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 and reached the center of the city half an hour later. All the people scurrying to and fro amazed Charles. Kingston was a very busy city, and Charles counted at least thirty ships tied up at the docks or anchored in the calm harbor.

Continuing to the dock area, it seemed there were more people there, than in the center of the city. Charles had never seen such hustle and bustle - not even at the docks in England.

Frederick seemed to be looking for something in particular as they walked up and down several stone-covered streets. Finally he said, "Ah, there it be. Just as it be the last I was here." Across the road was a building with a sign that read, "Hawkin's Inn."

The inn smelled of rum and cigar smoke to the point it nearly made Charles ill. Rays of sunlight poked their way between the slats of the window shutters, illuminating the cigar smoke, pushed about by the slight breeze coming through the open doorway. Four men sat at the counter fashioned from discarded rum barrels, with mugs of rum in front of them. A half dozen tables sat scattered about on the wooden floor which looked like the deck of a ship.

Frederick approached the man behind the counter and asked, "Would Mister Hawkins be about?"

"Aye, he be about - about five feet beneath the soil at the cemetery." He followed his little joke with laughter.

Frederick's expression went from a smile to one of disappointment. "So, he be among the restin', then."

"Aye, for most five years, now. Can I be helpin' ya? I now be the proprietor. Name's Jeremiah Wilhite." He extended his hand to Frederick.

"It be nice to meet you, Mister Wilhite. Nay, I be wantin' to talk to Mister Hawkins. Thank you the same, Mister Wilhite."

As he turned toward the door with a dejected look on his face, a man with a huge red beard and flaming red hair, speckled here and there with a strand of gray, yelled, "Tis it you, mate? Freddy, me mate?"

Frederick turned to the man and shouted, "Timmy!"

The big man bounded from his chair. "Aye, you bugger! What in the world brings you this way after all these years?" They approached one another, hugged, shook hands, and danced around and around while holding each others’ arms. They laughed and hugged again.

Charles thought Timmy had to be the largest man he had ever seen! He was a good head and a half taller than Frederick, and about half again as broad across the shoulders.

The big man's voiced boomed, "What brings you to Jamaica, Freddy?"

"Would you believe a longboat? All the way from the outer islands of America!"

Timmy laughed and asked, "Would you join me, matey?"

Frederick smiled and said, "This be me good shipmate, Charles."

The huge man took Charles hand in his own and said, "I be glad to meet you, lad. How'd you get shipped with a bugger the likes of this?" He roared with laughter, as he returned to his chair, which Charles was sure would collapse under his enormous size. Charles was amazed at the huge proportions of Timmy! The hand which shook his seemed the size of a frying skillet.

The innkeeper brought two mugs of warm rum and sat on the table. Frederick started to say they had no money, but Timmy stopped him in mid-sentence.

"I be buyin' for you, mate. It not be every day a man sees a ghost from so far in his past. Besides, I be a respected business man. I can afford it."

Frederick laughed and said, "A business man?"

"Aye, matey." Timmy's voice was like thunder off a mountain, and he slapped his hand down on the table to emphasize his remark. Charles wondered how many tankards of rum Timmy had consumed.

"And what sort of business might the likes of you be in, Timmy?"

The red beard leaned back in the chair until only the rear legs remained on the floor and laughed raucously.

"Believe me, Freddy, me mate, tis a legitimate business. I buy cane from the plantations, have it turned to sugar and molasses, then sell it to a trading company to be shipped to England. I be what you call a broker."

"And how did you come to be a business man? The last I saw you, you be as down on your luck as me matey and meself."

Timmy lowered his voice and said, "Tell you true, Freddy, meself and some of our old mates stole a ship out of the harbor and sailed to the coast of Panama. We lay in the Bay Islands 'til we spotted us a Spanish ship riding so low in the water, we knew she be loaded down proper with treasure. After we chased her and set her sails afire, the takin' was easy."

Charles waited for him to continue, but he just sat smiling to himself, as if remembering something funny.

"Freddy, you old pirate, it be so good to see you." He slapped Frederick's hand as he spoke.

Frederick asked, "And be she loaded with treasure, for sure?"

Timmy laughed loudly, "Would you believe she be loaded hard with lumber from Colombia. There be not a treasure one aboard, except for what we could take from the crew. The joke was on us."

"Then how'd you start your business?"

"A couple of me mates and I let the others have what little treasure we took from the crew, but we kept the lumber and the ship. We got the better part of the bargain. When we'd sold the ship and its cargo, I had enough from me share to not even think of goin' after the Spaniards again. I settled here for sure and started me business. I be a respected business man now, Freddy!"

Frederick and Timmy both laughed at the absurdity of him being a legitimate businessman. Charles had no way to know that between these two men, they had killed at least a hundred in their pirating around the Caribbean. That's why it was so funny to them that Timmy had become legitimate.

Charles tried to get up the courage to taste the rum in the mug sitting before him, and when he finally did, he decided that if he had to drink this muck to be a sailor, well, he'd have to settle for being a landlubber. Frederick was engrossed in telling Timmy all about their journey to Jamaica, and Charles could think of nothing but getting some of the food he smelled into his stomach.

When he had finished his story, Timmy said, "You must be starvin' for a good meal." He motioned the innkeeper over to the table and, ten minutes later they were served a plate of hot food, hot bread and a mug of tea.

Charles ate as if he'd not eaten in months, surprising even himself by the amount he consumed. With their hunger satisfied, Timmy asked what their plans were.

Frederick smiled at Charles and in a low voice said, "We be goin' to find the treasure the Captain stole from us."

Timmy smiled and shook his head. "Ah, Matey, many's the times I've thought about where he could have hidden our booty. I've thought for years about his movements after that night he sneaked away from us. I even plotted with several of our mates to kidnap the blackard and force him to tell where he hid it."

"Why didn't you?"

Timmy heaved a sigh and said, "By the time we be ready, he was an important man. If it'd gone wrong, we'd all been hanged, for sure. And you know the man. He would have probably let us torture him to death without givin' us the secret."

"Aye, that he would. But tell me, mate, do you have any idea after studyin' on it, where he might of hid the treasure?"

Charles was so excited by talk of the treasure, he was about to bust.

Timothy said, "One thing certain, he didn't go back to our harbour on Roatan. When you and some of the others chased after the scoundrel, we went there direct, the mornin' after he disappeared. The good Captain wasn't about. We sailed all through the islands and along the coast of the mainland, but his ship was nowhere to be found. We know he sure didn't sail to any of the Spanish islands. What does that leave? He either went to an uninhabited island, or he went to a British island. We sailed to every island the Queen controlled and asked at each island if a ship fittin' his description had put in. We asked in vain.

"But then, we got to Barbados. We spent some time on the island, because we needed a rest, and we also needed stores. One of our mates found a man who'd seen a ship, answerin' the description, anchored a ways offshore, on the northwest side of the island. Now, that be the least settled area of Barbados. The man said the ship anchored for more than ten days. He watched it durin' the day, but saw no one leavin' the ship in all the time it be there."

Timmy hesitated, as if to think about it a bit, then said, "But the man didn't watch at night. They could've slipped in and hidden the treasure in the dark of night."

"Aye. Did you search for it?"

"For nearly a month, we walked every inch of the area. There be nothin' disturbed to show where they might've buried it. If they took the treasure ashore on Barbados, they surely hid it well. We finally left, thinkin' we would catch up to him some day and make him tell."

"What happened to the crew of his ship?"

Timmy smiled and said, "Now here's a story for you, mate. When Captain Morgan showed up, back in England, he told how most his crew had died of the scurvy and been buried at sea. They sailed in with but seven men aboard. Story goes, all seven men met their maker in mysterious ways over the next few months. Then, ol' Captain Morgan shows here again, knighted and all."

Frederick stroked his beard and said, " Aye, it'd make sense he'd hide it on Barbados, since he grew up there as a lad."

Timmy nearly jumped out of his chair. "You're sure he grew up on Barbados?"

"Aye, matey. I thought everyone knew."

"Nay, I knew nothin' of it! I knew we were right on top the treasure there! I felt it in me bones!" Charles became more and more excited.

Frederick said, "Me and me matey have just one problem to go find the treasure. We needs a ship and crew."

Timmy scratched at his beard, deep in thought. He, too, had dreamed for years of finding the treasure, and now, his old shipmate and Charles showing up on Jamaica had rekindled his dream.

"Look, Freddy, you and the lad come stay with me for a spell. We'll be seein' about a ship, perhaps."

Charles could barely contain himself. His excitement only intensified, as they rode in Timmy's buggy out the road to his house. They were surprised to discover Timmy had a fine home. There were plenty of extra bedrooms and Timmy explained the former owner had a rather large family. It was the first time Charles ever had a bedroom all to himself. Yet, he had a hard time falling asleep on the bed after becoming so accustomed to lying on the harsh hull of their little ship; he couldn't get used to the soft feather-filled mattress. When he did finally fall asleep, he dreamed of the treasure.

Now, the dream was much more vivid than it had ever been. He, Frederick and Timmy dug a hole in the ground on Barbados, and there it was - trunkful after trunkful of precious gems and gold! They danced around the trunks and, just as Charles pulled a large handful of beautiful necklaces from a box, he was all alone. Frederick and Timmy had disappeared. Then, the dead Captain Morgan appeared from nowhere. Wearing a long jeweled coat, a leather saber sheath draped across the front. His beard was exquisitely trimmed, and a felt hat with a peacock feather graced his head. Long, curly, golden-brown hair hung down across his shoulders and back, and his eyes were afire, as he raised the huge sword above his head and screamed, "So ye'd have me treasure, would ye? Not likely, ye worthless scum! It belongs to but me!" Just as Captain Morgan swung the sword toward Charles' neck, he awakened, shaking and sweating profusely. Charles carefully worked his way to the bedroom door, then looked cautiously about, as he went outside in the cool night air, expecting Captain Morgan to jump out at him again. He sat on the rear wooden porch, shaking for some time before going back to bed.

When they awoke the next morning, it was to a real breakfast - the first Charles had since leaving home. After breakfast, Timmy told them he must be about business and they should make themselves at home. When he'd been gone about an hour and they could hold no more of the hot tea and griddlecakes the servant lady kept dishing up, they walked down the road toward town to have a look about.

The land ran uphill from the harbour, and Charles and Frederick had a view of the entire harbour area from this vantage point. They sat looking down on the town as they rested from their long walk. The buildings were completely different here than his home of Havant, England. These were all brightly painted, whereas the buildings at home were as drab and dreary as the weather.

Frederick looked at the green hills behind them and said, "You know, lad, I wouldn't mind settlin' in a place like this. The weather always be fair, and the town be on the lee side of the island, so even when the big storms hit, it fairs well."

"I'd like to go back to England rich and buy my mother a house such as Timmy's."

Frederick shook his head and said, "Don't be gettin' your hopes up too high, Laddie. You know we stands no real great chance of findin' the treasure. All the odds be aginst us."

Charles stood and paced back and forth. "I know we'll find it if we can get a ship. I just know it's layin' there waitin' for us to come sailin' to it."

Frederick laughed loudly and slapped him on the back. "I like your spirit, Laddie. If'n you have nothin' else, you has that. We'll sure go asearchin' for it. That's a fact. Let's walk on into town and look about some.

Charles was silent, as he scanned the harbor and all the ships. He wondered which one Timmy would secure for them to sail in search of their treasure.

Chapter Nine

That very evening, Timmy told them he put the word out that he wanted to talk to a number of people he knew, who would be interested in joining them in their search. They were some of the pirates who sailed with Captain Morgan and from whom he'd stolen the treasure. Over the next week and a half, the down and out pirates showed up a few at a time until forty-one landlocked sailors were assembled at Timmy's house. Now, the accommodations were crowded. Charles and Scarface moved to the big shed out behind the house to sleep. They'd been by themselves for so long, they didn't particularly like the crowd. Or it might have been they felt the others were outsiders, who just wanted to share in the treasure. Finally, one evening after dinner, Timmy gathered everyone together and told them why they'd been summoned.

"Maties, every one of us was with Captain Morgan when he ran off with our treasure. I know you've all wanted to look for it since. I'm wantin' enough people to sail a ship to go searchin' for it." He hesitated to see what their reaction might be. For a moment, the gang of old down-and-out pirates remained silent, then they all cheered at once and began talking loudly.

Timmy yelled, "Then the lot of you will throw in with us?"

To the man, they were willing. The entire sordid lot had menial jobs of some sort, and if nothing else, the treasure hunt would, at least for a time, take them away from that.

So their crew was assembled, even though Charles didn't like the looks of many of the men. Quite a number looked as though they might murder their own mother if it would somehow be to their benefit. Charles hated to admit it, but he was afraid of them, and he tried to stay clear of the meanest looking of the lot.

Another week went by, and though Charles was grateful for Timmy's fine hospitality, he wondered if they'd ever get their ship. He was anxious to go dig up his treasure. Then, finally, Timmy came home in the middle of the afternoon and said he had been successful. He talked an owner-captain into leasing his ship. Of course, Timmy lied to the captain and told him he was to pick up a cargo of rum on Barbados and deliver it to a broker in London.

Now that they had a ship, everyone was busy making ready for the journey. What they thought were more than ample supplies were loaded aboard, and to Charles' curiosity, eight extra cannon and a mammoth supply of black powder and cannonballs. Charles asked Timmy, "Why do we need so many cannons?"

Timmy chuckled, "Charles, me lad, we may be goin' into areas where we could run into Spaniards. We surely want to be prepared for anythin'."

That evening after dinner, Charles walked down the road from the house with Frederick to get away from the crowd for a while. "Frederick, I be thinkin' maybe you and I should move aboard ship until we sail."

As they sat down on the low rock wall along the road Frederick looked up at the beautiful night sky and asked, "Why you think that, mate?"

"I don't much like bein' around so many of the men. They're a mean looking lot. They scare me."

"Don't you be frettin' none about that mangy bunch of wharf rats. I can lick the bunch of them. They knows not to raise my ire none. But you may have a good idea, lad. Aye, we'll do like you says and move to the ship. We should be ready to set sail soon, anyways."

So Charles and Frederick moved their meager belongings aboard ship that night, telling Timmy they'd stay aboard as watchmen until time to sail. Charles felt a lot better for being away from the other men. Frederick had pointed out many of the men and told Charles about them. He was unaware his stories about the men made Charles extremely anxious about being around this group of cutthroats.

When they were settled aboard ship Charles asked, "Are you sure we can trust your old mates?"

Frederick said, "They be some of the meanest of the pirates to ever sail, but they'll be on good behaviour until we finds the treasure. That be when we'll have to keep a steady eye on them."

Any mention of the treasure took Charles' mind off anything else that might be bothering him, and he thought no more of the seemy crew this night.

When at long last, the day came to weigh anchor, Charles paced back and forth the length of the deck. They slowly moved out of the harbor at Kingston and sailed to the south. Timmy decided not to travel to Barbados in a straight line, but would sail directly to the coast of South America, then hug the shoreline, as the Spaniards did. It was getting closer to the stormy season, and they didn't want to be caught in a storm too far from land.

Charles was unaware the old ship Timmy captained was long overdue for some major reconditioning! The sails were half rotted and the hull planking was half eaten away by the sea worms that invaded the hulls of wooden vessels, as were the ribs and stringers that held the ship together. Timmy and some of the other men knew of the ship's condition, but they said nothing of it. It seemed to be the only ship Timmy could find without pirating one. If they had done that, they would not only have to worry about the Spanish, but the British as well.

When they had been at sea for a week and were sailing off the shore of Colombia, Frederick told Charles the truth of the awful condition of the ship.

"Might we sink?" Charles felt the same fright he'd known when he and Frederick were being tossed about by the deadly storm just a couple of months earlier.

"Methinks as long as we hits no storm, we'll be right enough."

As he stood and paced back and forth, Charles quickly asked, "But what if we hit a storm?"

"Just pray that we don't, Laddie."

Charles wished Frederick hadn't bothered telling him how poorly the ship might fare in a storm. Now, he had another worry, in addition to the motley crew. Every time he saw the sail bulge out with a gust of wind, Charles wondered if it was the first gust of wind from a storm. He didn't know enough about sailing or the winds to know, the closer to shore you sailed, the more irregular the wind. He found himself frequently going below to see how much water the ship had leaked. It did leak some. All the wooden ships seeped some water into their holds, but there was a two-man bilge pump used every change of the watch to pump the water out. He marked the level of the water on the inside of the hull every day by scratching the planking with a spike. If his marks started disappearing below the water, he'd know they were in trouble.

Because they sailed almost directly into the prevailing wind, it was necessary to sail back and forth across the wind to make any headway. Not only did this make progress excruciatingly slow, it also made the ship lean far to one side or the other constantly. This not only made it difficult to move about on deck, but also put a terrible strain on the already half rotted timbers of the ship. When Charles noticed the huge bolts that went through the deck and secured the mainmast were slightly loosened, he mentioned it to Frederick.

Frederick tried to reassure him. "Tis no cause to worry, Laddie. Things is always loosenin' up and has to be repaired."

Despite his friend's effort, this wasn't much reassurance to Charles, but he did notice men working with a large iron wrench, tightening the bolts a short time later. He sat against the sterncastle and watched the shore of South America in the distance, wondering if he would ever set foot on land again. He thought out loud, "I wonder if this old bucket of trouble will send us all to the bottom." He heard every creak and moan of the rigging and the ship's timbers. To Charles, it sounded like a death knell. "Maybe I should just stay on Barbados if I get the chance!" The thought hadn't occurred to him before, but as he thought about it, he wondered if it might not be a good alternative to drowning, as this cloth and wooden coffin went to her final rest with everyone aboard.

Charles had the imagination to conjure up the sinking of the ship at any moment. He even looked about the deck to see what he might cling to and paddle himself ashore when it happened. The old longboats were in just as poor condition as the rest of the ship and would surely mean certain death to try to sail. Charles was sure the oars would break in the middle, with the first strain of rowing put on them!

Although it was a long, tedious sail, they did finally turn to the northeast, and three days later, the lookout in the crow’s nest called out, "Land Ho! Dead ahead!"

Charles ran to the bow and climbed as far up on the rigging as he could. He lay there in the rope net, straining his eyes across the waves, but could see nothing. It was three hours before he saw a small lump on the surface of the ocean ahead. Another four hours passed, and it was definitely distinguishable as an island. He said out loud, "Maybe we'll make it after all."

He was startled when Frederick answered, "I told you not to worry, Laddie."

In his excitement to see the island, Charles didn't realize Frederick had crawled up the rigging and lay just below him. Frederick smiled, for he, too, was happy to see land once more!

"I didn't know you were there, Frederick."

"I be as anxious to get there as you, lad." He grinned, almost laughing and said, "I be not too happy about this antique we be sailin' either."

"Then it is dangerous!" Charles knew he'd been right all along.

Frederick continued to smile as he admitted, "I've sailed better."

Charles felt good about having been right in worrying, yet, was sorry to hear his friend admit they had been in real danger. Secretly, he had hoped he was just being foolish, worrying so about the condition of the Mary Jane.

Timmy steered the ship to the northwest end of the island, then turned directly toward the snow-white beach ahead.

Charles stared in horror, as they approached closer and closer, and the order hadn't been given to furl the sails or drop the anchor. Had Timmy gone mad? He kept expecting to hear the order at any moment, but they just drove on toward the white sand.

It seemed they were close enough to throw a stone to the beach, when the order came to drop the stern anchor and haul in the mainsail. He looked up at the men hanging over the yardarm pulling up the sail, and yelled to no one in particular, "What about the foresail?"

The anchor dragged the bottom and slowed them, but not enough to keep the bow of the Mary Jane from burying itself in the sand. With a loud ear-splitting screech and a thunderous jolt, the ship stopped dead, nearly throwing Charles from his perch to the beach below. Charles thought they had probably torn every plank from the hull! He was so disturbed by the collision, he grabbed a dangling rope and lowered himself from the rigging all the way to the beach. Charles stood on the white sand looking at the ship's bow, leaning to one side and buried in the sand. He wondered if Timmy was just a really bad sailor, or if he had completely lost his reason.

Frederick lowered himself to the beach, and they walked back from the ship, about halfway to the timberline.

Frederick snapped his fingers and danced around in the sand. "Feels good to be back on solid ground, aye Laddie?"

Charles asked in an excited tone, "Is Captain Timmy a sailor?"

Frederick laughed until tears came to his eyes. He finally settled his laughter enough to ask, "And what makes you ask such a thing, my good mate?"

"He ran us aground, didn't he?" Charles wagged his finger at the buried bow to emphasize his question.

Frederick laughed even harder. "Aye, that he did. But it be for a reason, mate. The tide be high, and when it goes out, the ship'll be beached. We can lean her over and repair the hull."

"Repair the hull?"

"Aye, lad. We been shippin' a lot of water the last few days."

