I apologise for the horrendously long wait, and once more for my appalling grasp of Spanish! Read on!
*~*~*
The days passed into weeks, and weeks into months, and the little village on the island began to grow, taking shape as more men came to settle on the friendly shore. Señor Esteban took charge of the building almost immediately, teaching the men around him how to set bricks and make tiles, to build their homes the way they wanted them. His wife, Amata, and their three children settled quickly into the daily routine, finding friends among the motley crew of pirates, whores, and pirate's families that had chosen to make the island their home.
It had come out, in dribs and drabs, that he had been travelling to the Americas, where he hoped to find work, and make enough money to settle himself and his family comfortably enough to live well. Ana Maria had attacked their ship and all but carried him off, his family with him, to the island, which had all they needed, shelter, food, friends, and work. Amata had quickly made her own skills known, those of midwife and wise woman, taking her place in the midst of the female community in the village.
Their children had also found themselves happily occupied on the island. Devante, the eldest son, was of the same age as Dugan, and the two boys had taken to one another so well that Devante's English was accented heavily with both Spanish and Scotch. His sister, Esperanza, was a sweet child, unfortunately prone to illness, but she had quickly wormed her way into the hearts of most on the island, only a few exceptionally hard-hearted old men refusing to melt when she smiled at them. And little Galeno, four years older than Matthew, had taken Will's son under his wing, teaching him how to play, sometimes with his older sister in tow.
The men worked long and hard each day, encouraged by the women as their homes grew strong and tall beneath the sun. Will's pet project, a blacksmith's forge, had slowly taken shape, and he had been awaiting an anvil and tools impatiently for a good couple of weeks before they finally arrived. Now all he needed was help to drag the heavy piece up to the smithy itself, and had recruited the only two men who had been stupid enough to stand with him while it was rowed ashore.
'Christ, mate, this thing weighs a ton!' Jack exclaimed, sweat dripping down his face as he struggled to push the anvil up the sand towards the village.
Will, too busy to reply, just grunted in agreement, heaving on the ropes they had secured around the anvil as his feet slipped on the sand.
'Could you not have built the smithy closer to the shore?' James panted, smiling at the children as they danced around the struggling men.
'Less talking,' Will ordered, himself breathless, 'more pulling.'
Galeno and Matthew, their arms full of tools and leather, ran around them, shouting for the men to hurry up.
'Un asno de tres patas lo podría mover más rápido que eso!' Galeno shouted gleefully, giggling in hysterics as Jack stopped pushing and growled menacingly at him.
'I don't know what he said, but I'm guessing it wasn't flattering,' Will gasped, taking the opportunity for a rest.
James breathed deeply for a couple of minutes, laughing slightly at Jack's expression as he chased the boys away with more growling.
'Not as such, no,' he agreed. 'Definitely a slur on our honour, wouldn't you say, Jack?'
Jack gave him a flat look.
'The only slur on my honour, mate, is doing this in the first place,' he said archly, shrugging as Will shot an indignant look at him.
'You didn't say no,' the younger man protested.
Jack snorted.
'Did I have a choice?' he shot back, wiping his face with his dripping bandanna.
James straightened up, stretching his muscles with a grimace as the boys came running back, their cargo safely delivered to the smithy. They grinned up at the men innocently.
'Don't just stand there, lads, help us!' Jack pleaded, leaning on the anvil as his feet slipped from under him again.
'Empuje con Jack,' James told Galeno, who shrugged, tugging Matthew to help him as they took up a position on either side of the pirate captain. 'Uno, dos, tres - el empujón!'
With a roar, they threw their weight into the task, and the anvil continued its ponderous way up to the smithy amid much grunting and swearing. As they came within sight of the main buildings, they were greeted with a cheer, their wives nodding gracefully to them as they huffed and puffed their way onward.
