Chapter 5

5

JUNE 12, 1727 FLORIDA COAST

Ruth's letter was still fresh in my mind as I woke up the next morning on the Adventurer . My hammock creaked as it swayed gently to the rhythm of the moving ship. My cabinmates came and went at all hours of the day and night, which suited me fine. I wasn't eager to get close to any of them. I kept my distance, did my work, and tried to stay as inconspicuous as possible.

I'd mastered rolling out of the hammock, making sure my binding was still tight and in place. The fabric had become stained with my sweat, and I longed for a bath, but there was none to be had. And now that I smelled like the rest of them, it was probably easier to believe I was a boy.

I had quickly learned when the head was being used and when it was free. Usually, right after a watch ended it was occupied, so I waited another twenty minutes and then used it in privacy. When I was done, I walked through the forecastle and onto the main deck. The chickens were squawking, and the squeal of a piglet told me that someone had misstepped. The cattle were silent but would soon need to be milked. We had been in St. Augustine for the past three days, and the captain had sold some of the livestock, so the goats were no longer bleating on the main deck.

We were now on our way south again with fresh supplies. Florida was a thin line on the starboard side of the ship and would soon be gone from sight.

Nassau was our next stop. I could feel the tension coiling in my belly. What would I say to my mother when I found her? Worse—what if she wasn't there? I tried not to think too far into the future because too many unknowns made me feel anxious.

I was about to open the latch to enter the galley when one of the lookouts from the crow's nest shouted to the captain standing on the quarterdeck, "Ship along the starboard!"

I turned in the direction the lookout pointed as Captain Frisk lifted his spyglass. It was hard to make out the ship, coming from the northwest, but I saw the speck in the distance.

We had passed many ships on the way from Charleston to St. Augustine, so it didn't give anyone alarm. The trade route was littered with hundreds of merchant ships. But they were always on the lookout for pirates. Pirating had been at its peak about ten years ago when Blackbeard was causing terror along the eastern coast in retribution for his pirate friends who were hanged in Boston. But King George had brought an end to the tyrannical pirates, killing Blackbeard and Charles Vane, two of the most notorious pirate captains. He had managed to shift the allegiance of hundreds of others by offering them the King's Pardon. And he had done it all with the help of his navy and a man named Woodes Rogers.

But that didn't mean they were all gone. Piracy was still a serious threat to the merchants traversing these waters, and they were diligent to watch for them.

Harry would be angry if I was late, so I went down the ladder and into the galley at six bells to begin my morning chores.

Breakfast was oatmeal with fresh milk, and since I was the one responsible for milking the cows, I grabbed two buckets and headed down another ladder into the dank hold.

I could smell it before I stepped foot into the chamber. It was the foulest smelling place I'd ever been. Must mingled with manure and the stench of rats.

One of the young sailors, Timothy, was already there with the cows. He tended to the animals, mucking out their stalls and refreshing them with clean hay. He wasn't more than sixteen or seventeen, and he had a pleasant, ruddy face. His blond hair was bleached from the sun, and his blue eyes were crystal clear.

"No fresh milk on the return trip," he said to me with a New England accent as he pitched some of the soiled hay out an opening in the side of the ship. The fresh air that came in through the opening was a godsend. "Enjoy it while we can."

I wasn't even sure I would be on the ship when it came back, so I only nodded. The less I interacted with the rest of the crew, the better.

After I removed the stool from the hook near the first cow, I took a seat and positioned the milk bucket under the cow's udders.

Timothy stopped mucking and rested on the handle of his pitchfork. "Why are you so quiet, Carl? Missing a sweetheart back home?"

Looking away from Timothy, I leaned into the cow and started to milk. "No."

"Something's eating at you," he said. "Every morning, you come down here, I try to make conversation, and all I get from you is a nod, a shrug, or nothing at all."

"I don't have much to say," I told him, though my response was muffled against the side of the cow.

"If you want a friend, here I am." He talked as we worked, sharing various facts about sailing, not needing me to answer.

I finished milking as quickly as I could and then carried the full buckets to the galley, trying not to spill along the way.

After I gave the milk to Harry, I had a few free minutes before it was time to serve breakfast, so I went up to the main deck to get some fresh air.

The activity on the topside had increased. Captain Frisk still had his spyglass trained toward the northwest.

The other ship was much closer.

"Hoist the topsail," he yelled at the sailors on the deck. "It looks like the galleon is trying to overtake us."

"Is she waving the death's-head flag?" one of the sailors asked.

"Not yet," Captain Frisk said, "but that doesn't mean she won't."

