Mia Marina

Chapter 1: Alta Mar

May 26, 1716

The morning arrived with the roosters’ crow. The sunlight accompanied by the busy shadows on the alley walls, tell the tales of the many peoples making their way to start anew. San Juan, Puerto Rico. Truly paradise. A place where the suns touch, together with the humid ocean breeze entwine in an unseemly relationship. This was an age of prosperity, where cultures interweaved and the open seas became the great equalizer of men.

Santiago awoke as the Cathedral’s shadow cast over his face, cooling the warm breeze as he took his first morning breath. Images of the night before, dissipating like the mid-morning dew.

“Ugh” he grunted, trying to cover his eyes from the ‘bothersome’ morning sun. “I seriously must stop drinking till such late hours of the night!” He said in a raspy dehydrated voice. “I wouldn’t want to sleep right through wor...Oh no, oh no no no no, Carajo!” he exclaimed , eyes widened, stumbling out of bed with new-found energy. “Work! I’m late, again. Ohh, the Old man is going to have me stripping those damned ships till the flesh on my hands is gone.”

Santiago worked many jobs throughout his early youth, learning valuable trades along the way. He worked the fields with his grandfather as a child, learning much about of the land and its endless resources. He learned to read and write from his mother, gaining knowledge of poetry and the other arts. But his greatest passion, was the sea. Santiago’s father was a very distinguished Sailor for the Spanish Navy. He taught him many things. From navigation, to fishing, and even combat strategies implemented by the Navy itself. He was even educated in swordsmanship. Santiago dreamt of becoming a sailor for the Spanish Navy. But all that remained of those dreams were just the memories of having them.

Santiago rushed to the marquee with an unbalanced vigor, pushing away the colorful drapes that kept the sun at bay. He distinctly remembered the sound the drapes made when pushed apart by his mother in the mornings. A powerful “flap” that sounded curiously similar to that of a ship’s untethered flag. He was never able to emulate the powerful flap, no matter how many times he pushed the fabric apart.

Santiago ran across the marquee, trying to rush his exhausted eyes into adjusting to the bright blue sky. He rapidly sifted through the clothes line, desperately searching for a shirt with minimal staining. “Maybe if I were to wear something nice, he’ll have mercy and wont subject me to that torture. It’s practically keelhauling.” He thought with hopeful optimism.

But time became fleeting and he knew he would have to run in order to make up the time lost. Santiago hurried through the cobblestone streets, in between alleyways and old shortcuts he frequented as a child. As he ran up and down unbalanced streets, he felt the liquor and food of the night before, revolt like the seas in high storm. Santiago was strong and fit, but liquor and indulgence has the tendency to weaken even those with the strongest of constitution.

“Boof!” he let out a grunt accompanied by a face of pure disgust, like he could taste the meals of one thousand days all in one. He paused for a few seconds just to catch his breath, then he began to run the last stretch.

“I am almost there!” He said stumbling and pushing through the other dock workers. It was a particularly busy day at the Port. Many ships would arrive on random days throughout the year. Some would come from foreign lands, speaking in different tongues, eager to trade their lands goods. While others, like the Spanish Navy would stop in order to restock their supplies after an exhaustive journey. Either way, Santiago knew that he was in a pit of trouble.

“Don Gaspar! -- Ugh!” He asked looking around the multitude, simultaneously trying to hold the contents of his stomach in their place. He walked to a familiar face under the shade cast by the massive Navy ship’s mast.

“Diego? Diego? Where is the old man?” He asked in between breaths.

“Oh amigo, good to see you alive and well.” He responded with a sarcastic smile. Diego was very savvy and had little etiquette, despite his words being very eloquent. They became close friends ever since Diego first stepped foot on the Island as a child. “We surely thought that you would not make it today, especially after that scene you made with Catalina. She is so beautiful Santiago. Why would you turn her away in such ungraceful manner?” he playfully asked Santiago.

“There is nothing I would love more than to discuss my personal affairs with you Diego, but I must know where the “Old man” is!” Santiago responded, looking about.

“Well, Don Gaspar is actually in a good mood, so consider yourself lucky today. He is at Porta Maria, handling some business. You may want to hurry though, for I suspect that mood of his will not last too long.” Despite Diego’s playful, carefree personality, he was of serious nature. He was also a very skilled swordsman. Some rumors ,speculating he was the only man to best the famous Scottish swordsman Donald McBane in an unofficial duel, although he denies this duel ever taking place.

