.jpg)
The beautiful dress, marked by salt-water spray, whiskey, and sweat, lay on the bed, seeming sad somehow. The blue fabric had helped see me through my months at sea and I was disappointed to have to leave it behind, all except the corset that was. It had done nothing but pain me the entire time. The only thing that was good about it was the memories of Tristan’s fingers on it, unlacing it for me in a way that made me pleasantly wild to think about now. But, there would be no more Tristan to help untie me, and no need to wear it any longer.
Trying to get a feel for how I looked without the assistance of a mirror, once again, I reached under my shirt and tugged at the stockings tied around my chest, making sure that they wouldn’t come loose unexpectedly. Tying my breasts down had not been the most enjoyable part of my day, by far, but I was fairly certain they wouldn’t be noticed right off, if at all. The wrap held well and I readjusted my shirt, tucking it into the long brown pants. Knowing that Captain Rodrigues had most likely worn these without underpants made me fiercely wish I had my panties, but I’d gotten rid of them long ago, before we were even a month at sea, since there was no way to really wash them and keep them from stinking of sweat. I couldn’t exactly go out and get new ones, so I would just have to make do. The boots didn’t fit perfectly—apparently there was no such thing as shoe sizes in this time period—but they weren’t so big I couldn’t walk in them.
Sliding into the long jacket, I did my best to hide that I didn’t have a belt, not because the pants didn’t fit, but because I had no weapon. A man from now would have at least had some kind of pistol or knife, but I had nothing. Making a note to get something as soon as possible, and blanching at the thought of having to steal from someone else, I grabbed the large hat and placed it on my head, letting the brim cover my face some. That, coupled with the fact that my hair was worn down and long, should disguise my true identity from most everyone passing by. I’d braided a few strands as well, like I’d seen some of the pirates do. By all accounts, I should look like a man. At least I hoped I did.
Mr. Abby had returned the night before, as promised, and delivered the instructions on where I was to go. He informed me the Adelina would be leaving port this afternoon, but couldn’t be bothered to share where to or why so soon. Apparently, Tristan hadn’t appreciated my time spent with the captain—which he was making wrong assumptions about, it appeared—and I was being left completely on my own. That was fine by me—I would have better success with the crew out of the way and no one to possibly recognize me.
The plan was simple; dress like a man to keep the perverts away, hide on a new ship, get off in the Americas, and make my way back to the Treasure Pit. It would take time, certainly, but it was the only way I could think to get back to where I needed. History classes had taught me about The Triangle of Trade, a route ships used to deliver goods between countries, and I intended to use that knowledge to the best of my ability. America may not be the first stop, but it would come eventually. Silently, I cursed myself for majoring in English instead of history. This would have been much easier if I’d known what was going on around me! Being in Spain, it was clear they were at war with the English and French—it was all anyone wanted to talk about—which didn’t sound surprising. No one in La Coruña seemed concerned by it, though. Apparently, the armies were in France at the moment. Besides that, I knew absolutely nothing. Nada. Zip. It was incredibly frustrating.
Sighing, I knew it was time to leave the room and start the next part of the journey. However, I found it hard to vacate the comfort of it, knowing it would be a long time before I sat in front of a fire again, or laid on a feather bed. The room itself was tiny, with wooden walls that did nothing to keep sound out, but it felt like home for some reason. Glancing at the dress on the bed, I felt a pang of longing for Tristan, wondering if he would ever hear that I didn’t make it to his cousin’s house. Would he worry about me? Would my disappearance faze him at all? There was no way to know. Right now, he was probably making plans to permanently fix the damage to the ship that had been hastily mended after their hunt. He would be working, taking care of things. Why should he stop to think about me?
Thinking of Tristan and how he was moving on spurred me into action, and I left the room, keeping my head down and trying to remain unnoticed. Anyone who did see me didn’t look twice, and I smiled to myself, pleased that I didn’t look out of place.
Quickly, I exited out onto the street, blending in with the crowd and heading toward the dock, where a few merchant ships were waiting. I’d heard talk that pirates secretly ran them, but they kept the trade legitimate here and were always left alone. In my mind, one of them was better than trying to sneak onto an actual pirate ship. Merchant ships would have lots of goods, things I could easily hide in below deck. Hopefully, there would be food to eat. I knew there’d be whiskey to drink, or at least some form of alcohol. If I could make it to the next port, be that America or somewhere else, I could jump ship to stay safe. The plan seemed shaky at best, and one hell of a bad idea, but there was nothing else to do.
