Miguel woke up to find that Tulio had gotten away. He was lying, unmoving, across the brig, and just when Miguel's worry overcame his anger at Tulio and he'd decided to go and see what was wrong, the door to their prison opened. In walked a guard, who pulled Tulio to his feet roughly by his arm and dragged him away. He didn't look back.

When he heard a commotion above deck, Miguel listened carefully. It was the dawn of the fifth day, and the sunrise made everything that he could see above him orange and pink. He heard laughing from the crew members and the occasional cheer. Then Cortes' voice boomed over the other noises.

"Prove that you're not a heathen," he thundered, and in the pause between his words, Miguel caught a jingling noise, like a belt or something. "Recite the forty-eighth Psalm." Expecting to hear Chel's voice, Miguel sat back down on the ground. Of course she wouldn't know the Psalms. Neither he nor Tulio had bothered to teach her. What would it have mattered while they explored the New World?

So he was incredibly surprised to hear Tulio's voice ring out, loud and clear, reciting dutifully, "Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised in the city of our God, in the mountain of his holiness." His jaw dropping his shock, Miguel scrambled to his feet and jumped for the bars, his fingers just grazing them. He tried a few more times and finally caught them, and hoisted himself up, just seeing from the head to the waist on the sailors gathered. He saw the side of Tulio's head, just to his nose, and saw his dead eyes stare into the distance. It was an eerie thing to see, his friend unmoving, reciting the words like a man possessed. Cortes grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked him upwards. Miguel just caught the barest glimpse of his lower jaw before he was thrown to the ground. Eyes squeezed shut, teeth clenched, Tulio did not cry out. The blond who watched from the brig felt an odd sense of pride.

"Say the word!" Thunk! "Say it! Repent!" Thunk! Dropping to the floor, Miguel covered his ears, not wanting to hear the sound of the brunette being kicked in the stomach. He'd seen the first mate's leg swinging, and could still hear the jeers of the other sailors as they cheered him on.

"Never!" Tulio ground out.

"Say it!"

"No!"

Miguel heard someone draw their sword. "Say it or I'll jab out your eyes!"

"Go ahead!" Tulio roared.

"Why you little –" There was an odd sound, kind of wet, like something one might hear in a butcher's shop. Miguel panicked, thinking they had stabbed out Tulio's eyes, but then he heard people muttering about a leg.

"There's so much blood," murmured a nearby sailor excitedly. "Hey, heathen, does your thigh hurt?"

"Not at all," Tulio responded.

"Put him back in the brig!" Cortes bellowed, sounding very upset. There was the clinking of chains and buckles, and then some footsteps on the stairs. The lock turned, the door opened, and Tulio walked in with his head held high. Miguel saw two puncture wounds under his chin, a hole in his left thigh that gushed blood, and bruised, bloodied wrists from being bound. When the door closed, Tulio leaned against it and slid down.

"What happened?" Miguel demanded, running over. Tulio shook his head, taking the belt from his pants and making a tourniquet. "Don't tell me not to worry and to go back to sleep, Tulio! What the hell happened?"

Tulio opened his mouth to explain, thought better of it, and sat quietly for a moment. Miguel knew that he was coming up with a sufficient lie.

"They caught me trying to pick the lock with a wood splinter," he muttered. Miguel, enraged that he refused to tell the truth, punched him in the face as hard as he could without thinking. Tulio's head hit the door hard, and he slumped to the floor, unconscious. Miguel stomped away, not even caring anymore.

On the night of the tenth day, Altivo was allowed above deck to wander. Being the smart horse he was, he immediately retrieved keys and dropped them into the brig. Miguel woke to the clink of metal, smiled and whispered up his thanks. Altivo snorted.

Though he was still angry with him, he woke Tulio and ran up ahead of him, before ducking into another door to search below deck for Chel. He found her in the room of one of the guards, looking relaxed and happy on his bed beside him. Miguel was just glad that she had clothes on.

She woke up and looked at him, then told him that she didn't want to escape, that she wanted to see Spain, and that she was treated well here. Miguel glared.

"I'm sorry, Miguel, but I don't want to leave. I like it here."

"What about Tulio?" Chel blushed, and then giggled.

"There's more where he came from." The blond felt like his heart had been torn to shreds, and he didn't even really like Chel. He made an obscene gesture, called her something rude, and left. She didn't seem to care.

He found Tulio leaning heavily on Altivo with provisions already in the longboat which dangled from ropes over the water. The brunette grinned weakly.

Miguel looked at him, and then down at the tourniquet around his thigh. Why did it have to be so high up? Miguel stared a moment more, then shook his head. Such thoughts, and at a time like this? He gestured for Tulio to get in the boat, but Altivo took this as his invitation. He jumped in willingly, making a loud clack sound. Tulio rolled his eyes and climbed in, and Miguel joined them last.

They slowly lowered the boat to the water, and then they pulled the ropes down with them, just in case they needed them for something.

The water was not kind to them. The storm was minutes away, and unless they got away from the ship now, they'd be bashed against it. Tulio picked up a paddle and started rowing. Miguel quickly followed suit.

They got a couple of yards away when the first bolt of lightning streaked across the sky overhead. Rain started to beat down on them, and when the alarm bell was rung to call all hands, the water was throwing the little longboat quite roughly upwards and then leaving it to plummet. The two could hear shouting and promptly ignored it, until Cortes started bellowing at his men, enraged. It took a moment for Miguel to understand, and when he did, he started shouting at Tulio.

"Row faster!" Miguel ordered, just as Cortes' voice rang out, "Shoot!" Tulio did as he was told, and the two managed to paddle a few more yards away. They could still hear Cortes roaring, "Shoot! Shoot! Don't let them get away! Shoot!"

Miguel watched in horror as one man aimed and fired a crossbow at them. The arrow wasn't impeded by the rain, and he watched it, in shock, as it got closer and closer to his face, closer, oh, God, it was going to pin him right between the eyes! –

Then all he could see was a blue shirt.

Tulio's knees gave out, and a particularly large wave tilted the boat enough that the brunette tumbled overboard.