Prologue

Had someone told young Charles Taylor he would survive storms at sea and shipwreck before this year was over, he'd have thought them daft. If they told him he would have to fight alongside fierce pirates and black slaves for his very life against some of the fiercest man-eating savages in the world, he would have known for sure that person was daft!

Had this mysterious prophet told him, a boy of fourteen, he would sail away from his home in Havant, England, to far-away and exotic lands in search of hidden treasure, the value of which the mind could not begin to comprehend, Charles would have laughed. He would have laughed, but the icy fingers of fear would also have gripped his soul. But, alas, no such phantom seer appeared to him, as he sat atop the old abandoned warehouse, watching the ships in the harbor and dreaming of such things as young men dream.

Chapter One

After Charles' father became ill, the two of them came to the docks quite often to watch the ships arrive and depart. It was on one such visit, as they sat listening to the creaking of the ships tied up at the docks rubbing against the planking, with the light breeze making an almost ghostly silent sound through the rigging, that Charles' father made a confession to him. Each was lost in his own thoughts. Sea gulls by the hundreds shrieked endlessly overhead, diving down to catch some small hapless sea creature or grab a bit of garbage thrown from one of the ships.

His father leaned back on his elbows, gazed out toward the open sea and softly said, "You know, son, I've never told anyone before, but since I was a boy younger than yourself I've dreamed of getting aboard one of these ships and sailing off to explore the world."

Even as his father spoke, Charles knew it was a dream that could never come true. He was well aware of how seriously ill his father was. Despite the gravity of his father's condition, Charles prayed for some miracle that would save him. It took a lot of courage for him to speak without tears in his eyes and voice. "I truly wish you could have realized your dream, Father."

"I want you to get a good education and all, Charles, but mostly, I want you to follow your dreams. Life is over much too quickly to get bogged down in some hopeless employment, which eats your soul. Mind you, I regret not a minute of my life with your mother and you children, but well, _" His voice trailed off momentarily, before he continued with his thought. "There are so many things I would liked to have done, Charles." Once again, he lapsed into silence, staring out to sea.

***

In the end, Charles lost his father, and since his death nearly a year earlier, Charles felt closest to him, while sitting all alone in the very spot his father and he sat so many times to watch the harbor and to dream. Here, Charles found solitude and relief from the pain he still felt and, at times, became so lost in thinking of his father, he forgot his father was gone. But when a gull dived precariously close and screamed in his ears, Charles was brought back to reality, and his eyes misted over with tears.

He never forgot his father's confession of wanting to go off to explore the world. Many times, as he sat atop the old warehouse, Charles spoke softly to his father, describing this or that ship tied up at the dock, or sailing in or out of the harbor. "I'll do it for both of us, Father. You'll see. I'll find some way to do it. I'll sail to those far off places you talked about. I know you can hear me, Father. You'll be with me every bit of the way."

***

Another Sunday morning in late spring, and a light frost covered everything except the patch of roof, where the heat from the breakfast stove melted it. Charles heard the sheep protesting the chill spring wind, as he finished his third biscuit and jam. He already felt the icy wind he would encounter walking to the coach stop and he involuntarily shivered.

His mother asked, "Are you going to the docks again, Charles?"

"Yes Ma'am." He knew from the tone of her voice, she didn't want him to go. Many times, Charles thought about telling her of his father's dream of sailing away to adventure, but then ... well, it was something his father had shared only with him. She just didn't understand the attraction of the ships and the dream men had of exploring strange places - the dream he and his father had shared.

"You know, Charles, your Uncle Anthony doesn't think it proper for someone so young to be around the docks."

Charles licked the remnants of jam from his fingers without answering.

"He says there are too many hooligans about. Your uncle fears no good can come to you for spending so much time there."

Charles missed his father so much and had lived with his uncle's domination as long as he could. "Mother, I'm tired of Uncle Anthony running our lives. The only real enjoyment I have is watching the ships and listening to the sailors' stories. Now he wants to take that away from me."

His mother turned back from the stove and said, "But your uncle only wants the best for you, Charles. You know that. He feels responsible for you children since we lost your father." She sat down across the table and smiled. How was she to deal with this young man of hers? Although Charles rarely spoke of his father, she knew he missed him terribly.

"No, Mother, I do not know that. I think he wants to dominate the family he himself never had."

She was both angered and surprised by his remarks. "That's cruel of you, Charles. Uncle Anthony loves you. He doesn't try to dominate our lives. He only wants you to have every advantage."

Charles looked down at his empty plate. She just didn't understand! "I'm sorry, Mother. I do not wish to hurt your feelings, but I've hidden my feelings ever since..." Charles choked up momentarily, then continued, "since father died." He stared at the chair his father occupied for meals and said, "But, now, I must exercise my right to have at least some measure of freedom. I am, after all, the eldest son and should be allowed to participate in making decisions for the family. I don't ask that I be allowed to tell you or the others what to do, just that I be given the freedom I should have."

The conversation ended, and his mother continued preparing breakfast.

Charles bundled up in his sheepskin coat and stopped at the door. "I'm sorry, Mother. I truly don't mean to make you unhappy. I'm sorry I mentioned father."

She turned with a tear on her cheek and hugged him. "I'm sorry too, Charles. I love you. Please take care."

As he walked to the coach stand, Charles felt guilty for having spoken so to his mother. This was the first time he told her how he felt about Uncle Anthony interfering in their lives. He knew it wasn't her fault.

As he did every Sunday, Charles sat atop the old warehouse building watching the activity in the harbor and on the docks. By the time he arrived there, a warm sun replaced the frost. A dozen or more ships usually sat dockside, loading or unloading cargo. The port at Havant, England was one of the busiest in the country. Large cranes hauled cargo from the bowels of the ships, swung back over the docks and lowered the crates to the waiting dockhands below. Throngs of people moved about, yelling orders at one another and moving the cargo into large piles along the fronts of buildings. Others moved the cargo into the buildings or onto wagons to be hauled inland. The sound of horse hooves, pounding on the wooden-planked docks was a continuous, loud, erratic drumbeat.

Charles was transported to another world by the mixture of sounds and smells in the air. Seagulls screeched and dived to grab any sea creature unlucky enough to come within their view, or to grab bits of garbage from the dirty water. The ever-present smoke from the dockside factories mixed with the smell of boiling tar used to re-chink the decks and hull planking of the ships in the repair yard at the upper end of the harbor. The smell from the bakery, which supplied hardtack for the ship stores, was one of the more pleasant aromas.

The weathered, sometimes half-rotted wood of the ships gave off a pungent odor, which mixed with the salt-laden, early morning mist. To some, it would seem an unpleasant mixture of awful smells, but to Charles, it was the odor of excitement — the smell of sailing off to wonderful, strange places — the odor of standing at the wheel of ones own ship, giving orders to his crew to set the sails for adventure. He daydreamed a lot, as he sat atop the warehouse watching the ships arrive and depart.

Especially exciting to Charles was watching sailors scurrying to and fro on the deck of a ship, as they weighed anchors, untied the lines holding their ship captive and lowered the sails, which would once more propel them to some wondrous, exotic place. While trying to take in everything happening below his perch, he always kept an eye on the channel to the south for incoming ships.

As Charles watched the channel this Sunday, he saw what at first appeared to be a large cloud scurrying along the surface of the ocean toward the port. But as the cloud neared, he saw the tiniest indication of masts poking their way through the top. He stood to get a better view of what he knew must surely be a huge ship. The cloud, which he could now make out as sails, grew larger and larger until he saw the bow cutting through the tops of the waves. From the speed with which it approached, Charles knew this was a ship such as he'd never seen.

As the ship neared the entrance to the harbor, he saw tiny little figures climbing the rigging to furl the sails. The closer it came, the more he was convinced he had been right. This indeed, was anything but an ordinary ship. Finally, when but a half kilometer away, only a foresail remained aloft. As the ship slowed and made its way toward the docks, Charles smiled broadly and said aloud, "Never have I seen such a magnificent ship. She is beautiful!" His heart raced at the sight of this elegant lady!

The crew dropped the foresail, and the ship slid neatly to the dock. Deckhands threw lines to men on the dock, who pulled the larger line ashore, ran it around a capstan and attached it to the draw bar behind a horse. When the man slapped the horse on the back with a switch, it plodded forward, its hooves making a hollow clip-clop on the wood planking, pulling the hull snugly against the dock.

Charles' eyes were riveted on the ship, totally absorbed by its beauty. It not only boasted five masts, but they were far taller than any ship he'd seen in harbor. Neither was it wide and squat, as were the cargo ships. This magnificent ship must surely be built for fighting. Long and sleek, the Union Jack fluttered at the top of the tallest mast. Before the ship ever snugged up against the dock, Charles had counted its cannon.

All the cargo ships carried cannon sticking through ports just below the main deck, usually six or eight on each side. This ship boasted twelve cannon on the main deck and two levels of cannon down either side, below decks. He counted sixty regular cannon, plus six small swivel cannon mounted two at the bow, two amidships and two at the stern. The usual ship putting into harbor was faded and dirty, but this vessel was painted a shiny black. A wide red and yellow stripe ran all the way around the hull, just below deck level. Brightly polished brass lanterns hung along its sides. The iron rings reinforcing the masts weren't rusty like most of the ships, but were painted a bright yellow. The masts themselves were varnished, as one would finish fine furniture. All the deck fittings and equipment were brightly painted or of highly polished brass. The ship looked brand new. At the top of the bow, on the underside of the forward spar, the figurehead of a life-size angel was delicately carved and painted.

Charles knew someone special must be aboard. He didn't take his eyes off her until many of the crew disembarked and walked toward O'Hare's Inn. Then, he hurriedly climbed down the rope he'd tied around the unused stone chimney and walked quickly after them. He wanted to run to catch up, but knew the docks were riddled with thieves. If he ran, someone might think he was a pickpocket or the like.

When Charles arrived at the inn, the sailors he'd followed were all on one side of the room, with several tables pulled together to accommodate their large group. He tried to be nonchalant, working his way between tables of sailors and sitting behind a post on the sill of a window just opposite the men from the ship.

The air in the inn was laden with smoke from the many pipes and smelly black cigars so many of the sailors smoked. Grease laden air from the stoves deposited its cargo everywhere. And, it was noisy! It seemed every one of the hundred or so people at the inn talked at the same time. If they weren't talking, they were laughing at a joke someone told. The smells from cooking food, stale rum and cigar smoke mingled with the odor of sweaty, unwashed bodies.

As Charles perched on the windowsill, an elegantly dressed sailor in a blue velvet waistcoat leaned back in his chair, a mug of ale hoisted to his lips and said, "So, Mister Morgan has died, has he?

"Aye. Tis a shame. He be a great man."

The velvet coat laughed and spoke loudly. "Great man? Did he not run off with all the booty, leaving his comrades behind with nothing to show for all the hardships they be endurin' to sack Panama?"

"That be but rumor. I say he be a great man. Put them Spaniards in their place, he did."

The man in the velvet coat leaned forward, shook his finger at the man and argued, "Oh, I'll not be denyin' that, matey. When it came to lootin' the Spaniards of their wealth, he be a great man. But, I ask you, what kind of man steals from his own mates? And after they've suffered so to gain such riches as no other buccaneer has seen? I say the man was a rotten bugger, through and through." The more he spoke, the louder he became.

He was for sure, the most elegantly dressed sailor and likely of large proportions Charles had ever seen. Ruffles ran down the front of the fine white silk shirt, protruding from under the velvet coat, as did the ruffles on the sleeves. Snow-white breeches tucked into black knee-high boots of the finest leather, polished to such a sheen as to reflect the light. That portion of the man's face not hidden by the neatly trimmed beard turned red, as he spoke of what a bugger Captain Morgan was.

Another man said, "Well, may not be consolation enough to his comrades, but he had none of it when he died."

"And how could it be so? No man could squander such riches in all his life!"

"I tell you true, he was a pauper."

Yet another of the sailors from the magnificent ship said quietly, "No, he be not a pauper. He had his treasure hid somewhere."