“Thank you, Diego. I promise I will tell you all about Catalina. And her sister, who I hear is particularly fond of you.” He said with a mischievous smirk, cutting Diego off and turning away with haste. Santiago looked confused as he made his way through the multitude. He never remembered seeing so many people at once in all his time working the docks. As he arrived around the corner at Porta Maria, he overheard some distinct chatter of new troubles at sea. This was not a unique behavior amongst sailors. Months into a voyage, with only pungent and distasteful food and little to drink would make any man go mad. He had seen it many times before in his childhood.

Some nights Santiago would often sit under open windows just to hear the sailor’s stutter through epic stories. This is how many legends began, so he knew better than to believe every embellished detail. But somehow a part of him was always driven to stories of the sea, and the legends of there beyond.

“excuse me! sorry!” Santiago said, as he made his way through the newly arrived sailors. He could tell how long a sailor was at sea with the smell alone.

“Well look who decided to show up, this time of the day no last!” Someone said from in between the crowd. It was an older gentleman, of medium stature huddled in between a group of merchants. He was of stocky build and held his head at a slight angle with a lazy eye and a scar where his right eyebrow would be. Santiago made his way towards the older man.

“Don Gaspar, I can expla..”-

“Shh” he interrupted. “Do not mind that at the moment. There is something I need from you. Quickly, follow me!” Don Gaspar said, tapping Santiago on the arm and moving away from the busy crowd.

Santiago followed, looking at the many faces of the men around him. He could’ve sworn they became more silent as he walked by. Don Gaspar was secretive in his dealings, never to leave his home without his ledger. Santiago could feel a bit of angst in Don Gaspar’s gait so he leaned in closer.

“Is everything ok, Don?” he asked, as he looked around.

The old man said nothing. They walked for a few silent minutes until they reached an alleyway, far from the clutter. Don Gaspar paused and turned the corner making sure no one followed.

“You-you are the only person I readily trust for this job.” Santiago grew worried. Don Gaspar looked down and swallowed, wiping the sweat off his forehead. Santiago knew something was wrong, this did not seem to be in relation to this bad record of tardiness, or the fact that more often than not he would still reek of the night before. No, this time was different.

The old man was never known to mince words. On the contrary his tongue was far too free, even for an old grump as himself.

“What is the problem old man?” Santiago asked, trying to make the mood less frigid.

“Well…as I told you.” He paused, trying to grab hold of his disposition. “You are- regardless of all your exploits, and lack of responsibility. Also, the fact that you reek of drink most times. And that you are constant…” Santiago’s eyes grew slimmer and slimmer, changing his expression from one of worry to one of just sheer annoyance.

“umm… what I am trying to say is…you are still very dependable and always get the job done!” Santiago looked at Don Gaspar with astonishment. He did not expect to hear a compliment. Something was definitely wrong.

“Is the old man dying, or is he just drunk?” he thought to himself.

“Are you dying, or are you just drunk?”

Don Gaspar bellowed in laughter, loosening up his tight grip.

“Well, I actually haven’t had anything to drink in quite some time. Although I can sure use one at the moment.” Santiago was still preoccupied about the timing and location of this conversation. Secrecy was only meant for matters of the King or matters of ill intent.

“What is on your mind Don?” he said in a serious tone, nodding his head up and crossing his arms.

“Well- I have been given a parcel of sorts, to be delivered. It is of sensitive nature, and there is no man I can trust more for the job than you.”

Almodovar Gaspar Jimenez, respectfully known as Don Gaspar was a privateer many years ago. He was a great seafarer but an even better merchant. Known as the man to speak to when procuring and dealing with goods from the Caribbean. He was a man of great reputation and respect within the Port, even if he did have a bit of a love affair with money. But even this man, would not endanger himself or his crew for the frivolous pursuit of monetary gain.

Santiago paused and thought about what it could be and its implications. There was always a line he would not cross. His “exploits”, were merely a means to escape what he had so long tried to keep comatose in his mind; most of which blurred images of his past. Drowning it all in liquor, women, fighting and gambling, was not healthy but it was an efficient way of doing just that. Something his mother, would never be able to bare if she were still alive.

Santiago never dealt with activities that veered too far from the line of legality. He somehow figured this time that well may well be the case.

“What is it you want me to do?” he asked, figuring that he should at least hear the old man out before turning him down.

“It is only a delivery. Nothing more, nothing less!”- he said, flapping his collar trying to cool down from the near noon heat. - “In and out Santiago!” Don Gaspar eyes were disturbed, but he quickly changed his expression.