Charles cringed. He hadn't checked his marks in the hull for a week and was glad he hadn't! It would have made him worry even more about ever seeing his family again.

Frederick continued to smile as he said, "There be two men mannin' the pump round the clock for the last week. You didn't have to take a turn, 'cause the captain knew how worried you be."

"How did he know? Did you tell him?"

"Lord, no, Laddie. I didn't have to tell. He knew you be markin' the hull every day." This time, Frederick forced himself not to laugh, because he knew it would bring the lad embarrassment. He did have a thin smile on his lips. It was the best he could do.

Charles stood hands on hips, looking at the buried bow. "So how do we get the ship afloat again?"

"That's why we dropped the anchor so far out. When the tide be high, we reels the anchor in, and it pulls the ship free of the beach. Timmy be a very good sailor, Laddie." He said it with a smile just as Timmy slid down the line, sauntered over, and sat down beside them.

"Well, we made it to Barbados, Charles, lad. What did you think of the arrival?"

Charles couldn't keep from grinning, as he sat down next to Timmy and said, "To tell the truth, Timmy, I thought you'd surely gone mad, but Frederick explained what you did."

Timmy threw back his head and laughed. "I should have warned you, lad. It just never occurred to me that anyone aboard wouldn't know what I be doin'."

Charles wondered about the truth of this. Maybe Timmy enjoyed playing little jokes on people.

Timmy interrupted his thoughts. "Besides, it gives us good excuse for bein' here on this beach. If a body comes askin', we can tell him we had to beach the ship to make repairs. And we can tell it with a straight face. Meanwhile, we can be scoutin' about for the treasure. It's a good plan."

Charles had to agree. If they just landed and went poking about, people would be suspicious. Repairing the ship was the perfect cover, and Lord knows, it needed the repairs!

Timmy looked up and down the beach and said, "We be about where the man said the ship fittin' Captain Morgan's description anchored years ago. The treasure be a good lot, so they wouldn't have carried it far inland, I don't think. There be a lot of caves in that hill back there. I'd bet they put it in one of 'em, and sealed it up with a pile of rocks or the like."

Frederick said, "It's been a lot of years. Do you think it might already be discovered?" He looked at the hill laying some twenty ship lengths behind the beach.

"If it be, it would've been only by accident. No one on the island would have any reason to go lookin', mate. And I'm sure our Captain Morgan would've concealed it well enough to not look as if anythin' be hid."

"Aye, that be true." Frederick joined them in sitting on the sand and looking up at the hill rising from the beach.

It was late in the afternoon, and Timmy had a camp set up on the beach against the tree line. The cook pots were brought ashore, along with provisions to make a meal. When it was ready, Charles was first in line, feeling starved. And the food on this trip was much better than on the ship he'd sailed from England. He ate until he was stuffed, then lay back on the soft, white sand. It was nearly sunset, as he watched the marvel of the sun dipping below the horizon again. He told Frederick, "Tis a wondrous thing the way the sky stays not the same for more than a minute or two this time of day." The sun appeared to just slowly sink into the far away sea and, in a matter of minutes, it was dark enough to see the stars.

Charles lay gazing at the night sky for a long while, thinking of his mother and family back in England. He wondered if they were thinking of him.

The loud screeching of birds diving down to catch fish for their early morning breakfast awakened him the following morning. It took Charles a moment to remember why he wasn't being rocked from side to side by the waves. He was amazed at how peacefully one could fall asleep without the sound of the wind screaming in the rigging, and how nice it was to awaken to just the sounds of the waves rolling onto the beach and the birds singing. Charles wasn't sure he ever wanted to put to sea again!

After breakfast, Timmy set about assigning tasks to everyone. Ten men were to stay with the ship to begin caulking the hull, while the rest would go exploring for the treasure.

Finally, Charles was going search for the treasure!

The hill stretched for a good distance in either direction from where they had "crashed" ashore, and Timmy assigned half the men to search for the treasure to the south, while the others would go north with him.

On closer inspection, they discovered the side of the hill was indeed, riddled with caves. It wasn't so much a hill as it was a bluff, going straight up in places. Charles looked at the openings above their heads and said, "If I were going to hide a treasure, I'd put it in one of the caves way up there."

Timmy said, "Wouldn't be too likely, lad. It would've taken too long to hoist it all up there. And remember, there be only seven to do the work."

Charles corrected him, "There were only seven when they reached England. Maybe there was the whole crew when Captain Morgan landed here."

Timmy smoothed his beard and said, "Aye, that be true enough, they could've been."

When they started up the beach to begin their search, Charles motioned for Frederick to lag back a bit. When they were out of earshot of the others he said, "Why don't we climb to the top of the hill, and you can handle a line whilst I lower down on it to the caves. We could check the caves up high a lot faster."

"But Timmy said it weren't likely to be up there." Scarface eyed the top of the bluff.

"If I was Captain Morgan, I'd hide the treasure just that way - where nobody would think to look. For that matter, how do we know he didn't stop and hide it on another island afore he came here, just to throw off anyone who was followin'."

"The truth be, Laddie, the treasure could be anywhere between Panama and here."

Scarface sounded a little dejected, and Charles was sorry he had mentioned the treasure might be on another island. He quickly said, "Let's get a line and head up the hill."

It took thirty minutes to climb to the top of the bluff. The side of the hill was quite steep here. Charles thought it wouldn't have been that hard for Captain Morgan's men to heave the treasure up to the caves with a block and tackle attached to a tree. Or they could have built a temporary scaffold to reach the caves. He and Scarface started at one end of the caves and worked all day without stopping. The whole day's work netted them not a sign of treasure.

The rest of the crew had makeshift ladders they leaned against the side of the hill to inspect the lower caves. They, too, came up empty handed at the end of the day, and there were but a few caves left to explore the following morning.

After another night's sleep, Charles was ready to search again. Timmy put the previous day's searchers to work on the hull of the ship and had the people who worked on the ship the day before help search for the treasure. When Charles and Scarface explored the last of the caves they could reach from the hilltop and had found nothing, they sat under a tree atop the bluff with a warm breeze at their backs and peered out over the ocean.

"Do you suppose he could have done like you said, lad, hid the treasure on another island?"

"I be thinking all day on it, Frederick. I think if I was Captain Morgan, I'd hide the treasure where I was familiar, but where others weren't bound to look. I think it would be too easily found here. Too many people knew he was from Barbados. It'd be the first place to look."

"You're probably right, lad."

Charles was thoughtful for a few minutes then asked, "Do you know how long it was after he sailed from Panama when the man saw his ship anchored here?"

"About three weeks, from what I know."

"How long would it take him to sail here from Panama?"

"He'd have to tack agin' the wind. It's a slow crossin'. It would take at least three weeks or more." Again, Charles was silent, tapping his fingers on his knee as he often did when trying to figure out a problem.

"What you be thinkin', Laddie?"

"I was putting myself in Captain Morgan's place. If I was sneaking off with all the treasure, I'd go the opposite direction anyone would expect."

"Aye, that'd make sense. When he sneaked off in the middle of the night, we followed around the coast of South America, but never saw a hair of the blackguard."

"Look, Frederick, when I wasn't worrying about the ship coming apart under us, I did a lot of thinking. Once, when I was cleaning Timmy's cabin, I sat and looked at his maps. They show the winds and such. If I'd been Captain Morgan, instead of sailing against the wind along the coast of South America like we did, I'd have sailed north by north east, past Cuba, then turned into the trades that blow east. The current goes east, too. I'd have sailed right out into the Atlantic, then turned south. With the winds that blow to the west in the Atlantic, I'd race south to Barbados. But there are a lot of small islands along the way that would make a better hiding place than Barbados." Charles was sure he had just described Captain Morgan's actions exactly.

Scarface looked out across the water and ran his fingers up and down his even more unruly beard. "I've sailed the whole of the Carribean, lad, and what you say makes sense. I'd say he could get here in about two weeks by that sailin'."

Charles got to his feet and paced back and forth. "Do you think he hid his treasure on another island, Frederick?"

"It woulda been the smart thing, mate."

Again, Charles was silent for some time, as he thought if he was the Captain, he'd hide the treasure on an island far enough away from Barbados that it wouldn't be found accidently by someone going to the other islands to hunt or pick fruit. And for sure, he'd hide the treasure on an uninhabited island.

"Frederick, do you think Timmy would mind if we looked at his maps?"

"Let's ask him."

They slid and climbed back down to the beach and found Timmy. He readily gave them permission, though he did so with a bemused smile on his face.

Charles and Scarface climbed the side of the ship, which was rolled over nearly on its side. The deck was nearly vertical to the beach, and they had to use a line to slide down the deck to Timmy's cabin. The cabin looked strange, laying on its side. When they'd retrieved the maps, they sat down on the wall where it met the floor. The map of the area of Barbados showed no small uninhabited islands to the north, as Charles had expected it would. But a string of small islands was just a short sail to the west.

"That's where he hid it, Frederick! I'm certain!" Charles put his finger on the map at the small islands.

"But if he hid it there, he would've had to sail back against the wind to get here."

Charles was sure he had figured out Captain Morgan's hiding place. "Don't you see, Frederick? You said it was three weeks after he left Panama that he was spotted here! You said it would take only two weeks to get here by the route I would have taken if I was Captain Morgan. He sailed to the little islands first, hid the treasure, then sailed back here as if coming from the coast of South America! Captain Morgan anchored here long enough to be sure he'd been spotted, then sailed away to England."

Scarface had to admit it made sense. It was a good plan if you wanted to fool everyone. After hiding the treasure, Captain Morgan got rid of the whole crew and died with his treasure undiscovered. But Scarface thought perhaps Charles had unlocked the wily old Captain's secret.

Chapter Ten

Scarface and Charles returned to the beach, where Timmy sat at the edge of the tree line. "Timmy, the lad has an idea where the treasure be hidden. I think he may be right."

Timmy smiled and asked, "And where might that be, Laddie?"

Charles had the map with him, but before pointing out the islands, he told Timmy of his theories about what Captain Morgan's moves might have been. Then, he showed him the islands on the map.

Timmy scratched at his tremendous red beard for a moment before saying, "You might be onto somethin', lad. It makes sense. I don't know why I never considered that route. In fact, we coulda sailed it comin' here. Aye, it makes sense. Course, they be a lot of Spaniards to pass along the way."

Charles wasn't sure which route would have put the most strain on their tired old ship, but he was thankful they came the way they had. At least they'd gotten to Barbados!

Timmy gathered the whole crew around and explained the idea. He didn't tell them it was Charles' idea, because he knew these old sailors would be less apt to go along with something a mere boy suggested. "We can go asearchin' more here, or we kin head for the islands to search."

Being tired and frustrated by their unrewarding search on Barbados, the men were all for leaving. They were so enthused, including Timmy, they failed to use good judgement. The repairing of the ship's hull would be left until they got to the first island in the string.

Charles didn't like that idea much, but he thought it was an easy day's sail to the island, so he wasn't too worried. The plan was to leave with the high tide that evening. The ship was rolled back upright, everything was loaded back aboard and put in its place, and they readied for sea. When the tide reached its highest mark on the beach, the men strained on the turnstile, which wound the anchor rope around its spool. Three men pushed on each of ten spokes, so it was the majority of the crew leaning their backs to the task. The line attached to the big iron anchor became so tout one could have drawn a violin bow across it and made music.

Their ship was one of the smallest in the Carribean, but was still a terrible weight to attempt to move by this method. Strain as they might, the ship wouldn't budge from its hole in the sand. Timmy decided to use extreme measures and ordered all sails dropped and turned to the wind. They billowed out full of the wind, as if at sea. Now, the men made a little headway with the anchor line. It momentarily slackened, then the ship lurched backward with such a jolt, the men at the spokes of the windlass fell to the deck.

Timmy yelled at the top his gruff voice, "UP THE ANCHOR! UP THE ANCHOR!" The men ran around the windlass pushing the spokes before them, and Charles realized why they were in such a hurry. The ship was moving so fast, if they ran above the anchor, it could hang in the opposite direction on the bottom. It if hung solid, something would have to give. It probably would have torn the windlass right from it's moorings, and they'd be without an anchor, or it could do even worse damage to this old piece of floating wreckage!

Charles wanted to help, but all he could do was hang on to a belaying pin pushed into the rail and watch. Even though he sensed the danger they might be in, he laughed out loud. The sails were full of wind and the ship sailed exactly backwards! It moved away from the beach faster than they had crashed ashore two days earlier. This time, they were lucky. The anchor came free of the bottom as they passed over it, and was soon hanging in its proper place on the side of the ship. Now, they had to get turned around.

They should have lowered the sails and started all over, but Timmy called out, "FULL LEFT RUDDER!" As the helmsman spun the wheel all the way to the left the ship slowly began to turn. But with the wind filling the sails as it did, they nearly capsized as they came about! Charles could reach down and drag his hand in the water, the side of the ship was so close to going under the surface!

Then, as they turned more and more, the ship began to right itself, slowed to a halt with a shake and shudder, and began moving forward. They ran before the wind under full sail, directly west, out to sea.

Everyone seemed frozen in place. Charles stood with one hand wrapped around the belaying pen and the other gripping a line so tightly, his fingernails bit into the flesh of his palm. All the crew seemed nailed in place, unable to move. Everyone looked at Timmy, who was now at the wheel, steering the ship away from the beach.

Suddenly, Timmy threw his head back, and his laugh was likely heard throughout the island. "I'll bet that's the first time that's been done, aye, lads?" Now, everyone laughed - everyone but Charles. His legs felt wobbly, and he was afraid to release his grip on the pin or the rope for fear of falling to the deck. He did finally compose himself enough to walk to the stern of the ship and look back at Barbados. He prayed none of the crew of scurvy pirate has-beens noticed he was shaking.

He remained at the stern rail above the poop deck for a long while, watching the island fade in the distance and thought, "If only this old bucket of a ship will hold together, I know we'll find the treasure on the islands ahead."

When Barbados was but a lump on the horizon, Charles realized it was turning night in the direction of the island. That was impossible. It was still mid-day! He quickly realized what it meant, remembering how the storm he and Frederick had endured appeared at that distance. No wonder the sails filled so quickly and so easily pulled them free of the beach. The winds were greater than they realized. As Charles watched, the darkness grew ever nearer and wider. He knew one of the things common to the sailors, was to always watch to the front of the ship, but seldom look aft.

Charles hurried forward to the wheel and found Scarface had relieved Timmy. "Frederick! There's what looks like a powerful big storm coming at us from aft!"

Scarface shouted, "HELLO THE CROW'S NEST! WHAT BE THE WEATHER AFT?"

The man up high in the crow's nest turned aft and shouted back, "WEATHER ARUNNIN' AT US!"

"Laddie, hurry and tell Timmy we got us a storm acomin' on." Charles could already see a change in the waves by the way the little ship rolled under his feet as he made his way back to the sterncastle.

He didn't bother to knock, but pushed the door open and blurted, "Bad storm coming from aft, Captain!" Timmy hurried to the stern rail with him.

"You be right, lad. Looks like a sure enough bad un." Timmy watched the darkening sky and muttered to himself, "We couldn't be havin' worse luck then this." They moved back to the wheel and Timmy looked up into the sails. "One thing be in our favor, it's a followin' storm. Steer her about ten degrees starboard, Freddy. If we can get as far south as the first island before she catches us, we can turn and run directly afore the wind."

Timmy yelled orders to get men into the rigging, ready to furl some of the sails when the storm caught up with them. They had no way of knowing how bad the storm was, but from the speed with which it was overtaking them, Charles guessed it would be very bad. Again, he thought back to the terrible storm he and Frederick had weathered in their frail craft and wondered if they would be any better off aboard this ship that was in imminent danger of sinking even on a calm sea!

Just two hours after he spotted the storm, the sky rapidly darkened, and the wind howled ominously through the rigging. The tops of the waves turned to shiny colored froth at first, then little storms began to rage atop every wave. The water leaped and swirled in mid-air and was blown crossways into the wave ahead. The ship began to heave up and down as it encountered ever-larger waves. The entire front of the ship disappeared under water as the bow dove down in the trough and was consumed before rising again to top another giant wave. Everything that wasn't securely tied down was washed overboard.

Charles tied a line around his waist and fastened the other end to the handrail running across the front of the sterncastle. This area afforded the best protection from the wind and rain. It was nearly impossible for anyone to stay on their feet on the rolling, pitching, windswept deck. Charles shuddered when he thought about how much of the water coming over the bow must be flowing into the hold. He was amazed the storm had caught up with them so quickly.

Timmy yelled at him to go to his cabin to ride out the storm, but Charles pretended not to hear. He sure didn't want to be trapped in the cabin if this derelict decided to roll over before the winds, or break in two on the crest of a wave. At least on deck, he might grab onto something that would float!

The full fury of the storm overtook them, and brilliant lightning and ear-splitting thunder surrounded their little half rotted ship, crackling and booming so loud as to be deafening. Charles once more found himself clinging to a ship for dear life. He couldn't believe he was once more caught in the grips of such a storm. Each time a wave crashed over the bow and came rolling down the deck, Charles closed his eyes and held his breath, as the angry wall of water tried to wrest him loose and throw him overboard.

The powerful wind drove the Mary Jane through the waves as it had never been intended by its builder. It was an inter-island type vessel, not built to withstand the fury of a storm on the open ocean.

As the storm worsened even more, Charles wondered about the wisdom of their leader. Surely Timmy knew they stood little chance in a storm with such a fragile and aging craft. An eerie, screeching sound brought his eyes wide open, and he looked up just in time to see the mainsail rip down the middle from top to bottom. It was the sight and sound of doom! Now, they had two mainsails of half the original size. But that didn't last long. Suddenly, one whole side of the sail ripped away and fell to the deck, but still tethered to the ship by a dozen lines. A number of crewmen rushed to secure the half-sail, but it was too dangerous to approach, flapping like some huge, wild animal in its dying throes.

With half the mainsail gone, the ship was totally unbalanced and out of control. The remaining half of the mainsail tended to turn the ship. The men still clinging to the rigging on the high yardarm didn't need the order to get rid of the sail. Deckhands loosed the sail's lines, and those overhead laboriously hauled the wet, ragged sail upward.

Charles watched, almost hypnotized. He could see no way they would ever get the flapping sheet to the top and secured. He was right. They couldn't. Though the men hanging precariously high in the air valiantly struggled for what seemed much longer than it was, they couldn't haul the soaked flapping sail up.

Finally, one of the men pulled a knife from its sheath, and the other men took their cue from him. They began sawing through the lines that held the sail to the yardarm, and it let go with a crash, going over the starboard side of the ship and vanishing. The deckhands finally managed to cut all the lines holding the other half of the sail to the ship, and it, too, disappeared over the side.

Without the mainsail, the ship was much harder to control. It rolled on its side coming off every wave. Charles listened to every loud creak and groan emanating from the old hull, and knew each time it rolled on its side, the ship would continue on over and drown everyone aboard. Every now and then, a loud cracking sound pierced the howling wind, and he knew the ship was breaking apart under his feet. Never, could he have imagined the screams of pain coming from the ship he knew was slowly dying. They rose to the top of a wave, then slid down into deeper and deeper troughs, as the storm continued to intensify. Between each wall of water that smashed him about, Charles thoughts kept going back to Scarface telling him what poor condition the ship was in.

From the vantage point of the deck of a real ship, it now seemed impossible that he and Frederick could have survived such a storm in their small boat. He didn't know if it was due to Frederick's skill as a sailor, or just plain luck that they'd been spared. Charles remembered Frederick telling him, "The sea does some strange things that men cannot understand."

The strange part about the present situation, Charles wasn't afraid, as he'd been in the longboat. He listened to, and watched what was happening with a strange detachment that transcended the reality of it. He watched as the wind, howling banshee-like through the rigging, slowly devastated what remained of the sails. When one is tied to his ship, and can do naught but wait for the storm to ease or for his ship to slide beneath the waves, the time seems to pass with infinite laxity.

Charles thought about the loose bolts in the mounting for the mainmast. If they had remained loose, the mast might have been torn from the ship by the wind. The lower end of the mast, being mounted to the very bottom of the hull, could have ripped an irreparable hole in the bottom of the ship. And that would have been the end of not only their hunt for the treasure, but of everyone aboard.

Charles marveled at the beautiful displays of lightning coming from the storm clouds surrounding them. At times, the sea was more brilliantly lit than if they were in full sunshine. He wondered at what made the lightning, and the noise accompanying it, and laughed that he could wonder about such things with his life in such peril. If anyone had been able to see or hear him laughing, they would have thought he'd gone daft!

He watched Scarface struggling endlessly with the wheel and once more wished there was something he could do to help. When the ship tried to slide sideways down a wave, Scarface turned the wheel as quickly as possible into the slide, then immediately spun it in the opposite direction, as they rode to the top of the next wave. Charles knew Frederick must be getting on to sixty years old, but he was still very tough of mind and body. He knew if anyone could save this old ship from the sea bottom, his friend could.

