The Blond Eye

Brannon took the Beretta out of the bag, and quietly tried the cabin door.  It wasn’t locked.  He opened it a crack, and listened.  Hearing nothing he crawled in and closed the door.  The boat stunk with body odors, gagging him.  The curtains were pulled, and he placed a towel over his flashlight to muffle the light.  There was no one in the cabin or forward bunks.  Nothing to indicate the Morrow women were there, at least that he could see in the dim light.  He turned the flashlight off and crawled outside.  Listening intently, he thought he could hear a woman sobbing.  Muffled noises were coming from inside the other boat.  He tucked the Beretta in the bag, slid over the gunwale onto the swim platform, and put his fins on.  Silently, he eased back into the dark water and swam slowly towards the other boat.

As Brannon neared it, he heard a girl’s cry in the cabin, and sobbing noises coming from the cockpit.  When he reached the stern, he looked at the name, “Magdalena” hand-painted on it.  He drew his knife from the leg scabbard, and carefully scrapped the paint on the name.  It was fresh.  He was sure it was the Mariquita. 

Brannon stopped breathing when he heard a woman scream, “I’ll kill you someday, you bastard!”  Then she continued to sob.  He grabbed the swim platform and mulled the possibilities.  It was probably Dawn Morrow.  It sounded like her voice, but he wasn’t positive.  For all he knew, it could be some other woman they had taken captive.  Whoever it was, was probably tied up in the cockpit.  From the sounds coming from the cabin, someone, maybe Jago or Angel, was raping a woman in the cabin.  He knew there was also the possibility that there were more than just Jago and Angel in this gang of pirates. He took his tanks off and strapped them to the swim platform.  Slowly, he lifted himself up on the platform, took off his fins, and pulled the Beretta from the waterproof bag.

A women’s voice came out of the darkness, “Who’s there?”

Brannon peeked over the transom at the tiny figure huddled against the gunwale.  “I’m Captain Brannon,” he whispered, “and I’m here to help you.  Don’t say anything, just be quiet.”

He slipped into the cockpit, and moved to the far side of the dark figure where he could use his flashlight.  Cupping his hand over the end, allowing just enough light through to see, he peered down at a bruised, haggard looking woman with parched lips, whom he barely recognized as Dawn Morrow.  She was sitting against the gunwale, naked, with her feet taped, and her hands tied behind her back.  Her long blond hair was matted and dirty.  At first, he thought she was going to scream, but when she made him out, she started to tremble and cry.  He cut the rope that bound her wrists, then gave her the knife to cut the tape around her feet.

“Thank heavens you’ve come, Brannon.  We’ve......“

He put his hand over her mouth and whispered, “Don’t talk, you can do that later.  Who’s on board?”

Dawn whispered, “Just Kelly, me, and the man called Angel.  That monster is raping her again in there.  Do something quickly, Captain Brannon, before he kills her.  She can’t take much more.”

Being on Manuel’s boat again gave him a strange feeling.  He could almost smell his old friend.  His skin prickled when he thought of Manuel, and the days they had spent fishing together on this boat.  Anger welled within him.  He would kill the two before turning them over to the authorities.  There would be no life in prison for them.  No, they were going to pay for all they had done, not only to Manuel, but to the Morrows, and all the others they murdered and raped.