by R. J. Blain
“You obviously haven’t had them made right.”
I glanced up from the sheet and arched a brow at him. “And are you going to be the one to ensure I’ve had them made right?”
“I can do things with food that’ll make you cry.”
“From terror?”
Abrahan leveled a glare worthy of a first mate in my direction. “No, terror is what you do to rice, Corona.”
Great. My cabin boy had developed a sharp tongue and unerring accuracy with its use. “You’re just angling for a pay raise, aren’t you?”
“No. I don’t want food poisoning or to lose my sense of taste. I’m at risk of both. I bought spices with the change.”
“All right, kid. I’ll give you one chance, and exactly one chance, to impress me. Don’t make me force you to walk the plank.”
“We have a plank?”
“I’ll improvise.”
“Can I get a parrot?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and prayed for patience. “You want a parrot.”
“Pirates had parrots, didn’t they?”
“Cabin boys don’t get parrots.” I scowled when he pouted. “Pouty cabin boys in particular don’t get parrots.”
“What do you have against parrots?”
“They talk back.”
Abrahan laughed, left the cabin, and prepared the Wanderer so we could set sail.
The winds shifted before dying to stagnant air, the bane of sailors around the world. I could have charted a course to take advantage of the currents to reach the islands, but I relied on the Wanderer’s engines instead, cutting my way across the waves, dodging the Calico’s final resting place in the slim chance someone followed us.
Abrahan watched, he learned, and he took over the cooking duties, a battle I conceded with a grunt, a shrug, and a few curses strong enough to peel paint from my ship’s hull. Instead of being properly cowed, he laughed.
Four days later, running full throttle day and night on alternating shifts, we approached the islands I’d once called home, back in the day when my captain had found—and lost—the love of her life. In the gleam of the setting sun, the manor perched on its cliff glowed an eerie red while the blue-green of the sea skirted the rocks and crashed white on the shore.
“There’s a house,” Abrahan blurted, rubbing his eyes. “There’s really a house up there.”
“When she was built, I named her the House Lost at Sea, since only those who knew the way would be able to find her.” I braced a hand on my hip and directed the ship through the channels between the reefs towards one of the smaller islands. With a great deal of care, I’d be able to coax the Wanderer into the cove near my stash, and I’d test my cabin boy’s mettle.
If he had the courage to face the waters with me circling him as a shark, I’d keep him, groom him, and treasure him until I set him free, and unlike my captain and her lover, I wouldn’t bind him to a long life of misery and regret.
I would give him power and unleash him on the world, and when he’d lived a full life, his legacy would pass down to the next generation.
“Why is there a house here?”
“I will show you, on a condition.”
“What condition?”
“This secret dies with you.”
Without any sign of hesitation, Abrahan pulled out his knife and flicked his wrist to reveal its blade. He’d gotten good at the move, and I nodded my approval when he gripped the blade and spilled a single drop of his blood to seal the oath. “Your secret dies with me, so do I swear,” he said, gripping my hand when I’d matched him drop for drop in blood.
“All right. Sit while I head to the cove. This’ll be touchy work, especially this close to dark. If I hit the reef, we’ll sink, and trust me, it’s a long swim to civilization from here.”
“No shit.”
I shot a glare at him, settled behind the wheel, and eased the speed down as slow as the Wanderer would go without stalling the engines. It took thirty minutes to reach the right island, and time hadn’t done much to the cove since my last visit, although I’d been a shark rather than sailing a thirty footer and dodging the rocks and coral lurking beneath the waves. Abrahan held his breath, gasping when he couldn’t anymore, only to try again and fail, and the pattern amused a low chuckle out of me. “Relax, kid. We’ll be fine.”
“You’re loco, Corona! I can see rocks under the water.”
“It’s a good thing we can see them. Imagine trying this when you can’t.”
My cabin boy whimpered, but he leaned over the rail to stare into the shallows in rapt fascination. Since he wasn’t going to pay attention to me until the Wanderer floated in the safety of the deep hole in the cove’s heart, I focused on my work until I killed the engine, drifted my ship into position, and dropped anchor. “All right, we’re good, kid.”
