Alajandro huddled deep in the back corner of [i]El Oso Mareado[/i]'s hold. He'd tucked himself behind a pair of smoked out barrels of Spanish wine, now crinkling his nose in disapproval of the liquor's bitter stench. Remnants of sea spray laced in algae that had landed on board and trickled down through the ship's woodwork lapped at his toes and backside, soaking into his breeches and through the now worn soles of his boots. he felt like crying but couldn't for fear of being found.

Fortunately for him, it was midday and all hands had to be on deck on one as turbulent as this had turned out to be. Wind whistled through the topsides and the masts could be heard groaning from below deck while stamping footsteps raced about suggesting the sailors were attempting to brace the sails. There wasn't much for living quarters on a boat as small as this, but the hold was used mostly for storage of wine, rum, and salted meats. The sailors slept in hammocks hanging from belowdecks. Alajandro slept on the floor.

After huddling in the same corner for four days and counting -- only coming out to snatch scraps of food where he could -- Alajandro was left wanting that he could grow numb to the aching in his gut. He was dehydrated, only having access to beef stock pilfered from the ship's cook. He wasn't accustomed to drinking alcohol and it had not helped his thirst much at all when he'd attempted it. He couldn't believe he was thinking it, but the conditions the [i]Cinturones Morados[/i] had kept him in now seemed like luxury compared to this.

Alajandro could not have chosen a worse ship as his vessel out of La Isla de Culebra. The ship's title had proven a red herring. It was manned by Italians and Portuguese who had commandeered the ship from enemies of Portuguese investors. he'd only been able to pick up on a few words here and there, either the same as or similar enough to his mother tongue. "Norte," "Oeste," and perhaps the most revealing, "Britânico."

Of course, none of this meant anything to him. Recognized, yes. Significance, absent. In spite of having a detailed map of the Caribbean inked onto his back he had never known how to read it. His parents had never given him any such education despite their blatant capability to afford him one. When they poured over his back, plotting routes to the Treasure Cove, he'd heard words such as "Havana" and "Port-au-Prince," but as far as Alajandro was concerned, [i]El Oso Mareado[/i] was sailing straight for the beautiful land of [i]Algarabía[/i] -- Gobbledegook. It sure wasn't headed home to Tenerife.

Then all at once, it seemed that Alajandro's luck might finally be in the throws of redirection. A word resounded from overhead and then was reiterated and reiterated again. It was a word that Alajandro not only understood, but that actually meant something to him. A promising word that sent his heart leaping into his throat with exhilaration. "Terra!" But it was quickly followed by words out of the captain's mouth, ones that raised question marks in Alajandro's head. He did recognize one but it was about as helpful as any city name he'd ever heard before. Nassau.

Unable to contain his curiosity, Alajandro slowly lifted himself to his feet, feeling them tremble a little bit as his tired muscles slowly returned to life. Cautious not to let his footsteps make any sound against the floors, he slipped out from behind the barrels and over to the bottom of the stairs leading up to the lower deck. Slowly he tiptoed up the stairs until he could just peek his nose over the floorboards. Spotting no one in sight, he finished the ascent and then hastened over to one of the portholes through which the carronades would protrude during combat. He was met with sprawling empty ocean and so grasped a rope securing the cannon in place and leaned out the porthole to squint up toward the bow. Sure enough the ship was making a beeline for the coast. The fuzzy outline of tropics could be spotted from where Alajandro was leaning.

"Ei!" Alajandro's exuberance, tasting freedom on the tip of his tongue, was quickly smothered by panic. He stared up along the flared sides of the ship to see a sailor hanging from the rigging staring down at him. "Quem é  tu, garoto?" The man shouted down at him as soon as they made eye contact.

Quickly, Alajandro slipped back through the porthole and bounded toward the stairs down into the hold, hastened by the sound of a thundering stampede of outraged brigands. He whipped his head around in a frenzy. The sight of a canvas keeping salted fish off the floor caught his eye and he made a break for it. He threw himself into it, holding his breath and plugging his nose so as not to make a sound or smell the rancid fish.

"O que está dizendo, Diogo?" Alajandro could hear one of them saying to the other from what must have been exactly above where Alajandro hung now. "Não tem ninguém aqui, homem!"

"Eu sei que vi alguém." The pirate who'd spotted Alajandro, who was now identified as Diogo, sounded adamant about finding him. Alajandro squeezed his eyes shut praying they wouldn't think to look downstairs. His prayers were in vain as he heard footsteps taking to the stairs down into the hold. He was biting into his lip so hard that he was starting to draw blood. However, he didn't even notice. All he could think about was how close his pursuers were standing to his impromptu hiding place.

"Nao tem ninguém aqui." Another of Diogo's companions repeated, sounding annoyed.

A strange silence hung in the air for a moment, only interrupted by the sound of surf hitting hull. "Acho que está certo." Diogo responded at last.

The sound of footsteps growing quieter sounded promising to Alajandro and he opened his eyes, hanging for a second in disbelief that he'd gotten away. After a moment, he leaned over and pulled at the edge of the canvas. As soon as he'd done so he froze in abject terror. Wide blue eyes framed by a wrinkled forehead and drooping jowls hovered inches away from Alajandro's own face. "Te encontrei, garoto." Diogo growled, followed by a foreboding, wheezy cackle. Alajandro didn't have to guess at what he'd said.