I shaded my eyes as I tried to get a better look at the oncoming ship. It was large—much bigger than the Adventurer .

My pulse increased as the topsails were unfurled, and the Adventurer picked up speed.

"All hands on deck," the captain yelled as he pulled the spyglass from his eye, his voice and face set in stone. "She just raised the black flag."

The activity increased as all the men, even Harry, went to work trying to outrun the pirate ship. I moved to a corner of the deck, trying to stay out of the way.

Captain Frisk called out orders as he kept his spyglass directed at the pirate ship. But it didn't take a spyglass to see that the ship was drawing closer, and there was no way we could outrun her.

After another hour, Captain Frisk came to the same conclusion.

"Drop the mainsail," he yelled to his crew, defeat in the slant of his shoulders. "She has us, boys. All we can do is surrender, or we risk an attack that could leave this ship at the bottom of the sea."

"Who is it?" Timothy asked as he appeared at the rail beside me.

Harry wasn't too far away, so he said, "Looks to be Captain Zale. That old cur has been sailing these waters for two decades, and he's yet to be caught. Either he's the most brilliant pirate in the Atlantic, or he's fearless and not afraid to face the gallows."

"Or he's a ghost," Timothy said. "I heard he disappeared after he got the King's Pardon."

"He did indeed," Harry continued. "Ten years ago, but it was a ploy. As soon as Woodes Rogers left Nassau, Zale was back on the hunt. They say he's still after the Queen's Dowry."

"Queen's Dowry?" Timothy asked. "I thought the pirates gave up on that years ago."

Whatever Harry was about to say was interrupted when the ship in question approached, looming almost twice as large as the Adventurer . An ominous black flag with the skull and crossbones flew proudly at the top of her main mast, whipping fiercely in the wind.

"What will happen to us?" I whispered to Harry as my eyes beheld the massive ship.

"Just keep to yourself," he whispered back. "They'll take what they want and then be done with us. As long as Captain Frisk complies, no blood should be shed."

I swallowed and nodded. I knew how to keep to myself.

At least a hundred pirates lined the railing on the other ship, hooting and hollering their victory as some of them began to swing on ropes, landing with a thud on the main deck of the Adventurer to tie the two ships together. They were a rowdy, colorful bunch, of different ethnicities and carrying various weapons. Most of them were white, but there were Asians, Black men, and Indians among them. Their clothing was bright and influenced by fabrics from all around the world. Some wore red sashes around their waists, others had red scarves over their heads, and still others were shirtless.

Two imposing men appeared at the rail, both wearing all black, with swords at their sides. They carried themselves differently, with authority and confidence.

"That's Captain Zale." Harry cursed under his breath. "The older one."

"And who's the younger one?" Timothy asked.

"His son, Marcus Zale, the quartermaster of the Ocean Curse . That ship has seen more battles than any other, I'd wager."

I had quickly learned that the quartermaster was the second in command and was treated with the same respect and authority—though the captain's say was final.

Both men had long dark hair, which was clubbed at the back and blew in the wind. Captain Zale had a dark beard, while his son was clean-shaven. They were both tall and broad, with focused vision as they surveyed the ship they had just taken without a fight.

I stared at both men, captivated by their presence. Even if I had not known they were pirates, I would have taken notice of them in any situation, at any time.

The son's intense gaze scanned the main deck of the Adventurer and landed on me.

I caught my breath and looked down, trying to be small and invisible. After a moment, I looked up again, but he was still staring at me. I tried to step closer to Harry, my heart hammering hard in my chest.

The pirates secured the ship and bound Captain Frisk's hands. Then the large Black man whistled, and Captain Zale and his son grabbed hold of two ropes and swung onto the Adventurer . Their long black coats fluttered in the wind, and they landed with a thud on the deck.

"Search the hold and the captain's quarters," Captain Zale ordered his men in a British accent. "Take anything of value."

As some of his men departed to search the ship, Captain Zale and his son climbed up to the quarterdeck where Captain Frisk was bound, his face red with anger.

"What are you transporting?" Captain Zale asked Captain Frisk.

"Nothing of value."

"You lie." Captain Zale sneered. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

"I assure you, I'm only transporting livestock and victuals."

"Where are you bound?"

"Nassau."

Captain Zale stepped close to Captain Frisk, towering over him, and said, "If you're lying, you'll rue the day you tried to fool me. My men will burn this ship to the waterline if need be."

For a heartbeat, Captain Frisk stared at the pirate, but then his shoulders stooped, and he said, "You'll find a chest of gold under the trapdoor beneath my bed."

Captain Zale's lip came up in a satisfied snarl. "That's more like it." He yelled to his men, "Get the gold and then let's be gone. Take anything you can carry."

