Pirate

We had done enough beach landings to know how to surf and, despite being drenched and cold, the feeling of riding the waves was exhilarating. I looked back, a smile on my face that quickly disappeared when I saw the scene behind us. Two of the boats were following, another was struggling through the turn, but the last was gone, an oar floating in the water where the boat should have been. “Look,” I yelled at Rhames and waited for him to turn.

I desperately searched for the men, but the only sign the boat had been there was the single oar. It was too loud with the wind blowing and waves crashing against the boat to hear anyone yell; if the men had survived, they were invisible in the whitecapped water. Rhames, more pragmatic or less emotional than I, simply turned away and started to row again. He had been around long enough to know that there was nothing we could do to save the men, the boat, or the treasure chests that were now on the bottom of the bay.

I felt a tinge of guilt as I looked away from the water and focused on the land ahead. The captain had taught me how to use fixed points of land to determine a position on the water. It was easier with a compass, but I knew if I could find the right landmarks, that we could return in better conditions and recover the chests. We had sounded the entrance to the bay on previous trips and, with the water only around ten feet where the boat went down, we could dive on the site. I struggled to line up any features that would be memorable.

My eyes went first to the headland on the left, and I was able to line up two small islands that I knew. I scanned the coast to the right looking for another landmark. A tall palm leaning toward the water caught my eye, and I searched the landscape behind it for anything that I could use to line it up and mark the position. I noticed a small mound behind the tree with a scrub oak and committed them to memory.

I’m not sure if Rhames knew what I was doing, as he said nothing, but there was something about the look on his face that gave me the impression that he approved. With our mates lost, at least for now, the four boats stayed close, surfing the waves as we approached shore. The distance that had taken hours to row we now covered in minutes, and the waves settled as we moved behind one of the larger islands near the headland. I pointed toward an island, and Rhames corrected his stroke to change our course toward the small beach.

It was a relief to be back on land, but we were in dire trouble. We huddled on the beach, shivering. There was no fresh water, and we would be forced to forgo a fire to remain unseen. I looked around the island for anything that might be able to provide shelter from the coming storm.

5

The rain pounding on the hull woke me, and I wondered if it was daylight yet. At least the overturned boat kept us dry and, with the eight of us huddled underneath it was warm, but I couldn’t see outside. The wind howled and rain sheeted inside as I raised an edge of the boat and looked out of our makeshift shelter. My stomach growled and my mouth was dry. The last thing I wanted to do was to leave the shelter, but we needed water badly.

I elbowed the man next to me and received a grunt and a jab back in return. “Swift. Get up. We need to get water.”

“Boy. What do you want from me? I’m tired, lemme sleep.”

I would not relent and pushed back, moving out of the way before he could reciprocate. “Now,” I demanded, pushing my authority as far as I dared. He rose and hit his head on the bottom of the boat, but helped me lift the edge enough so that we could crawl into the cold and wet night. It was a good blow; the line of clouds we had seen earlier was surely upon us. I looked around for anything that would contain rainwater, but found little. There was water in the boats, but it was dirty and mixed with saltwater. We needed fresh, clean water.

“Dig a hole,” I called to Swift over the wind.

I didn’t wait for an answer, but went straight to a small palm tree nearby and started pulling the broad leaves off. The palm was more like a bush than the large coconut palms that towered overhead, and the leaves were wide and solid. I took a handful and set them down next to the hole that Swift was digging and went back for more. When I returned, he had excavated a three foot by three foot hole about a foot deep in the sand. I started to line the bottom with the palm leaves, overlapping them to prevent leakage. Swift caught on and started another hole a few feet away. My hole was just about finished and the water was already about an inch deep in the bottom. I kneeled down and, with cupped hands, lifted water from the hole and drank. Swift came up alongside and did the same. We drank greedily, the fresh rainwater soothing our dry throats, and he gave me a reassuring nod.