ROBIN

The Encantador is a foreboding sight.

The glistening ebony walls, the bleeding sails billowing in the wind, the dozens of men crowded on the decks, their shout intelligible even from here. They send shivers down my spine. I remember being one of those men, swabbing the deck after drunken feet. This would not be the case tonight, though. A good Captain would always keep his crew sober when facing attack.

I remember seeing Livi for the first time. They'd sent me to translate for some English hostages. I'd expected another load of bristly white men, snarling insults and swears in their native tongue. Instead, I found two women, one scowling, the other quiet. 

"I'm not liking the looks of this," Livi says, just loud enough that I can hear. She doesn't look frightened, just dismayed by the sheer number of them.

We lean over the railing, trying to get a better look. "I'm sure we'll be fine," I tell her. "We've got a crew just as big."

"But they don't know me," She snaps. "Those men have been working together for years! They're loyal to their captain no matter what. How can I know the same goes for them?" She points behind us at the hoard of crewmen milling around with a certain amount of agitation on the deck.

I sigh, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Livia, we will be fine. Even if they all leave you, I'm not going anywhere."

She doesn't respond, but I feel her relax a little bit which means I achieved my goal. She lets me wrap my arms around her as we watch the Cubans draw closer.

Tonight. Tonight when the inky backdrop of the sky is in place, tonight when the dark shrouds us in obscurity, tonight we will attack and hope for the best.