Charles was shaken from his thoughts by the excited voices of the men scrambling down from the rigging. He looked up just in time to see the island dead ahead! They were no more than thirty ship lengths from the beach, and there was nothing they could do to steer away. The best effort they could make was to try to slow the ship before it crashed into the island. The mast for the foresail was mounted in a huge iron stirrup bolted to the deck. The men let go all the lines holding the mast in place, and it crashed down toward the bow of the ship. This, at least, took the sail from the wind immediately. The mast crashing down tore everything from its path. The bowsprit, the spinnaker sail, and the bow rail all disappeared into the ocean along with a good deal of planking ripped loose from the deck.

Now, Scarface had no choice as to where the ship went. All he could do was hang onto the wheel and pray! He only hoped the ship would remain pointed straight toward the island. They would be better off running aground straight ahead. If the ship turned sideways to the waves, they might roll over before reaching the beach. With the terribly imminent danger ahead, Charles still felt detached, as if watching something happen of which he was no part.

As the island swiftly approached, the worst of things happened! The hull hit a reef lying just offshore.

The jolt of hitting the reef was so great it threw Charles to the deck and slung him to the end of his tether. It felt as though the line around his waist had broken all his ribs. He gasped for air and found it hard to breathe. The noise of the ship's encounter with the reef was even more deafening than the wind and thunder. The old rotten hull and timbers of the Mary Jane screamed out in pain, up through the boiling waters. Charles thought the earlier sounds of the ship coming apart were painful, but this... this was the most awful of sounds - screeching and rending sounds, as the very hull of the ship was ripped apart into splinters. The old ship, which should have been buried years ago, was finally dying! But not without protest, uttering shrieking screams that seemed to come from a ghost world - like some great prehistoric beast dying.

The momentum of their headway carried the ship beyond the reef and toward the beach, trailing debris in the water along the way. The only thing the crew had to be thankful for was the fact that the reef was close to the beach. Even though rapidly sinking, the remains of ship plowed on ahead, driven by it's own momentum, the waves, and the howling wind. When what remained of the ship finally grounded itself, it was nearly under water to the rails.

Scarface was thrown from the wheel toward the bow when they hit the reef. The ship no sooner stopped moving, than he rose to his feet, a nasty gash in his forehead dripping blood. He moved as quickly as possible, back to where Charles lay helpless on the deck. Scarface had to fight his way through the awesome waves washing over the ship from the stern. What was left of the Mary Jane tossed up and down violently, throwing Scarface to his knees. He crawled and clawed his way up the steeply sloping deck to Charles' side and cried out, "Be you all right, lad?"

Charles looked up at Scarface, raised one arm to him and tried to speak, but nothing would come from his throat. His middle hurt so badly he knew he was surely dying. The water washed over the deck in ever-larger swells, threatening to sweep both of them to their doom. Everything loose about the deck was a danger, as the water bashed it about. Scarface removed the line from Charles' waist and dragged him toward the front of the ship, slipping and falling on what was left of the rolling, heaving deck a half dozen times. The water all but washed them overboard, and the wind itself was strong enough to knock them off their feet. Scarface grabbed what was left of the rail on the port side of the ship and dragged himself and Charles slowly toward the bow.

He yelled above the wind and water, "Can you swim, Laddie?" All Charles could do was shake his head to the affirmative. Frederick grabbed a small coil of line washing about on the deck, and slipped his head through it so it hung from the shoulder down across his body. He said, "Hang on, Laddie!" as he threw his arms about Charles and jumped as far from the ship as possible.

They didn't have far to fall to the water. The ship was mostly submerged. Charles closed his eyes and mouth as they dropped into the water and plummeted a short distance below the surface, then bobbed back to the top.

"Swim, Laddie!"

Charles began swimming toward where he thought the beach should be. There was no way to know for sure. Even if the sky wasn't dark as night, he couldn't see for all the saltwater in his eyes. He hurt so badly, he knew he'd never make it to the beach! Swimming as best he could, Charles prayed the island was straight ahead.

Scarface swam just behind Charles, and they didn't have to swim far before a wave lifted them and unceremoniously deposited them on the beach.

Scarface pushed Charles ahead of him until they were out of the water, then struggled to his feet and grabbed Charles by the arm. He half carried and half dragged his young friend toward the trees. The wind was so strong as to cause them to stumble and fall several times before they made the tree line. They continued into the trees for a distance before Scarface stopped against a tree with Charles in front of him. Now, Charles learned the reason Frederick brought the coil of line. He quickly wrapped one end of it around the tree and made a knot, then tied the other end first around himself, then about Charles' middle. Charles tried to say something, but the pain in his sides and head was too intense for him to speak. Scarface pushed him to the sand and lay down between him and the wind.

Charles knew Frederick had saved his life. He was sure he would have drowned had Scarface not untied him from the rail and carried him to the front of the ship.

...

He saw his mother sitting in front of the fireplace in her old rocker as clearly as if he'd been standing in front of her. Then an unexplainable calmness enveloped him. The storm that dumped Charles and his companions on the beach seemed just a terrible nightmare. He ran his fingers through the diamonds and rubies filling the chest he and Frederick dug up under the palm tree. The jewels sparkled in the sun.

Then, he took his mother through the door of the finest house in England, which he had just purchased. Now, he rode a horse, with his brother and sisters each mounted on their own fine steed. His uncle Anthony stood watching, jealous of Charles' good fortune.

...

He awakened with a start! It was completely quiet, and a million stars sparkled in the clear night sky. Charles was disoriented, and had no idea where he was. He started to rise, but a sharp stabbing pain in his side forced him back to the sand. Groaning, he rolled over on his stomach, and pushed himself up on his knees. He took hold of the tree he had lain against and pulled himself to a standing position. His head seemed so light, he had to lean against the tree to remain standing. The stars became blurry specks of light when he tried to focus on them.

Charles leaned his back against the tree and looked around. There was Scarface, lying on his side, facing away from him, loudly snoring. He shook his head from side to side, trying to clear away the webs that pervaded it. Taking one halting step, he found, though he was wobbly, he could stay on his feet. His head ached with a fierce pounding, and this pain was only exceeded by the pain in his side.

He had no idea where he was walking, but felt the need to do so and moved through the trees till he found himself on the beach. Planking and rigging from the ship was scattered along the beach in both directions and illuminated by the bright moonlight.

It hadn't been a nightmare! He remembered the terrible wind beating the sand and rain against his face as they struggled across the beach and into the trees - the ferocity of the waves that threw them upon the beach, as it would so much flotsam and jetsam. Charles looked out at a sea so calm it looked like a moonlit mirror. The slightest hint of a breeze moved the fronds of the trees almost silently.

Charles felt the need to get into the water, though he had no idea why. After all, it should have been the last place he wanted to be after it had tried everything it could to kill him! He walked slowly to the water's edge, then continued out until the water was above his knees. He sat down and put his face into the water. It felt so cool. With the coolness of the water on his face, he realized how hot he was. This puzzled him for a moment, then he realized he must have a fever. The cool water was just what he needed.

He had no idea how long he sat there, his arms folded across his knees, his face lying on his arms with the cool water washing up against it. The stars faded, and when he raised his head, he saw a tiny edge of the sun peering over the horizon. This time, he was able to stand without first rolling over on his stomach. Charles smiled and thought what a wonderful healer the sea can be after its attempt to be so deadly. He thought perhaps it was the sea's way of apologizing - as if saying, "I'm sorry I tried to kill you, so now let me make it up to you, and we'll be friends again."

Slowly walking back to where he left Scarface snoring, he saw that Scarface wasn't his only bed companion. Twelve other bodies lay about on the ground.

Scarface rolled over and sat up. "How you be feelin, Laddie?"

"I, uh, I don't know." Charles sat on the sand, his back against the tree.

Scarface arose and squatted before him. "I thought we'd lost you sure, Laddie."

"What....uh, what do you mean?"

"You've been awful sick, lad. I didn't think you'd last it out. Be you hungry?"

"Thirsty."

For the first time since he'd awakened, Charles realized his throat burned with thirst and his stomach ached for food. "Yes, I'm hungry, also."

"Let me get you some water first." He went to a keg and filled a dipper. Charles watched as if in a trance. He wondered how they saved a water keg, and more than that, a dipper! He hungrily drank down the dipper of water and asked for more.

"Nay, lad. You must eat somethin' first. Too much water on your empty stomach'll make you wish you'd died."

Before, Scarface hadn't used the word, "Died." When he did, Charles was nearly overcome with panic. Had he truly almost died? Scarface handed him a piece of dried meat, which he ate down after barely chewing it. Then Scarface gave him two pieces of fruit. When he'd finished the fruit, he felt much better. It was very juicy, so it had relieved his thirst and burning throat somewhat. Scarface gave him another dipper of water, which he drank more slowly than the first.

"Why don't you lie back down for a while, Laddie."?

"I think I'd rather sit against the tree." For the first time, Charles realized the other men had awakened and were watching him.

Timmy said, "Glad to see your still with us, lad."

"Gladder I am to be with ya, Captain." Timmy and the others laughed. "Frederick, I do not mean to embarrass you in front of everyone, but you saved my life. I thank you for that."

Timmy said, "He not only did that, lad, but he has not slept in three days, lookin' after you."

"Three days?"

"Aye, lad. Tis been three days since the sea dumped us here." Charles realized only about half the crew was present.

"Where are the others?"

Timmy looked solemnly toward the ocean and said, "I'm afraid we weren't all so lucky, lad."

"You mean..?" He stopped in mid-sentence, realizing what Timmy meant.

"Aye, Laddie, some of the crew has gone to their rest in the sea."

Charles was stunned. He hadn't imagined that anyone had not survived. If he survived, why not everyone? He silently counted those left. The number came to seventeen, including himself. That meant twenty-four men had perished in the storm. It was the first time since his father died that he had faced death. His father's death had been understandable. He had a sickness. But why should he have survived the storm, while others perished? It was cause for many hours of contemplation.

Chapter Eleven

After the men ate what meager rations they had, Timmy sent some of them out hunting for game and fruit. The rest of the men went back to gathering anything salvageable from the beach. While Charles lay ill, the surviving crew gathered a large pile of planking, timbers, rigging, and sailcloth from the beach. Charles wondered why they bothered, but he supposed it gave them something to do. Maybe they were going to use the materials to construct a shelter. He found they had grabbed everything they could that would hold water and filled them while the rain still poured down at the trailing edge of the storm. It was rainwater he drank from the keg. So far, they hadn't found a source of fresh water on the island, but then, it had quit raining only the afternoon before.

Charles was embarrassed that he wasn't doing something constructive, while everyone else was working, but the pain in his side was still very real, even though the terrible ache in his head had greatly eased. He wanted to eat more, but knew it wouldn't be fair to the others.

It was fairly late in the day when Charles heard the hunters returning. They laughed and sang, and Charles could hear them from a long distance in the stillness of the island. He knew they had found something to be happy about. Walking to a small clearing, he searched in the direction of the sound for some fifteen minutes before he finally saw the men. They were still far enough away he couldn't see what they were carrying, but they all had some sort of load across their shoulders. If his side hadn't hurt so badly, he would have ran to meet them. He knew they'd found some kind of game. As the men drew closer, Charles saw he was right. They carried five small pigs.

One of the men of whom Charles had been so afraid earlier laughed and said, "Tis fresh meat for supper tonight, Laddie!"

"How did you get so many?" Charles voice betrayed his excitement.

"Ha! We be a whole lot smarter 'n them. We herded 'em into a place of no escape, we did. Then we beat 'em over the head with a club, we did." He said it in a sing-song fashion. That's what they'd been singing as they returned toward the camp.

Another of the men, in fact, another Charles had feared, laughed loudly and said, "The best part, Laddie, there's many, many more of 'em just for the takin'!" Charles was delighted at the news, but he wasn't ready for what followed. It was even better news.

The man continued, "And right where we finds 'em, we finds a pretty little spring. When we saw 'em, we knew there was water about. Pigs don't drink the sea water, lad."

Charles knew he should have surmised there was water on the island the minute he saw the pigs across the men's shoulders. Of course, they would have to have fresh water to survive. Otherwise, there would have been no pigs! Timmy had heard all the commotion and knew it could only be good news. He ran from the beach and grabbed the burden off the first man's shoulders, wrapped his arm around him and said, "If'n ya was a bit better lookin' I'd kiss ya!"

Everyone was in a festive mood, as they drank all the water they wanted for the first time since the wreck and hung the pigs from the trees to make them ready for roasting.

Timmy said, "Laddies, we'll eat four of 'em this night and smoke cure the other to eat later."

Even though the pigs were quite small, four was enough to make every man of them sick from over eating. They consumed nearly all the meat, then lay back and rested their poor bloated stomachs in the quiet tropical evening. No one said much, but just lay in their happy misery, watching the stars grow brighter in the clear, velvety night sky.

Charles and Scarface wandered down to the beach and sat on a large timber that had once been a vital part of their ship. It was what remained of the keel. Now, it was half buried in the sand and made a convenient bench for one to sit upon and contemplate his fate.

"Frederick, do you think we're doomed to live out our days on this island?"

Scarface laughed, "I hope not, matey. I been givin' it some thought these last days. You have a good head, lad. How would you go about escapin' this place?"

Charles couldn't believe Frederick would ask him how they might get off the island. Before, they at least had a longboat. But here...? Then, he had a promising thought. Longboats were built, weren't they? Why not build a boat from some of the timbers and planking the men had gathered from the beach?

"Scarfa..er, uh, Frederick, could we build a boat from the scraps that have been gathered from the ship?" Charles was embarrassed to have almost called him Scarface like the rest of the men always did. He was too respectful to call him that out loud, but he realized he had always thought "Scarface" to himself and vowed to rid himself of this habit.

Frederick smiled, as if reading the boy's mind. "Aye, we may be able to. That's what I be thinkin' on. I've made enough repairs on boats to know how they go together. I know many of our mates have." He picked up a splinter of wood and began drawing lines in the sand by the light of the bright moon. Scarface was drawing what would become a boat-building project!

When Timmy plopped down on the sand beside Scarface, it startled both of them. They had been so engrossed in drawing the boat, they hadn't heard him approach.

He belched loudly and said," Ah, tis such satisfaction to eat well. Tis another fine night, mates."

Without answering Scarface said, "We been talkin' about buildin' a boat."

Timmy stared out to sea and said, "Aye, I'd thought about it, but I don't think we have enough materials to build one big enough for the lot of us."

Charles mind whirled, thinking about the problem, and within seconds said, "Captain Timmy, this string of islands runs for a long way toward the coast of South America."

"Aye?"

"And how far apart are the islands?"

"No more than a day's sail in a proper ship."

"And how long to sail back against the wind?"

"I would guess three days, but I don't follow you, Laddie."

"How many people could we fit into the boat we could build?"

"I suppose about seven or eight."

Charles stood and gestured with his hands as he paced back and forth. "I was thinking, if we could get ten or eleven men in the boat, they could sail to the next island, and after a day's rest, two men could sail the boat back to pick up the rest. We could move one island at a time until we were close to the coast of South America." Charles hoped with all his heart Timmy would like the idea.

He played with his beard for a moment and said, "Aye, it'd work. That'd work, Laddie."

Charles sighed out loud. Now, maybe they had a plan and could start working on getting back to civilization. Timmy went off to tell the others of the idea.

Scarface asked, "And what of the treasure we know Captain Morgan buried on one of these islands?"

Charles hadn't thought much about the treasure since awakening on the island. His only thoughts revolved around surviving. "We'll search each island wholly before we leave it." Being reminded of the treasure brought visions flooding back into his mind. He could once again see all the gold, emeralds, and diamonds. "Why don't you and I start searching this island in the morning!"

"If that be fine with Timmy, we'll do it." They talked for the next four hours about where they would start their search, and how they would conduct it. Finally, they returned to the trees to lie down and sleep.

Someone found a cask of tea washed all the way into the trees by the storm, so they had hot tea and the few remaining bits of pork from the previous night's feast for breakfast. No one was really hungry, after having gorged themselves so. Charles and Frederick set out to look for the treasure immediately after eating.

They decided what would be the most likely hiding place if they'd been Captain Morgan. It would have to be back from the beach, where it wouldn't be uncovered by the shifting of the sands in a storm. In fact, they decided he would have buried it on the highest part of the island, and that's where they began their search. The hunters told them where to find the spring, and they took an empty cask along to fill and bring back to camp when the day's search was over.

Charles side was much better now, but it was still sore enough they had to move slowly. Once again, it was a great adventure to find the treasure of old Captain Morgan. The terror of the storm was rapidly fading in Charles' memory to the point of being almost forgotten until each time he bumped his side against a tree. Then he remembered! Scarface knew his side still hurt, so he took it slow and easy. They surely weren't in any kind of hurry. Where could they go, except back to camp?

As they searched the ground for signs of a treasure being buried Scarface said, "You know, Laddie, the trouble with lookin' for somethin' buried twenty years, there be no freshly turned earth to give away the hidin' place. There might even be a tree standin' right atop the treasure, havin' grown there since the buryin'."

"Aye, searching for treasure be not an easy task, mate."

Scarface smiled at Charles' change in manner of speaking and said, "Don't you be losin' your proper way of speakin, lad. Tis refreshin' to hear you speak so nice."

They figured it would take about two weeks to search the island thoroughly. This day, they saw nothing that looked as though it would be a hiding place for treasure. The days following were all the same, until they had covered the whole of the island. They had expected to find some sort of marker Captain Morgan erected to locate his buried treasure. Charles was a little let down by their futile search, but figured maybe the next island would be the lucky one!

He had completely healed from his injuries and was back to his normal, enthusiastic old self by the time their search was ended, and Frederick was surprised that Charles wasn't depressed by not finding the treasure. When he mentioned it, Charles replied, "Frederick, me mate, it be so good just to be alive after that fierce storm threw us here on this island, how could I not but be in a good mood."

Scarface said, "Maybe the treasure be buried on the next island." A broad smile revealed how happy Scarface was that his young friend had survived his injuries. After Charles having saved his life, Scarface wouldn't have been able to live with himself if he hadn't been able to rescue Charles.

"Exactly. I've not given up that ol' Captain Morgan buried the treasure on one of these islands. It's the most likely place. The treasure has to be on one of them."

Each day, when they returned to camp, they found the men had made a little more progress on their boat building project, and at the end of the search on day twelve, they returned to find the boat finished. It was still to be fitted with sail and oars, but it did look like a boat!

It was nearly three weeks before they actually had a boat they thought would take them from one island to the next. A hunting party was out every day, and they smoked a good deal of the meat to save for their journey. Charles was thankful they were thrown upon an island plentiful with game and fresh water.

Now that the boat was ready they had to decide who would go, and who would stay. All the men were anxious to leave on the first leg of what would hopefully be their journey back to civilization. Timmy settled the matter in a very democratic way. He took a handful of reeds, some short and some long, and had everyone pick one. The long reeds went, the short stayed. As luck would have it, Charles picked a long reed, while Scarface picked a short one. He was not about to leave behind the man who saved his life. Charles asked that his reed and all the short ones be put back and another drawing take place. The men with the short reeds were more than willing! This time, Charles didn't participate. Scarface protested the second drawing, but Timmy said it was Charles' right.

Chapter Twelve

It was agreed the men remaining would move their camp to the area of the spring until the boat returned. They would be close to water, and the crew could take the water containers with them. The men who'd drawn the long reeds set sail at sunup, with everyone pushing and pulling the boat down to the water on log rollers. Those staying behind stared after them as they rowed a ways from the beach and lowered the sail to the breeze. Everyone ashore waved and cheered them on to have a good journey.

It seemed the tiny boat barely moved at first, but as they moved farther out from the island, it began to pick up speed. Everyone stood at the water's edge and watched the small craft, waving until it was out of sight.

As the others made ready to move the camp inland, Charles stood knee-deep in the surf, looking in the direction of the next island and said, "I pray to God they make it and come back for us." He didn't kid himself about what the chances of the men making it to the next island and back really were.

It took several trips to move everything to the spring, and everyone was tired and hungry as they sat down to eat the evening meal. Using a large piece of sailcloth salvaged from the beach, they built a shelter close to the spring. Now, they had some protection if the rain started again.

The spring came out of the side of the hill about half way to the top and flowed in a white froth over the rocks. Beautiful flowers of every color and shade grew in profusion on either side of the small stream. Birds of many colors flitted about from tree to tree along the spring, and Charles thought he had never seen such a beautiful spot. If they had to be left behind for good, they could have been stranded in a much worse situation. The spring tumbled downward for about three ship lengths before ending in the pool, then ran out to the beach and into the ocean.

Charles decided when he first saw the pool, he would have a good bath and wash his clothes. The following morning after breakfast, he went to the pool, undressed, and waded in. He was surprised to find the water extremely cold! It made his skin shrivel immediately, and large goose bumps formed on his arms and chest. The water was crystal clear, and as he worked up to wading out far enough to be up to his chin, he saw something move swiftly away. There were fish in the pool!

