Morning sunlight slanted down from the eastern horizon, painting the sea in flowing gold and blue.
The sea breeze blew in from the stern with a fresh, salty tang, billowing the few intact sails remaining aboard the Hispaniola.
Renato stood on deck, squinting at the glittering sea. He felt more at ease than he had on any day in the past few months.
Near the thirty-meter mainmast, a short sailor clung to the ladderlike shrouds with both hands and feet, climbing with the agility of a spider.
His bare feet found the intersections of the hemp ropes, and the tool pouch at his waist swayed with his movements. Every so often, he stopped to undo knots pulled tight by the sea wind and retighten the topsail's reefing ties.
At the center of the deck, a rope as thick as an arm hung straight down from the masthead. Five shirtless sailors stood shoulder to shoulder in a circle, inserting wooden bars into holes around the capstan head. Chanting in unison, they turned the capstan, trying to haul the half-ton wet sail clear so the yard could change angle.
Their backs glistened with sweat in the sunlight. Fine beads covered their skin, gathering into rivulets that ran down the grooves of their spines.
Renato glanced curiously at the crew going about their work at sea. This was his first time seeing firsthand how a sailing warship operated.
The intricate ropes, the dense array of yards and rigging on the masts, and the sailors' perfectly coordinated calls and responses...
Although the constantly rocking deck was torture for a warrior with senses as keen as his, the fresh sea breeze and the long-missed sun kept him in excellent spirits.
However harsh conditions at sea might be, they were far better than that sunless mud