Pirate

I caught his meaning and wasted no time in laying out my argument. I had already decided on our course and the approaching boat made the decision easier to explain. “Cuba,” I said, and let the word settle for a minute. I caught the faintest smile on Rhames lips, and before Rory could start an argument, I continued. “If we head toward Cuba, we have the advantage of leaving both boats behind. Heading to the Bahamas leaves us no options but the American coast. But, should things not be to our liking in Cuba, we still have the option of riding the Gulf Stream to the Bahamas.”

“But the Bahamas are British,” Rory said.

I expected this argument, knowing she would feel safer amongst her own. “If we take the risk of running that course, we have to deal with the ship here and possibly the naval frigate.” I breathed in, hoping she was convinced.

From the look on her face she wasn’t sold. “And what do you have planned in Cuba?”

Again I was ready. “What we need is some time to change the boat up a bit. There are some islands off the coast where we can careen the ship and have a look at her hull. She’s a common design. We paint her a different color and rename her, and the Navy won’t know it’s us that crossed her bow in the harbor last week.”

“Captain makes sense,” Rhames said.

She looked at him. “If we can disguise the boat as well as we’ve done for him, it will give us options.”

“Options is good,” Rhames said.

“So we are settled, then,” I said, and left them to tell Mason of our destination. I couldn’t help but notice the sky. Though I was schooled in poetry and philosophy, I had rarely thought about either in my years with the pirates. But now, as I looked around I couldn’t help but think about the poetic justice of the moon setting and sun rising in unison, as if our past was behind us and our future ahead. A future I was not certain of but, as the Stoics said, there is nothing in this life that is certain, and the man who realizes his circumstance may change at any time will be a happy man, something I wished I could express to the crew as we moved away from the treasure buried on the island.

“Cuba,” I told Mason as I reached the helm.

He nodded, but did not change course, and I had to assume he understood our situation. “We need a secluded spot where we can careen the boat and inspect the hull. We give her a new paint job, change up the rigging a little, and she’ll look like a different boat.”

He looked up in the rigging, inspecting the set of the sails. “I know a few spots that might work. I’d be interested in your plans after that,” he said.

“I’d be interested in talking to you more about this diving and wrecking business,” I said, and could tell from the smile on his face that he was interested. I left him and went to the rail, where I looked out at the sea.

Birds were crashing the bait in the water in front of us, and I wondered if there was a hand-line below that I could set out and catch some of the larger fish sure to be below the bait. “We can talk later, but if you’re not interested we can drop you in Havana.”

He nodded, and I went forward to the companionway, climbed down the small flight of steps and entered the galley. Lucy and Blue were sitting at the table. I told them of our destination and went in search of fishing gear. There were two hand-spools in a locker, and I noticed Blue looking at me. I nodded to him and we went on deck together. We each stood on a corner of the transom. Tied to the end of each line was a silver spoon, a feather draped over it concealing the hook, that went into the water, as we unwound the line behind it.

The birds were just in front of us now, as the spoons floated behind the boat, its momentum pulling them forward to look like baitfish. I showed him how to wrap a small section around his arm to give the fish a bit of slack when it hit, but in the middle of my demonstration the line jerked from both our hands at once. Fortunately, we had tied the ends to the rail or we would have lost both rigs as the fish pulled and the line snapped from our hands.

Two fish jumped in unison about a hundred feet behind the boat, and I yelled to Mason to veer off the wind slightly. If they were as large as they appeared, it would make it easier to bring them in. The rest of the group were soon gathered around, offering help and encouragement. Blue refused the help, but I had dealt with many fish and took the offer. If he indeed wanted to enjoy the sport and bring in his fish alone, we would need to get mine aboard fast to keep it from tangling the lines.