They were approaching the Gulf of Mexico. They made a stop at the Cayman Islands to look for supplies. Meanwhile, Daisy and Thomas were inseparable. They practiced fencing and swam. Despite the years that have gone by without practicing, Daisy’s sword skills didnít falter.
The Cayman Islands was like any pirate hideaway. There were drunks, prostitutes, gunshots, laughter, insults, and the smell of gunpowder, food, alcohol, and animals in the air.
“I’m not going,” Reynaldo said when they arrived.
“If you insist,” replied Daisy.
“Daisy, I have something to tell you.” Daisy turned to look at him. “Don’t grow fond of them. When all this is over, we will go back to Puerto Rico and everything will be back to normal.” Daisy didn’t say anything, she left.
“Hey, it’s 2 shillings for mooring the boat to the port!” The manager told Daisy.
“Do you know who I am?” asked Daisy, showing her face and with a big smile.
“Dai … Daisy … but … you … died …” said the manager stammering and with his eyes wide open.
“Maybe I did,” Daisy replied without removing her smile. Daisy left and the man stayed where he was, without his pay, with fear and confusion.
The crew went to a tavern to dance, drink and eat while Abba and his men searched for ammunition. All eyes were on Daisy because they thought her dead.
“You’re a survivor, madame,” the bartender told Daisy.
Abba arrived with the ammunition, the crew prepared to leave.