A Pirate’s Wife (8 page)

Captain Derek Blanq. He fell in love with Kayla and they

got married a month after us. Derek and Cisco became

friends on that journey.

†††

On the third day, Rosa-Lee came into Roberto's

cabin. He saw that her lips were dry and she hungrily eyed

him eating a peach, also stealing glances at the chicken on

the table.

'Can I help you, Señorita?' he asked without looking

up.

'Can I have some water and food, please?' her

mouth was so dry that only a whisper was heard over the

scratching of the tin plates.

'I cannot hear you, Señorita. Speak up.' He lifted his

head to meet her eyes.

'Can I have some water and food, please?'

'Will you sit at my table?'

She looked at him. Her expression still showed

defiance and anger but she tried to cover it with

exaggerated submissiveness. He smirked.

'Yes.'

'Sorry, I did not hear you.'

'Yes, I will sit at your table!'

'Pierre, please bring a chair closer for the Señorita.'

When a chair was place behind her, she had to stop

herself from grabbing food and water simultaneously. Her

lips burned with thirst.

'Do you want water, Señorita?'

'Yes, please.' While he poured the sparkling, clean

water, she watched his every movement. Every nerve

ending in her body shouted cravings for the sweetness. He

placed the water carafe back on the table and handed her

the cup. With shaking hands she finished the water in one

thirsty gulp. Droplets ran from the side of her mouth. Ochre

eyes followed the trail down her neck, over her full bosom

and onto her dress.

He had to hand it to her. She had held out for three

hot days. Brave and strong was this delicate little flower.

She reminded him of flowers he once saw blooming in the

desert: beautiful and alive with colour, but underneath,

hidden under the lush green leaves, thorns waited, and

when you tried to pluck one, it would sting you when you

least expected it. He had to shift for the stirring that he felt,

keeping his expression sternly on her.

She, however, did not notice the stare or the shift.

She ate until she was full, the delicious food a welcome

treat to her palate. It was quiet for a long time in the

captain's cabin with Roberto filling her plate and she

eating, hands trembling, taking sips of the wine he offered

to wash it down. Pierre had already left without her

noticing.

Once done, she relaxed, holding the glass of water

in her hands, not letting go of the precious fluid, taking

frequent sips.

'Meals will be served punctually, every day,' he said

lazily cleaning his nails with the knife. 'I hope, Señorita,

that we understand each other better from now on.' He met

her gaze.

'Without a doubt,' she snapped.
Ahh, the thorns,
he

smiled.

'Enrico is preparing a bath for you as we speak.

Enjoy, Señorita.' He smiled at her when she finally let go of

the glass.

For the last three days, she received no bath. The

heat was unbearable in her cabin, but she refused to go on

the upper deck in this state of filthy, unkempt hair and

alarming body odours.

These men, these savages, will not humiliate me!

The bath would be a welcome diversion. She felt

sticky from the sea air, her hair hanging listless on her

shoulders.

'Thanks, Señor,' she said, a bit friendlier. She felt

humiliated by the experience and she could see that he

loved her discomfort. Now she could not look at the smirk

on his face.
'I hate him!'

'It was a pleasure,' he said as she left. She could

hear his laugh following her all the way to her door.

'I really hate him.'

Two hours later, she felt refreshed and clean, her

skin soft and creamy. She decided to go to the upper deck

to dry her hair in the midday sun. For the first time since

she had come on board, she came up on the deck.

Walking to the bow, a man busy with ropes looked

at her with interest. She ignored him, touching the taffrail

to keep her balance. She could look far around her, the west

coast of Africa noticeable on the horizon. The ship clove

the clear waters. A light sea spray met her that was

welcoming in the heat. It was her first time taking a voyage

again.

Her mind wandered very far from her immediate

surroundings, thinking about a similar voyage twenty years

ago when she was only four years old. Memories flooded

back; of how they had met the giant they now knew as

Cisco Almaida. She remembered how she ran up to him,

telling him that she would be his daughter because he didn't

have one and looked sad. From that day forward there was

a bond between that sailor, now her father, and herself.

She remembered hugging his thick leg, feeling safe.

His hug in return was hesitant because the captain did not

allow any contact between the passengers and the crew. In

her young mind she did not know of the trouble she had

caused him, only that she had a longing for a father figure.

Her father was never interested in her, never around, or

when he was he was always drunk. She had always been

afraid of her biological father and had never had the liberty

to run up to him and hug him as she could with the giant.

Her young heart immediately reached out to him.

He talked to her in a soft, low voice, and even today, he

never raised his voice to her, even when she knew she

deserved it. He was a loving, gentle giant, and she loved

him fiercely.

In her eyes, he was everything a father, a husband,

and a man should be. She remembered how he was

whipped because he held her, the pain on his rugged face,

but not once did he cry out. His back ripped open from the

lashes.

Her mother thought that she did not witness it but

she did and when it was finished, she sat in a corner and

she cried about the unfairness of the grownups. Her

biological father stood close by and laughed when the giant

received the beating and she hated him. Never once did she

seek for his affection or love again throughout the voyage.

In the year and a half that they were in the bush

country of Africa and she got scared, she always ran to the

giant seeking safety and comfort in his arms.

Cisco was always there.

Ever since her mother and he met, they had loved

each other dearly. It did not matter how hard they tried to

ignore it. Their feelings became stronger over the period of

time. They never could openly express their love because

of the 'no contact' rule that the captain enforced harshly. No

one ever loved that man, not even her father, who was

always in a drunken stupor because of all the idle time at

sea. He had nothing to keep him busy except gambling with

the sailors.

This was the first time after their ordeal that she was

back on the open sea. Yes, there were many times that she

went on board ships because her father wanted to teach her

the science of chart reading and making knots, but she had

never gone on a voyage again.

She was happy on their estate, helping in the villa

and in the village. She loved nature and the smell of freshly

worked ground as well as the peace and tranquillity that it

brought to her soul.

Sadly, she wondered if she would ever set eyes on

that place again. Things at sea could change very quickly.

She knew the sea was never a friend.

She remembered when Manuel and Pedro were

born and how happy Mama and Papa were. Before they

were born, her father had always had a longing in his

piercing eyes. But after their birth it disappeared, replaced

by contentment and joy. He always told them how much he

loved them, and her mother had developed into a beautiful

woman because of the love he had shown her. Before their

marriage her mother had been called an 'ice queen.' She

lived a bitter and lonely life. That changed after she

married the gentle giant.

One day Rosa-Lee would also have a love like that.

At the age of twenty-four, she was still not married, but her

hopes for the right man to come had not wavered. Many

suitors came and spoke to her father about her hand in

marriage but he always respected her wishes. He never

gave in to the demanding men and she loved him even