Pirate

Finally sated, I looked at the sea in the direction of our island and noticed the fires. Despite the rain, the Navy was burning our shelters, probably out of frustration; the weather keeping them from following. Swift saw it too and nodded at me. As uncomfortable as we were, the storm was protecting us from the hangman’s noose.

Fifteen minutes later, we crawled back under the boat and shivered in the darkness, but at least we would have water. I was too wet and cold to sleep anymore, so I waited out the hours before dawn planning our next action. They would surely come after us in the morning. These kinds of storms lasted several hours, not days. The wind might blow, but it wouldn’t stop them—not with pirates to hang and treasure to recover. We would need an early start and a long row to reach the homestead by nightfall, so I waited for the first sign of dawn and woke the men.

“Get up. We’ve got to move.” I waited a minute for them to gather their wits. “They’ve burned the island and now they’re after us.” They started moving quickly, knowing the consequences if we were caught. We flipped the boat we had used for shelter and pushed it to the edge of the water alongside the other boats. I pointed out the wells we had dug and they ran over and started drinking. We had no vessels to take water with us, so I implored them to drink their fill as I scanned the horizon for any pursuit. Fires were still burning on the island, and I could see the longboats rowing for the frigate. They would be aboard and under sail in minutes. If I had to guess, they would move into the mouth of the harbor and dispatch the boats from there, rather than have them cross the sound as we had.

“Hurry up. Drink and let’s go.” I grabbed several of the men and started tipping the other boats over to remove the water that accumulated overnight. The rain had stopped, but the wind stayed strong. I could only hope the tide would be our ally, as each man drank again, then we pushed the boats off the beach.

The wind remained from the north and at our backs. This time, with a favorable wind and a slack tide, we were able to cover the water that had taken us hours yesterday in less than half that. We faced the island where we had camped as we rowed. I looked over my shoulder, fixed on an island ahead to correct course, but when I faced backwards, as is the normal position to row, I lined up the landmarks I had committed to memory yesterday marking where the boat had sunk and further etched them in my mind. The water was too dark to see the bottom as we passed the spot, and I said a silent prayer for the men we had lost. My focus turned to the maze of small islands ahead of us. I tapped Rhames on the shoulder, pointed to the small cay I was aiming for, and he adjusted his pull to change our course. Another half hour of hard rowing and we pulled behind the small island, which screened us from our pursuers.

Through a small opening in the brush we could see that the frigate was now anchored outside of the Boca Grande pass, in the mouth of the channel. The large vessel could go no farther without the time-consuming practice of dropping a lead every few feet. Longboats were dropping from its side, and we could see men climbing down the cargo netting to the boats. Several were already fully manned, waiting in the water. I looked around at the men as they looked at me and could see the indecision on their faces.

We had no time to waste. The Navy boats were bigger, and manned by six to eight men each. With that many oars in the water they could easily catch us. We would have to rely on stealth to escape the faster boats.

6

I was counting on my knowledge of the area to lose the Navy boats. In the months we had holed up here, I had been in the marshy backcountry many times, foraging for oysters and netting fish between the narrow shoals. We had no chance of outrunning the larger, better-manned boats that followed; our best chance was to ditch the boats and head inland, but then the treasure would weigh us down.

We brought the boats together in the lee of the island, and I found all eyes on me.

“Alright, Nick,” Rhames said. “What’s the plan?”

I hesitated, still uncomfortable with my new authority and unsure if the men had the fortitude for the dangers that lay ahead. “We can’t lose them on the open water. There are too many. Their boats are faster and they’re well armed.” I started to plead my case and waited while the men looked at each other and grunted in assent. “I’m thinking we row down the coast and hide out.”

“That’s a lot of open water to cover,” one of the men, named Red, said as he slapped the side of his boat. Several other men nodded in agreement.

“We’ll have to row at night, but if we stay out here, we’re dead men and all this will be lost.” I waved my hands at the chests.

“What about the lady?” another asked.

“That’s the first place they’ll look,” I responded.

Rhames eyed the group, instantly stopping the dissent. “Boy’s right.”