“I might need a little more information than that, Don!” Santiago responded.

Gaspar shook his head and let out an audible sigh. “All I can give you is the location of where the delivery will be. You will need to form a crew...”-

“Form a crew?” Santiago asked furrowing his brow in confusion. “We already have a crew old man! What is it you are trying to pull?” Santiago was often mistaken for a fool due to his behavior. He was many things, but a fool, was not one of them. Of all the lessons taught to him by his father, the one he remembered most was: “Your first move against an enemy is to make them underestimate you.”

Santiago sighed in defeat, looking straight up to the sky while stretching out his arms. Gaspar was committed to keep his secrets. “But why?.. What is the risk?” He thought. “Is he afraid?” Don Gaspar was a man of war. He established his reputation through skirmishes against corsairs on many occasions. Even going so far as to becoming a training officer in his youth.

Santiago knew of Don Gaspar’s past, and his reputation. But this only drew him more eager to know the answer of his question. In one last attempt to sway Don Gaspar, Santiago leaned against the wall behind him. He covered himself in the shadow provided by the building at his back and looked up at Don Gaspar with an intense stare. Don Gaspar widened his eyes and for a second his breathing became interrupted. He had never seen Santiago like this. Something about him was instantly different.

“The answer is no!"-

Don Gaspar’s face turned into one of horror. He looked straight into Santiago’s eyes, mouth slightly agape without response. At that moment Santiago understood. Whatever it was, was bigger than just a simple delivery. Don Gaspar’s breathing became agitated under clear desperation.

“uh.. well- well after all I have do…for you- He looked down, as if he was trying to find his anger. But all emotions were paled by the reek of fear in his voice.

Santiago interrupted Don Gaspar’s thoughts before he said anything else. “Well… it is not like you have ever let me down old man. I trust you!” Santiago responded in a calm voice. Don Gaspar’s face turned into instant relief, and after a second he retained his composure.

“Remember boy, in and out! Have your crew together by tomorrow. I will have “La Lucena” ready by sun up.” This seemed like more of a warning than a friendly reminder. Either way, Santiago’s guard was up. Whatever came his way he would face it. This feeling was a familiar one. Excitement rushed through his veins like the cold rushing river water.

There was something about the unknown that called to Santiago. Ever since he was a little boy his father admonished him against letting his emotions cloud his judgement. But curiosity and excitement, touched with a hint of fear are an otherworldly feeling.

“I wonder in what deep pit the old man has gotten himself into.” Santiago whispered to himself. “Whatever it is, it is not good. Of that I made certain.” In order for Santiago to gather as much information from Gaspar he had to play his cards right, without compromising whatever agreement bound his tongue. His strategy was simple, turn down Don Gaspar’s request and wait for his reaction. This certainly would cause an effect in his demeanor, lifting the veil of secrecy slightly.

Santiago pondered about his so called, crew of men, he did not yet possess. “Where am I to find such a crew?” he asked himself. “I guess I can count Diego in. He is always up for an adventure.” He figured, maybe Diego is exactly the person to ask, so he made his way to “La Amapola”-a watering hole he would often frequent-. It was quite a ways from the port but lucky for him he knew all the shortcuts in San Juan. “La Amapola” was located on the northern side of the islet, outside the walls of the Castillo San Felipe. Due to this, it was not a very popular place for drink. Which also meant it attracted a certain type of clientele.

Santiago was never there for the comradery, or the affairs of the lawless. Everything for him was for knowledge. Here he would hear chatter of things he could not hear within the walls of the town. It was a place of solemn truth and chaotic freedom. It was indeed an ironic way to describe this place.

“la Amapola” was a run-down, dilapidated, half stone, half driftwood building. Once a slave house, this place had no windows and no doors. The roof vibrantly colored made it visible from almost any distance. The roof was so frequently being repaired due to the strong winds, that the people who lived it would find discarded, slightly damaged materials as a means for the repairs. Often this meant, the roof would change colors during many times of the year. Earning it the name, “Casa Amapola”.

The house was the home of the Cázares family. Now many years later all that lives on from the memories shared is the youngest and only surviving member of the family. A man by the name of Juan “Moreno” Cázares Asunción.

He was a burly man, scars covered most of his body, in particular his back. He was missing his left eye and a few of his fingers. He was a freed slave, whom saw many battles as a mercenary for the Spanish crown and endured much hardship. Most of which is a mystery. When people would ask him: “Was it worth losing your eye for a King who cares so little?”, he would always respond: “I only wish I would have lost the other one so that I did not have to see your ugly face!” and laughed.