The hair on the back of Charles' neck bristled, and he shook, as though a chill wind had blown in through the door. His ears perked up at the mention of treasure, and he strained to hear their conversation through the din of loud voices in the room. He'd heard stories of the famous pirate, Captain Henry Morgan. Could it be he of whom they spoke? Who else could it be? He wanted to join their conversation and ask, but he remembered the dunking he received in the foul, smelly water of the harbor for no more reason than just being there. Sailors were mostly a motley bunch of ruffians. He thought it best not to speak, but to be as the little unseen mouse, watching and listening.

The man in the velvet coat said, "Aye, there be stories he hid his treasure for years. Many of his former mates seeked out the treasure, but if they found anythin' they be keepin' it secret, for sure."

Another sailor said, "We're to sail next, right to his former haunts. Maybe we should take along shovels."

The sailors all laughed at this suggestion, but Charles found himself extremely excited by the talk of treasure. He'd found a new dream! He wished one of the sailors would mention where this place, this Captain Morgan's haunts, was. Dare he ask? He shuddered at the thought.

Charles didn't realize the sailor in the velvet coat noticed he was taking in every word they spoke, and was startled when the man spoke to him in a loud, commanding voice.

"Laddie!"

He jumped and felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight out again!

"Laddie! Be you deaf, boy?"

"N-no, Sir," he answered nervously.

"And what ship you be off, lad?" The man smiled at him.

Charles had wanted to talk to them about the treasure, of which they spoke, but now, fear crept over him, and he wished he was somewhere else. "I, uh, I am not off a ship, Sir." He could barely speak for the lump in his throat.

"No? Then what be you doin' in our little inn?"

"I, uh, I come to watch the ships every Sunday, Sir." Charles shook visibly, and was sure they were going to pick him up by the back of the neck and throw him out onto the cobblestones!

"And what be you so afraid of, Laddie?"

Summoning all the courage he could muster, Charles answered, "I am not afraid, Sir."

The man threw back his head, laughed and said, "Ah, a bit of a liar, are you?" He leaned back in his chair and chuckled, as he looked at his companions.

"N-no, Sir."

"Then if you be not afraid, come join us at our table. Join us, lad." He beckoned Charles with a wave of his hand. "We'll not slit your throat for your purse."

Charles swallowed hard at the thought of having his throat slit! He wasn't sure if the man was playing with him or being friendly.

Pulling a chair from behind him, the man wedged it between his chair and the next. "Come sit here, lad. That's an order!"

"Yes, Sir."

As afraid as he was, Charles knew there was no escape. He could make a dash for the door, but he'd be in their clutches before he went ten paces. Perhaps he should have taken his mother's advice and not come to the docks today. If he had, maybe he wouldn't be in this predicament! He made his way slowly to the chair and sat down.

"Now, that didn't hurt, did it, lad?"

"No, Sir."

"You've the look of a lad who would love to go assailin'."

This surprised Charles, and all he could do was stutter.

"Well, Laddie, do you have a family?" The blue velvet coat leaned back in his chair and smiled.

"Yes, Sir."

"Do you have a Father?"

"No, Sir? He passed away two years ago."

"I be truly sorry, Laddie. It be a hard thing, losin' your father. I suppose you be the man of the family now."

"I'm supposed to be, but my Uncle Anthony runs our lives."

"You don't sound too happy about that, Laddie."

"No, Sir, I'm not."

"Don't seem fair, does it? The eldest is supposed to be the man of the house when the father's passed on."

Charles didn't really know how to answer. He stared at the tabletop and wondered if he dare ask about Captain Morgan's treasure.

"You haven't answered me question, lad."

"Uh, I beg your pardon, Sir?"

"You've been brought up with manners. I like that. Would you like to go asailin'?"

"Uh, yes. Yes, I would, Sir!" Could this sailor off that beautiful ship be offering him a berth?

"How old you be, fifteen years?"

Charles started to tell him he was only fourteen, but thought better of it. "Yes, Sir."

"And would your mother give her permission?"

"I'm not sure, Sir."

"We need a new boy on our ship. Mind you, you would be helpin' the cook, washin' pots and pans, and cleanin' down the Captain's cabin. It surely isn't a sailor you'd be, but you'd be aboard the finest ship afloat."

Charles said excitedly, "Oh, yes, Sir! It is, indeed, a fine ship, Sir!"

"And how would you be knowin'?"

"I saw you sail her in. Never have I seen such a beautiful ship. I counted sixty cannon in all."

The sailor laughed, "You be an observant lad, that be sure. I doubt half the crew could tell you how many cannon we carry. They couldn't count that high! Your count of sixty be exactly right."

Charles had no idea how to accept a compliment, so he said nothing.

"Well, do you think your mother would consent?"

"I know she will. I'll leave for home immediately to ask her!" Charles nearly toppled the chair trying to remove himself from between the two sailors.

"Whoa, now, Laddie. There be no large hurry. We shan't sail for mostly two weeks, what with repairs to make, provisions to secure and a number of crew to find. You need not hurry, lad."

Charles wondered why they needed new crewmembers. What happened to the previous? But, being a young man with little experience with the world and its ways, all he could think about was his dream of sailing off across the seas. And now, his dream might become a reality. He bid the man farewell and started for the door.

"Laddie!"

"Yes, Sir."

"You be askin' for Captain Swain when you return."

"Yes, Sir."

Charles hurried to the coach stand and paced nervously back and forth. He was so excited, he couldn't wait to tell his mother of his good fortune. The idea of her not wanting him to leave didn't even occur to Charles. When the coach dropped him a kilometer from his house, he ran all the way home. Pictures of all the places to which he'd sail filled his mind.

He burst through the door and hugged his mother.

She asked, "Why are you home so early, Charles?"

He panted heavily and wiped perspiration from his forehead, as he blurted out, "Mother, I have the most wonderful news you could ever imagine!"

"Slow down, Charles. My Lord, what has you so excited?"

He wanted to yell out that he was going to sea, but he took a deep breath and tried to speak in a normal voice.

"The most beautiful ship I have ever seen sailed into the harbor today. It's not only the most beautiful, but the largest I've ever seen. When the ship tied up and some of the crew left for the inn, I followed." Charles was quite animated when excited and waved his hands around, as he spoke rapidly of his good fortune. "The story is much too long to tell, Mother, but the man who seemed to be in charge has asked me to go sailing with them!"

He was disheartened by her look. It spoke a thousand words and told him it was a foolish idea. Before she could speak he said, "I will not be leaving forever. The ship will make trips to places all over the world, but we will come back from time to time. Just think of it, Mother. I'll get the education of traveling all around the world. Please don't say I'm not old enough. You told me I was the man of the house since Father died and, if I am a man, surely I can decide my life."

A look Charles hadn't seen since his Father's funeral filled his mother's face. "But what will I do without you here, Charles?"

"You know Uncle Anthony will look after you. And Harold is but a year younger than myself. He can look after things. Harold knows how to milk, and plant and feed the stock." Charles used every argument he could think of to make his mother say yes. He stopped, when he saw tears in her eyes.

She spoke softly, with a catch in her voice. "You really have your heart set on this, don't you, son?"

He wrapped his arms around her, laid his head on her shoulder, and said, "Oh yes, Mother. I've watched the ships and dreamed of going sailing. I thought it was just a dream, but now I have the chance for it to be true!"

His mother sat down at the table, with Charles hovering over her. She knew she couldn't keep him home forever, especially when he was so intent on going out on his own. This was what she feared would happen for his spending so much time around the sailors. But if she took this opportunity away from him, he would surely resent her forever. But, how she would miss that devilish smile, the curly black hair, and the beautiful blue-green eyes. Charles was already as tall as she and seemed so much a man. She stood and wrapped her arms about him and asked, "And when will you be leaving us, Charles?"

"The man said it would be most two weeks."

"Then you must go to your uncle and tell him you are leaving. I hope he'll not be disappointed."

Charles pulled back from her and said, "He won't, Mother. Uncle Anthony will understand."

"Then go tell him now and be done with it."

Charles hadn't counted on having to tell his uncle so soon and was nervous, as he walked to Uncle Anthony's big house. It was half a kilometer up the road from the tenant house Anthony Forester had moved Charles, his mother, his younger brother and two younger sisters into after Charles' Father died. He knew Uncle Anthony would think his wanting to be a sailor was a ridiculous idea, and he wasn't disappointed. His uncle's first reaction was completely against the idea.

"Charles, you have no idea what life is like aboard a ship. I've sailed abroad a number of times, and I can tell you, the life of a sailor is quite hard."

"I know it is, Uncle Anthony. I've listened to the sailors at the inn many times. I've heard them speak of the hardships. But I truly want to do this."

Charles was surprised when his uncle got a faraway look in his eyes, and a soft smile wrinkled the face that had seen many years.

"But you have so much school to attend, nephew. At least another four years, then university if you wish. You're smart, Charles. You learn quickly. That's a gift you shouldn't waste."

Charles didn't know how to handle the tall, thin man, who dressed as if for church, even when lounging about at home. His uncle not only went to university, but taught at the big school in London for some years. Charles supposed Uncle Anthony had the same life in mind for him, but that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to go sailing across the ocean on the beautiful ship waiting in the harbor.

"And how long shall you be gone if you are allowed to take this course with your life?"

Charles realized his uncle might be weakening! "The captain says we will return in six months - no longer, I am sure, Uncle."

"Then you have your heart set on doing this thing?"

"Yes. I have my mind made up, Sir."

"And does your Mother approve?"

"It makes her unhappy that I will leave. I don't wish to cause her sorrow, but it's time for me to be a man on my own, Sir."

Again, his uncle got a faraway look in his eyes, as he stood, hands clasped behind his back, staring out the huge window of his study at the ocean in the distance below. "You're probably right, Lad. If you can reconcile this thing with your mother, then go with my blessing."

"Thank you for understanding, Sir." Charles could barely contain himself, about to bust with joy.

He believed he was right in thinking Uncle Anthony would be glad to have him gone, where he could cause him no further trouble. He didn't know his uncle sometimes regretted having been so careful and conservative with his life.

While Charles told him about going off to see the world, his uncle wished he had been more adventurous in his youth. He envied Charles' chance to go exploring as a young man, rather than getting bogged down in a stodgy old building - teaching young men who really cared little about the knowledge he tried to impart.

The uncle Charles thought would never approve of his leaving walked part way back to the house with him. When they stopped, he took Charles' hand and shook it. "I shall miss you, lad. Never had a family of my own, you know. I sometimes envied your Father. I guess that's why I have tried so hard to care for you and your brother and sisters. I'd not have your Father gone for anything, but I welcomed the chance to have a family. I hope you'll forgive me if I have seemed too domineering, lad."

"If you have, Uncle, of course, you're forgiven."

Then his uncle did something of which Charles would never have thought the man capable. He put his arms around him and said, "Go with God, then, son."

As Charles continued along the road, he looked back and saw Uncle Anthony standing atop the small rise, watching him. If Charles could have seen the tears, he would have known how wrong he'd been about his mother's brother.

Chapter Two

It seemed an eternity until Sunday, when he would return to the docks and tell the captain he would be sailing with him. Although Charles was fidgety, irritable, and sure the week would never end, it finally did. He was off to the docks especially early, anxious to talk to the sailor again to make sure it hadn't all been a joke at his expense.

As the coach neared the docks, his ship stood out amongst all the others, and he felt as much pride as if the ship was his own. When he realized he had thought of the vessel as "his ship" chills ran down his spine.

He walked quickly from the coach stand to the ship, but approaching the gangplank, he hesitated, feeling the same fear as when the man first spoke to him at the inn. If they were just playing a joke on him and he went aboard to ask for the captain, he might once more receive a dunking in the dirty water of the harbor. Charles fought off the near panic and forced himself up toward the main deck.

The first person he encountered was the meanest looking individual Charles had ever seen. An ugly, jagged scar as wide as two fingers ran from just in front of his left ear, all the way down to his chin. The left ear lobe was missing, probably the victim of the same sword that caused the hideous scar. A golden earring hung from the still intact right ear lobe. The top of his head was bald and burned to a deep brown by the sun, but the hair about the sides of his head was longer then shoulder length and pulled tightly to the back of his head and braided. Deep ravines caused by living one's life constantly under a hot sun covered the man's face. Piercing blue eyes stared at Charles from under oversized eyebrows that made the face even more menacing. A short bristle of unruly beard covered the lower part of his face, except for the scar. The man's shirt had at one time been blue, but was as affected by the sun as the man's face and bleached nearly white - as were the breeches, which had also been blue. The high boots, laced nearly to the knee, were as well experienced as the man's clothes. Charles could do naught but stare.