“That was amazing.”
“This is going to be our port for a while. It’s a blind cove, so unless you’re in the right spot, you’re not going to see we’re here.” I gestured to the cliffs and rugged hills surrounding the calm beaches. “Even in a bad blow, the water here stays calm enough; the reef and rocks protect this island. The downside? It’s a tight fit; the Wanderer is as large a ship as you’re getting in here, and most people aren’t brave enough to take such a small boat so far out to sea.”
“It didn’t seem too bad. Some of those waves sure did get big, though.”
“We lucked out. No storms.”
Abrahan grimaced. “Right. So. What’s the deal?”
“This is my island.” With so many islands in the cluster, every member of the crew had had one of their own, usually shared with two or three trusted companions. I alone laid claim on my island and its cove, and my captain had enforced my choice with an iron fist.
I often thought she’d given it to me out of pity, close to the home she’d picked to share with Captain Maritza, but far enough away I didn’t have to stare at their beloved manor unless I had wanted to. I hadn’t used it to stash my wealth until later—far later—but it’d been my safe haven, a place I had gone when I needed to escape from the burdens of my duties as first mate.
“I don’t get it.”
“Can you swim?”
“Not well.”
“Time to learn, kid. I’ve something to show you, and you have to swim to get there. I’ll help you reach it, but you need to hold your breath.”
“I can do that.”
Nodding my approval, I left anything the water would ruin in the cabin, ordered Abrahan to do the same, and lowered a rope so we’d be able to scramble back on board without having to climb in the hard way over the engine housing. I splashed in and treaded water until he eased his way into the calm sea.
“This way.” I floated on my back so I could keep an eye on my young cabin boy, who swam with the grace of a half-drowned parrot. I’d have to do something about his ineffective flailing, but at least he kept his head above the surface.
When I finished with him, he’d give a dolphin a run for its money and sharks a reason to worry if they shared the sea with him.
In order to reach the entrance to my cave, I’d have to dive thirty feet down, locate the tunnel I’d carved with my teeth as a shark, and ascend to the air pocket, which was fed with clean air through holes I’d chiseled into the cliff. I’d carved the shelves inside with care, and I even had gone as far as digging out several rooms to contain my hoard.
“I’m going to pull you along, kid. Just hold your breath and let me do the work. I’d rather not have to beat the sea water out of your lungs today.” I grabbed hold of his hand in a steel grip, waiting for him to take a few deep breaths and nod when he was ready.
I dove, and I dragged him with me. The pressure of the curse built in my chest, and I refused it, focusing on the kid I’d sworn to care for as my crew. I kicked hard, diving deep and fast, aware he’d likely realize something wasn’t quite right about how I swam, too strong, too adept for any human.
The water fill
ed my nose and mouth, and my lungs accepted the sea without drowning me.
It didn’t take me long to find the tunnel, and despite resisting the need to transform, my eyes penetrated the darkness, evidence of the magic’s influence over me. I angled my body so I could pull Abrahan behind me without dragging him over the roughened rocks. Once free of the passage’s confines, I surged for the surface, shoving the kid ahead of me so I could buy time to expel the water.
I coughed it out, my head turned away from him.
“It’s so dark,” he whispered.
I smiled and dragged him to the lowest shelf, where I had left a collection of oil lamps. I even had modern flashlights, but I thought a proper lantern would bring the cavern’s magic to life for my cabin boy. I’d cheat and use a lighter to ignite the wick. There’d be time enough to teach the kid the wonders of a good flint box.
I lit two lanterns, and I hung one from a hook embedded in the wall so its light would catch on the mirrors lining the cavern, turning the night to day. Gold gleamed alongside tarnish-blackened silver.
Abrahan sucked in a breath and muttered something in Portuguese, his tone awed.
“X marks the spot, m’boy. X marks the spot. Welcome to my home.”