As he waded back to the edge, he devised a plan to have fish for supper this night! He returned to the camp and began working with some scraps of sailcloth. Charles waited for Scarface to ask him what he was doing, and he eventually did.

"What you be makin', lad?"

"I'm making a trap to catch fish. The pool at the spring has fish in it. Pretty good sized ones, I'd guess."

"And how you be goin' to catch them with a bit of sail?"

"I'm not sure I can, not until I try."

Scarface watched, as Charles made a strange looking contraption. It was like a very long stocking, big enough to go around a man's body. Scarface accompanied him and helped placed the trap at the lower end of the pool where the spring flowed out toward the beach. Charles brought along some flat pieces of sailcloth, which he stretched from each edge of the trap to the bank of the small rill. He thus formed a "V" at the mouth of the trap. The entire apparatus was held in place by sticks they sharpened and pushed into the muddy bottom.

"Now we'll see if it works." Charles eased into the water at the upper end of the small pool and walked toward the trap. He smiled with delight when he saw three fish enter the front of his trap. Pulling the front out of the water, the fish were trapped inside his huge stocking! He worked his way toward the rear of the bag, rolling the front edges back. Frederick was surprised when Charles stuck his hand into the end of the trap and pulled out a fish half as long as his arm.

"Aha! It worked, Laddie. You've done well. I never seed such a thing." Scarface did his little jig as he spoke excitedly.

"I just hope there be enough fish in the pool to last us."

Scarface took the fish from him, and with a swift stroke of his knife, removed the head. Charles handed him another and yet another fish. He pushed the sticks back into the bottom to hold the opening of the trap in place. They'd come back for more fish tomorrow!

The other men were just as amazed as Scarface when they saw the fish. There was plenty for all to have a good meal.

The next day, the other men went to see how this young boy had invented a new way to catch fish. They also trapped a young pig and smoked most of the meat along with the fish they couldn't eat. They had trapped too many for one day.

Five days later they were startled in the middle of the night by someone moving through the brush, yelling, "Ahoy the camp! Where you be?" Charles thought it was too much to ask that the boat had returned for them already, but sure enough, two of the men had sailed back. Everyone was too excited to go back to sleep, so they made ready to sail by moonlight. The men said the next island was larger than this, and they'd had the good luck to once again find a fresh water supply. Timmy decided to look the island over before sending the boat back. If there had been neither game nor fresh water, they would have sailed on to the next island before returning. Charles asked if they had looked for the treasure on the island.

"That be what the captain be doin' whilst we be gone." Charles was a little disappointed that they were looking for it. He dreamed of being the one to find the treasure - he and Scarface.

They set sail in the early morning sun after eating breakfast and refilling the two water kegs the men brought along. Everyone drank as much as they could hold from the spring before departing. The sea was up a little, as was the breeze, and that made for a faster trip than the first group made. The men told them they rowed part of the way, because the sail was so slack. But this was a fast, uneventful trip to island number two.

As they sailed smoothly along, Charles wondered at how well the men had built the boat. It seemed very sturdy, and cut through the tops of the waves better than the longboat he and Frederick had sailed to Jamaica. He realized the reason it was smoother was because of the smooth coating of cooked tree sap they had applied to the hull.

He also thought the men who had left their previous island first should be the last to leave this island. That would be the fair way to do it. Actually, he hoped it would Timmy would agree to it. If they didn't find the treasure on this island, he may be able to be the first to search for it on the next! Now that he knew his plan to escape their isolation worked, the treasure was on his mind full time. Whatever thoughts he had about anything else, they took second place to the treasure.

The two who returned for them guided the boat unerringly, and they arrived at the second island the following morning, just about the same time they'd left the first. This island was a small mountain, it's sides covered with thick foliage and a great number of beautiful blooms. The ever-present Flamboyant trees, with their bright orange flowers, were scattered all about the island, and from a distance the hillside was like a magnificent painting. No single plant or blossom could be distinguished, rather the entire hillside was a giant splash of intermingling colors.

The beach was as white as any Charles had seen. When he climbed from the boat and waded ashore, he stood looking up at the hillside, thinking, "I would love to have a grand house on the side of that hill." In his mind, he could see the magnificent house with wild orchids hanging from every balcony.

The men on the island gave them a raucous welcome. Not only were they glad to see they made the trip safely, but they were happy to see their boat returned. It was their only way off this island to the next! It seemed the wild pigs abounded on this island also, and they had already smoked nearly a dozen. And they had picked what seemed an unnecessary amount of fruit to stockpile at their camp, where they had built a crude lean-to large enough for everyone. It was built from small trees, with a palm frond roof. That very night, Charles was glad they built it. Before they finished the evening meal, dark clouds rolled in with a strong breeze and drenched the island all night and into the next day.

Timmy sat next to Scarface under the palm frond roof and said, "The weather be worryin' me some mates. It be the stormy season, and we surely don't want to get caught between islands in a bad storm. Perhaps we should be thinkin' of stayin' right here on this island until the season of storms is over. There be plenty of game and water and fruit."

"Aye, you may be right, Timmy. Course it be not that long a sail to the next island. And if we waits for the storm season to get over, we be here at least five months."

After talking it over he decided they should push on to the next island, then see what the weather did. Charles spoke to him about the men who had stayed behind going first this trip.

With a grin on his face, Timmy said, "I know what you be worried about, Laddie. You be wantin' first chance at findin' the treasure." Charles could feel his face redden in embarrassment, but then he smiled. Why shouldn't he get first chance at it? Wasn't it his idea that the treasure was probably hidden on one of these islands?

"I think you have a good idea, lad. It would be fair to exchange crews between islands." So it was settled, and the following morning, without a cloud in the sky, Charles' group sailed for the third island in the chain.

Chapter Thirteen

A good breeze followed the mild storm, which by now, was far to the west, and they sailed at a fair speed. To the best of their reckoning, the third island in the string was two days sail away. With no sort of navigational device, finding the island was pretty much guesswork, and on the second afternoon they nearly missed it. One of the sailors, Henry, saw a tiny speck on the horizon far to the west, and Scarface immediately turned the boat. Some hours later, it began to look like an island, but they were too far to the south. The wind's direction and strength made it impossible to sail directly to the island.

Scarface said, "We'll have to sail to the south of 'er and tack back against the wind, lads."

Passing well south of the island, Scarface tacked back and forth across the wind for the next several hours. The sun was dipping low, close to the horizon, and the wind was so strong it made progress excruciatingly slow. Finally, Henry said, "I believe it be time to lower the sail and do some rowing, mates."

When they began rowing, the boat moved faster than trying to fight their way back against the wind. As the sun disappeared, the island became a large black lump on the horizon. Four hours of hard rowing later the men were exhausted, as they reached the southern end of the island. It was a hostile looking place, even though the sides of the steep island were covered with the same beautiful flowers as the last. Bright moonlight illuminated the splashes of color as they drew near. Beaches were almost non-existent on the rocky shoreline, and they had to be extremely careful to avoid the huge rocks rising from the water everywhere. Nowhere, was the beach any wider than their boat was long.

They rowed for some distance along the western side of the island before finding a suitable place to land. When they spotted what could be called a protected harbor among the pinnacles of rock, it was but large enough for boats such as theirs to enter. Scarface spotted the opening between the rocks, and the little crew wasted no time in naming it, "Freddy's Harbor."

As they pulled the boat up on the narrow beach Scarface said, "I think we best be sendin' the boat back in the mornin'. The wind bein' as bad as it is, if it keeps up it'll take most a week to sail back for Timmy. Shall we draw lots to see who goes back?"

Henry said, "I'll go if another'll sail with me." One of the other men volunteered to accompany him.

Charles figured he'd have at least ten days to search the island before the others returned. He was still determined he would be the one to find the treasure. Unless, of course, he'd been wrong about Captain Morgan hiding it on one of these islands. No! He mustn't think that. Somehow, he knew the treasure was here.

They stayed close to the beach after unloading everything from the boat except the food and water the men taking the boat back would need. When Henry and his companion set sail the following morning, the others moved inland. That meant going mostly uphill. Scarface thought they should go all the way to the top. This way, they could keep a fire burning as a signal to the returning boat. After all, they had nearly missed the island themselves. It wouldn't do to have the boat sail right on past on its return trip.

It was a hard climb to the top of the island, but by this time, Charles was fully recovered from being smashed about on the deck of the ship, and he was beginning to resemble a man more and more all the while. Not only had he grown much stronger, but his skin was no longer the pale white it was when he left England. The tropical sun turned his skin a dark tan. The fledgling whiskers Scarface had teased him about had bloomed to a well trimmed, if sparse, beard.

They were forced to stop and rest several times before reaching the top just at nightfall, the small rag-tag crew found the view to be spectacular. Charles could survey the entire island from their lofty perch, as he ascended a tree to its very top. Though the west side of the island where they landed was mostly jagged rock formations, the east side looked not to be nearly as treacherous. There, the beach was several boat lengths wide, and the land sloped more gradually upward toward their camp. It wasn't nearly as desirable a place as the previous island, but overall was more appealing than where they had landed.

The whole of the island was covered with tall trees and deep green jungle. Intermingling fragrances of various blossoms filled the air. It seemed the farther south they traveled, the heavier the jungle on the islands and the more profuse the blooms. It seemed many more of the brightly colored birds made this island home, as they soared screeching from one tree to another, searching for just the right roosting place for the night.

Scarface told the men, "We'd best be buildin' a shelter in the mornin' and look for water."

Charles quickly said, "I'll look for water."

One of the men laughed and said, "Aye, and you be lookin' for the treasure at the same time."

Charles was embarrassed that it was so obvious he wanted to do naught but look for the treasure.

Even though the sun had lost itself below the horizon, and the birds had ceased their screeching for the night, they set about building a camp of sorts. While the others cleared a small area of the shrubs covering the top of the "mountain", Scarface built a fire. Charles wondered why. They had nothing to cook, and wouldn't need a signal fire for a number of days. The weather was certainly warm enough. He supposed it was just habit. Settling in for the night, everyone fell asleep quickly. The day's climb had been exhausting, and Charles didn't lie awake looking at the stars this night. He was the first to sleep.

When dawn came, and the singing and squawking of the birds awakened them, Charles quickly ate some of the dried fish they'd brought along. He stood looking down the side of the mountain and said, "I believe I'll get an early start lookin' for water, Frederick."

"Aye, tis our first job. If there be no spring about we'll have to pray for rain." Charles took the spyglass Scarface had somehow managed to hang onto as they escaped their sinking ship and walked slowly around the flat top of the mountain. Stopping frequently, he looked carefully downhill for a sign of water, or a place that looked as though it might hide their treasure. There had to be a source of water that supported all the bird life. Scarface had told him that on many of the islands the birds survived on pools of water left by the rains, but there were so many birds here, he was sure there must be another source of water.

Charles was about half way around the mountaintop when he saw something sparkle in the sun below, about a third of the way down to the beach. Water! Their luck was uncannily good! He looked around the area where he saw the sparkling for several minutes, trying to determine if he should go explore it or go back and get Frederick to accompany him. Deciding on the latter, Charles quickly headed for the camp.

Scarface knew Charles had discovered something by the look on his face.

"I think we've had the best of luck, Frederick." His voice was filled with excitement. "I believe I've found a spring."

They left immediately to explore the area and moved downhill from where Charles spotted what seemed to be the sun glinting off moving water. Making their way through the heavy brush, Scarface said, "Aye, lad, I believe it be water for sure. I can smell it in the air."

Scarface and Charles found themselves under a tangle of vines invading the trees to such an extent as to nearly blot out the sun. A whole new variety of plants grew in the perpetual shade under the canopy. Charles picked what looked like an apple from a short bush and asked Scarface, "Do you suppose it can be eaten?"

"I don't know, lad. I've never seen anything like it. There be a rule to follow, though. If you not be sure, don't eat nuthin' what grows in the shade."

"Why's that?"

"Seems most the poisonous stuff be growin' where it be shady."

Charles tossed the "apple" on the ground. It sure looked edible, but he wouldn't take the chance. Charles smelled and heard the water before they saw it, also. One moment, they were in half darkness, the next, they stood on a rocky outcrop in full sunlight, looking down on the source of the smell and the sound. The spring was infinitely larger than those on the first and second islands they'd visited. The water gushed forth from a wide slash in a rock wall and fell as far as the height of the tallest trees onto huge slabs of rock. It foamed and swirled in small whirlpools before gushing on down the rocks toward the sea below. The waterfall had gouged out a large pool at its base, and Charles and Scarface looked at it in awe for several minutes without speaking.

"Have you ever seen anything more beautiful, lad?"

Charles moved his head back and forth as he stared at the top of the waterfall, high above. This was what Charles had thought of when he heard stories of a tropical paradise. Wild orchids climbed the thick vines hanging down the rock wall on either side of the waterfall, and all around the pool, it seemed someone had planted a profusion of color.

Working their way down to the pool at the base of the waterfall, Charles and Scarface lay down on the ground and scooped the clear water into their hands to drink. A sound from behind startled them, and when they turned to see what it was, found a wild pig staring back. The pig stood perfectly still, looking at them, evidently not knowing man was his enemy. Charles felt a twinge of guilt, looking into the almost cute face. He was sure it wouldn't be too hard to make a pet of the pig.

Scarface saw the smile on Charles' face and said, "Tis right for man to kill 'em to survive, lad. Methinks the pig knows that as well."

Charles laughed out loud. "You think he's smart enough to know he's supposed to die so we can eat him?"

Scarface laughed, too, and the pig slowly backed away from this human sound, turned, and trotted into the dense undergrowth. They sat laughing at the idea of a pig thinking to himself, "Well, these people look hungry. I guess I'll have to hang myself on their spit."

After resting beside the pool for a bit, they began exploring around the area of the spring. Charles went downhill on one side of the spring, while Frederick waded across and explored the other.

They'd moved downhill along the stream but a short distance when Charles tripped over something in the tall grass. He picked himself up and looked to see what he stubbed his toe on, and found a rock about as big as his head. He started to continue on, but turned back to look more closely at the rock. Something about it nudged a reaction in his mind. He pulled the grass next to the rock back and yelled, "Frederick! Frederick! I found something!"

The stream tumbled over too many slippery, sharp rocks for Scarface to cross here, so he had to go downstream a short distance. By the time he climbed back up the hill, Charles was busily pulling grass from the ground. Scarface instantly saw what Charles was excited about. Charles had already cleared away enough grass to expose two thirds of the ring of rocks, all blackened toward the inside of the circle. Someone built a fire pit here! Scarface was as excited as Charles by the discovery.

"Do you think it was Captain Morgan built this fire?"

"It be hard to say, mate." He helped Charles finish clearing the area of grass, and found the ring was large enough to roast one of the wild pigs. Scarface sat down next to the rocks and said, "Could be from our kind or from Indians, mate. No real way to tell. Let's be lookin' around a bit."

They scoured the area directly around the fire pit for some other sign, but came up empty handed. Charles hoped they would find another sign of civilized men having been here. He told Scarface, "At least we know someone was here. If it wasn't the Indians, it would have to be old Captain Morgan. Why else would any civilized person be here?"

"Coulda been shipwrecked, just like us, lad."

Charles voice was dejected, as he had to agree with him. "Yeah."

Scarface smiled at his young friend and said, "Course, it coulda been the captain. Maybe we should search around the bottom of the island for a place they might of landed." Then Scarface looked beyond Charles at something and said, "What do we have here?" He walked behind Charles and past the first few trees. Charles followed after him and watched Scarface pull a mango from a tree and bite into it. "Laddie, you know what this means?"

"We'll have fruit again."

"More than that, matey. Mango trees don't grow on these islands."

"Then how...?" As Charles began the question, he knew the answer. "Someone threw mango pits on the ground!"

"Aye, matey. And most likely it would've been sailors."

"I knew I be right, Frederick! Let's search for their landin' place." They hurried through the brush toward the narrow, rocky beach, next to the spring to begin their search. If Captain Morgan and his men camped here, maybe they landed just below.

When they got close to the beach, Scarface and Charles made their way more slowly down the hillside, one on either side of the stream, looking carefully for anything that seemed unusual or out of place. They found nothing.

Reaching the rocky shoreline, where the small stream emptied into the ocean, they surveyed the area, looking for a place where a longboat might land. Then they walked back and forth, carefully examining the ground, trying to find some sign that a boat had been pulled ashore. The narrow strip of beach disappeared at times, necessitating climbing up and around the rocks the sea washed against.

Charles and Scarface moved slowly along the beach for three hours before Scarface said, "We'd best get back to camp before it gets dark, lad. We'll mark this spot and continue our search tomorrow." He cut a small limb from a tree and pushed it into the ground where the high tide wouldn't reach it, then tied his red kerchief around the top so they'd be able to spot it easily the next morning.

Charles watched the sunset from a new perspective at their mountaintop camp. He always saw it at sea level, but from this altitude, it was even more magnificent. Once more, he lay looking at the stars and dreaming of the treasure, knowing they would find it. And this was the island - he knew it!

Charles could barely wait to finish their tea and smoked fish breakfast the following morning. Scarface told the other men there were wild pigs on the island, and three went hunting, while the rest of the men would help search along the beach in the opposite direction from Charles and Frederick. They, too, were excited by the discovery of the fire pit and the prospect that Captain Morgan's men might have built it.

Charles and Scarface found the stick and kerchief easily enough and began another day of searching, but after a long day's search, they had found nothing in the way of a clue to indicate a ship had anchored at the island. Of course, it had been a lot of years, and the jungle-like growth could recapture a disturbed area in a matter of months. The only reason they stumbled onto the rocks was because not much grew in the heavily shaded area along the stream. Charles was disheartened, as they finally had to give up searching for the day and return to camp. But he kept thinking about the mangos.

"There be a lot more island to search, Laddie."

"But I would have expected to find something closer to the stream. That's where they camped."

"Aye, it seems we would've. Maybe we should search there again tomorrow."

Charles was all for it. Maybe he had walked right over a clue and didn't see it. When they reached the camp, the other search party said they had as little success. The hunting party, however, had returned with two pigs to roast and had them over the fire. Charles was once more famished and tired. As he watched the embers crackling in the fire he smiled and thought, "Treasure hunting sure isn't easy!"

Charles and Scarface returned to the spring the following morning and spent most of the day searching every centimeter of the area where the fire had been built by someone. They also searched all around the pool at the foot of the falls, but were rewarded with finding nothing. When they slowly trudged up the hill to camp in the late afternoon, once more, the other search party had nothing to report. The search around the perimeter of the island continued, but after three more days, no evidence of a ship or civilized people having ever been there was found - only the mangos!

Most of the men wrote the fire pit off to Indians, who had probably stopped on the island to hunt and replenish their water supply. This explanation might have been good enough for them, but Charles reasoned to himself that if Indians built the fire, there should be some clue to indicate that. It didn't occur to him that if civilized people left no clues, why should the Indians? The other men gave up the search, but Charles continued to spend all his time searching for some clue around the fire pit and mango trees.

Two days after the others gave up their search, the boat returned with Timmy and the other surviving treasure hunters. They landed none too soon. A storm was brewing to the east, and Timmy was grateful to see the men had erected a huge shelter on the lee side of the mountain. Once more, they had been lucky and arrived at the island just as the rains began. Slogging their way up the muddy side of the mountain to the camp, the men were happy to find there was plenty of fresh cooked meat and fruit. The entire crew was together again and had a lively time of it. Nearly everyone complained the only thing missing to make this a real party, was the rum. That was one thing they hadn't salvaged from their wrecked ship.

The rain lasted four days and nights, and the wind blew strong, but nothing like the storm that had wrecked their ship. It was a series of short rain squalls, rather than a real storm, and being on the lee side of the mountain helped a great deal. Scarface told Timmy of their discovery of the fire pit and their search of the island. Timmy was anxious to see the fire pit when the rain let up.

Charles hadn't given up on the idea that the treasure was on this island. Somehow, something told him to continue searching and he'd find it. He led Timmy to the fire pit as soon as the rain stopped. "Doesn't it look like someone camped here?"

"Aye, lad, but as Freddy said, could have been Indians."

Charles protested, "But what about the mangos?"

"It be possible Indians brought 'em."

"Or it could have been Captain Morgan."

"Aye, that be true, too."

When Timmy and the others returned to camp, Charles stayed behind to look around one more time. He stood staring at the fire pit for a long while, imagining he was Captain Morgan. The men sitting around the fire, eating roast pig - drinking rum and tea from their pewter tankards was as clear in his mind as if they were there. Charles knew there were probably at least thirty-five men on the ship when they landed here. If they left five to ten people aboard, that would mean twenty-five to thirty men camped around the fire pit. Surely, at least one of them would have dropped something without knowing it, or would have left some telltale clue behind to be found by a person who searched diligently enough.

