Pirate

It was fully light out, and the sun was warming the clearing. We had been eating both raw and smoked turtle for days, and my mouth salivated as the smell of food cooking over the fire was blown in our direction by the light breeze. I had picked this spot to observe from because it was downwind; as there were tales that some of their men could detect scents like a deer. That decision was causing me the discomfort of not only the smoke, but also reminding me of my hunger. I could tell it was affecting Swift as well, and I extended my arm, placing it on his shoulder to calm him.

The native men were up and about, strutting around the camp shirtless, wearing only breechcloths and moccasins, their heads shaved, with only a section of hair remaining down the middle of their scalp. They were gathering bows and spears, looking like they were about to go hunting. If they went overland, we could steal several of their boats and be long gone before they discovered the theft, but if they took the boats we would have to move on. I had already realized that, although the treasure we carried could buy whatever we needed, showing it would lead to certain trouble. Whoever received our bounty would surely use it to trade near the coast and questions would be asked. The loot needed to stay intact until we reached somewhere that it would not attract attention. That place, by my reckoning, was Cayo Hueso, or Key West, the last island in the string of cays flowing from the end of the peninsula.

The native men were moving out, and Swift stirred, but I grabbed his shoulder, this time with more pressure. I thought we were discovered and tensed as they moved toward us. I squeezed Swift harder and relaxed as they passed us on an adjacent trail. There were only a few older men left along with the women and children in the clearing. I waited several minutes to make sure the men were gone and started to rise—when I saw her.

She was taller than the rest of the women by several inches, but it was the blue eyes that separated her from them. Her hair, once blonde, still showed some hints of the straw color through the dirt. I stared across the clearing at Rory and knew the task of getting out with a few boats had just become more difficult. The girl, who I figured to be about my age, had been taken by Gasparilla, along with her mother, in a raid about a year ago. She had been kept with the other women awaiting either ransom or the whims of the captain on Captiva Island. In my role as cabin boy, I had accompanied Gaspar on several of his visits there and knew this girl had disappeared several months ago. I had wondered about her absence, as I was aware of most comings and goings, but knew not whether she had been ransomed, traded or stolen—but here she was, and I knew I could not leave without her.

I grabbed Swift and led him back down the game trail we had followed to the camp. At the river, he started talking, but I hushed him and moved toward the water, where I waded around several bends and overhanging cypress branches before I stopped and waited for him to catch up. I hoped he had not seen her.

“Well, what now?” he asked.

“We find their canoes and then go back to the beach and make a plan.”

“Looked like those men were well armed,” he said.

“I didn’t see any guns, and I’m not planning on waiting for them to return,” I said, and moved along the river bank, making better time now that we could walk along the shore. We carried our boots and moved barefoot in the sand so as not to leave a trail. Within minutes, we reached the boats, and I went to check on Rhames.

He was leaning against a boat drinking water from a coconut shell when I approached.

“What’d you see?” he asked.

“Men went off hunting. There are some canoes by the water. I think we ought to make our move now and get upriver before the men get back,” I said, as I went to him and removed the torn shirt binding his wound. It looked better; the puss had dried, and the dark edges looked red now. I went for a fresh coconut and to gauge the strength of the other men. It would be another day with little rest, but I knew as long as we had the treasure they would make it. Staying here was too dangerous with this large a tribe nearby, and this was the perfect chance to take the canoes—and Rory.

When I returned, he allowed me to recoat the wound with more coconut oil and rebind it. “We go now?”

“You should stay with the boats,” I said.

“Bloody hell,” he replied.

I knew it was a waste of breath to fight with him, but I needed to tell him about the other problem I faced and leaned toward him. “There’s a girl from Captiva there and I mean to take her with us.”

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