Laura laughed at the sight of her cool and collected husband sweating copiously as he heaved on the ropes. In her arms, Beth hiccuped, staring up at her accusingly, as though it were all her fault. She smiled fondly down at the child, extending the smile to Esperanza, who sat beside Marin, watching the other boys fighting.
Dugan circled Devante, his sabre held in a loose grip as he feinted first right, then left. The Spanish boy ignored the first feint, but fell into the second, stumbling forwards into the sand as Dugan neatly side-stepped his lunge with a high-pitched laugh. Marin swallowed a laugh of her own at the sound. Dugan had reached the age where certain things were changing, and his voice was making the most of it, squeaking at the most inappropriate moments. Unfortunately for him, Devante had already been through such irritations, and so any teasing he endured now could not be retaliated in kind, hence the rough and tumble play-fighting.
'El hijo mugriento de un escocés,' Devante was muttering as he stood up, raising his voice as he turned to face his friend once more. 'You no fight fair, my friend.'
Dugan laughed again, shrugging as he winked at Esperanza.
'Who does?' he asked the other boy, leaping sideways once again as Devante threw himself at him, this time laughing as well as he slammed into one of the houses.
'Always knoo the scenery aroond ye,' Dugan told him, somehow managing not to look up at Marin as he spoke.
She gasped in mock outrage.
'Dugan Fitzroy, I taught you that!' she called. 'If he cheats again, come to me and I'll teach you how to fight, Devante.'
Devante saluted her smartly, swiftly blocking Dugan's next blow with a powerful thrust that sent the Scottish boy's blade skidding across the sand. As he scrambled to retrieve it, Devante nodded to Marin.
'Mis Gracias, la señora, pero pueden tener mi propio, pienso,' he called, spinning just in time to duck Dugan's next wild thrust.
'Yes, I should think you can,' Marin murmured, wincing as the boys went tumbling again.
There was a thin wail from beside her, and she glanced up at Laura to find the young woman blushing bright crimson as Beth tried to nurse through her gown. Laughing, Marin relieved her friend of her daughter, and set the baby to nurse, completely unashamed of the maternal act despite being in full view of everyone.
'I'll never understand how you can do that,' Laura sighed, sitting down beside her friend to watch as the boys clashed together once again, this time both coming up with a mouthful of sand. 'Is there supposed to be that much rolling around?'
Marin smiled indulgently.
'Not normally, no,' she admitted. 'But I suppose it does depend on who you're fighting. Dugan does seem to prefer the ground to his own feet.'
'I heard that,' he muttered as they tumbled past, sabres forgotten in the heat of the 'battle'.
Esperanza laughed, clapping her hands in applause as they rolled to their feet again, clearly enjoying the spectacle they had put on for her. Laura smiled to see the weak girl looking so alive as she followed the fighting with bright eyes. Marin sighed softly, looking over at her friend with a slightly sad expression.
'I suppose you and James will be going back to Port Royale soon, won't you?' she asked lightly, though Laura could hear the regret that coloured her words.
'I suppose we will,' she agreed. 'After all, we have been here nearly five months, Marin, and Mother will so want to hear about Beth, and the village. And James has the Navy to return to . . . duty and so on.'
Marin sneaked a sly glance at her friend, laughing quietly to herself.
'Is duty already stealing your husband from you?' she teased, laughing out loud as Laura rolled her eyes in exasperation at her.
'Of course not!' she exclaimed. 'But it will, soon, and he will have to be back in Port Royale. I shall miss you, very much, while we are gone.'
Marin's smile turned secretive, and she reached across to touch her friend's arm gently.
'Just you make sure you come back in around eight or nine months' time,' she told her. 'I'll need you, then.'
Laura's jaw dropped, her eyes going wide in astonishment.
'You're pregnant again?' she gasped, incredulous. 'Already?'
Marin shrugged.
'So it would seem,' she laughed quietly. 'Only don't tell Jack or James yet. I'm waiting for the opportune moment.'