Once more, he searched in an ever-widening circle from the fire pit, slowly moving the tall grass aside with his foot, carefully inspecting the ground. Charles was so engrossed in searching the area, he was surprised by the growing darkness. He'd lost all track of time. As he followed the little stream, and what was fast becoming a well-worn path back up the mountain, he thought, "I know the treasure is here. It has to be. I will not leave this island until I find it!

When he arrived at the camp, the men were discussing leaving the following morning for the next island.

Timmy said, "We was beginnin' to think you be lost, lad."

Charles was a little embarrassed by his persistence in searching for the treasure.

"I, uh, I was looking for some sort of clue that Captain Morgan was here."

"I'd sure like to think he built that fire, lad, but the truth be, the Indians that hunt on these islands build their fires pretty much the way we do, except they pick 'em up to take to the next island when they leave."

"What do you mean, they pick their fire up and take it with them?"

"You see, lad, they don't have the powder and the flint to start a new fire each time. They takes the coals of their fire in a kind of scoop made from the bark of some tree or another that grows on the coast of South America."

"Oh, I see." Something rang a bell in Charles' mind. He couldn't quite figure what it was, but there was something to do with the fire, and the fact that the Indians didn't start their fires the same as civilized men. He paced back and forth, trying to bring to life the thing that bothered him about the fire pit. He had to stay on this island while the first group of men sailed to the next!

As the men made ready to sail the following morning, Timmy asked, "Would you like to go on the first trip, lad? We have enough room for you, and it looks to be easy sailin'."

"No, I think I'll stay here and look about some more."

Timmy smiled the way a kindly Grandfather would, and shook Charles' hand. "I wishes you luck, lad. To be true, though, I be more worried about gettin' back to where civilized man lives than findin' the treasure. I know it has to be somewhere, but it's a big ocean. And old Captain Morgan was a mighty clever man. He may have hid it too good for us to ever find."

Charles took all this to mean Timmy was ready to give up the search completely. He vowed to himself that he wouldn't give up. He'd never give up until the treasure was his!

All the men staying behind went down to the beach to see the others off, then slowly climbed back up the mountain to camp. Charles couldn't wait to head back to the fire pit. He knew he had seen something there that didn't fit in with Indians having built the fire. Now, all he had to do was find it! Once more, he stood looking at the inside of the fire pit for some time. "I know I saw something here that doesn't fit with Indians." Charles laughed when he realized he was talking out loud to himself.

He got down on his hands and knees, slowly crawling around the outside of the pit, examining every speck of everything. As he moved the grass gently from side to side with his hand, he wondered over and over what he was looking for. After crawling nearly all the way around the pit he froze. There before him, was the proof he needed - the thing which would prove it was Captain Morgan who camped here! "I knew it! I knew I saw something!"

He reached down amongst the rocks and picked up several small pieces of what might look like rock to someone who didn't know better. It was flint! Someone started a fire here with flint! Flint was not indigenous to the islands, so it had been brought here by outsiders. The Indians didn't use flint to start fires, so that left but one conclusion. Captain Morgan had been here! His men built this fire and threw the mango pits on the ground. Charles was sure of it! He hurried back to the camp as quickly as he could climb the hill.

He was out of breath and completely drenched in perspiration as he yelled, "Frederick! Look! I found proof! The treasure has to be here!" Scarface smiled as he took the small pieces of flint from Charles and moved them around in his hand, letting the sun glint off them.

"Matey, you've found it. This flint comes from the coast along the Spanish Main. Whoever left it here had been there. See how it sparkles like it has diamonds in it? The Main be the only place I've seen it."

Charles did a little dance and twirled around and
around, laughing. "I knew it was here, Frederick! I knew the treasure was on this island. I'll bet he didn't bury it too far from where they camped." Charles was as excited as a person could be. "Let's go lookin', Frederick!"

"First, let's put some food in our stomachs, lad. Then we'll look."

Charles barely chewed his food, he was in such a hurry. They started for Captain Morgan's campsite while still chewing on a slab of roast pig. The pork was salty, and when they arrived back at the spring, the first thing they did was drink of its cool water. Then they sat down on the rocks and did some figuring.

Scarface said, "If I was Captain Morgan, I wouldn't want to be carryin' the treasure any higher up this steep hill than I had to. It'd be slippery and slidy carryin' all that weight. I be thinkin' we should look below the camp."

Charles thought about it a moment and concluded Scarface was probably right. "Your right, Frederick. Which side do you want to search?" Charles was in an extremely happy mood, knowing the treasure was but a few minutes away from being theirs!

"I'll take the other side, as before."

Charles stood looking down the hill, trying once more to imagine where he would bury the treasure if he was Captain Morgan. Frederick crossed the stream, and they searched back and forth across a wider area than they had before, as they descended toward the beach.

When they were about two thirds of the way down, Scarface called out, "Charles, Matey! Come quick!"

Charles thought it very strange for Frederick to call him by his proper name. It was but the second time he had done so. There was excitement in Scarface's voice, and Charles knew he'd found something! Charles worked his way across the stream and called out, "Where are you, Frederick?" He followed the sound of Frederick's voice to where he stood looking at the ground. It was back in the dense undergrowth, some distance from the stream.

"I stepped into what I thought was a hole and cursed as I fell. When I looked to see what I stepped in, I see what looks like a step dug into the side of the hill. Look here." He showed Charles another step above that one, and another above that.

"You know what methinks, Laddie?"

Charles quickly answered, "If we follow the steps, they'll lead us to the treasure!"

"That be me thinkin', lad."

Charles had a smile on his face wide enough to sail a longboat through as they quickly followed what was left of a very definite set of steps cut into the hillside. As they climbed uphill Charles said, "It would make it much easier to carry the treasure to have sure footing."

Scarface agreed, "Aye!" He was as excited as Charles, now. He, too, dreamed of wealth and living in luxury, with all the fine things treasure like this could buy. The higher they climbed, the louder the waterfall became, and Charles realized they were headed directly for it. The steps didn't go straight up the hill, but angled back toward the stream at the foot of the falls. That's where they ended!

They stood looking at the waterfall with a puzzled look on their faces for several minutes. Then a smile spread across Charles' face. "I think I know where the treasure be, Frederick."

"Where?"

"In the bottom of the pool!" Charles smiled at being so clever.

"Why would he put it there?"

"Don't you see, they would have to dig an enormous hole to bury the treasure if they put it somewhere else. And remember, Captain Morgan wanted to get to Barbados about the time he should, so's to throw anyone following off the trail. So he just dumped the treasure in the pool, thinking he'd be back shortly to collect it."

Scarface nodded as he looked at the swirling water. "The Captain grew up on Barbados and sailed these waters as a trader for years before turnin' to raidin' the Spanish towns. I'd bet he knew just where this spot be and had his thievery planned all along."

Charles readily agreed, and the only way to find out what was on the bottom of the pool was to search it.

Chapter Fourteen

He quickly removed his clothes and dived into the water, crying out at the shock of the cold. Taking in all the air he could, Charles swam to the bottom of the pool. All he saw was rock and a few sprigs of plant life. He swam around as long as he could, then came up to get another gulp of air. Down he went, again and again, but after searching the entire bottom of the pool, found nothing that looked like treasure.

Finally, he climbed from the icy water, dried himself with his shirt, and sat looking dejectedly at the pool. Scarface was disappointed, also. They had both been so sure the treasure would be there. "I don't understand, Frederick. I knew the bottom of the pool would be covered with treasure. It's the only thing that makes sense."

"Aye, I be as sure as you we'd found the treasure."

Charles thought of his family for the first time in weeks. It embarrassed him that he had forgotten them for so long. He had such grand dreams of going home a wealthy man, and now he was having doubts. Everything seemed to fit so perfectly, but the treasure wasn't there! He stared for a long while at the huge slabs of rock at the bottom of the waterfall. Scarface lay back on the grass, watching the clouds floating overhead, thoroughly disappointed.

Suddenly, Charles jumped up, and without saying anything, dived back into the pool and swam directly to the rocks. So much water cascaded from above he could barely see where he was going when he got close to the bottom of the falls. He grabbed onto a rock and pulled himself up against the stinging pressure of the water.

They had assumed the wall behind the falls came straight down, but over the millions of years the water had probably fallen, it carved out a large area of the hillside behind the falls. Not all the water in the pool came from the falls visible from the outside. Water ran from a large fissure in the rock behind them, which the falls concealed. This had also served to dig out the side of the hill. An unseen pool had formed behind the falls. The large rocks at the base of the falls were chunks of the hillside, which had given way to the ever-present pressure of the water flowing from behind. This is what gave Charles the idea there might be an open space behind the falls.

After battling his way through the torrents of water, he found himself in a pool larger than the one outside. Charles dragged himself up onto a rock ledge, out of the water. He was terribly winded after forcing his way through the tumbling water. With his feet dangling in the icy water, a smile crossed his face. This time, Charles knew he'd found the treasure! There was very little light, so he wouldn't be able to see beneath the surface. He'd have to go by feel. When he slipped into the water, he found it was just slightly over his head, and he just sort of bobbed away from the ledge.

Charles went but a couple of paces when he felt something beneath his feet that wasn't made by nature. He upended himself and felt around it with his hands. It was a small metal box! He found handles on either end, hoisted it to waist level, and bounced back to the ledge. When he raised the box out of the water, it nearly slipped from his hands. It was much heavier out of water, and it took all his strength to lift the box to the ledge and slide it far enough to keep it from falling back in.

Charles placed his hands on the ledge and heaved his body up. He was half way up when he froze in terror. There, right next to his hand was a human skull! He threw himself back into the icy water and jumped away from the ledge. He didn't stop until his feet hit something solid and hurt his heel. He pulled his foot up to massage it, all the while staring at the blob of humanity barely visible in the dim light next to his treasure chest.

Then he lowered himself in the water and pulled up the object that had caused him pain. It was a beautiful large candelabra of gold! He thought no more of the skull on the ledge, but felt his way around the bottom and realized he was walking atop piles of treasure. He pulled first one item then the next from the bottom, looked at it and lowered it back into the water.

Finally, he forced himself back to the ledge and once more hoisted himself up. There was room to stand on the ledge, and he slowly made his way to the rear of the cave carved out by the water. Bones and skulls lay everywhere. This was what became of Captain Morgan's crew! He'd murdered them and left their bones to guard his treasure!

Charles worked his way carefully through the bones, back to the chest, opened the latch on the front, and lifted the lid. Even in the dim light filtering through the falls, he could see the sparkle of the gems inside! Finding the skeletons had dampened his excitement, but now, he screamed out at the top of his voice, "I found it! I knew it was here! I found the treasure! Old Captain Morgan wasn't so clever after all." Charles let out such a scream, he was sure Frederick could hear it outside the roaring falls. Knowing he could never make it through the falls by himself with the box, he took just a good-sized handful of gems and lowered the lid. Then he nearly drowned in his excitement to get back through the falls to show Frederick!

All this time, Scarface paced back and forth close to the falls, worried about Charles. He couldn't see nor hear him after he went behind the waterfall, and was about to jump into the pool to look for him when Charles re-appeared.

Clinging to a rock Charles screamed, "I found it! I found it!" He rested for a minute, then swam to the side of the pool where Frederick waited, handed him the emeralds, and laughed almost uncontrollably. Then he pulled himself from the water, lay down on his clothes and said quietly, "We really found it, Frederick. I knew it had to be here. We found Captain Morgan's treasure, Mate."

Scarface stared at the gems in disbelief, pouring them from one hand to the other for a long time before speaking. Then he suddenly began his little dance of joy, waving his arms in the air, laughing and saying, "Charles, me lad, we be wealthy men! We be very, very wealthy men. Let's go get the treasure!"

This time, they went to the side of the falls and worked their way behind it by a much easier route than Charles had taken. Scarface stayed on the ledge, while Charles dived and brought up all the small boxes he could lift and a large number of gold statues, candle holders, and such. They had once been in wooden crates, which had long since rotted away. The bottom of the pool was solid rock, so nothing had been buried in a muddy bottom.

After hoisting treasure out of the pool for hours, Charles finally had to stop to rest. He sat on the ledge and looked at the huge pile. What they'd already removed from the pool was enough to make every man of them very wealthy, and it was but a small fraction of what still lay on the bottom. They returned outside to rest and escape the cold and damp.

As they lay in the warm sun, Scarface said, "Laddie, there be far more treasure here than we be able to carry in our small boat."

Charles laughed at himself for not having thought of that problem. They'd found the treasure, but now what would they do with it! How in the world would they get all the treasure off the island? Captain Morgan had a whole shipload, and they had but a craft smaller than a longboat! And that boat had to eventually carry seventeen men somewhere!

After resting in the sun, they again went behind the falls and brought out the silver box filled with jewels. Scarface led the way, easing into the water with the box slung over his shoulder. Charles stayed right behind him and helped to hold up the weight of the box. When they were out of the pool, Charles wiped his hair with his shirt and put his clothes back on.

He looked at Frederick and laughed. "You didn't even bother to take your clothes off, mate!"

"Aye, they be needin' a good washin', anyway." He laughed loudly. "With this treasure we'll never have to worry about washin' clothes again. We'll wear the new ones once and throw 'em away! Let's quick, get back to camp to tell the buggers you was right!"

"Aye. They'll be surprised to find we've not wasted our time, as they thought." Charles threw his arms around Scarface and said, "We really found it, Frederick. We really found it!"

They both wiped tears from their eyes and trudged up the hill, sharing the load of the fine silver box. Charles was as happy as he could have imagined he would be at finding the treasure. He couldn't wait to remove it from the cave behind the falls.

When they stopped half way up the hill to rest Scarface said, "Tis been a tirin' day, lad."

"Aye, but the best we'll ever know." Charles smiled as he wiped the heavy perspiration from his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

Scarface laughed and said, "Aye, that be true enough - the best day we'll ever have, Laddie. Shall we get on up the hill?" As heavy as the box was, it seemed a light load.

Reaching the top of the mountain, they walked side-by-side, carrying the large box between them, talking loudly and cheering over and over that they actually had the treasure. When they arrived at the camp and the other men saw the silver box, they knew what it meant. Everyone eagerly ran their fingers through the gems, holding now this one, then that one to the light to see it sparkle.

As relieved and excited as Charles was at finding the treasure, he was hungry enough to wrestle a wild pig.

Henry said, "Laddie, take us to the treasure. Where'd you find it?"

"Would you mind if Frederick showed you. I'm mighty tired and hungry." He was glad Frederick was willing to go down the hill once more. Charles sat against a tree in the sun, dozing off, contented. The hunt for, and discovery of the treasure had been too much excitement for one day. Now, it was a matter of figuring out how to get the treasure off the island. Charles thought about it as he fell asleep.

...

Although they decided to leave the treasure behind the waterfall until Timmy returned with the boat, everyone had some sort of ring on several fingers and two or three gold chains about their necks. Each day, they went back to look at the treasures, exchanging rings or gold chains for something they found more appealing. It was a fun time for everyone. Several of the men hunted pigs every day and smoked what they couldn't eat. They soon had a good stock of provisions. Enough mangos were picked that the trees were soon bare of fruit. Charles learned to love the sweet yellow meat of the mango.

Sitting around the fire after eating one evening Charles said, "Mates, we cannot carry much of the treasure from the island in our little boat, so we'll have to return with a ship large enough to hold it all. I'd like to propose we take just enough with us to purchase a good ship and supplies that we might return for the treasure."

His idea was met with some grumbling, but in the end, everyone agreed there was no way to carry even a small portion of the treasure without a proper ship. Some of the men even suggested they stay and guard the treasure until the others returned with a ship.

Scarface laughed at this suggestion. "And who you goin' to guard it from, the little piggies we been feastin' on? Laddies, the treasure be there unfound for nigh on to twenty years. Who do you think'll find it while we goes for a ship?"

Charles smiled at Frederick. If nothing else, he usually came right to the heart of a matter. He told the men, "I know what a temptation it be, mates, but we must not wear or carry any of the treasure off the island with us - just a small bag of jewels with which to purchase a ship. There be no danger of anyone finding our treasure if we don't give them reason to believe we found it. I'm sure there be people in Kingston, who knew where we be headed when we sailed. If we showed back up with anything that looked like treasure, they'd surely try to follow us back here."

One of the men that Charles had always been a little afraid of laughed and said, "And how be it you proposes we gets back to Kingston anyway, lad? Have you forgotten, we have no way?"

The man didn't know it, but he had just given Charles an idea. All along, he had thought of returning to Jamaica, but what was the need? There were ships for sale at other ports around the Carribean!

"Frederick, did you not tell me that St. Eustatius was an open port, where ships from all countries anchor side by side?"

"Aye, Laddie." Scarface got a gleam in his eyes, knowing what Charles was thinking.

"And would it not be a much easier sail to St. Eustatius from our island, than to try to sail all the way to Jamaica?"

Now the others understood what he was getting at. They readily agreed it would be better to sail to St. Eustatius. Not only would it be a shorter, less hazardous sail, but no one there knew they had gone looking for Captain Morgan's treasure. No one in Kingston should have known, but Charles was afraid one of the men might have said something to an outsider while drinking.

The men were beginning to respect Charles and think less of him as a mere boy. After all, it was he who found the treasure, when everyone else had given up hope of it being on this island. He may not have been much of a sailor, but he was plenty smart, and he had a lot of stick-to-itiveness about him.

They had been so engrossed in their discovery, no one thought about how long overdue the boat was. One evening as they ate, Scarface stroked the rather lengthy beard he had grown since they left Jamaica and said, "Lads, I be worried about Timmy and the men. They be a bit late, don't they? The winds haven't been so bad. I wonder if they've run into trouble."

Henry said, "If I remember rightly, the next island should have been but a two day sail from here, maybe four to five days for the return."

Scarface asked, "How long they been gone?"

Henry rubbed his chin and said, "As I recollect, it's been eleven days."

Scarface continued to stroke his beard with no more comment than, "Hmmmm." The horrible thought occurred to Charles that if Timmy and his crew lost the boat somewhere between here and the next island, he and the treasure might be stuck on this island forever. All the treasure in the world would be worthless to them! He started looking at the trees on the island with the idea of building another boat if that became necessary. Now that he'd found the treasure, Charles was determined not to be stranded here for the rest of his life!

After several days of scouting around the island, he told Frederick, "I've found the best place to build another boat, and I think I know which trees would be best to use."

"Ah, don't give up on Timmy just yet, lad. There could be a lot of reasons why they be late comin' back."

"Like what?" Charles was trying to get some reassurance from his friend.

"Maybe they had to repair the boat. They may have hit a rocky shore like this'un and stove in the hull. They'd get it fixed and come back. Timmy'd never leave us landlocked, mate." Since Charles found the treasure, Scarface had taken to calling him "mate" more often than "Laddie."

"But what if they wrecked the boat completely? They'd be stranded, too."

"Aye, I've thought of that." Scarface stared out to sea and rubbed his scar.

Charles said, "I think perhaps we should start building a raft to sail to St. Eustatius. If Timmy shows up, we will have wasted little - just our labor."

"I think you be right, mate. We not are doin' nuthin' but sittin' around gettin' soft, anyway. I don't think we be able to build a boat, but we can build us a raft."

Charles wondered if they should go for a ship or go seeking after Timmy and his crew. He wanted to go to St. Eustatius and get a ship first, but he wondered if he was just being greedy and worrying more about the treasure than Timmy and the missing crewmen.

They began building a raft the following day. Everyone was anxious to start spending their newfound wealth, so they pitched in enthusiastically. As they worked, Charles and Frederick discussed the pros and cons of whether to go look for Timmy, or go straight for St. Eustatius, but they didn't talk to the other men about it. And there was another question. Should they build a raft large enough for all the men to get off the island, or large enough for just two or three people to sail to St. Eustatius.

After much discussion, they decided three people would be the best size crew for the raft they could build in a reasonable amount of time. The others would stay to await the Timmy's return, if he should make it back. If they sailed farther south on the raft in search of Timmy, they would have that much farther to sail to St. Eustatius. The camp was moved to the area Charles had selected to build the raft, and everyone pitched in to begin the long task.

Luckily, they still had a good bit of sailcloth with which to make a sail. Charles just wished they had some of the planking left on the island where their ship was wrecked. Over the years, many trees had been uprooted or broken off close to the ground by the storms. They would use these to build the raft. Not only would they be dried out and more buoyant, but it would save the labor of cutting trees down. All they had to work with were a few knives and two cutlasses.

When the other boat was built, twenty men worked on it, but now there were only nine. Two men had to hunt and bring water from the spring every day, so just seven were left to do the work.

Cutlasses were used to hack the logs into a fairly square shape, then the ends were chopped to curve upward on one side. This would create somewhat of a bow to push against the water. The hardest job was boring holes through the logs, that they might be pegged together. Charles assumed part of this task and quickly had blisters on both hands from turning a knife around and around, using it like a drill. The blisters quickly broke and began to bleed.