While a handful of pirates stayed on the main deck to keep the crew of the Adventurer in sight, others swarmed the ship and began to haul off anything they could find. Boxes, barrels, and bags of food were taken from the hold.

"I'm looking for crew members," Captain Zale said as he walked down from the quarterdeck, scanning Captain Frisk's sailors. "If you'd like to join my crew, step forward. I run my ship as a democracy, where every man has a vote and a share of the prizes we earn. You will eat like kings and not have to toil for another man's profit. Each of the men you see on my ship were once like you, living under the yoke of oppression. But now they are free."

The sailors I had worked with for the past three weeks said nothing, all of them staring down at the deck. No one was offering to join ranks with a pirate.

Captain Zale waited for a moment and then said, "If that's the way you want it, then I'll choose which of you are coming with us."

I tried desperately not to fidget as he walked among us.

"You," he said as he pulled one of the men forward by the front of his shirt. "And you," he said, pointing at another.

I held my breath as he walked past Timothy.

"You're young and strong and teachable," Captain Zale said as he put his finger against Timothy's chest. "You'll do."

He started to walk again and then stopped in front of me. I looked down at his boots, praying that he wouldn't force me to leave the Adventurer . I was so close to Nassau, I could feel the answers to my questions at my fingertips.

"You," he said, putting his fist under my chin and forcing me to look up at him.

I tried not to cower, but I couldn't help it. He was older than I first guessed, with sea-wizened wrinkles around his gray eyes and silver streaking his hair.

"How old are you, boy?" he asked me.

I swallowed and tried to find my voice, but it came out in a strange squeak. "Fourteen."

"We could use another cabin boy," Captain Zale said. "You're coming with me."

I shook my head hard. "Please." I tried desperately to remember the voice I'd been using as Carl Baldwin. "I need to go to Nassau."

Captain Zale growled. "Get on board my ship! I won't tolerate any back talk from you, either."

One of Captain Zale's men grabbed me by the arm. I tried to break free, but there was nowhere to run.

"Don't put up a fight," Harry said to me. "Just begone. Don't give them reason to beat ye."

My eyes widened. Would these men beat me? And what if they found out I was a woman? What else might they do to me?

The binding around my chest felt dangerously close to coming loose, so I stopped struggling and allowed the man to haul me across the deck.

My gaze caught on Marcus Zale. His face was a mask of indifference, though his dark eyes showed a hint of displeasure. He stood by the gangplank that had been pulled out, connecting the two ships. When his father approached, he said something quietly to the older man, but Captain Zale shook his head once and Marcus stood straight, emotionless.

I was dragged past both men and forced to walk the precarious plank into the belly of the pirate's ship.

I wanted to weep but forced myself to steady my emotions.

My mother was farther away than ever.

We entered the ship on the gun deck, just below the main deck. Timothy was ahead of me, and though I hadn't been friendly toward him, I was thankful he was there. At least there was one friendly face among hundreds of untrustworthy pirates.

"Don't be afraid," Timothy said as we were prodded out of the way by pirates loading the plunder they had taken from the Adventurer . "If we do what they say, we'll be treated fairly, and we can escape at the first port of call we make."

I swallowed the panic that raced up my throat, wondering why I had ever thought this was a good idea. No one knew where I was, and there would be no one coming to rescue me. I was at the mercy of a pirate captain.

"Up to the main deck," one of our captors said, pushing us to take the ladder.

When I reached the top deck, I had a view of the Adventurer below. Captain Zale and his son were speaking to Captain Frisk, who was still bound. Captain Frisk did not look pleased, and Captain Zale was speaking close to his face, no doubt an intimidation tactic.

"Captain Zale is trying to get information out of Captain Frisk," Timothy said quietly beside me. "He'll be asking if there are any British or Spanish naval ships upon these waters and what merchants we've seen along the way."

I nodded, unable to find my voice.

"The Ocean Curse is a galleon," Timothy continued. "It's not the largest ship at sea, but it's one of the fastest of its size. There are two other ships that are larger, but the Spanish and British Royal Navies use those. They're really the only threat against Captain Zale."

"Does that mean he is unstoppable?"

"Nay." Timothy shook his head. "But almost. And from what I can see"—he looked around the main deck where a dozen cannons were positioned, six on either side, ready to fight—"he's modified the Ocean Curse and added more cannons. There are at least fifty on board this ship."

"Is that a lot?"

"More than a ship like this usually has."

