Pirate

I sat back, the smell and still air no longer affecting me, and watched him feed the other man. There was something here in what the man said that would solve our problem of trading or selling the pirate loot. “Supposing we helped you in this salvage business? Make you and your mate full partners in anything we find.”

He looked up at me. “I figured you lot for pirates.”

“Times are changing. If you can forgive us our past, I think we could have a future together.”

“Let me see how my friend here gets on. Seeing as we have nothing else on the horizon, we might could work something out. But, I’ll tell you now, pirating is out of the question. We aim to earn our fortune, but the only victim is the sea.”

This sounded too good to be true, and I couldn’t help but smile thinking of the possibilities of legal pirating. I think there was even a name for it.

“Ship!” I heard a cry from the deck and climbed the ladder to see what was on the horizon.

36

It was the frigate, beating into the wind in the channel between the reef and land. The captain had made the choice to fight the wind, rather than tack as we had. What he lost in speed, he gained in the ability to chase his prey. By staying close to shore, he would be able to see the masts of any ship trying to hide amongst the islands. We were on a port tack heading toward the reef, and I had little time to calculate our position. I ran to my cabin and pulled the chart from its cover. With no time to drop a lead or knot line, I had to estimate.

I put a pin where I expected we were and went above to look at the position of the frigate. The captain would have the same charts as we did and would be cautious to cross the reef line. We had to lose them now, as we didn’t have the luxury, as he did, to play it safe by shadowing us until night fell. The choice between facing the reef in the dark or the danger of the Navy ship was one I didn’t want to make. To make matters more complicated, if I chose to stay out to sea and avoid the reef, we took the chance of crossing into the Gulf Stream, which would carry us too far north.

The best option was to cross the reef behind the frigate. They would be unwilling or unable to come about in the tight channel, and we would have the advantage of a favorable tack. The frigate drew at least two fathoms from the looks of her and would not be able to follow us into the shallows. If we could make Indian Key, the Navy would be reluctant to send their boats into the reportedly hostile port.

I went back on deck, a spyglass in one hand and the chart in the other, careful to shield the delicate paper from the elements with my shirt. Using the protection provided by the companionway, I removed it and tried to orient myself with the land to the left. If I could approximate our position, I could try to plot a path through the reef.

The island chain spread out in front of us, each key a different shape and size, making them hard to place on the chart. With the spyglass to my eye, I could see more detail, but the motion of the waves would not allow me to concentrate long enough to place them. I thought I saw the tips of several masts in the distance and took a chance that the island I hoped was Indian Key lay ahead. A glance back confirmed the frigate was still in the channel. We would have to tack again to come in behind it.

I returned the chart and glass to the cabin and went back on deck. Mason was with Swift at the wheel, and Syd was in the bowsprit working the lead as we approached the reef.

“There’s where we’re going,” I pointed out. “But we need to tack again, then reverse course before turning behind the frigate.”

“What of the reef?” Swift asked.

“We’ve no choice,” I said, and called to Syd for the depth. We needed to get close to the reef before turning to give the illusion that we were going through it. If we appeared to remain on our course, the captain of the frigate would assume we would continue the tack in front of them and continue the pursuit. Syd called back that we were in ten fathoms and dropping. I looked forward and saw the dangerous green water ahead. “Keep calling,” I yelled into the wind and turned to Swift. “When we hit six fathoms make your turn.”

I could only stand and watch now, as Syd called out the depth and Swift clung to the wheel.

“What can I do?” Mason asked.

“I’d go below and make sure your mate’s secure,” I said, without taking my eyes off the frigate. The captain had fallen for our ruse and continued his course and speed, waiting for us to cross the reef line in front of them. I could see figures in the rigging watching us and more on deck preparing the guns. We were in green water now, and I waited for the turn. Finally Syd called six fathoms and Swift spun the wheel. The boat turned and the sails snapped into their new position. We were running southwest now and away from the frigate. I checked the sun and saw we had another hour or so before dark.

“They think we’re running,” Swift said.