Tortuga 1559

The salty breeze rolled in from the open sea. John Roxton and Isabella Espina—disguised as Joaquín—strolled along the shore. The sand crunched beneath their boots. Up ahead, sitting on a weathered barrel, was Ben Daringold, pipe in hand, watching Roxton's ship sway gently in the harbor.

"You got a fine-looking tinderbox there, Roxton," He commented as the two of them approached.

"You sound a bit green, Daringold. Is that envy I hear? Because mine's bigger than yours?" Roxton asked.

Daringold coughed. "No, I reckon it's this Jamaican funk. I prefer the Spanish stuff."

"Suit yourself. Are you ready to set sail?" John asked.

Daringold stood up, stretching his arms. "I'm ready."

"We leave as soon as the night falls." Isabella said. "By dawn, we'll be deep at sea."

Daringold's grin widened as he turned to her. "We will, aye. But you, sweetheart, aren't going anywhere."

"Excuse me?" She asked, staring at him, shocked.

"Did you really think I was as dense as the rest?" He asked. "That I wouldn't know you're a woman?"

In an instant, Isabella's dagger was in her hand, lowering it dangerously close to his groin. "Not a word to anyone, or I'll unman you as well."

"Easy now. I've no intention of ruining your little game. I respect a strong woman—but on land, not at sea."

"So much for the grand ideals of freedom for all men and women…" Roxton remarked.

Daringold smirked. "Aye, she's got complete freedom to do whatever she pleases—on solid ground. But a woman on board? That's bad luck."

"So you believe in superstitions?" Roxton asked, mockingly. "And here I thought you told me not to put faith in fairy stories."

Daringold exhaled a puff of smoke. "I don't make the rules. And I also don't tempt fate."

"How convenient." Roxton said. "Superstition when it suits you, reason when it doesn't."

Daringold shrugged. "Take it or leave it, Roxton, but those are my terms."

Roxton didn't like it—not one bit—but he knew when a negotiation had reached its end. "Fine. We'll do it your way."

"You accept this?!" Isabella asked, angrily.

"Isabella—"

"It's your ship!" Her voice cut through his like a blade. "You're the captain. You make the rules."

Roxton's tone was calm and measured. "Yes. And as captain, I've made the decision to honor Ben's wishes."

"And what about mine?"

"I'll make it up to you."

"We'll see about that."

"Isabella—"

She turned around, ready to storm off, when Daringold let out a low chuckle. That was his mistake. In a flash, she spun back, marched up to him, and slapped him hard across the face. Then, without another glance, she turned on her heel and strode away.

Daringold blinked, more surprised than hurt. Then, instead of anger, a wide grin spread across his face.

"A fiery one, ain't she?" he muttered, rubbing his cheek.

They were far out at sea and the open water was stretching in every direction. The sun was sinking toward the horizon. John stood at the helm, resting his hands on the wheel, his gaze fixed ahead. Daringold was standing beside him, pipe in hand.

"Where's your helmsman, Roxton?" Daringold asked.

"I take pride in piloting my own ship, Ben. Keeps me alert."

"Then, let's make some headway, shall we?"

Roxton arched a brow. "No need for schooling. How many prizes have we taken together as privateers?"

Daringold held up a hand. "No offense meant."

"Then take no offense in return, but I'd appreciate a little silence. Even Isabella, a woman, doesn't talk as much as you do."

Daringold let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Fair enough, Captain."

The night passed quietly, and dawn arrived quickly. The first light stretched across the sea, shimmering over the waves like gold. It wasn't long before a ship appeared on the horizon—white sails and a Spanish flag. A prize ripe for the taking.

Daringold leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Get us close."

Roxton hands were already on the wheel, adjusting their course. The ship glided through the waves and the crew moved into their position, checking their weapons, coiling the ropes, and locking eyes on the prey.

"Fire some cannons if you will, land a few strikes if you must," Daringold instrcuted. "But for God's sake, don't sink her! It's no fun fishing cargo out of the sea. Although… it could be done."

The first cannon fired and sent a plume of smoke into the sky. A second one followed and grazed the main deck. The Spaniards scrambled and shouted as they fumbled to return fire. Roxton's crew unleashed another volley and struck near the forecastle this time, сhattering the wood and sending splinters flying. The Spanish gunners fired back. But they were in panic and they aimed hurriedly so their shots went wide. Roxton's ship closed the gap. The crew threw grappling hooks and the iron claws latched onto the enemy ship.

Roxton led the charge, sword drawn as he jumped onto the Spanish deck. His men were right behind him. Spanish sailors stepped back, some gripping their weapons, others frozen in place.

Roxton lifted his sword in a gesture of command. "¡Buen día, señor! I am Captain Roxton, and this is my crew. We are sailors like yourselves, but quite unlike in our purpose. For we intend to take all that you own. Yet no harm shall befall any man, so long as he remains at ease. Is that clear?"

One of the Spanish sailors fell to his knees, trembling. "No me mate, señor. ¡Tengo familia! Se lo ruego!"

Others started pleading in Spanish as well, and it was clear - they weren't speaking English.

Roxton turned to Daringold. "See? We should have brought Isabella. She could have translated." Then, raising his voice, he called out, "Anyone speaks English?" When no one answered, he added, "Inglés?"

A moment of hesitation—then, one of the younger sailors lifted his hand carefully. "A little bit," he admitted.

Daringold stepped toward him. "Good. Tell your friends we're stealing your goods. And we won't hurt anybody as long as everybody stays still. You got that?"

"Please… repeat?" the sailor stuttered.

"For God's sake, throw them in the hold!" Daringold groaned, snapping orders at both his men and Roxton's. "And grab everything that's not nailed down!"

With that, the crew surged forward, securing the prisoners and setting to work. They looted the ship of its gold, spices, and whatever other valuables they could carry. The prize was theirs.