Indeed, he was a burly man. He was given the nickname “Moreno” while in the Navy by his companions. It was in reference to his dark skin tone, and dark brown eyes. There was something about Cázares that drew people to him. A sort of magnetism that displayed virtue and courage, in the face of adversity.

Santiago always looked up to him when he was a young boy. Ever since the first time he laid eyes on that colorful roof from afar. Cázares offered Santiago his first experience of employment, outside of his grandfathers land.

It was Santiago’s father who brought him to meet Cázares, many years ago. Cázares fought side by side with Santiago’s father many times. Even though he was a slave fighting for his freedom, Cázares climbed up the ranks of the Spanish Navy quickly.

His competency and strategic input, helped gain control of large areas lost to corsairs in previous battles. But this was not his most defining feature. He was known to have been a ruthless fighter. There are many stories about him on the battlefield. Some possible, others-according to many- outright preposterous.

But there was a reason the name, “Moreno” Cázares was a legend. At least that’s what Santiago thought.

Santiago reached the beach sand and made his way to Cázares, who was preparing a boat.

“Oye, Cázares” He said, speeding up his stride. Cázares lifted his head and turned towards Santiago.

“Muchacho! How have you been? Are you here to give me a hand for today’s supper? He then turned towards Santiago and slightly closed his eye staring point blank with suspense. “Or, are you here to just eat my food?”

Santiago looked at the towering figure and punched him right in the gut. Cázares winced, but just barely.

“Ah do not tell me your age has made you soft?” he said, shaking his hand in discomfort laughing while Cázares brushed off the hit with ease.

“Did a bee sting your hand or something? I honestly expected more. Especially since I was the one who trained you.” He then proceeded to embrace Santiago.

“It is good to see you again Santiago” He said with a deep voice.

“You as well my friend!” Santiago smiled.

“So, how is “La Amapola” these days?” He asked, grabbing a hold on the end of the rope under the boat.

“Well she is fine, although I can use another set of hands once in a while.” Cázares responded playfully. “But I know you did not come this way, so early in the day just to greet an old friend.” he said, turning his back to continue his work.

“Well, I am actually in need of some assistance at the moment. Do you know of anyone looking for work? I need men who ask no questions."

Cázares paused for a second, raising his brow. “No questions huh? Many men will work, "no questions asked". But it is those men you should precisely worry about the most.” Cázares gave Santiago a puzzled look.

“I honestly do not even know much myself. The Old Man said “it is but a delivery. In and out.”, but there is more to it. Of that, I am sure.” Santiago said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "I have heard things. Rumors. About an incoming scourge. A "Sea of Flames" coming to wipe it all. St. Lucie, just recently send word of an entire fleet of Spanish Naval ships disappearing from the bay without as much as a notice to the dock Master."

Cázares paused and thought a bit about the implications of what Santiago was saying. He was far from being that young, reckless boy spewing conspiracies for fun. He was always calm. He commanded much respect as an adult due to his demeanor in serious situations. Regardless of his multitude of troublesome antics. “Things have begun to turn bitter out there. That is certain. You are not too far off also. I myself have heard of said scourge in multiple occasions. I guess it goes without saying m'ijo. But please, whatever it is. Use that big head of yours and stay out of trouble! Whatever this is, will not go over easily.” Cázares responded, looking out to the sky. “I am sure, whatever it is, will meet us soon though. I just hope you will not be caught up in whatever tangled mess comes this way.”

Santiago became silent. He knew that whatever “it” was, he was already involved. For good, or for bad. "Be that as it may, I do not intend to run away from this . There's something more to this whole situation. I can feel it in my bones. I need to see it through". Cázares sighed deeply, contemplating his next move carefully. He remembered Santiago in his younger days. Always smiling with a furrowed brow, like he was plotting something mischievous. Eager to solve mysteries and curious to a fault. Many times this curiosity got him in trouble but Santiago never ran away from a challenge or any deserved punishment. He was an upright young man with a sense of adventure that could not be quenched by the mere life of a commoner.

"Well!" Cázares said letting out a large breath and stretching his long burly arms to the sky. "I have a few men that come to mind. But remember that this job requires trust. And these men will not trust you so easily." Santiago knew many people, even more then a few that would jump at the idea of this "secret" job. But this required a more unorthodox approach. One that would create a certain amount of unpredictable outcomes he could control. In case things turned on him. "Well viejo!" Santiago said with a determined smirk. "Lets get to work then!".