'But how has Jack not realised?' Laura pressed her. 'Elizabeth . . .'
Her voice trailed off momentarily, Marin reaching across to touch her arm in acknowledgement of the pain of remembrance. Swallowing, Laura continued, pushing aside the sorrow that bit into her heart on thinking of her beloved cousin.
'Elizabeth told me you had terrible morning sickness. Is it different this time around?'
Marin lifted Beth to her shoulder, gently rubbing the tiny girl's back as she smiled softly.
'No, I still have morning sickness,' she assured her friend. 'I guess he's not realised because I'm always the first one up, and on land, I don't have to climb over him to get out of bed.'
There was a crash, and a plethora of swear words filled the air, very few of which were in English. Amata appeared in the doorway, her voice strident as she took her oldest son to task for using such language in front of his sister. He stared at her helplessly from where he lay on the sand, held down by Dugan's foot on his chest. The Scottish boy knelt swiftly, his back to the women on the bench, and stood again, turning to bow low to Esperanza and present her with a flower he had picked from beside her fallen brother's head.
'For the prettiest flower on the island,' he said with a charming smile, winking at her as she took it from his hand.
Esperanza blushed sweetly on hearing Marin translate this, and sent him a shy smile.
'Gracias, senor Dugan,' she said softly, nodding back to him as he bent to heave her brother to his feet and they trailed off, in search of an adventure to keep them busy.
Laura and Marin exchanged a glance over the girl's head as she delicately sniffed the bloom in her hand. Puberty had definitely hit Dugan hard.
*~*~*
Un asno de tres patas lo podría mover más rápido que eso!
- A three-legged donkey could move it faster than that!
Empuje con Jack. Uno, dos, tres - el empujón!
- Push with Jack. One, two, three - push!
El hijo mugriento de un escocés
- Filthy son of a Scot
Mis Gracias, la señora, pero pueden tener mi propio, pienso
- My thanks, madam, but I can hold my own, I think
Gracias, senor Dugan
- Thank you, master Dugan.
*~*~*
The days passed into weeks, and weeks into months, and the little village on the island began to grow, taking shape as more men came to settle on the friendly shore. Señor Esteban took charge of the building almost immediately, teaching the men around him how to set bricks and make tiles, to build their homes the way they wanted them. His wife, Amata, and their three children settled quickly into the daily routine, finding friends among the motley crew of pirates, whores, and pirate's families that had chosen to make the island their home.
It had come out, in dribs and drabs, that he had been travelling to the Americas, where he hoped to find work, and make enough money to settle himself and his family comfortably enough to live well. Ana Maria had attacked their ship and all but carried him off, his family with him, to the island, which had all they needed, shelter, food, friends, and work. Amata had quickly made her own skills known, those of midwife and wise woman, taking her place in the midst of the female community in the village.
Their children had also found themselves happily occupied on the island. Devante, the eldest son, was of the same age as Dugan, and the two boys had taken to one another so well that Devante's English was accented heavily with both Spanish and Scotch. His sister, Esperanza, was a sweet child, unfortunately prone to illness, but she had quickly wormed her way into the hearts of most on the island, only a few exceptionally hard-hearted old men refusing to melt when she smiled at them. And little Galeno, four years older than Matthew, had taken Will's son under his wing, teaching him how to play, sometimes with his older sister in tow.
The men worked long and hard each day, encouraged by the women as their homes grew strong and tall beneath the sun. Will's pet project, a blacksmith's forge, had slowly taken shape, and he had been awaiting an anvil and tools impatiently for a good couple of weeks before they finally arrived. Now all he needed was help to drag the heavy piece up to the smithy itself, and had recruited the only two men who had been stupid enough to stand with him while it was rowed ashore.
'Christ, mate, this thing weighs a ton!' Jack exclaimed, sweat dripping down his face as he struggled to push the anvil up the sand towards the village.
