Pirate

“Right. Let ’em think we’re heading for the Bahamas.” Fearing a run-in with the British, I calculated the captain of the frigate wouldn’t cross the stream to follow us into the small island chain. “We keep this tack for half an hour, then cut behind them in the fading light. Then it’s just a matter of getting past the reef then.”

“You mean to run the reef in the dark?” Mason asked, as he climbed back on deck.

“A bit before,” I said with a little swagger in my voice that was not shared by my gut.

“It’s going to take more than one lead to get through. If you’ve got another, I can help. Your man can work his line, and I’ll toss one ahead and let it drag the bottom,” Mason said.

I nodded and went to my cabin to see if there was a spare. He was right. With two lines we would get a better picture of the danger below us as we tried to navigate through the maze of corals and shallows. I found a line and went back on deck.

“Here.” I handed it to him and watched him go forward.

“He might be some use after all,” Swift said. “How long ’til the turn?”

I was distracted as a wave of flying fish left the water in front of the boat and took it for a sign. The frigate was in front of us now, a dot on the horizon outlined in the setting sun. In this light we would be almost invisible to them. “Make the turn now.”

He cut the wheel, and the boat turned back toward land, where its angle would clearly bring it behind the frigate.

“Right, then,” I called to Mason and Syd. “Start calling when we reach ten fathoms.” I went to the foremast and began to climb the rigging for a better vantage, but the glare of the sun on the water made the color changes indistinguishable. It might as well have been dark for all I could see. I climbed back down and went to Swift. We stared at the dark water in front of us, waiting for the men in the bow to call out the ten-fathom line.

With nothing to do but wait, I started to think ahead to our anchorage and beyond. We needed to get back to the island and reunite the crew. Swift and Syd knew nothing of the silver in the bilge, and were anxious about the treasure we had left on the island. Upon reaching Indian Key, I hoped to buy a longboat with the coin left in my pocket, leave a watch on the ship, and use the longboat to navigate the shallow waters to the island.

“Six fathoms,” Syd called out. He had just retrieved his line, measured it with the span of his arms, and quickly tossed it ahead of the boat.

“Aye, six under the keel,” Mason called to confirm.

We were moving too fast, and I yelled to Syd to help me reef the sails. His lead probing under the boat was not much use now.

“Five and dropping,” Mason yelled.

Syd and I struggled with the fore topsail, finally dropping it. We climbed down and released the halyard for the fore mainsail, then repeated the process on the main topsail. The boat slowed, and I had a moment of doubt that I had removed too much canvas and we would lose headway, making it impossible to steer.

“Three and a half,” Mason called.

We were in twenty feet now, and it would be only moments before we knew if the reef was safe to pass here. I climbed halfway into the rigging to see if the coral was breaking the surface, or if the wave action was changed by an unseen object just below.

“Two fathoms and holding,” Mason called.

This was the point of no return. We had only four feet below our keel. If the depth held, we would be through the deadly reef. I jumped onto the deck and ran toward the bowsprit, unable to wait for our fate.

Mason worked the lead on the bottom. I held my breath as he retrieved a few feet of line, indicating the water was getting shallower.

“A bit over two.” He gradually released some line. “Three now.”

I could only wait.

“Four fathoms,” he called.

I knew we had made it, and we exchanged grins. My eyes strained as I looked ahead, and I could barely make out the dot on the horizon that was the frigate. It would be well ahead of us when we crossed its path, and I turned toward land, looking for a suitable anchorage.

37

The reef was notorious for the wrecks it had claimed, and I considered us to be fortunate to not be counted among their numbers. But, for all our luck in evading the frigate, we were off our mark. Ahead was a long island, with a small landmass in front, which I had guessed to be Indian Key, but Mason had told me otherwise.

“You’ve got the landmarks right, but the scale is wrong,” he said, as we sat over the chart table in my cabin. “See here,” he said, pointing to Indian Key and running his fingers over the longer Matacumbe Key below it. “This is where we are,” and he moved his finger to Duck Key, with the longer Vaca Key behind it. “If you don’t know these waters, they likely look the same from a distance. Closer in, I reckon you would have figured it out.”

“But we are west of Indian Key by twenty-odd miles.”