well after dark. Then we'll raise the black sails and go in under the cover of night. When we get close enough, I and a small landing party will take a launch to shore here," he said, pointing to a spot on the map showing a desolate part of the shoreline with lots of cover. "You stay on board and take the Santiago back out to sea. The..."

"Diego, no; I will lead the landing party. It is much too dangerous for you..."

"Juan," he angrily broke in. "Do you defy my orders?"

"No, sir, of course not, but..."

"Good," interjected the Marquis' again. "Then hear me out and I'll have no more outbursts. Now, as I was saying, you'll take the Santiago back out to sea so it is not spotted during the day. The men and I will hide the skiff and sneak into town to see what we can find out. You'll come back for us the next night. We'll take a lamp with us that we can light for a signal when we're ready."

"I don't like it, sir. I still think I should be the one to go."

"You don't have to like it, Juan, just carry out my orders." He looked at his friend. "Juan, I appreciate your loyalty but she's my wife. If there are risks involve in finding her then I will take them, it's only fair."

"Yes, sir," Juan replied dejectedly.

"Good," the Marquis' responded with a smile. "Spread the word, I want nine volunteers."

"Yes, sir; I'll have them ready for you."

Juan left to rejoin the crew. He yelled at the spotter in the crows next to warn him immediately of any sails he saw, then gave the order to furl the canvas.

Even though the Marquis'' plan was extremely risky, over twenty men volunteered to go with him. Juan picked the nine most capable. Since it would be their last opportunity for a while, the men went below to get some sleep. On the top deck the rest of the men nervously stayed ready as the spotter kept his vigil for enemy ships. With sails furled, they were sitting ducks.

As the Santiago helplessly drifted leeward, Juan heard the scared grumblings from some of the men and threatened to keelhaul any man who spoke against the Marquis'. The rumblings stopped.

It was almost midnight when the order was given to raise the black sails. The nine volunteers were awakened and told to put on their long clothes so they would better fit in with the locals. Tensions were high as land was sighted and the landing party set off for shore. It was almost dawn by the time they reached their destination and covered the launch with brush.

"Okay, men, we'll break up into two groups. Circulate through the town and stop in all the taverns. If someone's got their tongue wagging that's where it'll be. Don't take any chances and don't be asking too many questions. That will surely call attention to yourselves. Just listen for anything about the San Cristabol or about the Marquesa."

The men all agreed and split up. Not counting the danger involved, the assignment certainly had an element of fun. They would spend the day drinking ale and jumping from tavern to tavern. Some even engaged whores to probe for information while enjoying her wares.

It was late afternoon and the Marquis' was again losing hope when one of his men ran across a member of Captain Hawkins' crew. They went in search of the Marquis' and found him at a pirate infested tavern in the center of town.

"Sir," he said, careful not to address his superior by his nobility. That would be a dead give a way. "This is Blackie. He has some information I think you'll want to hear."

"Arr," the pirate addressed the men sitting at the table. It was easy to see the man was drunk as he took a seat. "Me matey here says ye are looking for a dark haired wench with black eyes and are willing to pay a ransom for information on where'd she be. Is that right?"

"Yes, Blackie, that's right," confirmed the Marquis' in hushed tones. "Have you seen her?"

"Aye," he answered. "We took her from a Spanish galleon before she sunk."

'Before it sunk,' those words gave him more comfort and relief than he'd experienced in a month. "The...then she's alive. Is she alright?"

"She be fine," he answered. "The captain took her for his personal wench."

A falling anchor couldn't have crushed the heart of the Marquis' more the words he'd just heard. He had no illusions of what it meant. This pirate captain would have his Marquesa enslaved as his exclusive whore. He fought desperately to keep his eyes from tearing up.

"You said the captain, what captain would that be?"

"Captain Hawkins," he boasted with slight slur. "I be with his crew."

The Marquis' looked at the faces of his men knowing none of them wanted to tangle with Captain Hawkins. If he was going to rescue his wife it was going to take strategy.

He studied his new found friend sitting across the table from him and wondered how loyal he was to his captain; after all, he was a pirate. They had a reputation for betraying their own mother if there was enough money in it. So far all the pirate had done was give information that the Marquesa was alive. It was true he did it for money but the Marquis' was sure the pirate hadn't thought of it as betraying his captain...so would he for the right price?

He didn't know how many others in the tavern might also belong to Hawkins. He wanted to make the pirate an offer but he couldn't do it there. He had to get him someplace secluded. That way if he turned the offer down they could kill him.

"My friend, you've just made yourself fifty pieces of eight." He watched as the pirate smiled broadly. "I also have a way you can make more, a lot more, but I can't tell you in here, too many ears. Are you interested?"

"Arr, what we be talking about; how much more?"

"I can't talk about it here but it will be well worth your time and you won't have to share it with anyone," he said, testing the man's greed.

The pirate looked at the men surrounding the table, trying to decide whether to trust them or kill and rob them. Through his fogged, ale muddled brain he decided to see what kind of offer they were making. "Come with me," he demanded, and walked outside to the edge of town with the Marquis' and his men right behind.

"First, me fifty pieces of eight," he said, stopping and turning around with his hand out.

The Marquis' took the money from his pouch and counted it out in the informant's hand.

"Okay, now," he said after putting his money away, "what be this other offer?"

"I want the woman," he told the pirate. "I want her and I'm willing to pay you to take me to her."

