Pirate

“They ain’t moving.” Red reinforced what I had already determined. “And what about the chests?” he asked.

Our priority was to get the longboats away from the river and out of sight. I would have to figure out what to do about the treasure after that. “One thing at a time.” I looked around for a solution to my immediate problem of how to move the boats. Several bare limbs on the ground tugged a memory loose from my mind. “Grab those limbs and cut a few more.” I didn’t wait, but went for the limbs and started cleaning the small branches from them. When the first was smooth, about the height of a man and as thick as a wrist, I said, “Come on. We need two more this size.”

I took the logs to the first boat and placed one several feet in front of it. “Lift the boat and slide these under. One at the bow and the other at the stern,” I said.

The boat sat on the logs, and we as one pushed it onto the log in front. It took several tries to get into a rhythm, with two men on either side of the boat pushing it and me moving the logs to keep it rolling. We covered the distance and pushed the boat into the depression. The men ate berries and rested while I surveyed our work. It was barely visible from a few feet away. Once the bushes grew, it would be totally concealed. The other boat soon joined it in the shallow grave, and we went back to where Rhames and Rory waited, and made camp.

16

I decided to take first watch on the river and set a schedule until morning. We badly needed rest, and though it was possible the Indians were still in pursuit, without their canoes and with no sign of trails nearby, I thought we might finally be safe. The men and Rory were fed and scattered around the camp resting. As I left, I glanced back at Rory and Rhames together by one of the canoes. She seemed to gravitate toward him and was again checking his wound. She caught my eye and cast a worried look. I ordered that no fires be lit and walked toward the river. I would check on Rhames after my watch.

I tried to think of our next move, but thoughts of the girl kept creeping into my mind. Unable to push them aside, I sat on the small dirt beach and, thankful for the shade, leaned against the trunk of a cypress tree. It was midday and the adrenaline from the rescue had long worn off. Even in the shade it was hot, and I was lulled to sleep, the only activity the birds chirping and the river moving slowly by.

The sound of a man singing caused me to open my eyes. Not sure if it was a dream or not, I stood and moved toward the water, where the sound seemed to come from. It was getting louder and closer. The loaded pistol was in my hand, as I used the brush as cover and crept to the water. The song continued, and I saw the bow of a canoe move around the bend.

Had the boat been coming from the coast, as we had, I might have let it go, but it was floating downriver, and we desperately needed to know what lay ahead. The rest of the boat came into view, and I saw a single man standing in the bow gracefully poling the canoe. He appeared an odd character, dressed in what would once have been fancy clothes, but were now tattered and faded. On his head, an old top hat was cocked to one side, which almost fell off when I stepped out of the bushes and pointed the pistol at him.

“Buenos dias, mi amigo,” he called out and poled the canoe to the shore.

I ignored his friendly manner and kept the gun pointed at him. “English?”

“And some of the heathens’ tongue as well,” he responded with an accent.

“Who are you and what’s your business on the river?” I asked in my most threatening voice. As I waited for his answer, I moved closer to inspect his canoe. It was full of trade goods: trinkets and clothes. A long gun was the only visible weapon. I took two quick steps and grabbed it. “That your only weapon?”

“I’ve a dagger as well,” he answered.

“Let’s have it, then. Pull the boat to the shore and move over to that rock.” I pointed with the pistol to where I wanted him. I froze for a second when he reached under a pile of clothes. At first, I thought I might have underestimated him, and there would be something more dangerous there, but he was good to his word and tossed the small knife onto the sand by my feet. In no rush, he pulled the boat onto the beach and went to the rock.

I stood several feet from him, facing the water in case more boats were following. “Well, friend, what brings you here?” I tried to relax my demeanor.

“I’m just a trader. Work the river from the big lake to the ocean, trading what I can with who I can.”

“And what of the rumor about a river of grass that runs into the Keys?”

“You must be in some desperate straits if you’re looking at that route.”