Pirate

I chose to put Rory back on the wheel, which allowed me to work the rigging and drop the lead every few minutes. Syd and Swift tuned the sails, and the boat shot forward. My biggest concern was the depth of the water under the keel. So long as we stayed in the channel, we would arrive safely in the harbor. I kept a careful eye on the chain of islands to the left, careful to run parallel to them as Rhames had described.

The sun came out, and I could see the shoals to either side of the boat. The water was so easy to read from my vantage point midway up the rigging on the main mast that I abandoned the lead and called directions to Rory. An hour later the big island came into view, the tips of several masts visible over the flat land. I ordered the foresail shortened and then dropped, as the mainsail was providing enough propulsion to enter the harbor safely. We turned around the point protecting the entrance, narrowly missing a sandbar, dropped the mainsail into the lazy jacks, and coasted to a stop near several other boats of similar design. I called ahead to Syd to drop anchor, and the boat swung into the wind as the hook caught.

I looked over toward the pier, where several small launches and one larger ship were tied off, and wondered what lay ahead on the streets that spilled from the harbor. In the four years I had spent with the crew, I had never been allowed into a city and, as I thought back, the last visit to anything larger than a shantytown was our departure from London five years ago. I eagerly anticipated the foreign sights and sounds and could barely wait to get ashore—when my excitement faded as Rory came toward me and I realized we had no launch. As I kicked myself for not keeping at least one of the canoes, I saw a small boat being rowed toward us.

She stood by my side as a boat approached with a well-dressed man sitting in the bow, being rowed by a dark-skinned man behind him. I assumed he was the harbormaster and reached into my pocket, fingering the coins.

The man put his hands to his mouth. “Ahoy.”

“Ahoy, sir. We would like to anchor overnight and hire a launch to the pier.”

“Aye, wouldn’t we all. It’ll cost you some coin, boy. Send your master to negotiate.”

The insult stung, but I kept my composure. “My age has nothing to do with it. I am master of this vessel.”

“Well, then, if you’ve coin, I’ll accept it. Climb down and we’ll take you to shore.”

I looked back at the crew, who nodded. I started to descend and, as I reached the last rung on the rope ladder, I looked up and saw Rory following.

“Don’t be looking up my skirt. And don’t be thinking I’ll trust you to go alone.” She hurried down the ladder and reached the boat before I or the men aboard could react. We sat and watched the harbor in silence as we were rowed to shore.

Without a word, the black man spun the boat with a hard back-paddle and pulled toward the pier. We reached the wooden structure and climbed onto the dock. The well-dressed man led us to a small building located where the pier met solid land, and we entered what I expected was his office. I couldn’t help but notice a brand-new American flag hanging on the wall. Curious, I thought, the last I had heard the island was in Spanish hands.

The room was cluttered and dim, with light filtering in through shuttered windows. I expected it would be hot in the summer, but this time of year it was comfortable. His desk was cluttered with papers and logbooks, and a small monkey clucked and strained against its chain in the corner. He motioned us to the two chairs in front of his desk and cleared a small space, where he placed his beefy hands.

“Are we in America now?” I asked.

“Just last month the bloody Spanish pulled out and my boss, fellow named Simonton, bought this rock and probably overpaid at two thousand dollars. Now, state your business and cargo. I’ll need to know the crew as well,” he said, as he struck a match and lit a pipe.

“The lady here is in need of a vessel to take her back to England. Otherwise, we are three men including myself aboard. We are in need of provisions and we’ll be on our way.”

His eyes widened, and he smiled at the mention of Rory, “I can maybe help with the lady. Nothing leaves directly from here, but there’s a merchant ship bound for St. Augustine. From there one could find passage.” He looked back at me with a stern face. “A bit of gold will buy your stay.”

I was unsure what a bit of gold referred to, but not wanting to reveal my naivety, reached into my pocket, took out a single gold coin and nonchalantly tossed it on the desk.

“It’ll take two more of those, boy.”

I knew he was testing me. “I’ll add a shilling for your time, but no more.” I reached in my pocket and carefully picked out one of the silver coins, hoping he could not see the gold.