Will, too busy to reply, just grunted in agreement, heaving on the ropes they had secured around the anvil as his feet slipped on the sand.
'Could you not have built the smithy closer to the shore?' James panted, smiling at the children as they danced around the struggling men.
'Less talking,' Will ordered, himself breathless, 'more pulling.'
Galeno and Matthew, their arms full of tools and leather, ran around them, shouting for the men to hurry up.
'Un asno de tres patas lo podría mover más rápido que eso!' Galeno shouted gleefully, giggling in hysterics as Jack stopped pushing and growled menacingly at him.
'I don't know what he said, but I'm guessing it wasn't flattering,' Will gasped, taking the opportunity for a rest.
James breathed deeply for a couple of minutes, laughing slightly at Jack's expression as he chased the boys away with more growling.
'Not as such, no,' he agreed. 'Definitely a slur on our honour, wouldn't you say, Jack?'
Jack gave him a flat look.
'The only slur on my honour, mate, is doing this in the first place,' he said archly, shrugging as Will shot an indignant look at him.
'You didn't say no,' the younger man protested.
Jack snorted.
'Did I have a choice?' he shot back, wiping his face with his dripping bandanna.
James straightened up, stretching his muscles with a grimace as the boys came running back, their cargo safely delivered to the smithy. They grinned up at the men innocently.
'Don't just stand there, lads, help us!' Jack pleaded, leaning on the anvil as his feet slipped from under him again.
'Empuje con Jack,' James told Galeno, who shrugged, tugging Matthew to help him as they took up a position on either side of the pirate captain. 'Uno, dos, tres - el empujón!'
With a roar, they threw their weight into the task, and the anvil continued its ponderous way up to the smithy amid much grunting and swearing. As they came within sight of the main buildings, they were greeted with a cheer, their wives nodding gracefully to them as they huffed and puffed their way onward.
Laura laughed at the sight of her cool and collected husband sweating copiously as he heaved on the ropes. In her arms, Beth hiccuped, staring up at her accusingly, as though it were all her fault. She smiled fondly down at the child, extending the smile to Esperanza, who sat beside Marin, watching the other boys fighting.
Dugan circled Devante, his sabre held in a loose grip as he feinted first right, then left. The Spanish boy ignored the first feint, but fell into the second, stumbling forwards into the sand as Dugan neatly side-stepped his lunge with a high-pitched laugh. Marin swallowed a laugh of her own at the sound. Dugan had reached the age where certain things were changing, and his voice was making the most of it, squeaking at the most inappropriate moments. Unfortunately for him, Devante had already been through such irritations, and so any teasing he endured now could not be retaliated in kind, hence the rough and tumble play-fighting.
'El hijo mugriento de un escocés,' Devante was muttering as he stood up, raising his voice as he turned to face his friend once more. 'You no fight fair, my friend.'
Dugan laughed again, shrugging as he winked at Esperanza.
'Who does?' he asked the other boy, leaping sideways once again as Devante threw himself at him, this time laughing as well as he slammed into one of the houses.
'Always knoo the scenery aroond ye,' Dugan told him, somehow managing not to look up at Marin as he spoke.
She gasped in mock outrage.
'Dugan Fitzroy, I taught you that!' she called. 'If he cheats again, come to me and I'll teach you how to fight, Devante.'
Devante saluted her smartly, swiftly blocking Dugan's next blow with a powerful thrust that sent the Scottish boy's blade skidding across the sand. As he scrambled to retrieve it, Devante nodded to Marin.
'Mis Gracias, la señora, pero pueden tener mi propio, pienso,' he called, spinning just in time to duck Dugan's next wild thrust.
'Yes, I should think you can,' Marin murmured, wincing as the boys went tumbling again.
There was a thin wail from beside her, and she glanced up at Laura to find the young woman blushing bright crimson as Beth tried to nurse through her gown. Laughing, Marin relieved her friend of her daughter, and set the baby to nurse, completely unashamed of the maternal act despite being in full view of everyone.