When the man, who was obviously a lowly deck hand, spoke, the voice would scare any grown man. He growled loudly, "What you be doin' here, boy?"

Charles swallowed hard and said, "I, uh, I'm supposed to report to the captain."

"Oh, you are? And who be telling you so?" The mean looking sailor towered over him, hands on hips, an angry scowl on his face.

Charles realized he had no idea who the man was that told him to come to the ship. "Uh, I don't know the name, Sir. A man from your ship eating at the inn told me to come see the captain."

"And what'd this man look like?"

Charles had to fight off a shudder at the angry tone of his voice. "Uh, Sir, he was a large man with a neat full beard and wore a blue velvet waistcoat."

As he spoke, a grin, distorted by the horrible scar, crept across the man's face. "Well, if you be set on joinin' us, the captain's cabin be aft on the port side o' the sterncastle. But I warn you, boy, you may be wantin' to reconsider. Isn't a pleasure ship you be boardin'."

Charles said, "Thank you, Sir," and hurried aft toward the captain's cabin, not wanting to be close to this man any longer than necessary. He found the proper door and knocked lightly.

The voice on the other side of the door sounded familiar. "Come!"

Charles opened the door and found the man from the inn seated at a most beautiful desk.

"Aha! And how be you, Laddie? Have you your mother's permission to sail with us?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Then bring yourself in and I'll tell you about your duties aboard ship. Sit there." He pointed to a bench on one side of the cabin. Charles looked about the room, as elegantly furnished as the finest parlor, as he crossed to the bench and sat down. Six most beautiful of brass lamps were mounted about the cabin walls, and two equally elegant lamps hung from the ceiling. The finest teak paneling covered the walls, with a number of beautiful paintings, including one of the ship, itself, hanging all around. Highly polished round brass ports ran the length of the outside walls of the room. The man could see the wonder in Charles' eyes.

"I see you have an eye for fine things, Laddie."

"Uh, yes, Sir. It is a most elegant cabin, Sir."

"Aye, that it is. Well now, Laddie, you'll be helpin' the cook to prepare the food and keep the stores proper. You shall also be keepin' this cabin as clean and immaculate as it now be. That means keepin' all the brass polished, the teak varnished, the deck swabbed - everything neat and orderly, as you see it now."

"Yes, Sir."

"I be afraid the cook boy be at the bottom rung of the ladder, Laddie. You'll have to sleep on deck. All the bunkin' places be taken by the more important members o' the crew. How far have you gone in school, Laddie?"

"Six years, Sir."

"Ah, then you can read and write. That be handy some day, perhaps."

"Yes, Sir."

"Tell you what, you be lookin' the ship over if you'd like. We weigh anchor Thursday, in the late evenin'. That'll give you a few days to be makin' the proper goodbye to your family and friends. You may tell them we shall be away for six months. Go now, lad. I have work to do." He waved his hand toward the door, signaling Charles to leave.

Charles started for the door, but got up the nerve to ask, "Sir, may I ask who you are?"

The man leaned back in his chair and his belly jiggled, as he laughed. "Why, I be Captain Swain, Laddie." The captain arose from his chair, came around the desk and reached out to shake Charles' hand. "Welcome aboard, Laddie."

"Thank you, Captain, Sir." He quickly slipped out the door, anxious to look the ship over up close.

Charles sized up the crewmembers working about the ship, as he explored every nook and cranny. Some of the sailors smiled, while others scowled and told him in no uncertain terms to stay out of the way. He had fully explored two decks and was exploring the third, when he came upon an armament room. Charles stared wide-eyed at the racks of rifles, pistols, swords, and the huge stock of small wooden kegs of black powder and shot for the weapons. He wondered why they might need so many weapons, but decided they must hunt for food on the islands where they anchored.

The levels below the main deck were barely high enough to stand between the overhead beams, and he had to duck to move about. It seemed the whole of deck two was lined with cannon sticking out their ports and huge piles of powder and cannon balls. The smell of oakum hammered into the joints of the hull and the oil used to treat the wood planking and beams filled the air. Canvas knapsacks containing the crewmembers' belongings hung here and there on each deck. Small hammocks swung between beams, everywhere.

Even though Charles spent the entire day aboard, he hated to leave. But it was getting late, and his mother would worry. Also, he was anxious to get home and tell his family all about the ship and when he would sail. As he walked to the coach stand, Charles kept turning around to look back at the ship.

As he rode home atop the coach with the driver, as he usually did, Charles wrestled with mixed emotions. He was unimaginably excited about going off on such a great adventure, but it would be hard to leave his family - he would be gone for so long. Charles found himself almost wishing he hadn't seen the ship. But, he told himself he was a man, now, and had to act like one. As he walked toward home from the coach stand, he spoke aloud to himself, trying to ease his conscience at leaving. "Every man leaves home sooner or later. It's just the way things are."

As they sat down to eat dinner Charles said, "We set sail on Thursday, Mother." He was surprised to see her smile.

Of course, she was sad that he would leave but, at the same time, was happy for him, because she knew he had dreamed of going off on a sailing ship since his father died.

He couldn't keep the excitement from his voice, as he told her about the ship. "Mother, I explored the whole ship today. It is so magnificent! I met the sailmaker and his helper. They told me the ship is the latest design afloat and is extremely safe. It's called an East Indiaman." He told her all he could remember about the ship, but didn't mention the weapons and powder. Nor did he mention the large number of cannon the ship carried. He knew the talk of cannon and weapons would only make her more anxious.

In the next two days, Charles went to see several of his friends and broke the news that he was leaving. He was delighted to see the envy in their eyes and sense it in their voices. All his friends were adventurous types and would give anything to trade places with him.

Finally, the day he was to sail away from England to some grand adventure arrived, and Charles had to bid his family farewell. His mother wrapped her arms tightly around him, and said, "Please take care of yourself, son. I shall miss you terribly."

"I will take care, Mother. And I shall miss you, as well."

His brother said, "Charles, you must bring me something from your travels on your return."

He hugged Harold and said, "I promise, I'll bring everyone a proper souvenir. Harold, you look after mother. You will be the man of the house in my absence." He hugged his young sisters and had to hurriedly walk away, fearing his bravado would be betrayed by the tears he knew would come if he stayed longer.

His family stood in the narrow cart path in front of the house and waved to him each time he turned around to look back. Charles was thankful he hadn't displayed his sadness at leaving with tears. He managed to hold them back until he was far enough away, they couldn't see. Then, he was over the hill that hid their house from view, and tears slowly work their way from his eyes and down his cheeks.

He dried the tears and stopped sniffling before the coach arrived. It would be ultimately embarrassing for anyone to know he'd been crying.

When he arrived at the ship, all was hustle and bustle. Fifty to sixty sailors scurried about securing crates and bundles to the deck with rope, while others lowered supplies into the forward hold, where the food stores were kept. Several new sails were being hoisted into place and secured to their yardarms. He was surprised to see two cows and four goats led up the gangplank and lowered into the bowels of the ship. This confused Charles for a moment, then he realized they would be used for food on the trip.

Charles looked in the direction of his home and felt a twinge of homesickness already. When he climbed the gangplank and stepped onto the deck, the man with the scar grinned at him and looked at his meager duffel bag.

"So, you not be smart enough to heed good advice! I told this be not a pleasure ship, lad. You look to be a schoolboy. That be where you should stay."

Charles fidgeted with his duffel bag and said, "Sir, may I ask your name since we are to be shipmates?"

The ugly sailor boomed out, "You be lower than the barnacles infestin' the bottom of this ship, boy. Don't you go 'round callin' yourself no sailor! And don't you be callin' me your mate!"

Charles thought perhaps he should escape this one and move to another part of the ship. He wondered if he should report to the captain, but as he walked aft, Charles met Captain Swain coming forward.

"Ah, so you came, did you? That be a good lad. You just be stayin' out of the way 'til we get under way. Why don't you climb atop the sterncastle where you might see how a ship be moved out of port and put under way."

"Yes, Sir."

Charles continued to the ladder alongside the sterncastle and climbed to the roof. He threw his duffel over the short rail and sat down on it to watch the men make the ship ready for sea. Even though he had watched it from the rooftop of the warehouse many times, Charles hadn't realized how much preparation went into getting a ship such as this ready to get under way. After an hour, Captain Swain climbed atop a hatch cover and began yelling orders through a funnel shaped device.

"Away the bow lines! Up the forward anchor!"

A number of men loosed the lines running from the dock to the bow of the ship. The dockhands coiled them into a neat stack, while six men walked around and around, pushing the spokes of the windlass, raising the anchor off the muddy bottom.

When the big iron anchor was freed from the muck of thousands of years, the bow moved slowly away from the dock, even though no sail had been lowered. The slight breeze against the hull and rigging was enough to move the ship slowly toward the open waters of the harbor.

Again, Captain Swain bellowed, "Away the aft lines! Loose the jib!" Four men standing in the rigging high above the deck released the small sail atop the forward mast, while several men on deck pulled the lines through eyes set in the deck, and the jib sail came into full bloom.

As the wind filled the jib, the front of the ship swung farther out from the dock. When the bow of the ship had moved out sufficiently to clear the next ship tied at the dock, the captain shouted, "Steer thirty degrees to port! Full port angle on the jib!" The helmsman turned the big wheel, as a man spun a crank to change the angle of the jib sail to the wind, and the stern moved outward until Captain Swain called out, "Negative on the helm! Right the jib!"

The sleek ship moved slowly past the line of cargo vessels tied up along the docks. Charles had never been on the water, even in a small boat, and was so excited he wanted to yell. When they were some distance into the harbor, Captain Swain once more shouted through his horn, "Set the mainsil!"

The men hanging over the edges of the booms let go the mainsail, and it dropped free. Again, riggers on the deck secured it through pulleys and cranks and tied the lines off. Charles laughed, as the thrust of the wind driving the ship rolled him over backwards, off his duffel. The ship leaped forward, with the dropping of the mainsail.

Charles experienced his first thrill of being under sail. When the mizzensail was dropped and secured, their speed increased dramatically, as they approached the entrance to the harbor. He could see all the way to the area of his home, and although he knew his mother couldn't see him, he waved goodbye once more. When they broached the entrance to the harbor and moved into the open channel, the captain ordered all topsails, the foresail, the aft spinnaker, and second mizzensail unfurled.

The ship was under full sail, and the sky above was filled with billowing clouds of white canvas. They moved faster than Charles had imagined a ship could move. The thin bow cut through the waves and sent a large spray of water to either side, which the late afternoon sun turned into small rainbows. A steady roar of wind in the sails, and the shrieking of wind across the lines filled the air, punctuated by the rhythmic splash of the hull pounding against the waves. Charles drew in a deep breath, and the smell of the ocean was much different here than in the harbor. It smelled clean!

He climbed down from the roof of the sterncastle, made his way to the stern and watched the land rapidly slipping away. The sound of the wind beating against the enormous amount of sail nearly drowned out the captain's voice, as he yelled at the helmsman to steer thirty degrees to port, and they ran full speed down the English Channel toward the open Atlantic Ocean. It was the spring of the year, the time when the cold winds blow directly south from the frigid North Atlantic, driving southbound ships at maximum speed.

As Charles stared toward the land, the hills became small mounds, and the shoreline but a thread at the edge of the ocean. Sailing directly out to sea, the waves became longer from crest to crest, and the troughs deeper and wider. The ship rode up and over a wave, slid down into the trough, then rode up to the crest of the next. Each time the bow dipped into the bottom of a trough, a huge spray of water flew to either side.

But the farther they sailed from land, the smoother the ocean became. Soon, the ship cut through the tops of the shallow swells and rode smoothly. As Charles watched the land disappear he thought, "It's too late to turn back now." He was startled by the voice next to him.

"So, Laddie, do you think you made the right choice?"

Charles was unaware Captain Swain had joined him at the rail running across the main deck at the rear of the ship. "Oh, yes, Sir."