For another hour, we watched as the pirates moved barrels and boxes of food from the Adventurer to the pirate ship. They left the livestock, which meant no more fresh milk and eggs but also no more manure. And when Captain Zale seemed satisfied, he and his son left the Adventurer and boarded their ship, allowing his men to pull the gangplank back. The ropes holding the vessels together were cut with long knives and swords, and then the Adventurer started to float away, my hopes and dreams of seeing my mother going with it.

I swallowed my fears and said to Timothy, "Do you think the pirate ship will go to Nassau?"

He shrugged. "Since the Royal Navy took hold of Nassau again, a lot of pirates stay away."

"But there is a chance?"

"I suppose."

I had to hold on to that chance.

Captain Zale and Marcus climbed the ladder and came to the main deck and were soon joined by all the pirates. There had to be at least two hundred of them, and they were all looking to their captain and quartermaster.

"Good work, men," Captain Zale said. "There'll be an extra dram of rum for each of you tonight."

The men cheered.

"And that goes for the new recruits," he said with a hearty laugh. "Whether you wanted to be here or not, you're one of us now. I think you'll like what you find aboard the Ocean Curse . Soon, you'll wonder why you didn't volunteer."

Redness crept into Timothy's already ruddy complexion, and I suspected that he wanted to disagree.

"Once word gets out that we overtook a British merchant ship," Captain Zale continued, "they'll be on the lookout for us. We'll head to Barataria and lay low for a couple of weeks to sell some of our plunder before we return to Florida."

"Barataria?" I whispered to Timothy.

"Near New Orleans," he whispered back.

"Everyone to work." Captain Zale turned away, but then said, "I want the new boy sent to my cabin."

Someone pushed me from behind, and I moved cautiously among the other men. The Ocean Curse had a three-story stern with a set of stairs on either side up to the quarterdeck and the captain's cabin.

Captain Zale and Marcus walked up the steps ahead of me, disappearing through a door.

I rubbed my sweating palms on my trousers and tried to still my pounding heart. I just needed to be obedient and not let on that I was a woman. I could make an escape at the first possible opportunity and find another job as a cabin boy on a ship heading to Nassau. I might not get there as soon as I had hoped, but I would get there.

One of the largest of the pirates stood next to the captain's cabin. He was the one who had whistled for the captain and his son to board the Adventurer once it was secure. His black eyes followed me as I climbed the steps, and when I was about to open the door, he put his large palm out in front of my face. His black skin glistened with sweat. I looked up at him, trying to hide my fear, but knew I was failing.

"Don't get any brave ideas while you're serving the captain and quartermaster. Do you understand?"

I nodded, though I didn't understand. Did he think I would try to hurt them? What could I do?

"If you don't give me any trouble, I won't give you any trouble," he continued. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Aye, sir."

His seriousness disappeared, and he grinned. "I'm Hawk."

Once again, I nodded, but my nerves were so tight, I couldn't have given a verbal response if I had tried.

Hawk pushed open the captain's door and motioned me through.

I entered a long, narrow room with more cannons. At the end was another door, so I walked to it and tapped lightly.

"Come," said a loud male voice.

With trembling hands, I turned the doorknob.

The captain's cabin was impressive, with whitewashed walls, a large table for meals, and a desk. There were two cushioned chairs and an alcove bed with a red curtain.

Captain Zale sat at the desk while Marcus stood at the diamond-paned window, watching the Adventurer as we sailed away from her.

"What's your name, boy?" Captain Zale asked me.

Marcus turned from the window, his penetrating gaze upon me. This close, he looked younger than I had first suspected. Perhaps in his midtwenties. And besides the dark hair and the similar build, the father and son didn't look anything alike. Captain Zale's small eyes were grayish blue, but Marcus had dark brown eyes, filled with both sadness and fire.

"Speak up!" the captain said impatiently.

I jumped, pulled from the quartermaster's intense gaze. "Carl Baldwin."

"Carl Baldwin, you'll be sharing responsibilities with the other cabin boy, Ned. He's been with me for the past two years and knows my preferences. I'm assigning you to assist Marcus."

"I don't need—" Marcus began to protest, but the captain held up his hand and he quieted.

Did Marcus speak with a Scottish brogue?

I frowned, surprised because the captain was clearly British by origin.

"There's enough help in the galley, so you will be at our beck and call." Captain Zale stood, his full height dwarfing the room. "It's high time we acted like the gentlemen we are."

Gentlemen? Were the captain and Marcus truly gentlemen? What had brought them to their pirating ways? Hopefully Timothy knew more. He'd been a well of knowledge I hadn't expected. Perhaps befriending him was a good idea.