There were three ships at the dock, one of which was settled in for the long haul, a large gash running through the side of it. Of the other two, the word was one was late leaving because of an issue with the crew and the other was set to leave with the tide. Each looked like they would do for what I wanted; I just had to decide which was the lucky one.
Picking wasn’t hard. Getting on board was another story entirely. There were literally no options for doing it, unless I wanted to hide in the cargo itself. Glancing around, I surmised it was either already on board or in a warehouse somewhere, so that wasn’t a possibility. Resolved to figure something out, I sat on the dock and watched the coming and goings, waiting for an idea to come to me. There was a man guarding the plank leading up to the ship, as well as a few armed men on board who were making rounds across the deck, surveying every point. I couldn’t blame them, with the city as full of pirates as it was.
After about an hour or so, a group of sailors passed by, laughing loudly and talking about how they were about to set sail again, finally, on the ship I’d picked. If I didn’t get on soon, I would miss it and who knew what would happen then.
“Señorita?”
Without thinking, I turned and froze, cursing myself for giving my gender away. A priest stood behind me, holding a suitcase in one hand and a bible in the other. His brown robes brushed the ground, toes peeking out from underneath, and his black hair was shaved into a bowl cut. The look on his face showed mostly curiosity, though there did seem to be some horror at my outfit in there as well.
“Yes,” I said through clenched teeth. “How did you know?”
“I live with men, señorita, and you are no man. These drunk sailors can’t tell the difference, but I can, easily.” He grinned, shrugging as he continued to stare at me, unaware I was obviously not comfortable with the attention he was giving me. Then, like a light bulb switched on, his eyes widened and he looked around, as if he expected someone to be watching us. “You want on the ship, no?”
Cautious, I nodded slightly, wondering if he was going to out me and call down all the powers of heaven to help me repent of my misdeeds.
“Come with me,” he stated, heading toward the ship. “And keep your head down, señorita.”
Surprised, I did as he said without question, feeling like I was about to be shoved in the harbor for merely being a woman in men’s clothing. What exactly was he planning to do with me?
When we reached the gangplank, the priest started arguing with the sailor guarding it, waving his hand at me dramatically. Finally, after several minutes of conversation I didn’t understand, the sailor threw his hands up and motioned us on board, rolling his eyes and continuing to mutter in Spanish. Knowing better than to question what just happened, I followed the priest, hiding my face as he’d instructed. Finally, we reached a room that apparently belonged to him and he ushered me inside, closing the door quickly behind us.
“What did you say to him?” I asked curious.
“I told him you were my translator, that you didn’t speak to anyone but me, and that you must board with me if I am to convert the heathens of the lands we are about to visit. He wasn’t too happy about it, but I managed to convince him with some extra blessings.”
“You bribed a sailor with blessings?” My eyebrows rose in surprise and I laughed, taken completely aback by the little round man.
“The Lord will forgive. After all, I was helping a soul in need. Tell me, señorita, why did you need on this ship?” Placing his bag on the bed, he sat down next to it and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his long sleeve.
“I’m trying to get home,” I explained. “But I don’t have any money. I was kidnapped by pirates and—”
“Pirates!” he exclaimed, his face brightening considerably. “How exciting! You must tell me everything!” At my shocked look he chuckled, and rested his hands on his shaking belly. It was a full minute before he’d gotten control of himself, and then he leaned forward, beckoning, like he wanted to tell me a secret. “You know, when I was a boy, I wanted to be a pirate. To see the world and not bend to anyone’s will but my own! But, alas, it was not meant to be. My father sent me into the service and I became a priest instead. Sometimes I still wonder what it would be like, to be my own person, not living a life in the servitude of our Lord and Savior.” His eyes widened at that and he hastily crossed himself, uttering a word that I assumed was asking for forgiveness. “I did not mean I dislike serving the Lord,” he explained. “I do.”
“It was another time,” I offered, hoping the tone of my voice would let him know I understood.
“Sí,” he answered, nodding. “I am Father Torres, señorita. Alfonso Torres. And you are?”
“Samantha Greene.” I reached over and shook his hand, smiling warmly. “Pleased to meet you.”
“It was by God’s grace,” he said humbly, looking toward the heavens. “I am sent to help you, child. You will stay here in my room with me and the crew will never know that you aren’t a man. Now, tell me all about these pirates!”