You'll never guess what I found today: mi primera espada. I couldn't believe what good shape she was in; I'm surprised she didn't tarnish after all this time.
Just looking at her brought back all sorts of memorias: las buenas, las malas, y las feas. The most prominent of these was of my time with el Capitán, back when neither of us had much sense in our heads. Aunque, dudo que él tenga más en su cabeza. 'Though I doubt he's much more in his head.
Now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure it was this espada that led us to meet. It was soon after he joined The Black Eagle, first ship I was part of. I didn't pay him much mind, but I could tell he was paying me mind. Now hombres have stared at me before, but this diablo couldn't take his eyes off me. I tried glaring at him, which usually worked (still does, even with Los Chicos), but not with Sandy. Finally, one searing day he had the gumption to make an approach.
"Nice cutlass y'have there," he'd said.
"Sí, eso es," I replied coldly.
Bueno, I've told the story so many times, and so many different ways, that I can't remember what lusty thing he said, but I remember it was enough to make me slap him clean off his feet and turn the blade on him. With surprising speed he pulled his own sword out, and we exchanged a few blows. I hate to admit it, but it thrilled me. Not only was he decent-looking, he wasn't too bad with a cutlass, either.
A sort of friendship followed after that. Although, I try to forget about the details of that, all because of that one night. We were in some French port, getting ready to shove off. The Eagle's captain sent me to go find Sandy.
Ay, I found him alright, en la isla de una cama, 'twixt two francitas. I still remember their names: Lucie and Violette. I've given people infierno before, I like to think I've become infamous for it, but I don't think I've given infierno quite like I did that night. "Just some innocent fun," he claimed. Innocent fun, mi pie. I gave him a piece of my mind in such a way that probably made Posiden, the Flying Dutchman, Captain Kid, Barbarossa, Captain Morgan, and all those other crusty dead viejos tremble. Never set foot on the Eagle after that; have yet to speak to el Capitán.
Although, seeing the rather pathetically-colored Daffodil and meeting with his masquerading cabin boy recently has made me want to see him again. Maybe I should try to find an excuse to get over to the Daffodil.
La Capitana María Arena