"Mate, you better let me have the knife. Your hands is goin' to be in awful shape."

"I want to help, Frederick. I can't sit around watchin', while the rest does all the work."

When Scarface shrugged his shoulders and walked away, Henry said, "Laddie, I'll take over for you now. I have nothin' to do."

He reluctantly gave Henry the knife and washed his hands in the ocean. It stung terribly, but he knew it was a good healer. Charles sat down on the beach, watching the men work, and realized though none of them had ever accomplished much during their lifetimes, they were the best friends he could ever hope to find. He smiled when he thought about how he'd been afraid of half of the men. But after all they'd been through together, Charles had to respect the gang of ex-pirates. With the treasure, they would now be somebody and could well afford to have anything they wanted.

Two weeks after construction began, there was still no sign of Timmy, and the raft was complete, except for fitting it with a proper sail. They smoothed the bottom with their knives to make it fairly flat, and now they must turn it right side up. It took all the strength they could muster to raise it to the point where it could be flipped over on its bottom. To Charles, it seemed like enough work for an entire day, but now he became excited at the prospect of finally getting off the island to find a ship.

As Charles and Scarface sat on the edge of the raft looking at the stars that evening Charles asked, "How much longer ya figure it'll take to finish our ship, Frederick?"

Scarface rubbed his eyes, yawned, and said, "Well, we needs to attach the mast and yardarm, then the oarlocks. I think we be ready to sail in three days."

Three days later, with the mast and sail rigged, all that remained was to put their provisions aboard. Scarface sewed together three bags from sailcloth to fill with gems, and each man aboard would have a bag tied about his waist, under his clothing. Any one of the bags contained enough treasure to buy the finest ship afloat. But they would take three bags in the event a man was washed overboard, he wouldn't be taking the price of their ship to the bottom with him.

The time came to select who would go and who would stay, and Charles had assumed they would draw straws as before, but the men had already decided. Charles would go, along with Scarface and Henry. Without saying so, the other six decided these three would not only stand a better chance of navigating to St. Eustatius, but would be more adept at buying a ship. Charles had mixed feelings about going, but he knew Scarface would be the best among them to navigate and sail their little craft, and he felt he should stick with his friend.

The first stop would be at the island where they were shipwrecked to rest for a day or two and refill their water casks before continuing on. The sail to St. Eustatius would be a long one. With a ship and crew it would be a five or six day journey, but there was far less sail to push the raft.

Chapter Fifteen

Charles, Scarface and Henry set sail at daybreak, as the rest of the men pushed the raft out as far as they could without getting into water over their heads. The men joked about needing a bath, anyway, and splashed about playfully in the water as the trio rowed toward the open sea. Two oarlocks were fitted atop stanchions at either side of the raft, and small blocks attached to the deck braced their feet as they rowed. This was Frederick's idea.

Charles and Henry rowed against the surf while Scarface manned the rudder. They turned to wave at the men on the beach as they cleared the small coral reef, and the sea settled to long, low swells. Charles was surprised at how far out they were. Their little ship was going to sail just fine! He wondered what they would look like to people who saw them sailing onto the beach at St. Eustatius. Their "ship" was anything but pretty!

When the raft was a ways beyond the breakers, they stopped rowing and let the wind take over their labors. Charles watched the island disappear in the remote distance as he sat atop the water keg.

Scarface, too, was pleased with the raft. He said, "We be makin' good headway, lads. We'll be in St. Eustatius afore you knows it."

Charles asked, "You think we'll have a problem findin' a ship, Frederick?"

"Nay, mate. There be all kinds of souls in St. Eustatius to sell you whatever you desire."

The breeze wasn't in their favor, and a full eight days of tacking back and forth against the wind brought them to the "shipwreck" island. To Charles' amazement, Scarface sailed them unerringly, directly to this place, which held such mixed memories for him. Their water casks were still half full, but they would refill them with fresh water at the island. As they beached the raft, Charles thought about Timmy and his crew, and hoped they made it to the island without foundering at sea. The treasure was important, but he'd give it all to spare his shipmates.

Coming back to the island was almost like a homecoming. Scraps of the ship still lay about on the beach, already weathered by the sea and the hot Carribean sun. The lean-to they built was there except for the sailcloth, which they took when they left. After tying two stout lines from the raft to a tree, they lay down on the beach and promptly went to sleep. The sleeping arrangements on the raft were not exactly ideal, and they were weary to the bones from catching just an hour or so sleep at a time. The logs of the raft were just too uncomfortable to lay on to get any serious sleep. They slept through the evening and into the next dawn.

All three were in good humor after traversing the first leg of their journey and getting some real rest for a change. When they arrived at the spring with the water casks, Charles' fish trap was still there. They herded as many fish into it as they could easily carry back to the beach, and after eating half the fish cooked over the open fire, Scarface smoked the rest. They had planned to rest for two days before continuing, but were anxious to get back to the treasure and go seeking after Timmy. So, the following morning, they once more set sail.

The plan was to sail first to St. Lucia, where they could land if it became necessary. St. Lucia was an island settled by the English, but if they landed there, people would wonder why they would sail back out on such a frail craft. Frederick said there surely would not be a ship for sale at the island, anyway. Often, as many as a hundred ships or more anchored in the roadstead at St. Eustatius. Scarface was sure one of the captains would be willing to part with his ship for the right price - no questions asked!

Once past St. Lucia, they would stay just a short distance off shore, on the leeward side of the islands. They'd be just close enough to run the raft up on the beach if a storm was brewing, but far enough out that no one would notice the small raft.

They were blessed with some of the best weather Scarface had ever seen in the area this time of year. Often, they talked about the other men, and what they might be doing - especially Timmy and his crew. They were almost to St. Eustatius when Charles thought of another problem they hadn't talked about, and laughed out loud.

The breeze had changed direction somewhat and was more in their favor, the seas were shallow, and Charles sat on the water keg half asleep, thinking about getting back to the treasure. He suddenly burst out in laughter and asked, "Frederick, how are three of us going to sail a ship back to the island?"

Scarface and Henry laughed loudly. "Why do you always come up with these problems, mate?" The truth of it was, they hadn't even thought of it! "I guess we'll have to be findin' us a crew."

"But they'll know about the treasure!"

"Lad, how many men would you say the treasure would make wealthy?" Scarface smiled at Charles.

"Uh, I suppose hundreds."

"Aye. We'll cut 'em in for a share with the threat of certain hangin' if they ever reveals the source of their wealth."

That satisfied him. Frederick was right. There was enough treasure to go around for two hundred men. If they cut in a crew of fifteen, it wouldn't make a lot of difference. Still, he thought it a bit dangerous.

St. Eustatius finally came into view three weeks after they left the island. Instead of the normal cry of "Land Ho" from a crow's nest, Scarface waited until they were close to the island, then said matter-of-factly, "Yonder lies our destination, mates."

Charles and Henry lay on the rough deck of the raft half asleep. They jumped up and were surprised to see the island but a few kilometers ahead. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"

Scarface laughed and said, "The two of you be sleepin' so sound, I figured I'd wait and surprise you. We'll be sailin' to the north of the island to land. I think if we landed in the anchorage people may be too curious about our ship."

Scarface steered to the west, passing by the island, then turned back to approach from the north. As they passed two small fishing boats, the men aboard stared curiously, but waved in greeting. Landing on a narrow beach at the foot of the volcano, which created the island, they didn't even bother to secure the raft. Like the long boat Charles and Scarface abandoned earlier, the raft had served its purpose and was unceremoniously abandoned to be washed about by the surf. Scarface didn't bother to tell Charles the raft was waterlogged, and in another three days on the water it would have sunk!

This side of the island rose steeply from the sea, and it was a two hour walk up and around the mountain to the town on the other side. The land sloped more gently on the port side of the island. Ships had to anchor some distance out, because of the shallow water. Small boats ferried cargo back and forth between ship and shore. Charles was amazed that a few hours before, they had been all alone on the ocean, and now, they watched the busiest port in the Carribean. It seemed there were hundreds of the small cargo boats in the roadstead.

The town sat about half way up the mountain from the myriad of waterfront warehouses. It was nothing like Kingston, but was, nevertheless, all hustle and bustle. It seemed there were people from everywhere. English, French, Dutch, Spanish, and some they didn't even recognize.

As they approached the edge of town Scarface said, "Lads, methinks the first thing to do is get a good meal and new clothes. I knows a merchant that'll trade us currency for jewels. In me pirate days I be doin' some business with him."

When they arrived outside the small shop Scarface said, "It might be best if you waited outside."

In less than five minutes, he returned with a pocketful of money. The bulge in his shirt pocket was obvious, and he split it into approximate thirds, giving Charles and Henry each a portion.

"We must be careful, lads. There be people here who would slit your throat for a farthing. That's why it be best we came here. It be a place you can easily do business, with no questions asked."

Scarface next led them to a very noisy, smoke filled eating establishment. After a huge meal, the next stop was a tailor shop and clothiers. If they were going to try to buy a ship, they must look as though they could afford it. Once properly clothed, they rented a room at the inn and bathed. Only the wealthier visitors could afford a room at the inn. The less fortunate slept anywhere they could find a spot among the warehouses, or in the woods on the side of the mountain. All three trimmed their hair and beards. When Charles looked in the mirror he thought, "My family would surely not recognize me."

They walked down the winding road to the waterfront warehouse area, and Scarface spotted one of the larger buildings with a sign on it in Dutch, but which he recognized. It was a shipping company.

"This be as good a place to start as any, mates. It be a big shippin' company. They should have a good many ships. Perhaps they'll be willin' to let one of 'em go for the right price."

Scarface led the way through the door of the office, and they were greeted by a smile from a rather lovely lady not a lot older than Charles. She spoke no English, but summoned a man from the next office through a doorway. His broken English left a lot to be desired, but it was sufficient for their purpose.

Charles said, "We be lookin' to buy a ship, Sir."

The man smiled and asked, "Why do you come to me?"

"You be in the shippin' business, be you not?"

"Yes, but I have no ships for sale."

"Not even if the price be quite right? We are not concerned with price. We be payin' more than what's fair for a good ship. Of course, we would want to inspect her before the payment is made in full."

The man rubbed his hand back across his almost bald head and told them to wait. He disappeared into the office from which he'd come and returned with another man.

"This is my brother and partner. We will both have to talk with you. Do you have the money in Dutch coin?" Now, Charles was a little hesitant. He wasn't sure if they should divulge their means of payment yet or not.

Scarface asked, "Might we talk in your office, Sir?"

"Yes, I suppose. Come."

Once inside, Scarface pulled the bag he carried from under his shirt, grabbing it in the middle so as to let only about half the jewels pour out on the desktop. Both men gasped, and their eyes grew large when they saw the jewels.

"You must understand, we do not want anyone to know how we pay for the ship, and we want the best ship you have available. She must be armed to protect herself and well provisioned."

The two men picked up several of the jewels and conversed with one another in their native language for a full five minutes before speaking to them again. Scarface could see in their eyes and their animated gestures that they wanted what was left in the bag.

The man who spoke English asked excitedly, "May we see the rest?"

"You tell me what you offer first."

"We have a beautiful ship. Almost new. We just came by her a short time ago. She is, as you said, very well armed and of the latest design. Do you know what an East Indiaman is?"

They all smiled. Indeed they did! Scarface said, "Aye, we be familiar with the ship."

"We have one that attacked a Spanish ship and was captured. We bought her from the commander of the Spanish fleet."

Scarface and Charles looked at one another, wondering if this could be Captain Swain's ship!

Charles asked, "How badly was she damaged?"

"Not at all. You see, the English Captain sailed alongside a galleon and boarded her. What he didn't know, there were two hundred Spanish soldiers hidden in the hold."

Scarface didn't like the way the Dutchman smiled at this, but they needed a ship.

He asked, "Can ya take us to see her?"

"Would you be willing to trade the rest of the jewels, also, for so fine a ship?"

Charles said, "We'll talk about that when we've seen the ship."

The two brothers fell all over each other trying to accommodate them. The jewels still in the bag alone, were worth three times what the ship was worth, and they knew it. They probably bought the ship from the captain for ten percent of her worth and could make a fabulous profit on her sale. The Spanish captain would have to sell the ship cheap. He was supposed to turn the ship over to the Spanish authorities. Charles wondered out loud, "I wonder what happened to the crew of the ship."

As the English speaker scooped the jewels from the top of his desk and placed them in a small box he said, "You know how vicious the Spanish can be. They are totally uncivilized. I am afraid they had their fun with the captain and his crew before throwing them overboard."

Charles cringed! He wasn't sure if he wanted to sail on that ship or not.

Both brothers accompanied them in a cargo boat rowed by eight black slaves. It was Charles' first encounter with slavery, and he felt sorry for the black men. The Dutch, like everyone else, considered them no more than beasts of burden to use and wear out, then bury and buy more. Charles smiled. He thought perhaps he knew where to get a crew! What if they were to steal some of the slaves from their masters? He liked the idea! Of course, he could have bought all the slaves he wanted, but he would rather set the black men free without paying for them. It would seem more like justice. All he had to do was figure out how to steal them. He knew the Dutchmen would probably throw in the slaves as part of the deal to get the remainder of the jewels, but it would seem more like justice if he stole them.

They rowed out among the ships riding at anchor, and as they rounded one of them, Charles let out a quiet gasp. Anchored alongside another of the ships the brothers owned, was the ship he had sailed on from England! It was Captain Swain and his crew that the Spanish fed to the fish! Charles thanked providence that he was not still aboard when Captain Swain attacked the Spanish Galleon. He knew the Dutch brothers were in business to make money, but he had little respect for them making money this way. Now, he decided he would definitely figure a way to steal as many of their slaves as he could. It would be his bit of revenge for their business dealings with murderers.

The brothers hadn't lied about the condition of the ship. It was in perfect order. Charles, Scarface and Henry inspected her thoroughly from stem to stern. The Spanish captain had left all the muskets, boarding pikes, cutlass, cannon, powder, and cannonballs aboard. He didn't dare show up in Spain and have to explain where they acquired casks of powder with English writing.

The Dutchman asked, "So, we have a deal?"

Charles stepped in front of him and asked, "Sir, would you be willing to send at least fifty of your slaves to clean the ship thoroughly?"

"But it is in very good condition."

"Yes, but we would like for it to be scrubbed down and cleaned, inside and out to rid it of the smell of the Spanish. I think the price we are paying should allow you to do that!"

Scarface tried to keep from laughing. He knew exactly what Charles had in mind. The man asked Henry how a young boy could enter into the bargaining so.

"We be partners, Sir. The lad be an equal partner in the purchase. If you be wantin' to sell the ship, you'll have to honor his request."

The man was so caught up in the idea of getting the rest of the jewels, he'd have sold his mother along with the ship. So the deal was made, and later the same day, fifty slaves reported shipside. When they were aboard, Scarface asked among them if they had ever sailed a ship. Although there was the language barrier, he finally figured out that five of the slaves had at least a bit of experience. That would do. They could teach the others.

Charles had the slaves look busy, as though they were indeed scrubbing the ship down. All the while, Scarface explained about furling and unfurling the sails, raising the anchor, and trimming the sails. They spent all the next day explaining the operation of the ship before they felt they could leave the anchorage. Henry took several of the slaves ashore and bought provisions enough to feed a small army.

The ship was anchored fairly close in and headed in the wrong direction. Its bow pointed ashore, with the breeze holding it in this position. When darkness fell the second day, they very slowly winched the bow anchor from the bottom. By the time the anchor was secured on the side of the hull, the ship drifted around the stern anchor until its bow was pointed seaward. Then, they quietly unfurled enough of the foresail to move the boat slowly before the wind. With this done, they raised the aft anchor, and the slight breeze moved the ship seaward.

Scarface stood at the wheel steering between the few ships anchored seaward. It seemed to Charles forever before they were far enough out to shout orders to rig the ship for sailing without being heard ashore. But finally, the men scrambled up the nets to the mainsail and dropped it, while men on deck took in the lines.

Chapter Sixteen

Charles stood with Scarface at the wheel, while Henry directed their amateur crew. He had a huge smile on his face, and when Scarface looked over and saw it, he laughed out loud for the longest time.

"Well, matey, we made a fool of that blackard."

"Aye, that we did. You know, Frederick, it felt good to outwit them and steal their slaves."

"You see, lad, you do be a bit of a pirate." They both laughed at the trick played on the Dutchmen. Of course, the value of the jewels was probably four times the price of the ship and the black men. Charles decided the slaves would be freed after they recovered the treasure and found Timmy - if Timmy were to be found.

He didn't sleep that night, but stood by the rail watching the water splash back along the bow and phosphoresce in the bright moonlight. Charles thought about how different the return trip to the island was than their journey to St. Eustatius. The East Indiaman was truly a remarkable ship.

Scarface turned the wheel over to Henry and stood beside Charles. "Tis a different trip back to the treasure, mate."

"Aye, I was just thinkin' the same." Charles smiled, because things were working out just as he had imagined they would so long ago. Here he was, standing on the deck of this ship, of which he was now part owner, and the treasure awaited to make him fabulously wealthy. He thought about going home triumphant and smiled.

When he thought about his uncle Anthony, Charles realized how foolish he had been for wanting to prove to his Uncle he was a man. A real man didn't have to prove anything to anyone. He was ashamed he had felt that way. A lot had happened since the day Charles left his family and boarded this same ship in England. Most importantly, he had become a man. Not just physically, but he learned much about friendships and loyalty. Now he realized his attitude of needing to prove something to anyone was foolish.

Scarface took a turn sleeping, but Charles stayed at the rail until the sun came over the edge of the ocean in its beautiful blaze of colors, red, purple, orange and yellows lighting up the puffy low clouds stretched across the horizon. As Charles watched, the sky slowly changed from a kaleidoscope of colors to blazing yellow on the horizon and azure blue overhead. Scarface lay sound asleep atop a cargo hatch, with Henry at the wheel.

Charles asked, "How we be sailin', Henry?"

"Afore the wind, mate." Henry smiled broadly at him.

"Uh, Henry, I want to tell you something. When first we met at Timmy's house, I... well, I was a little afraid of you and many of the others. Now, ... well, I... thanks for being a good friend." He quickly added, "I think I'll be getting some sleep. Send someone to wake me if you need me." Charles found it extremely hard to try to apologize to Henry.

"Aye, matey." Henry smiled and nodded. The lad was worried that he might be needed. He liked Charles. Like Scarface, Henry saw himself thirty years earlier in this young lad.

Charles started to climb to the roof of the sterncastle to sleep, then laughed out loud and said to no one, "I'll sleep in the captain's cabin!" He found the bed to be ever so comfortable.

The next thing of which Charles was aware, Scarface shook him and asked, "Captain, Sir, would you be eatin' some supper with the crew, or do you prefer to be served in your cabin?"

"Hunh?" Charles sat up on the edge of the bed with his feet on the deck and rubbed his eyes with balled up fists.

"I was askin', will the Captain be eatin' supper with us, or would you prefer to have it sent to your cabin?"

"I believe I'll come eat with the crew, just to show 'em I'm one of 'em."

Scarface and Henry jokingly called him "Captain" for the remainder of the trip, and the black men began calling him "Captain." The slaves didn't know why the three white men laughed every time they called Charles "Captain," but they heard Henry and Scarface calling him that, so they followed suit.

The trip back took but four days, and they came in sight of the island well before sundown. Scarface didn't want to trust his inexperienced crew to get too close to the island. If they didn't do just what they were supposed to at the right time, they might run aground and wreck yet another ship. He sailed the ship close to the eastern side of the island, furled the sails, and dropped anchor. Henry stayed aboard with most of the slaves, while Charles and Scarface were rowed ashore by the rest.

The slaves didn't know what to think of the way these white men treated them. They were given the same food as their new masters and were never yelled at or beaten. It was hard for them to understand being treated as equals!

When they were close to shore Scarface began calling out, "Ahoy the island!" A trail of smoke drifted skyward from the signal fire the men kept burning atop the mountain, but the men were still camped where they built the raft. Charles watched the shoreline with the glass and saw one man waving, then the rest jumped up and down and waved excitedly. They ran down to the beach and jumped up and down, yelling and waving. When the longboat reached the beach, the men were there to pull the boat up on the sand. They all threw their arms about Charles and Scarface as if they were long lost brothers.

One of the men yelled, "You sailed back a beautiful ship!"

"Aye. Tis the ship Charles and I sailed on from England"

"How in the name of thunder did you come by it?"

"Ah, tis a long story. Would you be interested in sailin' her to the south of the island, so's we can load the treasure? Have you not seen Timmy?"

"Nay. I fear somethin' bad must of happened to 'em. Tis been a long while, they be gone."

"Let's sail the ship around south to load the treasure, then we'll go seekin' them."

