Chapter 182: A Fine Time for a Reunion

The Rose had no interest whatsoever whether San Cristóbal had learned anything from the mortar shells. The brigantine cut hard across the frigate’s path, her claret sails full, and showed the Spaniards a long row of gunports that made a better case than any hail ever could.

About twenty guns roared together.

The distance made the broadside more a warning than an attack, quite enough to make the point without adding fresh wounds to the ones already bleeding the frigate.

San Cristóbal’s reply came in the only fashion left to her, hauling canvas as her bow came around in graceless haste. Whatever dignity she had brought into the fight had plainly been left behind somewhere.

La Golondrina sat lower in the water than she had an hour earlier, letting the sea pour through wounds nobody could patch. Santa Bárbara clawed away beneath whatever scrap of canvas her remaining sailors had managed to rig from the stump of her mast.

Neither the Rose nor the Marianne wasted time on either ship, and simply came about instead and made for the drifting galleon.

Jim shouted, throwing both fists into the air. "There she goes! Tell it however ye please afterward, lads, but nobody’s callin’ me a liar this time! I’ve had fourteen brushes with death, and that makes fifteen, and every blessed one ends with me still standin’ while the other bastard runs."

Milagros snapped after the frigate, delighted with herself.

"¡Corre, cobarde! Run home to your mother, you pale son of a whore!"

Kit muttered, sounding sour even though he’d plainly enjoyed watching it. "Doesn’t go on me tally."

Sam snickered with a smile. "We’ll build ye a monument one day, boy. Shame it’ll have nothing written on it."

The three ships covered the last stretch of calm water and came together as gently as there was any right to. Boarding timbers went from one deck to another, making the crossing easy.

The crewmembers went over in twos and threes, and the whole galleon seemed to find time for merry celebration at once.

Greasy Pete got to Jim first, with Doyle one step behind him and a bottle already uncorked.

Pete grabbed Jim by the shoulders, shaking him. ""Bloody hell mate, ye owe us the whole tale. Every last bit of it, and none of yer usual cuttin’ corners."

"Cuttin’ corners?" Jim looked genuinely hurt. "I’ve never shortened a tale in me life."

Doyle pushed the bottle into his hand.

"Shut it and drink first lad. I want to see if you’ll be able to lie afterward."

Near them, Bert came at Kit like he welcomed home a prince, arms spread wide and voice loud enough to carry clear across the ship. "My dear Kit. I confess I feared the very worst, and I am delighted to discover that those fears were, for once, completely misplaced."

Hobbs shoved past him without ceremony and caught Kit by the jaw, turning his face toward the light.

"Dammnit boy, swollen cheeks, yellow around the eye. And this bruises around your ribs."

He released him with a grunt.

"At least ye’ll live, despite your stupidity."

Kit protested weakly. "I’m the hero of the whole bloody venture, not some foolish victim!"

Some room afar, Ned got across the timber and ran straight for Tomás, wrapping both arms around him. "Christ, I thought, I mean, nobody knew where you’d gone, and then Williams said, and I didn’t believe him till-"

"I am well, Ned."

Tomás returned the embrace for a moment, then put him back at arm’s length.

"Breathe between words, whatever was in such a hurry before can wait now."

From the Marianne, Williams came across last, taking his time to offer Sam a sailors handshake.

Sam ignored the hand completely and hauled him into a rough embrace instead.

"Took yer sweet time."

Sam snorted as he stepped back.

"What was it, checkin’ every piece of water twice before ye trusted yer guts?"

"Ought to act smart for once, Captain. ’Least one of us has to be."

Milagros watched the reunion from a little way off, and nobody on either ship knew her to call her over. She seemed content with that, arms folded and chin high, as though being left alone had been her plan from the beginning.

After a moment she wandered toward the quarterdeck, where James still stood with one hand on the wheel.

Cudjoe appeared a moment later, through the quarterdeck at an easy pace.

He had seen James survive things that sensible men would have died from, so apparently he meant to keep checking whether the latest attempt had finally done the job.

"Guess the Devil kept chewin’ on ye, then spat back out for bein’ too tough."

"Aye, well. He’s got poor taste."

"Poorer patience, if he’s still botherin’ to try."

Cudjoe folded his arms.

"I near didn’t believe it till I saw the wreckage floatin’ in yer wake."

"Sounds about right for this crew."

Anne reached them before the exchange had quite run its course. In a hurry she put her hands on James, and began checking him.

Arms, ribs, jaw, shoulder.

It was some briskly treatment, as if he was a ship with a leak even while the captain insisted there was none. Her fingers reached his shoulder and stopped, while her tongue clicked once.

"My darling idiot, you really never learn."

"In my defense, lass, my body keeps volunteerin’ before I ask it to."

She had no answer for that.

Instead she kissed him, forcefully and deep, then pulled away almost as sharply. James was left in a vain attempt to remember how breathing worked.

"I’ll go make myself useful first, then deal with you properly."

Her gaze then caught Milagros nearby, and in way or another, with an instinct that would surprise beasts, she knew the lass relationship with her captain.

Anne looked her over slowly, from head to boot and back again.

"Oh, now that’s interesting."

Her smile showed all her teeth. "Small package, but he always did like it when they fight back a little, once he’s got ’em pinned nice and tight."

Milagros straightened at once.

"I don’t need instructions from anybody, guapa, even less about how to please my man."

She finished with a scowl, though it had rather less fire in it than she’d intended.

James watched the whole affair with more amusement than he dared to show. He suspected it would sort itself out, and experience had taught him that some things improved considerably when he kept his hands out of them.

Cudjoe put a hand on his shoulder before he could enjoy the spectacle any longer. His eyes swept across the deck, where the celebration was loud enough for the Caribbean to hear.

"Let ’em have their moment, but you and I have a fair bit to work out, Captain."

"Aye."

James breathed out at last, a breath he’d apparently been saving since long before the battle began.

"Reckon we do."