"I know how it be when you ships out for the first time and leaves your family behind, lad. I once be a young lad leavin' for me first voyage. I worried all the while I'd never see me family again. You needn't worry, lad. This be the finest ship afloat. She can weather the worst of storms, and the worst of fights."

Fights? A feeling of dread crept over Charles. "Sir?"

"Yes, Lad."

"May I ask, Sir, where we might be sailing?"

Captain Swain laughed and said, "It never entered me mind to tell you. We be headed for the Caribbean."

"Is that where Mister Morgan hid his treasure?"

Captain Swain threw his head back and laughed loudly. "Ah yes, Laddie. For sure, that be where it lies hidden, somewhere."

"Is it true he hid riches beyond imagination?"

"That be true, Laddie. He sacked Panama City and stole most their riches - gold, silver, and jewels to bedevil the imagination. Panama City be one o' the Spaniard's richest cities. That is, until old Captain Morgan decided to make their riches his own." He again laughed loudly.

"Is it true he then stole everything from his comrades?"

"That be how the story be told. Seems he had all the most valuable booty stored aboard his ship. He and his fleet of privateers be anchored amongst the Bay Islands, and in the middle of the night, the bugger sailed away under cover of a dark sky. At least, that's what be told. Mind you, I know not if it be true, for sure."

"And now he has died?"

Captain Swain looked out across the ocean and said quietly, "Aye. But the strange part, if the story be true, it makes no sense whatever, he died a pauper." He stroked his neatly trimmed beard and continued to stare at something invisible.

Charles said, "Perhaps he was afraid he would be followed if he went to retrieve the treasure."

"Ah, yes. That be a possibility. If he stole all the riches from his mates, it be quite likely they kept watch on him 'til the day he died, hopin' he would one day lead them to the treasure. Fact be, I've heard many of the bugger's mates spent a goodly number of their years asearchin' for the treasure."

"Would it not be grand to find such a treasure?" Charles felt the same excitement as when he first heard the sailors speak of the treasure at the inn.

"I will tell you, lad, I have many times thought on it. I even think I know what be the most likely place for him to be hidin' his treasure."

Charles wondered if the captain was just treating him like a child and deliberately trying to excite him, but it worked. The idea that Captain Swain had some inkling of where the treasure might lay buried did excite him. "Where do you think it might be, Sir?"

"Aha, you be thinkin' of goin' in search of Captain Morgan's treasure, lad?"

Charles felt a little stupid. He was just a boy of fourteen, wanting to search for the treasure, when many grown men had searched and came up empty handed. But if it lay buried somewhere on one of the islands, surely someone could find it!

"If it was up to me, lad, I would go asearchin' for sure, but I be just an employee of His Majesty, and this ship belongs to His Majesty. We're to sail to Jamaica and escort a large fleet of cargo ships from the islands back to England. But first, we be havin' some fun with the Spanish."

Charles thought he best not ask what he meant. It would probably give him cause to worry.

"Look, Laddie, I'd visit more, but you'd best be helpin' the cook fix our evenin' meal." That was the last conversation he had with Captain Swain for some time.

Chapter Three

Charles found helping the cook was much harder work than he imagined it would be. Having done little real work before, his hands were soon covered with blisters from the constant scrubbing of pots and pans, and cleaning and cutting the vegetables that went into the watery stew, which seemed to be the cook's only recipe. But at least he was at sea and headed for adventure!

Their first landfall was the Azores, a group of islands some distance off the coast of Portugal. The trip there was uneventful, other than the fact that Charles learned one had to work at least fifteen hours a day aboard ship. He was so tired after the evening meal, he slept until time to start helping with breakfast. Charles slept behind a large roll of rope stowed just aft of the sterncastle, and it gave him a little sense of security and privacy.

They anchored offshore of the small island of Graciosa after four day's sail, remaining just long enough to load two longboats filled with fruit and vegetables, then once more set sail. Charles learned that eating fruit while at sea was the answer to preventing the dreaded disease, scurvy.

Sailing westward until well clear of the islands, Captain Swain gave the order to turn directly south in the stream of water flowing like a river through the ocean. With the prevailing winds generally following the ocean river, they made good time, and after three days, the sail set was changed and the helmsman steered due west. Now, their progress slowed considerably, having left the ocean river and favorable winds.

What little time Charles had when he wasn't helping the cook or sleeping, he spent standing in the rigging at the front of the ship. He was high enough to see for a great distance, but day after day, there was nothing to see except more ocean. Now and again, debris was flung about atop the waves - blown from the islands by storms.

Charles was startled and nearly fell from the rigging one evening, as he watched the sun setting ahead of the ship. The man with the scar walked up and was directly beneath him when he spoke.

"What do you see out there, lad?" The scar knew he'd surprised Charles half out of his wits and involuntarily chuckled. Usually, there was no one about in that area of the ship.

"Uh, nothing but water."

"There be plenty of that, right enough. What you be doin' here, boy? Do you not have a family?"

"Yes, I have a family."

"Then what you be doin' here?"

Charles didn't want to tell him he wanted to go sailing for the adventure of it. To an old salt such as this it would sound childish. So he fibbed a bit. "I needed a job to help support my mother and brother and sisters." As Charles spoke, he climbed down from the rigging to stand on the deck in front of the man the other sailors called "Scarface."

Charles asked, "Do you have a family?"

Scarface looked out across the darkening sea and mumbled, "Did once."

"You don't have family now?"

The ugly sailor sighed and hung onto a line, as if he was tired. "I was a young lad like yourself once. I left me family and went searchin' for adventure. Promised I'd come back, I did. That be a lot of years ago. Now I don't even know them."

"I won't let that happen. I'll see my family as soon as we get back from each trip."

Scarface chuckled, almost to himself, and asked, "Oh, and how soon do you think we'll be gettin' back, lad?"

"The captain said six months."

Scarface ran his fingers up and down the jagged scar, as he moved his head from side to side and smiled. He let out a long sigh and said, "Laddie, I think you been told less than true."

"What do you mean?"

Charles' voice betrayed his anxiety. He cringed when Scarface said, "Laddie, it may be 3 or 4 years 'til we sets foot on the King's soil again."

He could barely get out, "What other lies have I been told?"

"I wouldn't be knowin', lad. You tell me what you've been told and I'll tell you how much of it be lies." Scarface was a mean, tough old pirate, but when he looked at Charles, he saw the young, innocent lad he, himself, was when he first sailed away from home to make his fortune on the high seas.

Charles didn't like the way Scarface shook his head, as he told him what Captain Swain told him of their journey.

"Well, the truth be, to begin with, Laddie, you shoulda listened to me back in Havant. We shall not be escortin' no cargo ships anywhere, and this not be a ship of His Majesty. Did you not notice there be no name affixed to the ship? Didn't that make you wonder?"

Charles had to admit, every ship he'd ever seen had its name emblazoned along the sides and across the stern, but this ship had no name displayed. "I thought the ship had been freshly painted and the name had just not been repainted yet."

Again, Scarface chuckled. "There be no name on her, cause she be pirated from some folks our captain thought didn't need her as bad as we. Let me tell you the truth of it lad, but first, let's get out of sight. The Captain takes little kindness to anyone talkin' about him with his back bein' turned." Scarface wasn't sure why, but he felt he should protect this innocent young lad from the fate he'd seen so many young lads meet over the years - becoming killers and being killed themselves. Maybe he was just getting old and tired of the pirate's life himself.

They sat on the deck between the big bow anchor windless and the forward hatch, fairly well hidden from view. When they were settled in, Scarface spoke just loud enough for Charles to hear over the splash of the water against the bow. It was nearly dark, and what Scarface told him sounded like someone telling a child a scary story.

"Lad, we sure enough stole the ship from its proper owner. We slipped aboard in the middle of the night, took care of the deck watch then rounded up all the crew. We tied them up proper and set them adrift in three longboats. That be why we have three boats when there be hangin's for six.

"We quietly upped the anchor and lowered just enough sail to barely move us out of the harbour. Then, when we was well clear of the island, we sets the sails for open sea." Scarface hesitated and chuckled before continuing. "Then guess what happened. We found there was still people on board. The owner of the ship, by gads! Ol' Captain Swain made a party of throwin' him overboard so far from land, he could do naught but drown and be fish food."

Charles gasped. Captain Swain didn't seem capable of such a terrible thing. "Are you sure he did this?"

"Aye, lad. I be there, sure enough!"

Charles shuddered. He didn't know if it was the coming of the night air, or if his skin crawled from thinking about being thrown overboard in the middle of the ocean! "Why did you steal the ship? Did you not have a ship of your own?"

"Aye, that we did. But it be storm battered mostly beyond repair. We be caught by one of the most awful storms the sea has ever seen, and we were saved only by luck, lad. We did manage to reach Bridgetown, Barbados, but there be no way to repair our ship. The very seams of her were ripped apart. She sat at anchor in the harbor and sank most to the top of the mast in three days. If the captain had beached her at high tide, we might've saved her. But when we sailed into the harbour, and Captain Swain saw this fine ship, he immediately made up his mind to pirate her from her owner."

Again he hesitated, but with a look of anger on his face. "Can't say I blame the captain. The people on the island be real unfriendly to us. They were goin' to make us work as servants for five years to earn our passage out of there. Now, the gent who owned this ship be one of them we would've had to work for. A large, pompous man - spoke real rude-like to us. Maybe he got what he had comin'!"

Again, Charles shuddered at the idea of being thrown overboard and wondered how many people had met that awful fate. He asked, "But where are we going?"

Scarface lowered his voice even more. "I'd be tied to the mast and whipped 'til dead if you told anyone of our talk, Laddie."

"I'll not tell a single person. I promise you on the salvation of my soul."

"Aye." Scarface fingered the scar and glanced around to be sure no one was within earshot. "We be up to makin' our fortune by piratin', lad."

"You mean this is a pirate ship!" Charles nearly yelled it out.

"Not so loud, lad! If any was to hear, we might meet the fate of the former owner!"

Charles whispered, "We're pirates?"

"That be what we was before our ship was beaten to death by the storm, and tis what we'll be now. This ship we took be far heavier armed than our old. And there be probably not a ship afloat that'll outsail her, so we should go home wealthy one day."

"But I didn't want to be a pirate!"

"Like it or no, matey, you be on a pirate ship, and there be nothin' to do but be a pirate."

Charles sat in silence, looking into the distance for a long while. He wondered what his mother would think, if she knew he was aboard a pirate ship. How had he gotten into this mess! He prayed his mother never find out. Then, his thoughts turned to Henry Morgan's treasure.

"Where shall we pirate?"

Scarface smiled and said, "Anywhere there be a rich prize for the takin'. Captain Swain has a plan to lay in wait for the Spanish ships sailin' out of Havana, Cuba. There be a string of islands just off the coast of North America, where the winds and currents be proper for the slow and hard to sail Spanish ships. Some of the islands be just small mountains in the sea, and a ship can hide behind one of them without problem. As fast as this ship be, it'll be no trick to overtake the Spaniards." Scarface got a gleam in his eye. "And mind you, Laddie, these ships be mostly treasure ships, carrying all sorts of treasures from the mines - gold, silver, emeralds, diamonds, and the like."

"But don't people get killed?"

"Aye, they does. That be a part of it, lad."

Chapter Four

The thought of going home rich excited Charles, but he sure didn't want to be a pirate! He began thinking about how he might somehow escape the ship before they started chasing Spanish Galleons. Treasure or not, he wanted no part of murder! He thought, "If I get the chance to quit this ship, I'll do it! I'd best begin planning an escape and figure out what I'll need if I leave the ship in a remote place. It isn't likely Captain Swain will sail into a port with a stolen ship. Surely, by now, people around the Caribbean will be watching for such a fine ship as this."

Charles thought it should be much easier to go find Captain Morgan's treasure than to go off chasing Spanish ships and run the risk of being killed! He asked Scarface, "Do you believe Captain Morgan buried a huge treasure somewhere, like they say?"

Scarface turned and looked at Charles for a moment before staring silently down at the deck. He seemed deep in thought, as he again ran a finger up and down the scar. "Aye, Laddie. The worthless bugger hid an enormous treasure somewhere. I know it for a fact!" Scarface stroked his long beard and ran his fingers through it to unravel the tangles the wind had caused. He looked out across the water, lost in thought for a moment, then said, "Aye, Laddie, the scoundrel sneaked away in the middle of the night with all the most valuable treasure looted from the Spaniards in Panama. If he hadn't, I would be livin' like the King hisself, this day."