'I'll never understand how you can do that,' Laura sighed, sitting down beside her friend to watch as the boys clashed together once again, this time both coming up with a mouthful of sand. 'Is there supposed to be that much rolling around?'
Marin smiled indulgently.
'Not normally, no,' she admitted. 'But I suppose it does depend on who you're fighting. Dugan does seem to prefer the ground to his own feet.'
'I heard that,' he muttered as they tumbled past, sabres forgotten in the heat of the 'battle'.
Esperanza laughed, clapping her hands in applause as they rolled to their feet again, clearly enjoying the spectacle they had put on for her. Laura smiled to see the weak girl looking so alive as she followed the fighting with bright eyes. Marin sighed softly, looking over at her friend with a slightly sad expression.
'I suppose you and James will be going back to Port Royale soon, won't you?' she asked lightly, though Laura could hear the regret that coloured her words.
'I suppose we will,' she agreed. 'After all, we have been here nearly five months, Marin, and Mother will so want to hear about Beth, and the village. And James has the Navy to return to . . . duty and so on.'
Marin sneaked a sly glance at her friend, laughing quietly to herself.
'Is duty already stealing your husband from you?' she teased, laughing out loud as Laura rolled her eyes in exasperation at her.
'Of course not!' she exclaimed. 'But it will, soon, and he will have to be back in Port Royale. I shall miss you, very much, while we are gone.'
Marin's smile turned secretive, and she reached across to touch her friend's arm gently.
'Just you make sure you come back in around eight or nine months' time,' she told her. 'I'll need you, then.'
Laura's jaw dropped, her eyes going wide in astonishment.
'You're pregnant again?' she gasped, incredulous. 'Already?'
Marin shrugged.
'So it would seem,' she laughed quietly. 'Only don't tell Jack or James yet. I'm waiting for the opportune moment.'
'But how has Jack not realised?' Laura pressed her. 'Elizabeth . . .'
Her voice trailed off momentarily, Marin reaching across to touch her arm in acknowledgement of the pain of remembrance. Swallowing, Laura continued, pushing aside the sorrow that bit into her heart on thinking of her beloved cousin.
'Elizabeth told me you had terrible morning sickness. Is it different this time around?'
Marin lifted Beth to her shoulder, gently rubbing the tiny girl's back as she smiled softly.
'No, I still have morning sickness,' she assured her friend. 'I guess he's not realised because I'm always the first one up, and on land, I don't have to climb over him to get out of bed.'
There was a crash, and a plethora of swear words filled the air, very few of which were in English. Amata appeared in the doorway, her voice strident as she took her oldest son to task for using such language in front of his sister. He stared at her helplessly from where he lay on the sand, held down by Dugan's foot on his chest. The Scottish boy knelt swiftly, his back to the women on the bench, and stood again, turning to bow low to Esperanza and present her with a flower he had picked from beside her fallen brother's head.
'For the prettiest flower on the island,' he said with a charming smile, winking at her as she took it from his hand.
Esperanza blushed sweetly on hearing Marin translate this, and sent him a shy smile.
'Gracias, senor Dugan,' she said softly, nodding back to him as he bent to heave her brother to his feet and they trailed off, in search of an adventure to keep them busy.
Laura and Marin exchanged a glance over the girl's head as she delicately sniffed the bloom in her hand. Puberty had definitely hit Dugan hard.
*~*~*
Un asno de tres patas lo podría mover más rápido que eso!
- A three-legged donkey could move it faster than that!
Empuje con Jack. Uno, dos, tres - el empujón!
- Push with Jack. One, two, three - push!
El hijo mugriento de un escocés
- Filthy son of a Scot
Mis Gracias, la señora, pero pueden tener mi propio, pienso
- My thanks, madam, but I can hold my own, I think
Gracias, senor Dugan
- Thank you, master Dugan.