Twenty-One
You’re loco, Captain Corona.
“This, and the House Lost at Sea, is what Benny desired from me.”
When I had organized my hoard by era, I’d done it out of boredom, but with Abrahan beside me, I rejoiced in my compulsive nature. Shelf by shelf, room by room, I could show him my legacy, the evidence of my existence, and promise of his future.
“What is this?”
I knew every last piece of treasure from the Calico, the story of every man who’d died with her, and the story of every golden ingot, every silver chain, and every copper coin. I began with Mikel, the cabin boy my captain had stolen from his bed as a babe after watching his father beat his mother. Of them all, Mikel’s loss I truly regretted.
Given a chance, he would’ve grown into a fine pirate and a finer man under my captain’s careful tending. The worn rag doll, crudely fashioned in the shape of a shark, was so old I feared it’d crumble apart if I touched it. It reminded me of the lullabies Captain Louisa had sung with the falling of night, a rare moment of quiet the crew respected.
“Mikel was six when the Calico sank and his life ended. This was his, made for him by Captain Louisa the day after she took him from his home and claimed him as hers.” The British had killed him early in the battle, and it had taken me hours of scouring the waters to find his tiny body and return it to the ship he’d grown up on.
I missed him.
“It’s so old.”
“Yes, more than three hundred years old.” I pointed at Mikel’s silver spoon, Captain Louisa’s gift to him on his fifth birthday, a symbol of her promise to give him a life beyond the sea, one of wealth and riches only she could provide.
So many broken promises burdened the tiny blackened spoon.
“It’s a spoon.”
“When Captain Louisa took Mikel, she promised him a better life once he served her at sea. That spoon was a symbol of her promise. She wasn’t able to keep it. The British killed him and tossed his body into the sea.”
“But it’s just a silver spoon. Why a silver spoon?”
“It’s a symbol of wealth and prosperity. Someone born with a silver spoon has an easy life. Superstition. She wanted to give him that life. She had no children of her own, so she took him and made him hers.”
I left Mikel’s doll and spoon and worked my way up the ranks, introducing each crew member to Abrahan, right up until the shrine to my lost captain, which held her flintlock and her cutlass.
Unlike Captain Maritza's, time hadn’t left a single mark on either weapon, a result of me returning year after year to care for them. With mine gone, I would take hers and wear them at my side until the day mine found their way back to me. I lifted the weapons from their displays and buckled them into place around my hips. Her hat, which I had maintained over the years, too, was the same as the one I’d lost, for I had crafted mine in her honor. It went on top of my head, and I swept its feathers back, pressing it down so it wouldn’t fall off. “These belonged to Captain Louisa, and I think it’s time they saw the world again.”
I had one item of Ricardo’s in my hoard, a worn whetstone he’d kept for luck.
When I found Lucretta O’Malley, I would make her regret having crossed me. I smiled. Pirates needed rivals as much as they needed victims, and in Lucretta, I would have both.
“Isn’t there supposed to be a first mate?”
“Yes.”
“There’s nothing of hers here. Why is there nothing of hers here? What happened to her?”
The problem with the modern world was its lack of true belief, be it in magic, in a chosen god, or in superstition. The gods I discarded as much as they discarded me, I couldn’t dispute magic, for it encompassed my entire life, and I’d learned long ago superstitions only kept people from doing what had been perceived as stupidity. “Catalina de la Corona did not perish with the Calico, unlike her captain, unlike the rest of the crew. She did not die to the British bilge scum who took everything from her.”
“She must have lived, I guess, for you to have been born.”
I shook my head. “No, not quite.”
“You’re loco, Captain Corona.”
His favored phrase amused me. There was only one way to make him believe. I turned to the waters of my cave, took three running steps, and leaped into the air. I shifted and embraced the curse as much as it embraced me, transforming before I touched the sea. I dove beneath the surface.
Abrahan handled sharing a cave with a massive tiger shark about as well as I expected, and I watched with amusement as he tried to climb the smooth stone walls. I circled, dipping my dorsal fin beneath the waters, investigating my home cave for any changes or invaders. The wise fish fled, and I let them go.