"What do you mean?" Charles knew the answer before Scarface told him.

He continued to stroke his beard and said, "I got this scar fightin' the Spaniards in Panama. I be not much older than yourself when I joined with a ship of pirates. Oh, we was a real force to be reckoned with, we was. When we went to Panama, we had thirty-seven ships, but half me mates died crossin' to the city."

Charles was wide-eyed at the discovery that he had sailed with Captain Morgan. If anyone should know where the treasure might be buried, it would be Scarface!

"The swamps and jungle there suffocates you, Laddie. The air be filled with insects that make you sick, and there be creatures in the jungles that'd scare any man. Your food rots as you eat it. It be the hell I've heard preachers speakin' of. If you don't get mired and sucked under in the swamps, the sickness kills you. But half us made it to Panama City."

Scarface got a far away look in his eyes, chuckled, and said, "The Spanish knew we were comin' and stampeded a herd of wild bulls to run over us." Now, Scarface laughed out loud. "When we shot some of them, the herd turned back and trampled the Spaniards what sent them after us. We made camp and ate the ones we'd killed. They made us a gift of the first real food we had in a month." Again, he hesitated and got a serious look on his face. "After makin' it across all the swamps and jungle, we'd not be denied the city's riches. We were near starved, most of us. We woulda fought just for a loaf of bread if there'd been no treasure to take at all. We got so hungry workin' our way across to the city, we boiled and ate our belts." He hesitated again, smiling, "But there be riches aplenty, aye. The likes we never seen, lad."

Scarface stared at the deck, a huge smile on his face. "Laddie, I would never o' believed how cruel a man could be. I saw Captain Morgan cut off a man's ears to make him tell where his treasure be hidden. Most the people hid their treasures in the jungle to keep us from takin' them. If they wouldn't tell where it was, they was killed."

Charles shuddered and wished he would leave out such details! He had never thought about the cruelty attached to the treasure. The likes of Henry Morgan had always been glorified in the stories he heard. After all, the Spaniards were the enemy! But Charles knew if being a pirate involved killing and the like, he wanted no part of it. He'd find some way to look for Captain Morgan's buried treasure.

He told Scarface, "It's not a pirate I mean to be." "I've heard the others call you Scarface. Would you mind if I called you by your proper name?"

"Might better be if you called me Scarface, lad", he said, "the name of me bein' what it is."

"I don't understand.

Scarface sighed and said, "Havin' a name like Frederick Ottis Orville Lockerby can cause a man problems."

"I see nothing wrong with it. It's a perfectly good name."

"You see, Laddie, if you takes the first initials of me names and puts them together, they says, fool."

Charles did have a hard time not smiling as he said, "I think not many people would know that."

"Aye, but when one man amongst them figures it out, they all knows it. Then I has to crack some heads about to stop their foolishness. Many's the time I brawled needlessly when I was a lad, because of it."

"Would you mind greatly if I called you Frederick?"

"Frederick be what me Mother called me, God bless her. But that be a long time ago. The scar, in a way, be a blessing. It gave the fools something to be callin' me besides fool. But if you want, Frederick be fine."

***

The farther west they sailed, the warmer the weather and the warmer Charles' friendship with Frederick became. Scarface even apologized to Charles for having spoken so meanly to him. He, indeed, saw a lot of himself as a boy in Charles and didn't want Charles to waste his life as he had.

One evening, after he'd completed all his chores for the cook, Charles and Scarface sat on a pile of rope, leaning back against the rail. Scarface told him everything he could remember about his journeys with Captain Morgan. As he spoke, the old pirate seemed to be tired. He hesitated many times, thinking back to the days when the only thing important in his life was chasing and capturing the prize.

Charles told him again, "It is not a pirate I want to be, Frederick."

"Like I told you, lad, you be on the wrong ship not to be. That's what we be bound for." Scarface was thoughtful for a moment, then said, "You know, lad, I be thinkin' a lot since you came aboard about me own youth and the life I fear I wasted, chasin' after first this dream then another. The truth be, if there be some way, I'd leave this kinda life meself. I'd like to spend the rest of me days ashore, lyin' in the sun on the beach. Life be long and hard and cruel, Laddie." He let out a long sigh and said, "Aye, would be fine to just rest 'til me days be ended."

Charles spoke in a hushed voice, "You made me swear to secrecy. May I swear you the same?"

"Of course, Laddie! We be mates, don't we?"

"I've decided to escape this ship at the first chance."

Scarface held back his laughter, even though he thought it such grand plans from such a young lad. He asked, "Escape to where? We shan't be puttin' into a port. How would you think of escapin'? Tis a far bit to swim to shore."

Charles sat up and turned to face him. "Will we not anchor close to an island?"

"Laddie, tis true enough, we'll anchor close by an island, sure enough, but you know not the danger of the islands. Many be lived on by fierce natives that would fatten you up and eat you! And if that didn't happen, you might be marooned for the rest of your days. How would a boy your age feed hisself? There be things on the islands you eat, they'll kill you. If you got the sickness of the islands, you couldn't even bring yourself a drink of water. It doesn't sound like a good plan to me, Laddie."

Charles wondered if he dare suggest that Frederick escape with him. "Would you not like to look for the treasure Captain Morgan stole from you, Frederick?"

Scarface grinned and bobbed his head up and down at the idea. "I don't mean to laugh at you. I apologizes, Lad. But now we find for certain what's on your mind. Scarface smiled and thought back more years than he cared to admit to, as he stretched his legs out in front of him and said, "Ah, Laddie, many times me shipmates looked for the treasure. I pray God forgive me for speakin' so of the dead, but that low-down wharf rat took the treasure's secret to the grave."

Charles protested, "But it has to be somewhere."

"Aye, Laddie. That be true." Scarface almost whispered, "It has to be somewhere." He stared up into the sails, as he often did when lost in thoughts of other times. "I've mulled it over in me mind for many long years. It isn't that I'd not like to find the booty the blackguard stole from us, tis more true, I have no way."

Charles stood and leaned against the rail. "What we need is a ship."

Scarface laughed softly and said, "I not be laughin' at you, lad. It just be the sound of such grand plans from such a young lad that makes me laugh. I, meself, had such grand ideas as a lad. That's what I be laughin' at."

Charles sat back down and said in a serious voice, "Would some of your old shipmates not have a ship?"

"I don't know. Perhaps, but the problem be to find them."

Charles tried not to show his excitement. He at least had Frederick thinking about looking for the treasure. He heard a fire begin to sizzle in Frederick's speech.

"If there just be a way for us to get to Jamaica. That's where the scoundrel died. I know some of me old shipmates would be lurkin' about."

"Is there any one else on this ship who sailed with Captain Morgan?"

"Nay, lad. And there not be a man of them you could trust. There be not one what hasn't slain his share of men. Nay, we can trust but each other."

Chapter Five

Charles had hoped they might count on a few other crewmembers to quit the ship, but Scarface dashed that hope. Over the next few days, they had many long discussions about Captain Morgan's travels, where the treasure might be hidden, and how they might go searching for it. One evening, as they talked late into the night Scarface said, "I been goin' over in me mind what might be a plan for us, Laddie."

"What? What is your plan?" Charles was immediately excited at the prospect that Frederick had a plan.

Scarface smiled and said, "Methinks I know at least how we can quit the ship. Look, Lad, when the Captain anchors behind a island to await the Spanish ships, he'll send two men ashore. That's to climb to the top of the mountain to watch for the ships and signal him." Scarface smiled even broader and said, "What if you and me were the only ones not sick when we drop anchor at the island? He'd have to send us, wouldn't he?"

Charles saw the plan before Scarface explained it, but let him continue.

"Say you put a little somethin' in the soup that evenin' that'd make everyone sick. Do you think you could do that?"

"What would I put in it?"

The grin seemed almost wicked, and Charles could swear he saw a twinkle in the old sailor's tired gray eyes. "Ah, I'll give you somethin'. Could you slip it in the soup without bein' discovered, lad?"

"Yes, I'm sure of it." Charles was so excited he stood and paced back and forth.

"If you can, then me plan'll work. We'll sneak some sailcloth and ropes and the like into the longboat, along with some extra foods. When we signals the captain the ships be comin', he'll head out for the chase first thing. He'll go after the Spanish, then come back for us. But when he comes back, if he does, they'll think some Indians or the like got us, but we'll have sailed away! It wouldn't be the first time the captain has left men to rot on an island, just for the sake of not takin' the time to pick them up."

Charles loved the plan. "You have to be smarter than anyone I've ever known, Frederick. But where will we sail?"

Scarface's voice was hushed and mysterious. He squinted his eyes and leaned close to Charles. "Mind you, Lad, we won't be in a ship, so we can't go far. We can sail to the mainland of America, or we can head for St. Eustatius. It be a Dutch island, but ships from all over anchor and trade there. It's a far longer sail than America, though, Laddie."

"Let's go there!"

Charles was all for sailing toward the treasure, not away from it! He knew it had to be hidden somewhere in the islands off the coast of Mexico, where the buccaneers usually hid out. Scarface had told him about the many times he and his pirate friends returned to the island of Roatan after a raid. So their plan was made, and not a day too soon. They spotted an island the very next day, and it was exactly where the captain wanted to lay in wait for the Spanish. Charles knew they would eat the evening meal after anchoring, and as soon as they saw the islands, Scarface slipped him a small leather pouch filled with a brown powder.

He whispered, "Put all this in the soup, lad."

"It won't hurt anyone, will it?"

Scarface chuckled. "Nay, lad. They may be wishin' they be dead, maybe, but it'll just make them sicker than a dyin' dog for three or four days."

Captain Swain sailed within a half kilometer of the island and ordered the sails lowered and anchors dropped. Charles stood at the rail looking at the island from where they would make their escape. The beach was but a narrow spit of sand from which the sides of the island looked to go nearly straight up. It was all dark green with large patches of blossoms here and there. Seagulls soared back and forth above the beach, diving now and then to grab some small hapless sea creature. When Charles thought of climbing to the top of the steep island, he wished the captain had picked an island not quite so tall.

Later that afternoon, as Charles dumped a bucketful of cut up vegetables into the huge soup pot, he slipped the contents of the pouch into the pot, quickly stirring the soup to mix the brown powder in before the cook saw it floating on top.

The cook, who was prone to yelling at Charles a lot, called out, "Boy! What ya tryin' to do, stir a hole in me pot?"

"No, Sir. I just saw a good bit of meat floating on top and was stirring it in."

"Well, leave it be! Get to the stores and get the bread out!"

It was a good thing everyone aboard, including the captain, ate the same food. But this meal, Charles and Frederick secretly poured their soup into the ocean and ate only the bread and a piece of fruit. A half-hour later, everyone aboard was sick. Even Captain Swain leaned over the rail, losing what he had just eaten. The captain wandered about the ship trying to find someone to send ashore who wasn't sick. He could have waited until the illness went away, but a Spanish treasure ship might be passing at any time.

As Captain Swain walked by Charles and ignored him, Charles said, "Sir, I am not sick. I would gladly volunteer to go ashore to watch for the Spanish."

The captain had a hard time speaking, he was so sick. "You could not row the boat by yourself."

Scarface scraped his empty bowl with a bit of bread to convince the captain he'd eaten the last drop of his soup, and said, "I be feelin' fine, Captain. If the lad be brave enough to go, I'll sure join him."

Captain Swain didn't get a chance to answer before he had to run to the rail again. He rinsed his mouth with a swig of rum, spit overboard, then drank deeply from the bottle.

He stood weak-kneed, hanging onto a line, swaying back and forth, as he asked, "You think the two of you can handle the signalin'?"

"I been in these waters a lot of years, Captain."

"Go then. Don't build no fire! Lad, you know you might be there for months. No way to tell when the Spanish will come. This be the calm time o' the year for the storms, so they should be passin' soon."

Charles tried desperately not to seem anxious. "I don't mind, Sir."

"Good lad. Go on with you, then." Captain swain barely finished speaking, when he ran to the rail again.