The idea was so ludicrous to the pirate all he could do was laugh.

"What's so funny," the Marquis' angrily questioned.

"He'd blow ye out of the water before ye had a chance to wave at her," he chortled. "Matey, he lives in a stone castle built on top of a mountain on Saint Thomas. It is armed on three sides with more cannon than ye can count.

"Even if ye somehow got your men ashore ye'd not only have to fight his crew but the town's people as well. He is kind to them and generous. They love him."

The Marquis' thought for a minute. "What about taking him at sea? We can lie in wait, hidden in his waters. We can capture him and hold him in trade for her."

Their new friend was finding this hysterical. "Have ye not heard of the Devil's Mist? The captain seized her four years ago. She was built for speed but the captain stripped her down and refitted her for himself. She's not only the fastest lady in the Caribbean but she'd send ye to Davy Jones locker before ye can say, 'fire in the hole.'"

"The...there must be some way. Do you think he'd ransom her to us?"

"I doubt it, matey. I saw him look at her. He wants her for his own. Why are ye so interested in the wench, anyway?"

"I want her for my own, that's all. There must be some way."

Even drunk, the pirate knew an opportunity when he saw one. This guy was obviously rich. "There is one way, but it'll cost ye a lot more than a thousand pieces of eight."

"How much?"

"A ship," he stated. "Me own ship, a galleon...and twenty thousand pieces of eight. Don't worry about a crew. I can crimp me own crew."

"A ship? That's ridiculous."

"Then I guess ye won't be seeing your fancy wench no more, will ye."

The captain's heart was pounding. He was so close but could he trust this, this...pirate? "How do I know what you say is true?"

"I guess ye don't, matey." They stared each other in the eye, each challenging the other to blink. It was the Marquis'.

"Okay, I'll get you your ship and the twenty thousand pieces of eight. How do I get her back?"

"Not so fast, matey. I need time to get me crew together and ye need time to get me ship. I'll meet ye in four weeks at Nassau Island. Bring me ship with ye."

"Four weeks—no, I'm not waiting four weeks."

"Then ye won't see her at all, matey." He turned and started back to town.

"Wait," the Marquis' called out, "okay. Where do we meet?"

The pirate smirked as he walked over and picked up a stick. He drew a rough map of Nassau Island in the sand. "There are only a few people living there and they be on the other end of the island so no one will bother us. There be a small cove with deep water here," he said, pointing to a spot on his makeshift map. "We will meet there in four weeks. When I see me ship and the twenty thousand pieces of eight I will tell ye how to take your wench. Oh, I would bring a sloop or ketch with ye, something small that can outrun the captain's frigate. And don't load her down with cannons. Once you've got your wench, speed will be ye friend more than firepower."

That meant they'd be in a small craft with no way to defend themselves. There were a million reasons not to trust him but there was one reason why he had to, it appeared to be the only chance he had to rescue the Marquesa. He reluctantly agreed and they split company.

The Marquis' and his men laid low until nightfall then made their way back to the small, open boat. They waited until they felt it was safe then lit the lantern and signaled the Santiago. Back on board the Marquis' told Juan of the agreement.

"Diego, that's suicide. How do you know you can trust this guy?"

"I don't, Juan, but what choice do I have. I will not leave my wife in the hands of a barbarian to hold in bondage and treat as his whore. I can't even imagine the atrocities she's already endured. I will lay down my life to save her."

***

As days turned into weeks, Camila could no longer reject the feelings in her heart. She was in love with him, that's all there was to it. Her life was now so drastically different. In Spain she lived a life of leisure with servants to cater to her whims. Now she was up before dawn collecting eggs and milking the goats. She scrubbed wooden floors made from the decks of captured ships and was learning to cook. She no longer dressed in the finest apparel but in garments little better than rags.

As time passed so did her hopes of ever going back to her former life...to her husband. She still loved him. He still held a very special place in her heart and always would, but she had a new life now—and with it, a new love. She just didn't see the sense in denying it any longer.

The night air lacked the tropical breeze that normally provided relief from the sweltering daytime sun. A luster of perspiration coated her naked body as she lay in her bed with thoughts of making love again. She wondered if she would find him with Asha and felt herself become jealous at the thought. Will he stop seeing her if I give him my love? Will she hate me for taking her place?

Those and more questions lingered as she got up and stood next to the open window, trying to catch a little draft. She leaned against the stone wall and looked out, into the blackness. "Oh Diego," she whispered to herself. "I'm so sorry but I fear we will never be reunited and I love him."

She took a breath, closed her eyes, and exhaled with a sigh as if accepting the situation...and her new love. Without bothering to put anything on, she left her own room and entered his.

He was alone. For a few minutes she just stood next to his bed and gazed at his nakedness as he peacefully slept. His body wasn't all that much different than her Diego's. His chest and arms were strong, his waist small and lean. His flaccid cock lay to the side.

Tentatively she ever so lightly ran the tip of her finger from his chest down to his groin. She watched as a smile graced his face while he still slept. She lightly stroked his cock. Slowly his eyes opened and the small smile broadened to reach from ear to ear.

Silently he moved over to allow her room and beckoned her with a welcoming stretch of his hand. Camila lay down and nestled her head into the nook of his arm. He turned his face toward hers and caught her staring up at him. She stretched upward and kissed his lips. "Make love to me," she whispered.