Arturo Morales stood in the bows of La Flecha as the swift pirogue sped towards the port of Ciudad Morales - the capital of his colony in the New World. It was still over a mile away, but already even Morales, with his very average eyesight, could see signs of human presence. He could see the smoke discoloring the late afternoon sky, and the watchtower he'd ordered erected on the shore was visible, too.
It had seemed the smart thing to do at the time: an elevated platform for watchmen to provide warning of any approaching vessels. It was also meant as an orientation point for his own seamen: if a pirogue heading home didn't make port before nightfall, a light was lit on the watchtower's platform to guide them in.