One thought itself ruler of my sea, so I ate it. Served the little bastard right for encroaching on my turf. Finding no evidence of intruders, I surged out of the water onto the shelf I’d carved for that purpose and fought the curse’s hold on me. It took longer than I liked, and by the time I returned to my human form, I panted from the effort.
Climbing walls covered in mirrors and smoothed by my endeavors to make my shelves nice and pretty made for a futile exercise, and while Abrahan had managed to get a few feet up, I was able to grab the back of his neck, pull him down, and set him on his feet. “If I was planning on eating you, I would’ve done it off the coast of Brazil rather than dragging you all the way out here, kid.”
“Plumping me up. You were plumping me up. Too skinny to eat. Need to be too skinny to eat.” He continued to babble, sliding into Portuguese, back to English, then descending into a chaotic mix of both.
I could smell his fear.
“I was cursed by my captain’s lover, Captain Maritza Ludovici, the Black Scourge. My curse was to serve my captain for an eternity if I must. I was the first mate, and instead of dying with my captain, my ship, and my crew, I lived. They called her the Shark Tamer, for whenever she needed a shark, one would appear—me.” I let the kid go, smoothed his shirt over his shoulders, and gave his back a reassuring thump. “I don’t eat crew, and I stole you to be my cabin boy.”
“You’re a real pirate.”
“I was. I am.”
“Do you have a title, too? Like your captain?” Abrahan straightened and pointed at my captain’s shrine.
“I did.”
“What is it?”
It hurt, but I’d tell him anyway. “I was First Mate Catalina de la Corona, Pirate Princess of the Seven Seas. I had some other titles, but I’ve forgotten them. Most only cared because I was the first mate of a pirate queen, so the Pirate Princess stuck. The Calico was unusual in having two women openly on board.”
“Because sailors had some superstition about women on board ships back then, right?”<
br />
“Right.”
“And you become a shark.”
“A tiger shark.”
“Because you’re cursed. By your captain’s lover.”
When he put it that way, my life did seem a bit surreal, and I couldn’t blame him at all for the skepticism in his voice. “Correct.”
“And your captain was okay with that?”
I grimaced. “Guess so. She didn’t shoot me when I gnawed on the Calico and the Terrier, pissed because I couldn’t enter the water without turning into a giant fish with big teeth. I have some control over it now at least. Didn’t used to.”
The truth refused to leave me be. Now and forever, I’d be a man-eater, a shark who’d preyed on humans, sometimes at my captain’s demand. Maybe it’d been a century since I’d killed someone, but the urge to tear into anyone—or anything—in the water remained.
Maybe I had killed someone during the times the curse smothered my humanity and memories. I’d never know. Pretending I hadn’t made it easier to live with myself.
Some pirate I turned out to be.
“That’s how you knew how to fight, isn’t it? Because you were a pirate. You killed people for a living.”
“Yes.”
“But there were four of us. You had no fear.”
“All there is to fear is death, and death isn’t something I fear. I’m long overdue. Death would be a mercy.”
While I gathered coins and ingots to sell later, the kid watched me, his dark eyes troubled. Maybe one day I’d better understand other humans. Why did death always bother them so much?
Mine had been a long time coming, and I would welcome it when it came for me—if it ever did.
It took me three trips to take everything I wanted to the Wanderer, and on the fourth trip, I shoved Abrahan through the tunnel as a shark at his insistence. Even with the help of the rope, it took several tries for him to scramble onto the ship. I would have a worse time of it.
In order to make it onboard without falling into the water, I needed to jump, transform, and catch hold of the rope or railings. Back in my days on the Calico, I pulled the stunt off one out of every four attempts, which often resulted in the crew dropping a rope ladder to aid my efforts. I chose the engines as my spot to attempt the boarding; even if I missed the railing, I might be able to catch myself on the engine mounts before plunging into the water.