Charles wanted to dance a little jig and yell with joy! Their plan was going to work! They immediately went to the davits holding the longboat, lowered it to the water, then gathered a store of foodstuffs and lowered them with a line to the boat. They had already hidden a good bit of hardtack and smoked meat away beneath the boat's cover. Once the water casks and a small swivel cannon for signaling were lowered, they slid down the ropes and pushed off from the ship. Charles kept thinking, "It’s going to work! It’s going to work!"

He had never rowed a boat, so it took them a while to get it headed straight for the island. Though the sea was calm, their progress was extremely slow without the other six oarsmen the boat would normally carry.

The sky was completely clouded over, and the night was as black as Charles had ever seen, when they landed on the narrow strip of sand. Scarface wrapped the block and tackle around a tree and hauled the boat up onto the beach above the high tide line. If the boat was broken loose and dragged away by the tide, they would be stranded on the island forever.

When Charles started to unload their stores Frederick said, "Leave it be for tonight, Lad. We best get some sleep. Tis a long way to the top of the island. We'll leave at first light."

Charles and Scarface lay down to sleep on the large piece of sailcloth they had hidden away in the boat, but Charles was too excited to sleep. The clouds blanketing the sky began to thin out and eventually disappeared. He lay looking at the stars, wondering if the treasure would sparkle so when they found it. Being a young lad, he had no idea they might not be successful in finding the treasure. To him it was simple. The treasure was out there somewhere. All they had to do was look for it!

"Master Charles!"

Charles awakened with a start, as Scarface prodded him with his foot. "Time to start for the top, lad. Get yourself a piece of dried meat to chew as we climb."

Charles sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Why couldn't we just go ahead and sail away?"

"Because if they saw us from the ship, we'd be dead, sure enough. I know the captain would find a special slow way for us to die if he caught us."

Charles felt his skin crawl and thought it better to stick to the original plan!

"Besides, I have to be sewin' our sail to the proper shape and size."

They packed everything they could carry into rolls and slung them over their backs. Each took hold of one end of the signaling cannon, and they started the long climb up the steep island. Scarface smiled each time Charles told him he had to rest a bit, and it was late in the day when they finally reached the top. Charles had never been so tired, but Scarface set about chopping the brush out of a small circle with a machete. After a short rest, Charles got up to help.

"Uh, Frederick, why are we cutting the brush?"

"We needs to chop it out of our line of sight."

Charles looked at the brush stretching a long way in front of them and thought, "There has to be a better way." He looked up at the large tree they'd selected for a campsite and said, "Why don't we build a platform in the tree. That way, we'll be above the brush."

"You got a head on your shoulders, lad." Frederick grinned broadly.

They cut a pile of small limbs, cleaned them of leaves and twigs, then wove them into what looked like a small raft. Frederick tied a rope at the four corners to form a sling and threw a rope over a large limb. After raising the platform above the brush, Charles and Scarface stood back to admire their handiwork.

Scarface repeated, "Aye, matey, you has a head on your shoulders."

Charles smiled and had to admit it was a good idea. Each would take his turn sitting on the platform, watching for the Spanish ships. They'd brought along a spyglass, so they would be able to see the ships at a great distance.

The whale oil lanterns aboard the Spanish ships would be an easy beacon at night, so they would watch toward Cuba for the ships twenty-four hours a day. Scarface took the night watch, fearing Charles couldn't stay awake all night. The next morning, after waking Charles, he went hunting in the brush and killed five birds like Charles had never seen. The birds were as big as chickens, white, with small brown spots covering their backside and wings.

Scarface said, "There be plenty more birds about, Laddie. We be eatin' well today."

They built a very small fire to roast the birds, even though Captain Swain gave them orders to the contrary. It was the best meal Charles had eaten since leaving his mother's table.

"Now we have to go back down the side to get our other two water casks, lad." Once more, when they'd climbed back up the mountain, Charles was worn out. He lay down and slept, while Frederick began work on the sail for the longboat, as he sat atop their raft in the sky.

...

Over the next few weeks, Frederick fashioned not only the sail, but a yardarm and a device to place on the stern of the longboat to attach an oar as a rudder. Charles watched, fascinated.

After supper one evening Charles said, "I sure wish the Spanish would come soon. The waiting is a heavy burden."

"Aye, it be that right enough, lad, but the wait'll be for good. Soon as the Captain sails after the Spanish, we'll be off this mountain and put to sea faster'n the wind!" Scarface laughed and gestured, waving his hand away from the island.

That kind of talk made Charles smile. He spent many hours every day day-dreaming about the treasure they'd find, once off this lonely island. When Scarface talked about getting off the island, it reinforced Charles' faith that they'd get away and go in search of the treasure.

They had watched for the Spanish ships nearly two months, and Charles was beginning to think they would never come. But, early one morning, Charles saw something on the horizon, as he made his hourly observation. At first, it was but a speck. He watched steadily through the glass so long it made an indented ring around his eye, but the speck didn't seem to change in size. Charles lowered the glass and wondered if he should say something to Frederick. He feared making a fool of himself, if it turned out to be nothing but his imagination. And, he would have to awaken his mate from his turn at sleeping.

Charles waited a while, thinking again about the treasure, then looked for the speck again. As he slowly swept the glass across the horizon, he saw it once more. But this time, the speck had become more or less square. It had to be a ship! He quickly slid down the rope and yelled, "Frederick, a ship! I know it's a ship. It's a long way off, and it looks only to be a speck, but it's a ship, I'm sure!"

Scarface rubbed his hands up and down his face and shook his head, as he stood up. "Maybe now our journey can begin, matey."

With the glass tucked in his belt, Scarface climbed the rope and eased onto the perch. He carefully sat down and looked through the glass for a long while. Without lowering the glass he said, "That's the ship we be waitin' for, lad. In fact, there be five of them." He slid down the rope, poured powder in the touchhole of the cannon, and struck it with the flint sparker.

The tremendous noise from the small cannon caught Charles by surprise. He jumped back and fell to a sitting position. He'd never been close to any kind of weapon as it was discharged, and he wasn't prepared for the sound, nor the choking smell of burning black powder that filled the air and burned his eyes. Never, would he be able to hear or see for the rest of his life!

"You gets used to it, matey. Let's quick, load our belongin's and get down to the boat."

As they started down the mountainside, Scarface sang a song about the freedom of sailin' on a friendly sea. Charles decided if there was something the old scarred up pirate didn't do well, it was sing!

The trip down the mountain was much easier than the trips to the top had been, even though they carried a large number of smoked birds and had more food to carry down than they carried up. They also had the mast and yardarm Scarface carved, along with the rudder device. The small swivel cannon would be of no use to them, so they left it behind.

As they reached a break in the trees and could see the area where the ship had anchored, there was only open ocean. The captain had left in pursuit of the Spaniards. Now Charles knew their plan was going to work, for sure. Throwing everything into the longboat, they realized they hadn't counted on the Spanish ships coming along at low tide.

"Laddie, there be nought to do but wait for the sea to help us. We kin never push the boat out that far. We'd be dead for the tryin'."

"Why don't we push it out far enough for the incoming tide to catch her? Then we'll get away sooner when it happens."

"A good idea, lad. You'll make a sailor some day."

Charles smiled at Frederick's remark. After releasing the block and tackle, they pushed and tugged on the boat for the best part of an hour and succeeded in getting it to the high tide line by using the oars as pry bars and spinning it around and around. Now, they affixed the homemade mast, yardarm and sail. Charles was fascinated at Frederick's cleverness. When this task was finished, all they could do was sit and wait for the ocean to help them launch their craft.

Chapter Six

Charles thought the tide would never reverse itself and float their boat. It was the longest wait he'd ever have in one day. He thought, "The gods are holding back the tide to punish us for jumping ship. What if the captain comes back for us before we get the boat floated? I wonder how far it is to St. Eustatius."

Even though it seemed high tide would never happen, the water did finally lap around the stern, then slowly worked it's way forward. When it was all the way to the front of the boat, Scarface and Charles pushed back with the oars as each incoming roller surrounded the boat. Suddenly, they floated free of the beach. As they sat on the middle seat pulling on the oars, Charles watched the beach move away at an agonizingly slow rate. But it did slowly slip farther and farther away.

Once out where the rollers began forming, Scarface raised their makeshift sail, and Charles was surprised at how swiftly it moved the boat. The breeze they fought rowing seaward, now pushed them along parallel to the island toward the south. Passing the southern tip of the island and heading into the open ocean, Charles suddenly felt panicky. He wondered if they were crazy to set out across the ocean in such a small craft. The longboat first sat high atop a wave, then slid down into a trough, and all they could see were huge walls of water all around. They seemed so small, on what seemed like an endless ocean, as the island faded from view. Charles prayed that Frederick knew what he was doing! By the time they were well clear of the island and it was but a small dot on the horizon, the sun settled below the surface of the sea for the night.

"How will we know which way we are going when we can't see anything, Frederick?"

"Can't see anythin'! My gosh, Laddie, do you call them stars nothin'? When it gets a wee darker, I'll show you the star that lies right over St. Eustatius. As long as we follows it, it'll get us there, right enough. Right now, I think we should be havin' our evenin' meal. Since I be the captain of our little ship, I think it fittin' you be fixin' our food."

Charles laughed. There was no fixin' to be done. All he had to do was pull some of the smoked meat from the small duffel and hand it to Frederick. As Charles handed him the meat, he thought about how smart Frederick was. Not only had he rigged a proper mast and sail on the little boat, but also a shield they could raise over their heads to ward off the hot Caribbean sun. The rudder he fashioned from an oar worked perfectly.

"You know, Frederick, you be quite a sailor."

Scarface smiled without answering, as he chewed on the tough, dried meat. He didn't want to worry the lad with the fact that if they didn't have winds in their favor, they'd run out of drinking water long before reaching civilization. It would be dangerous to put in on most of the islands they'd pass. Too many were the hunting grounds of the ferocious Caribbe Indians - not only ferocious, but cannibals, as well. Scarface didn't want to end up in a stew pot! And there was always the chance they might run into Spaniards. The Spaniards didn't care much for Englanders and would treat them at least as badly as the Caribbes might. So, the gods controlling the winds and seas owned their fate.

It slowly darkened, as the sea took the sun captive. The sky turned a velvety black, and the stars sparkled. Scarface said, "You see that bunch of stars that looks like a dipper, Laddie? If you look across the top of the dipper to the next bright star, that be our star over St. Eustatius. All we has to do is keep asteerin' to it, and we'll get there."

"What if it gets cloudy?" Charles was surprised by his answer.

"It ain't agettin' cloudy. If it did, we'd be lost. Now we can't go lookin' for the treasure if we be lost, can we, mate?"

Charles laughed. After being afraid of Frederick when first they met, now he liked the ugly old pirate. And he knew his life was in his hands!

They sailed almost due south during the day, then turned a bit to the west as the sun fell below the edge of the ocean. The first three days aboard their tiny craft, they were blessed with extremely friendly seas. Each time the stars came out, Charles was amazed to see they were headed straight for the star that hung over St. Eustatius. He wondered how Scarface could steer to the south during the day without any landfalls to guide him.

When he asked, Frederick said, "Instinct, lad - pure instinct - born of bein' at sea for a long spell. Course, knowin' the sun comes up in the east and sets in the west helps." Then, he roared with laughter.

As the sky darkened, Charles took his turn at the rudder and Frederick was soon asleep, snoring like a lion's roar. Charles laughed every time the man fell asleep and started his racket.

He was cautious to keep the boat pointed directly at the star, as they rode up and down the waves. But, staring at the star nearly hypnotized him. That, added to the constant sound of water lapping against the boat and the slow, rhythmic rocking motion caused by the waves.

Suddenly, Charles realized he'd been asleep, as he awakened with a start! Thank heavens the star was still directly in front of them. Evidently, he hadn't slept long and now made a concerted effort to think of something other than the sound of the water against the boat and the rocking of the waves. His thoughts turned to his family, and Charles wondered how long it would be before he might see them again.

Frederick awakened right on schedule, as the sun barely crept up from the sea to their rear. "Did you keep 'er headed for the star all night, Laddie?"

"Aye. That I did."

"You're startin' to sound like a sea farin' man, lad."

Charles answered, "Aye" and smiled.

