The Dust of 100 Dogs - A. S. King [83]
Emer’s silly Irish morals were hidden somewhere dark alongside her mother, so she tried not to think about them. “Well, we’re here now. We’d better get used to it,” she said. “I should warn you that I’m never letting you out of my sight again, long as I live!”
“Ha!” Seanie laughed. “Well, I should warn you of the same! Even if you tire of me!”
He grabbed her and squeezed her tightly, tickling her and kissing her face repeatedly. She laughed and thrashed until he stopped tickling. They kissed again and again, as if they had suddenly become a couple who were celebrating a fortieth wedding anniversary. It seemed as natural to them as breathing, this loving each other—and they gasped for air as if they’d been under deep water for six long years, frantically trying to resurface.
As Emer lay in her bunk with Seanie, she heard her crew having their party and realized she was being utterly selfish staying below deck. She wanted to find David and say something to him, so he would know she was sorry. She knew that he loved her. He hadn’t been hiding it.
She and Seanie got up and he helped her with her cape, commenting on the outstanding embroidery work. He wondered how she would fight these Spanish marines with only one foot, and made a comment about minding her during the upcoming battle. When they got to the deck the party was in full swing, men falling about laughing, a few fighting, a few singing jolly songs. Emer held Seanie’s hand, and this was widely noticed.
David was standing alone at the stern of the Vera Cruz. He seemed stranded there, stuck inside a web of ropes. Emer left Seanie with the singing men and went to him.
“There are Spanish ships twenty miles away, sir. Saw them with my own eyes, I did.”
“David, you’re drunk!”
“Aren’t you, sir?”
Emer nodded. “I have to talk to you, David.”
“With respect, sir. Save your words.”
“I know it’s not fair, David. But you always knew this might happen.”
He looked at her and smirked. “I never knew a man could come back from the dead! No, sir! I never knew that!”
They stood, silently looking out at the horizon as they had a thousand times before.
“David?”
“What?”
“I’m sorry.”
He softened. “I only wish things could be different.”
“I know.”
“If you don’t mind, sir, I suppose I’ll be finding other work when we’re through.”
“After all your work to make this fleet? You can’t!”
“I can settle down and find my place. I suppose you’ll be doing the same thing.” She didn’t answer. David looked out to sea. “I’d say we’ll be pounding them before morning, with this wind! It’s our lucky day!”
Emer tried again to meet David’s eyes, but he dropped a wall between them. She backed off and acted professional. She even said, “Carry on” when she walked away.
The men were drinking at an awesome pace. The baskets of food were empty and Emer watched as they danced and sang, knowing that these strangers were willing to die for her—a thing more noble than she could imagine.
By the time Emer’s fleet surrounded the Spanish that afternoon, the same men were quiet and ready. Their twenty ships crept toward the enemy on all sides, tacking briskly to make time. The Spanish could see them, of course, and their only chance to save themselves was to outrun them. As Emer’s ships moved close enough to fire their cannons, the Spanish ordered as many tons of cargo overboard as they could. Shirtless men appeared on the decks, throwing crate after crate of Caribbean sugar and rum into the sea. But no amount of shed weight could help them now.
Chain shot ripped through the Spanish sails, three or four tons at a time from all directions. One of Emer’s fleet had already collided with a slow Spanish frigate, causing a backup on the eastern side of the battle.
“Fire!” David screamed.
“Men! Ready your muskets!” Emer joined in, positioning herself directly between Seanie and another man, propped to balance with one foot.
She grabbed a gun and began aiming for the crew of the nearest ship, a great galleon that shone with gold paint.