Pirate

“This is Blue and Lucy. He’s the best tracker I’ve seen. We are where we need to be and intend to go no further than the big lake. They are free spirits and won’t want to stay. I told him of your journey, and he and Lucy are willing to lead you.”

I was grateful, and it must have shown on my face.

“But it is at a cost. He will lead you and your men back to the Indian camp. You will create a distraction and burn it,” he ordered. “If you can rescue your woman, so be it.”

I lowered my head to put on my best stone face to conceal my smile and negotiate, although I already had what I wanted and more. Osceola and his men were going to be the distraction I needed to get Rory back, and now we had a guide. What we didn’t have were weapons.

“That is good, but we need guns. We have only one rifle and one pistol. To give you the time you ask for, we will each need a rifle and powder.”

He did not speak, and I thought I might have overplayed my hand, but a minute later his hand extended and we shook.

“We will set a watch and leave at midnight,” he said, and walked away. Blue and Lucy remained by me, and we passed an awkward moment in silence. I realize they were waiting for me to speak.

“Osceola says you are the best tracker he knows,” I said, in as formal a voice as I could muster. “If you are willing, we would be grateful to have you both join us.”

“That is good, Captain, but we are worried about trouble from your men,” Lucy said.

I didn’t understand at first; our crew always had black men aboard, and they were treated as equals. “No worries there. You both will be equal members of our group.”

They seemed to be reassured, and went back to where they had stood earlier, squatted down, and picked up two satchels and a tube with a rope. They came back to us with their possessions. “We are with you,” Blue said.

I needed to inform the crew of our additions and the plan that Osceola and I had agreed on. We moved away from the Indians and gathered together on a remote section of the beach to talk. The men were looking at Blue and Lucy when I broke the silence.

“This is Blue and Lucy.” I watched them as they turned to the newcomers, checking each man’s face, before I spoke again. “Blue is a legendary tracker and guide. The rest of the Indians intend to stay here and fight the local tribe. He and Lucy want to move on.”

I noticed Blue’s smile when I added the “legendary” title. “We also have a deal with Osceola for weapons, but there are conditions.”

“Always,” someone murmured.

“I have to go back for Rory. Osceola has agreed to arm us if we go back to the village, hold them under fire for several hours, and burn the village while he and his band go upriver and take the other tribe.” I looked around for dissent.

Red stepped forward and said, “Figured you weren’t leaving without her. If this one can guide us out of this mess, and the Indian will give us weapons, then I’m in.”

A chorus of “ayes” came from the other men. But, as I looked around at the group, I noticed that Rhames was missing. “Where is Rhames?”

“Got himself a fever. Said to meet without him,” Swift said.

I ran to where Rhames was huddled by a small fire and looked at him. He clearly wasn’t right—his eyes glassy when he looked back at me. I realized it had been more than a day since I had checked his wound, and it must be infected. I went to him and eased him onto the ground before removing the bandage, and saw the green- and black-filled edges of the wound staring back at me. I searched my brain for any remedy, but came up blank. Just as I was about to abandon hope, Lucy pushed me aside.

She leaned down and checked the wound, then called for Blue to bring her a torch and her satchel. The wound illuminated, I could see the damage. Without a pause, she reached for the satchel and took out a small pot and a bag. Blue took the pot from her, filled it with water, and placed it on the hot coals, slightly out of the fire. She emptied the contents of the bag onto her skirt and sifted through the small pouches for the one she was after, and replaced the rest. Blue returned with the steaming water, and she took a large pinch of a bark-like substance and placed it in the water. A low hum came from her throat as she steeped the mixture and, with a piece of her skirt, she bathed the infected areas. When she was finished, she handed the now-cooled pot to Rhames and waited while he drank it.

“Can he move?” I asked her.

“The medicine will work, but it takes some time.”

Time we did not have. Osceola had said a few hours, and I expected from the activity in the camp that he was making ready for his assault and would expect us to provide the distraction we had agreed on.

“I think we have no choice. He will have to stay with the boats.” I looked at the men. “Get ready,” I said and went to find Osceola to secure the firearms.

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