After a breakfast of dried meat and fruit, they had their morning ration of water. It was about mid-day when Frederick awakened Charles and said, "Laddie, I think you best tie a line about your waist and fix it to a oarlock. Tie it so's you can get loose easily if you has to."

"Why?"

He pointed ahead of the boat and said, "You see them clouds hangin' low over the sea to the front of us? They could be trouble, Laddie."

"Is it a storm?"

"Don't rightly know, but if it be, we sure wants to be ready. You best be tyin' down all our cargo, too."

Charles busied himself tying things down inside their small craft. When everything seemed secure, he sat back down on the seat in front of Scarface, made a line secure to an oarlock and tied it about his waist. Looking at the ever-growing bank of dark clouds, Charles said, "Looks to be a storm for sure, Frederick. Do you think we'll be running into it?"

"They be a good chance, Laddie. We'll see."

***

The ominous dark clouds crept steadily closer, and the size of the seas increased noticeably. The wind picked up, slowly changing direction. The boat rocked gently on the swells earlier, but now, it lurched up and down the waves, which swiftly became steeper and higher. Charles found himself wishing their small boat was a ship! He realized how much the sea and wind had changed, when he could barely understand what Frederick was saying.

"I think we best turn to the south, Laddie! We can tack across the winds. Looks as though the storm be movin' a little to the north. Maybe we can get around to the south of her."

When he turned south, the little boat rocked violently sideways, because they were sailing at an angle to the waves' travel. Charles held onto the gunwale with both hands to keep from being tossed off the seat. The walls of water were taller than Charles ever imagined waves could be and he began to think perhaps he would never get home again. He tried desperately not to let Frederick see how frightened he was.

Hanging on for dear life, he watched the darkening skies ahead each time they rode to the crest of a wave. The monstrous black clouds rapidly closed in and he wasn't at all sure that leaving the comfort of his home to become a sailor had been one of his better ideas.

Frederick yelled over the roar of the wind and waves, "It's gonna be a rough ride, Laddie, but we'll be okay! Just hang on tight!"

Charles knew Frederick was trying to calm his fears. He could see the worry in the old sailor's eyes and hear it in his voice. Charles looked at the brawny arms, grown muscular by hoisting and lowering sails and anchors for untold years. Frederick had spent a large portion of his life standing watch and handling the wheel of ships plying the waters of the Caribbean. Yet, he wondered if even such an experienced sailor as Frederick could keep their small craft afloat in the violent storm ahead.

The rain came suddenly and violently, as the ugly black clouds moved overhead, blotting out the sun. The wind grew ever stronger, as the old pirate fought valiantly to keep the little boat under control. For all his efforts, Frederick knew that he and his young mate were at the mercy of the wind and waves.

The taste of saltwater filled Charles' mouth, and he vainly tried to rub the stinging saltwater from his eyes. Charles just knew that each new wave towering over them would be the one that would send them to the bottom. He sat in the middle of the longboat and, when he turned to look back at Frederick, manning the rudder, there was intensity in the weathered old face, but not a hint of fear. He knew his friend was doing everything possible to keep the boat from capsizing. As each wave crashed down, Frederick turned the boat to ride up the wall of water to keep from being rolled over sideways. They finally had to turn to ride before the wind, directly into the storm. There was no other way to control the boat. Now, to the best of their reckoning, they headed southeast instead of southwest.

Charles hoped Frederick was too busy to see the fright he felt. He hadn't dreamed it could be so noisy on the ocean. The wind's howling was noise enough, but the noise of the waves crashing down on them was so loud they could no longer hear one another's voice over the roar.

Bright flashes of jagged lightning zigzagged continuously across the blackness. Lightning slammed ferociously down to the ocean's surface and ran back and forth from cloud to cloud. The never-ending thunder pounded their bodies. In the lightning's glare, Charles saw the waves were even more menacing than before. He was soaked to the skin by the rain and the seawater, which washed over the front of their frail craft. Charles so wanted to be brave, but his heart beat wildly, his breath came in short gasps, and his entire body trembled uncontrollably. He could barely maintain his grip on the gunwale. Their small sail was ripped to shreds and flapped wildly in the wind.

Frederick's small canopy was torn away by the violent winds and lost in the sea. In a gentler rain it would have protected them from becoming soaked, but it did little good against this fury. The water, driven harshly by the wind, stung Charles' face, and his mouth begged to rid itself of the taste of salt.

Charles was even more panic-stricken when he realized the boat was filling with water! He first thought the seams of the hull had split open, but quickly realized the waves filled the boat. The battering, stinging wind-driven rain added to the problem. Charles struggled against the fury to untie the bucket used for dipping water and began bailing out the boat. It seemed no matter how hard he worked, the water level refused to recede. Water poured in as fast as he threw it overboard.

Frederick tapped him on the shoulder and yelled, "Gimme the drinkin' dipper!"

When Charles handed him the dipper and saw how pitifully little water he could throw from the boat with it, he laughed out loud. What a comical sight they would make if anyone had been able to see! The laughter did serve to ease his fear somewhat.

The storm continued, unrelenting, tossing them about for hour upon hour until it grew even darker, and they knew night had arrived. Charles' arms became so tired they were numb. The agony in his shoulders and back made him scream out for the storm to end. Having bailed out the boat for what seemed an eternity, he was close to collapsing from exhaustion. But all through the night he continued to bail as fast as he could manage.

He wished he could just lie down and go to sleep, but knew even if sleep was possible, it would be to their doom they'd go! They knew daytime had arrived once more, when the skies lightened slightly. But still the storm continued hour after hour until the darkening sky indicated another day had passed.

Suddenly, a line let go the boom on their small mast. The tree limb Frederick had carved to hold their sail whirled around and hit Frederick in the side of the head, knocking him overboard! Charles jumped to the rear of the boat yelling, "Frederick! Frederick! Where are you?"

Then he saw Frederick atop the wave behind. He seemed to be dazed, thrashing about, barely keeping his face above water. Charles quickly tied one end of a rope to his seat and the other about his waist and dove overboard. He swam as hard as he could toward where he'd seen Frederick. The waves were so high, he was like a salmon swimming upstream.

Charles had no way to know how long it was before he finally grabbed Frederick's arm and began pulling the two of them back to the boat.

Frederick protested, "Save yourself, mate. I'm a doner."

He ignored him and continued to work his way along the rope to the boat. The rope was torn from his grip several times by the fury of the water, but each time he managed to grab it again. Charles didn't really think they would make it back to the boat. He was on the verge of passing out, himself. But he and Frederick were suddenly thrown against the stern of the boat, and he hung on for dear life, as he rested a few minutes before trying to climb aboard. His mind kept telling him he must get in the boat and continue bailing or it would sink, but his body just refused to pull him over the side to safety.

He yelled at Frederick, "You have to help me, Frederick! I can't make it alone!"

Something deep inside Frederick told him he had to do something to save the boy, even if he couldn't save himself. He threw one arm over the side and pushed Charles up with the other.

Charles fell into the boat and was under water! He quickly popped up and knew he had to dip water from the boat furiously if they were to survive. He grabbed Frederick's arms and pulled as hard as he could. "You have to get back in, mate! We have to go find the treasure! You die on me now, I'll not share one diamond with you!"

Slowly, Frederick forced his body over the side and plopped into the water beside Charles. He laughed and said, "Help me to the rudder, lad! We got treasure to find!"

With Frederick groggily operating the home-made rudder, Charles bailed the water as best he could, but he was reaching the point of collapse. He thought in his muddled mind, "I know I'll never see my Mother again. She will never know what happened to me. Mother might live out her life thinking I have just abandoned her and didn't love her. I wonder what Harold is doing? I'll bet he's out riding Uncle Anthony's horses. I'm so hungry and tired!" He shook his fist at the towering waves and screamed, "Why don't you just pull us under and be done with it?"

The wind blew their boat this way and that, and Charles knew they were hopelessly lost. He had no idea if it was day or night, or how long they had been tossed about by the storm. But, he finally noticed the water level in the boat going down, even though he bailed much slower. Then he realized the wind wasn't blowing as fiercely. The waves began to smooth out from the towering, splashing giants they had been, to more gently rolling swells. They still towered above them when the boat went down into a trough, but weren't nearly as fierce. Charles stopped bailing and yelled at Frederick, "Are we running out of the storm?"

As he answered, a patch of blue appeared in the sky to the south. Frederick smiled and said, "Aye, Laddie, I think we be saved. The great God of the sea has decided to let us survive this time. I think we've outrun her." Frederick hung his head down, and Charles knew his friend, too, had been on the point of giving up.

He continued to bail the water from the boat, but he rested almost a minute between every bucketful. The rain slowed to a slight drizzle, and suddenly stopped altogether. Then, the sun burst upon them for several minutes at a time.

"The clouds be breakin' up, lad. Looks to be a beautiful day." Frederick had a big blue lump on the side of his face, but grinned from ear to ear.

Charles could hold out no longer. He took the dipper from Frederick, handed it back full of water, then had a drink himself. Hanging the dipper back on the cask, he lay down in the bottom of the boat and was asleep before he could put his arm under his head.

Frederick looked at Charles and thought, "Aye, I've made a shipmate of a brave lad. You saved my life. I be mighty proud of you, Laddie. You never gave up on me." He said out loud, "Thank you, matey."

Frederick, too, was exhausted from their ordeal, and when Charles awakened, it was to the melody of his mate's loud snore. He sat upright in the boat, and his stomach told him how many hours it had been since he last ate. All of their meat and fruit was covered with salt water, but that didn't stop him. By the time he finished eating, he had made up for the meals missed. Frederick had tied the rudder to a straight position before he lay down to sleep, and Charles realized they should turn back to the west, so he climbed over his friend and settled on the rear seat. When he swung what was left of the sail and turned the rudder to push them westward from their southerly bearing, Charles jumped upright. An island lay directly in front of the boat!

Chapter Seven

Charles quickly retied the rudder and shook Frederick so violently, he jumped up to a standing position and nearly fell from the boat. "What is it, Laddie?"

"We've found us an island, Frederick! Look!" Charles pointed at the island looming dead ahead.

Frederick whirled around to face forward and said, "Aye, seems we have." He rubbed his tired eyes, moved to the front of the boat, and peered at the island through the spyglass.

Charles asked excitedly, "Do you see anything?" He was overwhelmed with the idea of getting back on solid ground again.

Frederick laughed. "Aye, Laddie. I sees fruit trees and birds! We'll have us a hot meal this day!" He lay the glass down in the boat and leaned far over the gunwale to scoop water onto his face. As he wiped his face on his sleeve, he smiled and said, "Ya see, Laddie, the sea's not all bad. She dumped us close to food."

Charles smiled at the excitement in Frederick's voice. The old sailor was as excited as himself at the sight of the island.

An hour later, they pulled the boat up on a beautiful white sand beach lined with trees and thick foliage. As they walked along the beach pulling fruit from the trees, Charles said, "Frederick, I know this island has to be a gift from heaven."

Frederick laughed loudly. "Indeed it must be, Lad. Methinks we should build us a lean-to just inside the trees and spend a few days restin' up before we continues our journey."

Charles was in full agreement. He looked forward to just lying in the shade with a soft breeze cooling his tired, aching body. They set about building a small lean-to, using limbs chopped from trees and the spare sailcloth. When they'd finished the temporary shelter, they lay down under it, stuffed themselves with fruit, and quickly fell asleep.

They were so exhausted from trying to keep their little craft afloat, they didn't awaken again until sunup. When Charles opened his eyes, Frederick already had a fire burning.

"Ah, so you finally return from the dead, Laddie."

Charles sat up, yawned and stretched. "I be mighty tired when I lay down, Frederick."

"I be goin' into the brush to get us breakfast, lad." With that, he disappeared into the tree line. The one thing Frederick had protected from the water was the powder for his flintlock rifle. He had carefully wrapped it first in several palm leaves, then wrapped three layers of sailcloth over top that. This done, he tied rope around and around it. As he went into the trees, Charles pulled his shirt off and waded into the calm, emerald-green water. He dunked his head under the water then shook it to awaken. Looking out to sea, Charles stood for some time, marveling at how calm the ocean could be after being so angry a short time before.