"We'll follow the tip around Florida to the Gulf and lay low in Louisiana for a time," Captain Zale explained to me. "In a week or two, we'll head back to the eastern coast to continue our search for the Queen's Dowry. I chose you to serve Marcus, but I also chose you for your size to help with the treasure's recovery. Until then, you'll need to learn our habits, our preferences, and our schedules to best serve us. Do you understand?"

I nodded, trying to remember everything he was saying. All I wanted was to escape with Timothy in Louisiana.

"You will sleep in Marcus's cabin," he continued, "so you can be available at all hours of the night, should you be needed."

"It isn't necessary," Marcus tried to protest again.

Captain Zale took a deep breath and then fixed his hard gaze on his son. "I will not be questioned."

Marcus's jaw tightened, and he turned to the window once again.

"You will find Marcus's cabin directly above mine," Captain Zale continued. "It needs to be scrubbed and his bedding washed."

I nodded, thankful for a job that would keep me busy, though the thought of sleeping in the same cabin as the quartermaster made me tremble all over again.

The day passed quickly as I scrubbed Marcus's cabin. It was smaller than the captain's, but no less comfortable or impressive. The walls were not white, but natural wood, darkened with time. An alcove bed was built into one of the walls, with a red curtain for privacy. A smaller table with four chairs was in the center of the room, and two cushioned chairs, much like the captain's, were in the corner. I would have a cot in the opposite corner of the room, farthest from Marcus's bed.

But what surprised me the most was his bookshelf filled with books. There were books on every subject, including science, philosophy, theology, and more. Not to mention fictional books, as well. I perused some of the titles as I dusted and saw several of my favorites. Don Quixote , Paradise Lost , The Pilgrim's Progress , and even Romeo and Juliet . I also found Gulliver's Travels , which had only been published the year before.

Either Marcus Zale was a reader, or this ship had been stolen and the books belonged to someone else.

I had taken two short breaks to serve dinner and supper in the captain's cabin with the other cabin boy, Ned, at noon and six. After the men had been served, Ned and I were allowed a break to eat our own meals. Ned was quiet and aloof, but I didn't give him much attention.

The sun had fallen, and I was back in Marcus's cabin putting his clean bedding on his bed. The sheet and blankets had dried in the Caribbean sun and smelled fresh.

I had lit a lantern, but it was cloudy from soot and cast shadows across the room, not providing much light. Tomorrow I would need to remember to clean the chimney.

All day long, I had been thinking about ways Timothy and I could escape, but until we were on land again, I would have to cooperate and bide my time.

As I was spreading the blanket over the bed, the door opened, causing me to jump.

It was the first time Marcus had entered his room since I arrived. I quickly finished and climbed out of his bed, my cheeks warming at being caught in his intimate space.

He was standing near the door, watching me, that same brooding expression in his dark eyes. It made me aware of everything. My clothing, my hair, my stench.

"Are you finished?" he asked.

I nodded and then stepped farther away from his bed. "Just now. Is it to your liking?"

His gaze took in the room. The cobwebs and dust were gone, and the floor had been scrubbed. "Aye. It doesn't look like it did this morning. Well done."

"Thank you." My voice was small.

He nodded at the cot in the corner and asked, "Will it do?"

"Aye."

"Good."

We both stood for an awkward moment, and then I said, "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

He sighed deeply. "My father expects you to wait on me like a valet."

A valet? I didn't even know what a valet did.

"But I won't ask it of you," he said, his Scottish brogue puzzling me again. It was rich and deep. "You can turn in, if you'd like. You worked hard today."

A rush of relief washed over me. All day long I had been fretting that I would be required to do more than clean and serve, but Marcus Zale surprised me. His dark, foreboding persona had made me assume he was unkind and harsh. But in the little time we'd spent together, he had been neither.

I sat on the cot and slowly took off my buckled shoes, but that was all I would remove.

Slowly, I pulled back the top cover and crawled under it.

Marcus began to disrobe, taking off his sword first, then his long black coat and his cravat. His clothing was well made, if a little worn.

I quickly turned to face the wall, my cheeks growing warm. I'd never seen a man in any state of undress until I saw the pirates without shirts on today.

And I'd never been alone in a room with a half-dressed man.

"You won't disrobe?" he asked me.

"Nay," I said quickly, my voice higher than I intended. I cleared my throat and said more calmly, "I prefer to sleep in my clothes."

There was a gentle chuckle, and then the light went out.

I could hear him climb into his bed and settle under his covers. There was a sigh and then silence.

I closed my eyes and went to sleep, thankful I would have one day in 1927 before I had to come back to the pirate ship and look into the fiery eyes of Marcus Zale again.

A thought that both terrified and intrigued me.