"How'd the three of you sail her here?"

Scarface laughed and waved his hand at the black men standing by the longboat. "This be a few of me crew. Them, along with me and Henry and the Captain did just fine."

Charles smiled when the man asked, "The captain?"

"Aye." He laughed again, but gave no further explanation.

As the men accompanied them back to the ship in the longboat, they babbled continuously about how happy they were to see them return with the ship. They were soon anchored on the south side of the island, and when they went ashore, Henry again stayed aboard ship to look after things. As they rowed toward the beach in three boats, Charles told them of how they stole the slaves from the Dutchmen, and how poorly the slaves were treated. All the men laughed about their stealing the slaves right out from under the Dutchmen's noses. Then Charles told of his plan to free the black men. He said maybe they could give them a small portion of the treasure.

Only one man objected, saying, "We keep cuttin' it up, there won't be much left."

"Have you been into the cave behind the waterfall?"

"I have."

"Then you've seen how much treasure there be."

The man grumbled something under his breath, but Charles ignored it. As long as the rest of the men agreed with his idea, one dissenter was no problem. They landed on the narrow strip of beach beside the little stream and made their way uphill to the waterfall. Once there, they had a long days work ahead to remove the treasure from the cave

Charles and ten of the black men dove to the bottom of the small pool time and time again, lifting treasure onto the ledge, while the others carried it out and piled it beside the pool in front of the falls. It was nearly dark when Charles made his last inspection of the pool's bottom, and found nothing. He was sure there were probably a few loose jewels here and there, but it would be so difficult to find them, he didn't think it worth the bother.

Charles wasn't ready for the sight that greeted him when he finally emerged from behind the waterfall, tired and chilled to the bone. The men had a large fire burning and five pigs roasting. When he saw the stack of treasure, he stared in disbelief. There was enough to fill the hold of the ship. He couldn't believe they had removed that much treasure from the pool in one day! And what a treasure it was! There was a huge stack of ornamental gold objects, another of silver, and yet another stack of all sorts of boxes of jewelry laden with beautiful stones. There were eight large copper boxes filled with gold chains.

The smell of roast pig reminded Charles he hadn't eaten all day, and he had worked hard enough to have a ravenous appetite. As they sat by the fire eating Scarface said, "I be thinkin' we best wait until mornin' to load the treasure."

Charles lay back upon the matted down grass and said, "I'm so tired right now, I think you be right."

He rowed back out to the ship with several of the slaves to keep Henry company. The thought struck him that the slaves might decide since they now knew how to sail, they could take the ship and try to get back to their homeland. He wondered if they would like to go home to Africa. Maybe when they'd found Timmy and the other men, he could talk them into taking the black men home.

It took three days to load everything aboard the ship. They not only loaded all the treasure, but as much game as could be captured, and fruit as well. As the anchor was winched from the bottom and sails lowered into the wind, Charles stood at the rail watching the sun being consumed once more by the ocean and thought, "Now, Frederick is the captain of a real ship." He watched in great satisfaction, as Scarface called out orders for the great ship to get under way. Then he walked to the stern to watch his "treasure island" disappear in the distance. As anxious as he was to get back to civilization and go home to his family, Charles couldn't help but feel some sadness at leaving the island forever. It had been home for a time, and the island had certainly been good to him and his mates.

As the island disappeared into the sea, Charles wondered what they would find when they arrived at the island they thought Timmy was on. He was fearful as to the reason Timmy and his men hadn't returned. Had they died at sea in a storm? Had they found no water and died of thirst before they could return? Had the cannibalistic Carribe Indians eaten them? He knew he was uselessly speculating on their fate, but after all, they did sail away and never returned. And it had now been more than two months. He only hoped their boat foundered at an island and they'd find them alive and well, awaiting rescue.

The sail to the next island was smooth, and they arrived on the morning of the following day just after sunup. Timmy would have landed on the lee side of the island, so they anchored just offshore and fired three cannon, one after the other. The three rapid shots were an accepted signal to come to this spot. The entire crew watched as the men rowed toward the beach, but saw no sign of life. Five of the men, including Henry, went ashore with five slaves, and it was nearly sundown before they returned. The news wasn't good or bad. They scouted the entire island without finding their friends, but found signs of a campsite.

Henry said, "We saw no sign of water on the island. Methinks they would've gone on to the next island."

Scarface agreed, and they set sail for the next island in the chain. This was a much larger island. On the map, it appeared to be at least five times the size of the previous islands they had visited, and it was but a day's sail away. Anchoring on the northwest side of the island, they saw a fine white beach running as far as the eye could see.

Scarface scanned the beach with the spyglass, first to the north, then to the south. Suddenly, he yelled out, "Look! Look there!" He handed the glass to Henry and showed him where to aim it.

Henry exclaimed, "It be the boat! We've found 'em!"

Scarface called out, "Fire the signal!"

Henry wasted no time in getting a longboat lowered and shoved off for the beach. Everyone, including the slaves, watched as they approached the shore. They had fired three cannon shot, but no one appeared on the beach. This gave Scarface cause to worry.

"You know, Laddie, we be close enough to the continent for the savages to go huntin'. I hopes they didn't run afoul of the likes."

Charles didn't answer. He knew the Caribbes were cannibals, and the thought of his shipmates meeting such a fate was too unthinkable to ponder. They watched as Henry and the men pulled the boat onto the beach and inspected Timmy's boat. Scarface kept the glass trained on them as they approached the tree line. Suddenly, one of the slaves fell to the beach grabbing at his chest. Then another fell, and all the men ran back toward the longboat. When they got to the boat, the four men with muskets took aim at something and fired. They turned back toward the boat before the sound of the shots reached the ears of the people on the ship, and managed to get the boat into the water. The men rowed furiously from the beach, as if the devil, himself, was after them.

Then Scarface saw what they were running from. About thirty Indians ran across the beach throwing spears at the boat. Several glanced off its hull, but now they were too far out for the spears to be effective. As Scarface swung his spyglass back and forth along the beach, he saw another boat - a dugout. Ten men carried it from the tree line and threw it into the surf, climbing in and rowing after the longboat. One of the men in the longboat lay down in the stern and fired at the dugout, then another took his position and fired, followed by a third.

Scarface ran to the small swivel cannon mounted at the bow and rapidly loaded it first with black powder, then a wad of cloth stuffing. He pushed three large handfuls of shot into the barrel. The swivel cannon didn't fire a cannonball, but small pieces of metal. He poured black powder into the touch hole and handed Charles the torch he'd lit. "When I gives you the word, lad, touch the powder!" He looked down the barrel, lining it up on the dugout, and cried, "Now, Lad!"

When Charles touched the torch to the powder, the noise and smoke erupted as if he was in Hades! Scarface yelled again, "Look Laddie!" Charles looked toward the dugout and saw it had been ripped into two pieces. There was no evidence of any of the ten men who had been aboard. "We got the buggers, Laddie!" All the slaves ran to the rail facing the beach, and when they saw the dugout disappear below the water, cheered.

A ladder on the side of the ship was let down to the water, and Charles and Scarface were both at the bottom to grab the rope, when the longboat pulled up. As the slaves climbed to the deck, Henry said, "I guess we know what happened to our mates."

One of the slaves spoke up. It was the first they had heard any of them speak English. He spoke with a heavy accent, but he did know English fairly well.

"Them be Caribbes. Them be very bad."

Charles said, "You speak English!"

"Ye, some Englitch."

"Why have you not spoken before?"

"Not good slave man say Englitch. Masta hurt, say Englitch."

"You'll not be harmed here for speaking English. We're going to take you back to your home when the time is right, if you want to go."

The man looked quizzically at Charles, as if he didn't understand. Charles wished he knew their word for home. Once more Charles spoke the words, but this time very slowly, "We take you home when we can."

The man grinned and yelled at the other slaves, "Tomacuh momnek masta, maki comomaca!" The slaves all cheered.

"What did you say to them?", Charles asked, gesturing at the other slaves.

"Me tell, littler masta take Bomwasi comomac, er, uh, 'ome. Littler masta, you take 'ome?"

"Yes, but first we must get our friends off the island." Again Charles spoke slowly, hoping he'd understand. He did.

"We Bomwasi! We masta land where 'ome!" The huge black man pummeled his chest with his fists. "We, uh.." He couldn't find the word in English he wanted, but got the message across to Charles. He pointed toward the island and shook his fist rapidly. He meant they would get rid of the Indians on the island. Charles nodded to let him know he understood. He reached out, took the man's hand in his, and shook it. The slave smiled and patted Charles on top the head.

"Bomwasi do frien'." Then he bent down so Charles could pat the top of his head. This brought another cheer from the slaves. Evidently, among his tribe, patting on the head was the same as shaking a person's hand, and it meant you were friends.

The man spoke to the others for several minutes in his own language, then told Charles, "Bomwasi need uh...," Again, he was lost for words. "Meecha, Meecha." He made a motion as if throwing a spear.

Charles asked, "Spear?" The black man looked at him questioningly. Charles motioned for him to follow and led him to the small armory. There, locked in a rack, were about thirty boarding pikes. They were the closest thing to spears they had aboard.

When Charles pointed at them, the man said excitedly, "Meecha! Meecha!" Charles motioned for him to follow him back to the deck.

He explained to Scarface, "I think he was trying to tell us his people were warriors before they were enslaved. When I showed him the boarding pikes he got all excited and said, "meecha" over and over. I think we might need them to rescue Timmy and the rest if they still be alive."

"But they might turn their spears on us, lad."

"I don't think so. He knows we'll take them back home if they behave." Charles smiled and said, "I sort of promised him that."

"Aye, would be fair, lad." Frederick rubbed his hand across his scar for a moment and said, "Aye, we'll use 'em to save the captain if he still be alive. But first we have to make the buggers ashore think we've sailed away. They be there watchin' us. I can feel it."

Chapter Seventeen

Charles stood against the rail with the glass, trying to spot the men they knew were watching, but saw nothing. They stayed until almost sundown, then set sail to the northwest. When the sun was fully down, Scarface gave orders for the ship to come about, and they sailed back to the north of the island, then turned south to approach from the northeast. Luck was with them, and they found a natural harbor on this side of the island. It was but ten times the width of their ship, and they dropped the bow anchor about half way in. The still moving ship came about with the anchor holding the bow, but the stern still free to travel. When the bow was pointed toward the sea, the stern anchor was dropped and the sleek ship stopped.

Everyone remained silent as all the boarding pikes available were handed out to the black warriors. They loaded stealthily into the longboats, with just three men staying aboard to man a cannon, should it be needed upon their return. Scarface's small group and the slaves, made a sizable fighting force. Even Charles carried musket, powder bag, and shot. He had never fired a weapon, but Scarface explained to him how to load and fire it. As they rowed toward shore, Charles hoped he would have no reason to use the weapon.

The harbor was shaped like an "L", and ringed by towering trees and dense undergrowth. They rowed into the far end and could no longer see their ship. After dragging the boats into the trees, all the telltale signs of their landing were erased from the sand. Now, they started the long overland journey through the dense jungle to the other side of the island.

Four hours later, they crept over the top of a hill and spotted a village. The Indians hadn't just come from the mainland to hunt, but lived on the island. The village was much too elaborate to be temporary.

They lay watching the village as the sun moved up into the eastern sky to their rear. Scarface warned everyone to remain very still, lest they disturb the birds. The racket of the birds might give away their presence to the cannibals. Charles was impressed by the way the black men stole through the brush. They moved so silently, it was hard to be sure they were still with them.

Small fires burned in the village, and shortly after dawn the Indians began emerging from their thatched huts. About an hour and a half after sunup, while Charles and the others quietly discussed the best way to attack the village, a large group of the men walked into the jungle-like forest in the opposite direction from their position. Charles uttered a whispered, "Thank you, God."

The men carried spears and bows and arrows. It was evidently a hunting party, and it meant they wouldn't have nearly as many Indians to fight. Now the rescue should be much easier - if there were any left to rescue!

Scarface said, "Methinks we should wait for the men to get far enough from the village so's they won't have time to get back for the fight."

Henry whispered, "Aye, mate. I'll go down the hill a ways to see if I can locate our mates."

"That be a good idea. Aye, would help to know their whereabouts when we attacks, but be careful."

"Like a little mouse, Freddie." Henry snaked down the hill from tree to tree in a low crouch. The brush was so thick, he disappeared after but ten paces.

The slave who spoke English lay beside Charles and whispered, "We go?"

Charles moved his head from side to side to indicate no. The warrior chief seemed puzzled, because they didn't attack immediately, but it would be too hard for him to explain.

After waiting for Henry's return for half an hour, Charles was beginning to think he would never return. It seemed he was gone much longer than he was, but he finally called to them from the brush and squeezed between Scarface and Charles.

"They's in cages over to the right of the camp, lads. I think some of us should sneak down to that side first, then the rest attack from the front on our signal. I'll shoot the savage guardin' 'em first. That'll be your signal to attack."

"Aye. Methinks you best start now. By the time you gets to our mates, the hunters should be a goodly distance into the forest." Scarface patted him on the arm as he crawled away with three men.

Charles explained the plan to the slave, who in turn explained it to his warriors. The huge black man seemed anxious to get into the fight, and all the while, Charles hoped he wouldn't have to fire his weapon. He knew killing another human would haunt him forever.

They nervously waited until the first shot was fired, then ran full force into the village. It was over in less than a minute. Then Charles saw a young boy backed against the front of a hut, with a much smaller girl hiding behind him. One of the slaves was about to shove an upraised spear through them! Charles barely had time to jump between the slave's spear and the boy. He yelled, "No, No!" while shaking his head and waving his arms at the slave. The huge black man seemed puzzled, but lowered his spear.

The young boy grabbed the girl and ran into the hut. Charles knew he could be no more than nine or ten years old, and the little girl, who was probably his sister, was but about four. He motioned for the slave to go to the end of the village, where Timmy and the others were being freed.

Timmy climbed from the cage in which he'd been imprisoned, saying, "We thought we were goners sure, mates! How did you get here? Who be the black warriors?"

Scarface quickly said, "It be a long story, mate - too long for the tellin' right now! We best get out of the village quick, Timmy!"

As they ran back into the brush, Charles saw the young boy in the door of the hut, holding the little girl and watching after them. He was glad he'd been able to spare the boy, and stopped and waved at him just before dashing into the brush.

They reached the top of the hill and were half way down the other side. It seemed their plan had worked perfectly until one of the slaves fell to the ground, a spear thrust through his mid-section. They turned and saw a group of about forty Indians bearing down on them. It was the group they'd seen leaves the village. Evidently, they hadn't ventured as far from the village as had been thought.

The Indians ran down hill screaming, spears raised over their heads. All the men with guns kneeled and took aim. Charles took aim at one of the cannibals, and when he pulled the trigger, the man went down. Charles prayed he'd only wounded him. Six of the Indians fell, but the others didn't seem to notice. They kept charging down the hill. Charles watched as his slave friend hurled his boarding pike, and it found its mark, as did a number of the other slaves' pikes.

In all the confusion of moving down the hill and fighting off the attack from the rear, Charles was amazed he had the time to marvel at the accuracy of the slave's aim. They had cut the enemy force by about fifteen men, but still, the Indians pursued them, and the slaves no longer had spears.

Scarface yelled, "Scatter into the brush and meet at the boats!"

Timmy's men split up amongst the men who knew where the longboats were hidden, and Charles and his slave friend darted into the brush and ran for their lives.

Instead of going down the hill, the warrior ran uphill at an angle, away from the fight. Charles knew the black man counted on the Indians not expecting anyone would run toward their village! It seemed to work. When they reached the top of the hill and looked back, they neither saw nor heard a pursuer. Now, they took careful, deliberate steps, traveling as quietly as possible along the top of the hill.

Charles knew if they could get to the beach at that end of the island, they could travel just inside the brush to the longboats. His slave friend had a cutlass, and Charles still had the flintlock rifle. When he was sure they'd lost their pursuers, Charles stopped long enough to reload the weapon. He would at least be able to get off one shot if they ran into trouble.

They were about half way down the hill, when the slave motioned for him to stop. The black man stood absolutely still with the side of his head turned toward the direction of some sound he heard. As they watched, a half dozen Indians appeared a short distance below, headed directly toward them. The slave motioned to follow quietly. Charles was glad he was with this man. They crouched low and moved as quickly as possible away from their new group of pursuers.

Half way down to the beach, they walked right into the young boy Charles had saved. He stood directly in front of them as they came around a rock outcrop. The slave raised his cutlass to cut the boy down, but Charles grabbed his arm and shook his head rapidly back and forth. "NO! He's a friend!"

When the boy smiled and motioned for them to follow, Charles' warrior friend wanted no part of it. He shook his head and said, "No go Indian!"

But when Charles followed the boy and motioned for him to come, he trailed along some distance back. Even Charles wondered at the wisdom of his decision, as the boy led them around the hill in the direction of his village.

Suddenly, they faced a wall of rock that went straight up and was covered from top to bottom with vines. Charles was sure the young boy had led them into a trap! But the young Indian parted some hanging vines, and there, behind the vines, was a crack in the rock large enough for a man to squeeze through. The boy motioned for them to go in. Again, the slave was reluctant, so Charles went first. He had to move sideways to get through the crack. After a short distance, the crack widened and opened into a cave. Small openings in the rock all along the wall let light in. It was still fairly dark, but Charles could see well enough to move about.

A fire had been built in one corner of the cave, and someone had carved small man figures from wood. A stone knife lay on a rock ledge, where several of the figures stood. Small pieces of wood, the size for carving the figures, lay on another ledge lower down, at the right height for sitting. Charles examined the figures as the slave entered, followed by the boy. He pointed at the figure in his hand and asked in English if the boy carved it.

The young Indian boy didn't understand the language, but Charles also indicated his meaning with hand motions. The boy smiled and pointed at the figure, then at himself, saying something in a strange language that Charles could no better understand, than the boy could understand English. They both smiled, and the warrior picked up one of the pieces, examining it. He poked the boy in the chest lightly with his finger, grinning all the while.

Then the black man surprised Charles. He picked up the stone knife, and in a matter of minutes had transformed a piece of wood into a very small likeness of their newfound friend. Just as Charles started to say something, the boy and the warrior hushed him at the same time. They stood perfectly still, listening once again to something Charles couldn't hear. Then he heard the murmur of voices outside their hiding place. As quickly as the voices came, they disappeared in the distance. Charles wondered why they hadn't seen their tracks outside the cave. He didn't know the young Indian lad had erased them, climbed to the top of the rock wall, then climbed down inside the thick vines to the cave entrance.

When the warrior was satisfied the Indians outside were gone, he handed the boy his carving. The boy went to the ledge and returned with one of his own works of art and gave it to the warrior. The warrior took the boy's hand and shook it the way Charles had taught him, then patted the boy on the head. He bent over so the boy could pat his head. The two said "friend" in the way of two totally different cultures.

Charles used the stone knife to draw a rough picture of the island in the dirt of the cave floor. He then drew a picture of a large boat in the harbor, indicating to the boy they must head for the boat. The boy shook his head to say no and added to the drawing. He drew many men between their location and the harbor, then he drew another picture. Charles watched, fascinated, as the boy drew a picture of the island showing the sun moving under it, then back up in the east. He showed the same people he had indicated before, but now they were all at the site of the village. It was easy to understand he was trying to tell them the men from his village would go back there by the following morning, and it would be safe to go to the harbor then. The warrior understood immediately.

The boy rubbed his stomach and pointed to his mouth, then made a chewing motion. He left the cave, returning an hour later with a crude basket filled with fruit and roots. Charles wasn't at all sure what it was, and some of it didn't taste all that good, but it filled his stomach. When he finished eating, he reached over and shook the boy's hand. He had as big a grin on his face as Charles had ever seen. Charles wondered if the boy's father had been one of the men killed. He hoped not. Even though their cultures were vastly different, he was sure the loss of one's father hurt as much in any culture. With their bellies full, they lay down to rest and were soon dozing.

...

By the time the men made it to the longboats, they had lost two of their sailors and eight of the slaves. The slaves had fought the Indians valiantly. A number of them had cutlasses, and laid back to catch the Indians unaware, as they pursued them to the beach, then ran to catch up with the others. Some of the sailors lay down a barrage of fire toward the Indians while the others scrambled into the longboats and had them in water deep enough to start rowing. Then, they too, waded out and climbed aboard. It was when they reached the ship that Scarface realized Charles wasn't among them.

"Timmy! We cannot set sail! The lad be not here, yet."

Timmy's answer was, "Look!" He pointed to the mouth of the harbor. At least sixty men came at them in dugouts. They had grossly underestimated the number of Indians they were fighting. Scarface gave orders to man the cannon on the starboard side, while he and another manned the swivel cannon. There were twelve dugouts in all, and they quickly dispatched the men in five with cannon fire. Scarface was so caught up in loading and firing the cannon, he didn't notice they'd weighed anchor and were under way until the dugouts pursuing them began to lose headway rapidly. Then they were beyond the harbor and in the open ocean. That's when he knew his friend had truly been left behind.