He heard several shots over the next hour, and Frederick walked from the undergrowth with four plump birds in his sack. They removed their innards, skinned them, ran a stick through their middles, and placed them over the fire on two forked sticks. The smell of the birds cooking was the most tantalizing thing Charles had ever experienced. It seemed a meal fit for a king!

They ate greedily, as they talked. "Do you know where we might be, Frederick?"

He paused chewing long enough to smile and answer, "Somewhere in the Caribbean." He followed the pronouncement with loud laughter.

Charles grinned and said, "Then we don't know where we are."

"As I said, mate, somewhere in the Caribbean. If my reckoning be right, the winds pushed us almost straight east. That means we have to sail west to get to St. Eustatius. There be one thing bothers me. The sea be too quiet. It be like another storm could be comin'. I think it be best for us to stay here for a few days and see what the weather does."

Charles was all for staying as long as Frederick wished! It felt good to be on the island, away from the constant rocking of the boat, and the sound of water beating against her. After eating, they sat and talked for a long while, as the sun traveled to the other side of the island. Frederick told him more stories about his adventures with the buccaneers, but left out the parts about slaughtering Spaniards in his quest for riches. Charles spoke at length of his family. When the sun was finally down, they ate the last of the birds and lay down for the night. Charles watched the stars twinkle in the crystal clear night air and once more dreamed of finding the treasure.

The next morning after eating, Frederick said, "What you say we take a look about our little island, Lad?"

"I'll have to check me calendar to see if I have any other appointments."

They laughed, as they headed inland. The island wasn't a mountain, as was the previous. It rose slowly from the ocean. After traveling but a short distance, Frederick suddenly stopped and pressed a finger to his lips for Charles to be quiet. Charles first thought there must be game up ahead, but Frederick pointed at what was unmistakably a path through the brush, and bare footprints covered the sandy soil! He motioned they should retreat, and they moved quietly back toward the beach.

He whispered, "They must be natives here, lad. They may be friendly, then again, they may have us for dinner!"

They were nearly back to their temporary camp when they heard voices. Creeping cautiously to the edge of the brush, they squatted down, pushed a few twigs aside and peered down the beach. Half a dozen dark skinned men stood on the beach looking at their boat and shelter, motioning this way and that with their hands and babbling rapidly in a strange tongue. The men looked at Charles and Frederick's footprints in the sand that led to the brush.

They wore a cloth made from animal skins around their middles and carried long spears. As Charles and Frederick watched, one of the men pointed directly toward them, and all the natives, whom Charles was convinced were cannibals, moved in their direction.

Frederick motioned for Charles to move back inland. After a short distance, he motioned him to take very long, slow steps and turn to his right. Moving parallel to the beach for ten minutes, they turned back toward the beach making a big circle to get back to the boat. It worked. When they arrived on the beach and looked in the direction of their camp, nothing but the lean-to and boat were in sight.

Staying as close to the undergrowth as possible, they ran down the beach, quickly ripped the sailcloth from its frame, and threw everything in the boat. Then came the struggle to get it launched.

The boat was nearly in the water when Frederick grabbed his rifle and fired at the man coming from the brush, spear upraised. The chocolate-brown man fell forward on the sand and lay still.

Frederick screamed, "Quick, lad! Push!"

They got the boat into the surf and began rowing furiously. When the natives ran to the water's edge and heaved their long spears, Charles and Frederick were already out of range. Charles knew luck was truly with them when the spears fell just short of their mark! They continued to row for the best part of an hour, then took time to rig the sail. Frederick removed the battered sail and tied the remainder of their sailcloth in place on the mast and yardarm. It wasn't a real sail, but would temporarily serve the purpose.

The farther they sailed from the island, the easier Charles breathed. He had imagined the natives running back to the other side of the island, launching their boats, chasing them down, and eating them for dinner! By the time they cleared the island and were well to the west, the sun was low in the sky. Frederick sat at the helm and sewed the sail torn apart by the storm.

Charles hadn't spoken since their narrow escape from the island. But, now he said, "Frederick, I don't believe I want to visit any more islands unless we know who lives there." He trembled when he thought of the fate that could have befallen them.

"Aye, lad. We should have sailed around the island to see what was about before we landed. The truth be, I was too tired to be cautious. It shan't happen again."

As night fell, they sailed in a westerly direction and turned south to follow the "St. Eustatius" star. Frederick tried over and over to place the island in his memory. He couldn't recall such an island between their departure point and St. Eustatius.

Charles felt good. They had escaped the terrible storm and the natives, they had plenty of water and food, and the weather was extremely calm. A light breeze filled their small sail, and though he would have liked to move faster, he was happy the storm was well behind them. They could better put up with the slow progress than the storm's fury!

With nothing to do but gaze ahead at the empty sea, or to the west at the last rays of the sun, it was a time for contemplating his situation. Charles wondered how he could lose the feeling of fright so quickly after being scared half to death by something like the monstrous waves - not to mention the natives, which by this time, he had convinced himself truly were ferocious cannibals. What exciting tales he would have to tell his family when he returned home!

***

The next few days were uneventful, and the nights were clear, with a full moon illuminating their route across the ocean. Charles was fascinated by the colors of the sea under the bright glare of moonlight. He always thought of the sea as being blue, or like the water in the harbor at home - dirty brownish-gray. But this water shone with many colors at night. When the flying fish leaped from the water, the splash of spray they created formed little rainbows in the moonlight. Charles couldn't imagine anything more beautiful.

To the best of their reckoning, they were seventeen days from where they left Captain Swain, when they spotted a string of islands on the horizon. At first, they were but small specks in the distance, and they disappeared when the night stole the sky from the day. But the next morning, they were there, just a bit larger than the previous evening. Charles thought they would have run into the islands in the middle of the night, but they looked nearly as distant, much to his disappointment. He was once more anxious to put his feet on solid ground.

He began to think maybe he wasn't cut out to be a sailor after all and told Frederick as much. "Frederick, I don't know if it's a sailor I want to be."

"Ah, Laddie, the truth of it be, if you wants to get from one place to another and there be no land to travel, you have little choice. Right now, I be concerned as to what islands we be approachin'. I Shan't lie to you, Laddie, I have no idea where these islands might lay. It looks somehow familiar, though. Methinks I be seein' them before."

Chapter Eight

As they drew ever closer to the islands, Charles began to worry what they might run into. If they were to sail into a harbor held by the Spanish, or by the French, for that matter, they would indeed, be on hard times. At least, the French would likely throw them in prison. Only God knew what the Spanish might do to them!

Frederick knew that as large a string of islands as lay ahead, they were surely inhabited. Every now and then he looked through the glass, trying to find a familiar landmark. But he remained puzzled as to which islands these might be.

Charles asked, "How will we know to sail in or not, Frederick?"

"We'll be sailin' around the islands a bit before we lands. We'll know to land or not by the ships that be tied up or anchored."

After sailing toward the islands most of the day, they discovered it was a group of islands offshore from a much larger island. Frederick turned and sailed along the chain of outer islands, staying close enough to shore to see any ships that might be tied up, but far enough out so their craft could barely be seen. Anyone ashore was likely to take them for local fishermen. After passing the first two islands, they saw a beautiful harbor on the coast of the main island.

Frederick scanned the harbor with the glass and said, "It cannot be, lad. I know this place, but we can't be here. We'da had to travel four times as far as I reckoned to be here."

"Where are we? Can we land?" Charles stood, hanging onto the mast, straining his eyes toward the harbor.

"Let's wait 'til I be certain, lad."

They sailed on past the harbor, and the following morning, reached the southern tip of land. Frederick steered a course to the west, but now, much closer to shore.

He stood in the bow of the boat looking at the shore with his spyglass and said, "Aye, it is, Laddie. I'll not be knowin' how, but it is."

"What? What is it?"

"This be the island of Jamaica! That storm did some strange twistin' of our course, lad. It must have been runnin' us south, when I thought it was runnin' us to the east. We could not have hit on better luck. Thank the Lord for us not gettin' spotted by a Spanish ship. We must have sailed awful dangerous close to Cuba. This be the island where our dear Captain Morgan be buried, lad."

That quickly aroused Charles' interest!

"This is where Captain Morgan's buried?"

"Aye, Laddie. The scoundrel was lieutenant gov'ner of the island for a spell. I'll not be knowin' how he could get to be lieutenant governor, bein' the scoundrel he was. The King hisself, knighted the blackard and appointed him lieutenant governor of Jamaica. This'll fit into our plans to look for the treasure he stole from us, Laddie. This be exactly where we needs to start."

Frederick hadn't said until that moment he would go looking for the treasure. Charles asked excitedly, "Then we be lookin' for the treasure, mate?"

"Aye, matey." Frederick smiled at Charles' excitement. I sure owes you that much. And what else are we to do in this place so far from our home? There be jobs on other ships for good sailors, but methinks I be tired of bowin' down to some overbearin', pompous, smart aleck captain."

Charles could barely contain his excitement, as he saw in his mind all the treasure they would find - all the emeralds, diamonds, rubies, silver, and gold! He could see trunks full of treasure sitting beneath a palm tree where he and Frederick had dug it up. When at first Frederick spoke, Charles didn't even hear him, he was so engrossed in thinking of the treasure. He returned to reality when Frederick repeated himself.

"Laddie, I said, we be needin' to find some of me old shipmates. I know some of them came here to watch Captain Morgan's meanderin's. They knew he would lead them to the treasure one day."

A terrible thought hit Charles, and he turned around on the seat to face Frederick. "You don't think one of them has already found the treasure, do you?"

Frederick hadn't considered this prospect himself. He rubbed the scar and said, "That'd be hard to say, Laddie. If'n we can find some of me shipmates, we'll be the better for knowin'."

"How long ago did Captain Morgan steal the booty?"

"Been close on to twenty-five years, now."

"Do you really think there'll be any of your shipmates still around?" Charles wanted his answer to be yes, and the want showed on his face.

Frederick smiled at the prospect of seeing his old comrades again. "Aye, lad. They would be waitin' forever if that be what it took to get back the treasure. It be a fortune like no man ever seen. A whole ship's hold of treasure."

Charles' heart beat faster when Frederick spoke of the treasure. He surely hoped some of Frederick's old shipmates were about. It would probably be the only way they could go searching for the treasure. They'd have to have a ship. It was a certainty, they couldn't trust to go sailin' round the Caribbean in their little makeshift sailin' vessel!

"Where shall we land, Frederick?"

"We'll sail on up the coast a bit to Kingston. It be the main port of Jamaica. If any of me shipmates be about, it'll be there."

"Will you know them after all this time? Or will they know you?"

"I be thinkin' they will, Laddie. You don't forget shipmates you've done battle 'long side. Nor mates you've crossed hell with." Frederick smiled at Charles for a moment and said, "Laddie, you be lookin' more like a sailor than when we left England. You've even started a beard."

Charles' hand flew to his cheek and he felt the first whiskers he'd ever grown. When he looked down at the weathered look of what had been fine breeches and a rather fine shirtwaist, he laughed loudly and said, "Me mother wouldna recognize me, Frederick."

Charles was truly anxious to land, as he stood and stretched. All his bones ached from being cramped up in the little boat, and having nothing on which to lie but the wooden hull. The excitement of thinking about finding some of Frederick's old shipmates was hard to hide. Talk of a shipload of treasure had Charles so excited, he wanted to start searching that day!

They sailed a short distance offshore of the big island during the day, but put in to the beach to spend each night. Six days after rounding the southern tip of Jamaica, they spotted the harbor at Kingston. As they approached the harbor, Scarface sailed their little ship right up onto the beach. It jarred to a stop in the white sand and leaned to one side.

Climbing from the boat with their duffels and Scarface's weapon, they left it lying there on the beach without so much as a "Fare thee well, little ship." The small boat brought them across a thousand miles of open ocean and through a terrible storm, and they just unceremoniously walked away and abandoned her without looking back.

As they walked up the beach Charles asked, "Why did we not sail into the harbor, Frederick?"

"It may be someone of the militia might like to know where we sailed from." Frederick chuckled. "We did jump ship, right enough. That would make us criminals, lad. We don't want to become indentured servants, now do we? We'd stand no chance at all to find our treasure."

Sometimes, Charles didn't know if Scarface was teasing him or not. What he said sounded logical, yet, very improbable!

They walked along the beach until the houses were close together, then crossed between them to the road an