Scarface ran to where Timmy stood at the wheel guiding the ship. "Timmy, we have to go back for the lad!"

Timmy looked at his friend and said, "He's probably dead, my friend. I saw a whole group of Indians headin' after him and one of the slaves."

"But you didn't see them catch him!"

"No, but what chance do you think they'd have against them savages?"

"If they has any chance at all, we needs to go back."

Scarface hadn't noticed that some of the other sailors were listening until one of them stepped up and said, "We'll not be goin' back to that island o' death! Do ya know what they does to ya? They eats ya! Where do ya think our two missin' mates be?" Scarface stared at Timmy with the most sorrowful look Timmy had ever seen.

Finally, he said, "The only reason we still be alive in that cage was they was fattenin' us up, mate. I cannot blame the men for not wantin' any part of goin' back."

"Then you put me and some of the slaves off the ship in a boat! We'll go back for the lad! You would not be alive if'n it weren't for the lad!" The more he talked, the madder he became.

By this time, they had sailed completely past the island and turned to the southwest. They were on a course for Jamaica.

Chapter Eighteen

Dawn finally came, and Charles awakened to the sound of the birds' morning wake up song. The Indian boy wasn't in the cave, and Charles thought he was probably out foraging for food once more. He was partly right. The boy returned not only with food, but with news as well. He drew another picture in the dirt to indicate the men were all back at the village. After eating the breakfast of fruit, they slipped back out of the cave, with the boy once more erasing their footprints from the dirt outside, and moved downhill toward the harbor.

When they finally reached the place where the longboats had been hidden, Charles' heart skipped a beat, and a lump formed in his throat. They were all gone! He knew, of course, they would have gone to the ship, but when they moved to the middle of the harbor and peered from the trees where the ship should have been anchored, he wanted to cry. They had left them behind! The warrior understood, also. He paced back and forth, as if contemplating their situation.

...

Aboard the ship, Frederick continued to argue with the men about going back to find Charles. He hadn't let up on his argument all night. "Do you not realize you wouldn't even have the treasure but for the boy? Do you not know you people what was caged would still be caged, but for the boy? He be the one what found the treasure! Without it we couldn't have bought the ship to come to your rescue!"

Henry and two of the others who were with Charles when he found the treasure joined the argument to return for Charles and the warrior. Henry said, "Timmy, we be knowin' you a long while. Never has I seen you do such a dastardly thing as you do now."

One of the men yelled, "Now that we have the treasure, we wants to live to enjoy it! We don't wanta be eaten by savages! We won't go back!"

The slaves listened to all this, and though they didn't understand the language, they understood what all the yelling was about. They, too, had seen Charles and their chief being pursued by the Indians. After talking among themselves while the crew argued, they decided to make the decision. Before the crew knew it was happening, they were surrounded by the slaves, each brandishing a cutlass. One by one, they were tied hand and foot, then the leader indicated to Timmy to turn the ship around.

"Timmy, me mate, they sailed the ship to the island, so they can crew her back to pick up the lad."

"They should all be drowned for mutiny!"

"Good God, mate! They not be understandin' such things! All they knows is their leader be back there on the island. I have to tell you, Timmy, they be more loyal then this mangy pack of wharf rats we has called our mates!"

"Even if we do turn about, we need to do so after dark. We cannot go asailin' in there again in broad daylight!"

"You be right, mate. That be exactly what we did when we came for you and that mangy bunch. But we can turn about and come back in as we did before, in darkness."

"I suppose I have no choice."

"Not for the tiniest minute, old friend!"

Timmy stared at him for a few seconds, then a smile spread across his face. "You be right, you old fool. Tain't right to go off leavin' the lad if he may be alive."

"I knew you'd make the proper choice, Timmy." Scarface grinned and yelled at the men tied up on the deck, "Ya mangy scum should be ashamed!"

Timmy steered the ship to the south for a bit, turned east, then north once more. They'd give the island a wide berth, to keep the Indians from spotting their sails.

Charles knew Scarface and Henry wouldn't desert him. He wasn't so sure of the others, but he was sure Scarface would figure out a way to come back to his rescue. All they had to do was stay out of the way of the Indians until his mates returned. He drew a rather elaborate picture in the sand to show the boy that the ship would turn around and come back to this spot for them. His slave friend also watched and understood, although he was not as convinced of their return. The boy nodded understanding and motioned them back into the brush. They erased the evidence of having been there, then the Indian boy led them around the edge of the harbor, just inside the tree line. The ground was harder packed here and didn't leave as many tale-tell footprints.

It took five hours to reach the outermost point of land on the northwest side of the harbor. The young Indian boy was full of surprises. He led them to a hidden dugout, then drew a picture of Charles and the slave paddling the dugout toward a much larger boat at the harbor entrance. Once more, Charles was fascinated and wondered what this boy might grow to be if exposed to the civilized world. He added to the drawing indicating the boy in the dugout, also.

His young Indian friend understood, but answered him with another drawing. He drew a hut with four people beside it - a man, a woman, a small child, and a larger child. He pointed at the larger child in the drawing, then at himself, as he smiled. They understood he was telling them his family was in the village, and he must stay with them.

When Charles went through some of the treasure, he came across a particularly beautiful necklace studded with diamonds and emeralds and hung it about his neck, inside his shirt. Now, he took it from around his neck and placed it around the neck of the boy. The boy's eyes widened, and the smile spread all across his face, as he handled the necklace and saw the gems glinting in the sunlight. He spoke softly in his own language, shook Charles' hand, then patted him on the head. Charles returned the salutations, as his African friend looked on with a huge smile of approval.

Charles knew the ship would return. He also knew they would come in after dark. He and his two companions from opposite sides of the world spent the day hidden in the trees and brush, a good distance back from the beach. As soon as the sun was low, they dragged the dugout to the edge of the water and waited. Charles' heart raced when he saw the sails in the moonlight. The ship, sailing along in the moonlight, was the most beautiful sight he would ever see. He saw the ship when it was still an hour away.

Charles was a little apprehensive about the dugout riding the waves without capsizing, but he needn't have worried. His friend had rowed many a dugout before being captured by slave traders. Just before they climbed into the dugout, he gave his newfound friend a hug, then both the African and English signs of friendship. The boy stood on the beach watching them row out to sea. He, too, was sad to see his new friends leave, but he felt good for having repaid Charles for saving his and his young sister's lives.

There was a danger the men on the ship wouldn't see their small dugout, and with the sound of the water against the hull of the ship, it would be hard for them to hear if they tried to just yell. Charles poured a small amount of powder into the touch hole on the long rifle and waited until the right moment to trip the flintlock. When they were within what he thought would be hearing range, he fired the weapon in the air.

He rapidly reloaded the rifle to fire another shot in case they hadn't heard the first, but was greatly relieved to see the sails quickly furled. A longboat was lowered to the water and headed directly toward their borrowed dugout. Charles had never been so happy to see anyone, as he was to see Scarface leaning out at the front of the boat to grab the end of the dugout.

Scarface had a huge grin on his face as he asked, "Did you have a nice stay on the island, Laddie?"

Charles laughed so hard he could barely climb into the longboat. The big black man nearly threw him aboard. He too was laughing, but only because Charles laughed. He had no idea what the joke was. Charles looked back at the shore, where he knew their friend stood watching the giant boat, and although he knew the boy couldn't see him, he waved another goodbye. The African smiled and also waved toward the shore. Charles hated to leave the boy's small dugout adrift.

Henry asked, "Who you be wavin' at mate?"

"A friend, Henry."

"How in the blessed could you have a friend back there?"

"I'll tell you all about it, when we've boarded."

When they pulled alongside the ship and climbed aboard, Charles was startled to see the men all trussed up, lying on the deck in the bright moonlight.

"What happened? What's going on here?"

Scarface said, "This worthless bunch of wharf rats was gonna leave ya to the savages, but the slaves took over and forced them to return."

Charles was stunned, and terribly disappointed. Many of the men had become what he thought were good friends. He could understand them not wanting to return to such a dangerous place, but after all, he had risked his neck to help save them. Charles paced back and forth as the slaves ascended to the top of the masts to lower the sails and get under way. As Scarface called out the necessary orders, Charles made a decision.

When they were under way and Timmy gave the order for the men to be untied Charles said loudly, "Not just yet! I have something I want to say first!" He turned to the men lying on the deck and said, "I forgive you for not wanting to return to the island. I know you were afraid. I don't blame you for that. I do know you wouldn't be here, alive, and very, very wealthy, but for these black men, who sailed the ship to your rescue. They fought bravely and some of them gave their lives. For what? Can any of you tell me why they did this thing? Can any one of you tell me what their reward should be? Should we give them a few trinkets and let them remain slaves? - Prisoners? How'd you feel when your freedom was taken away from you by the Indians?"

Charles hesitated and turned to his black friend. "This man saved my life. He helped save yours! Be there a man among you who would deny they deserve more than enslavement for the rest of their lives? Gentlemen, we will take these people back to their home in Africa!"

Scarface was proud of Charles. His young lad of a friend had truly become a man!

One of the trussed up sailors asked, "Why should we listen to you?"

Before Charles could answer, Scarface stepped forward and said, "Because he has the right! Any of you argue with that right'll have to face me! Be there a one of you man enough to do that, I'll untruss you! You may as well do it now!"

Charles told Timmy, "Please turn the ship to the northwest, Sir."

"Now, a minute, Laddie. What makes you think you can order the ship about?"

Scarface said, "He has earned the right to be captain of this ship! He be braver than the lot of you! You'll do as he says, mate!" Scarface walked to the men on the deck and untied the first of them. "Now untie the rest of these slackers. We sail for Africa!"

Scarface returned to where Timmy awaited the proper sailors to work the yardarms and sails to come about. He spoke in a surprisingly soft voice. "Timmy, me mate, we be knowin' one another a long while. You know I always be honest with you, and you be honest with me. I wants our friendship to last longer than this voyage. You know the lad be right in what he says. We owe these poor wretches. None of us'd be here without them. We couldn't a sailed to your rescue without them acrewin' the ship. And we couldn't a rescued you from the cage without their help. I think in your black heart you know they's men, just as we be. I know you'll do what be right and keep the lads in line until we can honor the lad's promise to take them home to Africa."

Timmy looked at Scarface with a soft smile on his face, put his arm about Scarface's shoulders and said, "Aye, tis true we be friends a long while, Freddy. We be so rich now, we can afford to be kind." Then in a voice loud enough to hurt one's ears, he yelled, "To Africa it be! Look alive, Laddies! We be comin' about!" He followed this with raucous laughter that lasted a full five minutes!

With the breeze like a giant hand trying to push them ever southward, it took the better part of the day to bring the ship about and begin tacking into the wind. Timmy truly was a skilled sailor, and Charles laughed quietly as he thought about Timmy crashing their old rotten ship ashore on the beach at Barbados.

When Timmy turned the wheel over to one of the sailors, he walked to the rail where Charles watched yet another beautiful sunset.

"You know, Laddie, you be right about the black men. I never give much thought to it, but your words about us bein' caged and held prisoner rang true. Tis not right for a man to own another. I'm glad we be headed for Africa."

Charles reached out and shook his hand. "Thanks, Timmy."

"Now then, what be your sailin' orders, Captain?"

Charles laughed and said, "You be the captain, Timmy, and I'm sure you know the way to Africa."

"Aye, I knows the way to Africa, but you've earned the right to be captain." He laughed and said, "You probably be the youngest captain to ever sail."

Charles realized he was serious, as he watched Timmy walk back to the table at the front of the sterncastle and pull a drawer open. He removed a map and began plotting a course for Africa. As Timmy he drew lines on the map, Scarface spoke to him for some minutes, then joined Charles where he sat against the rail.

Scarface sat down on the deck, leaned back against the rail and asked, "Well, mate, how does it feel to captain your own ship?"

"What do you mean, my own ship?" Charles laughed at the idea.

"Timmy 'n' me talked it over, mate. We think you deserve to have the ship for your own. He and me has seen the last of our sailin'. With the treasure we have, there be no need for us to be asailin' around. What do you plan on, mate?"

Charles smiled and got a faraway look in his eyes as he answered, "I'll be going home to see my family." He looked up into the cloud of white sail and said, "I'll be buying my mother a proper home of her own in the country, with servants all around to care for her every wish."

"Aye, tis a good plan, mate." Scarface sounded sad as he said, "There be many times when I wish I could have seen me dear mother again." He smiled and said, "I'd better be gettin' used to callin' you captain."

"Frederick, if I be in command of the entire English fleet, you and I would still be mates."

They sailed back and forth so many times tacking into the wind, Charles didn't think numbers went that high. But finally, they began making headway much faster and didn't have to tack at nearly so steep an angle. Charles noticed islands passing in the far distance and twice saw ships barely visible in the glass. Timmy told him he was sailing far north along the leeward side of the islands before entering the Atlantic.

"I be sailin' to the river that runs through the ocean. The prevailin' winds most times follows the river. It'll push us right across the ocean to Africa."

Charles smiled, as he realized they had no idea where on the African coast to sail. Where should they land the men? If they landed them in the wrong place they might never get home. He decided the best way would be to sail along the coast from North to South to see if his friend recognized where they should be put ashore. Charles had a long conversation with the African, and finally got his plan across to him.

"Me know 'ome, yes! Yes! You be Cap'n Charz. Me be Abucan." This was the first Charles knew the man's name. "Chars frien'."

Charles smiled at him and nodded. Until now, the man had called him nothing but "littler masta."

Chapter Nineteen

Reaching the coast of Africa, Timmy turned the ship and sailed south just far enough offshore to keep from running aground. The prevailing winds carried them along the coast so swiftly, they lowered all but a topsail and a foresail. Each day at sundown, the sails were lowered and the anchors dropped. Charles didn't want to sail past their homeland in the dark. Abucan and several of his people stood at the rail all day, watching the land slide by. On the fourth day, Abucan began shouting excitedly in his own language and pointed toward the shore.

The sails were quickly furled and the anchors dropped. When the ship slid to a halt, all the black men stood at the rail jumping up and down, talking excitedly in their strange tongue. This had to be home! They loaded into four longboats, but this time, the sailors rowed the black men. It was their way of apologizing for not wanting to bring them home to begin with. Charles carried a small duffel ashore and handed out a beautiful ring and necklace to each of the warriors, as they stood on their home soil for the first time in many years.

Then, Charles drew a picture of a village in the sand and indicated it was close to the shore. He drew a line across it both ways, indicating to Abucan that it was not good. He next drew a village a long way back from the water's edge. "No slavers go here."

Abucan nodded in understanding and made a motion with his arm and hand that they would go way back from the shore. "Charz good frien'. Abucan not forget Charz." He had tears in his eyes, and Charles had to fight back his own. He smiled and hugged the big warrior. Abucan patted him on top the head, then shook his hand. Then, something the likes of which had never been seen, took place. Each of Abucan's people patted each of the sailors on the head and shook their hand, all the while, smiling and babbling in their strange language. There was not a man among them who wasn't glad they had brought these warriors home.

They waved goodbye, as the warriors went into the brush and disappeared. Abucan turned and looked toward Charles one last time, standing at the edge of the undergrowth for a full minute with a big smile on his face, then waved and followed his people home. Charles told Scarface, "Boy, will they have a story to tell their people!"

Everyone clambered aboard the longboats, rowed back to the ship, and immediately set sail for Jamaica. Charles was about as happy as he could have imagined himself ever being. He leaned on the rail looking at the jungle where Abucan and his people disappeared as Timmy spun the big wheel toward the open ocean.

As they sailed back across the Atlantic, the weather was good, the breezes kind, and the sea tranquil. It was almost as if Mother Nature was rewarding them for their kind deed. Their course took the ship close by the island where they fought the Indians, and Charles stood at the rail wondering if his little friend was watching them pass. He waved at the island as it slipped by.

Chapter Twenty

During the trip back to Jamaica, most every man of them apologized to Charles for not wanting to come to his rescue, and told him he was right to have taken the warriors back to Africa. Charles found they weren't such a bad lot after all. And not a man among them was unhappy to set foot on friendly soil again when they arrived back in Kingston harbor. Timmy skillfully maneuvered the ship up to the dock without so much as a jar hard enough to feel. Charles stood at the rail and smiled, thinking again of crashing ashore at Barbados.

Everyone had agreed to keep the finding of the treasure a secret, and before they went to Timmy's house, he reminded them of their promise once again. Though some of the men were anxious to start spending their newfound wealth, they all went to Timmy's house for a well-deserved rest, and more than that, a round of seemingly never-ending parties.

Each day a number of the men returned to the ship to place the treasure in wooden crates aboard ship, then moved the crates at night to the big shed Timmy used for storing cane. At least four people stood guard day and night. It took two weeks to sort out the treasure and divide it equally. Charles' share was crated back up and placed back aboard ship. In the meantime, they partied. Charles was sure the men drank half the available rum on the big island. Even though he knew the men deserved the rest and partying, he was quite anxious to return home to his family.

Finally, he asked Timmy one morning, "Timmy, where do you think I might get a crew to sail the ship back to England?"

"Well, Captain, meself and this bunch of drunken sots has decided we'll be sailin' you home. With all the treasure you have aboard, you'd never make it home alive with a strange crew. We can book passage back here after partyin' in London for a spell."

"I really appreciate it, Timmy. When do you think we might set sail?"

"Captain, as soon as I can git these buggers to slow down their partyin' - soon. We can't go off asailin' with a bunch of drunken sailors." He laughed loudly, and Charles suspected he had already been into the rum before breakfast. But he was relieved to hear Timmy and the others would sail him back to England. Now all he had to do was get them to stop partying long enough to set sail!

It was a full month since returning to Jamaica, when they finally set sail for England and home. In the meantime, Charles had new longboats built at the local boatyard. As he watched the boats being hung on their davits, he thought about why three of the original were missing, and felt a fleeting bit of guilt for owning this ship. Of course, with the owner having been fed to the fish by Captain Swain, who would he return it to?

Charles arranged for the ship to be fully provisioned, and was ready the minute Timmy and Scarface rounded up enough sober men to sail her. It was a different crew sailing this proud ship now - not a rag-tag bunch of poorly dressed, poorly groomed nothings, but a crew of very great wealth, who now planned to live the lives of gentlemen, as Henry put it.

They left on a beautiful morning just at sunup. Charles thought about how nice it was here in the islands, and how nasty the weather could be back in England. He knew he'd return one day to the Carribean. After all, he was very wealthy and had a fine ship. He could go anywhere he wanted and do anything he wanted.

A few days later, Charles stood at the rail watching the last of the islands off the southernmost coast of America slide by, as they headed into the Atlantic. He thought about all the things he would be able to do with his new-found wealth when he arrived home. Scarface walked to the rail and put his arm about Charles' shoulders.

"I'll miss you, mate. You're like a son I would like to have had." He chuckled, "We sure been through some times together in such a short while."

"Aye, that we have, Mate." Charles smiled at the old pirate who'd become such a good and trusted friend. He thought back to the day he first stepped aboard this ship in England, and how this ugly, mean old sailor scared him so badly. He knew for sure he'd have to come back to the islands - to see Scarface if for no other reason. Charles thought about the island where they found the treasure and pictured a fine house atop the mountain, above the spring. He saw cattle grazing on the land that could be cleared. But most of all, he saw himself, his family and Scarface sitting about the pool eating mangos plucked off the trees so conveniently planted by Henry Morgan's men.

Scarface was lost in thoughts of his own, wondering if there was a chance he could find any of his family in England. He marveled that the young boy, who came aboard this ship in England a year ago, had grown to be such a man in so short a time. Charles was as tall as himself, and almost as well filled out. Scarface thought about how surprised Charles mother would be to see what a handsome young gentleman he'd become.

"Do you truly think you'll be comin' back to see us, lad?"

"Frederick, mate, tis seldom one so young as I has the pleasure to know such a man as yourself, much less be his true friend. I'm sure I'll be back, my friend." Charles stared aft toward the Carribean and said softly, "I'm sure of it." He turned back to Frederick and asked, "But, tell me, will you be seeking out your family when we get to England?"

"Ah, I don't know, Charles, mate. They’ll not know me, the way I look and all. Tis been too many years, I fear."

"Well, I want you to meet my family and visit some before you go back. I promise, I'll try to talk you into staying long enough to find your family."

...

Never had a young man been so proud as Charles, as he stood on the deck of the most beautiful ship he'd ever seen, his ship, as they sailed into port at Havant. He silently said, "I did it Father. I lived your dream for you."

As Frederick and Henry skillfully guided the ship to the dock, Charles could barely hold back the tears, he was so touched by being home again. Then he laughed out loud and told Scarface, "Was in tears I left, and is in tears I return."

"Aye, mate. But the tears of today be happy ones."