The native men were up and about, strutting around the camp shirtless, wearing only breechcloths and moccasins, their heads shaved, with only a section of hair remaining down the middle of their scalp. They were gathering bows and spears, looking like they were about to go hunting. If they went overland, we could steal several of their boats and be long gone before they discovered the theft, but if they took the boats we would have to move on. I had already realized that, although the treasure we carried could buy whatever we needed, showing it would lead to certain trouble. Whoever received our bounty would surely use it to trade near the coast and questions would be asked. The loot needed to stay intact until we reached somewhere that it would not attract attention. That place, by my reckoning, was Cayo Hueso, or Key West, the last island in the string of cays flowing from the end of the peninsula.
The native men were moving out, and Swift stirred, but I grabbed his shoulder, this time with more pressure. I thought we were discovered and tensed as they moved toward us. I squeezed Swift harder and relaxed as they passed us on an adjacent trail. There were only a few older men left along with the women and children in the clearing. I waited several minutes to make sure the men were gone and started to rise—when I saw her.
She was taller than the rest of the women by several inches, but it was the blue eyes that separated her from them. Her hair, once blonde, still showed some hints of the straw color through the dirt. I stared across the clearing at Rory and knew the task of getting out with a few boats had just become more difficult. The girl, who I figured to be about my age, had been taken by Gasparilla, along with her mother, in a raid about a year ago. She had been kept with the other women awaiting either ransom or the whims of the captain on Captiva Island. In my role as cabin boy, I had accompanied Gaspar on several of his visits there and knew this girl had disappeared several months ago. I had wondered about her absence, as I was aware of most comings and goings, but knew not whether she had been ransomed, traded or stolen—but here she was, and I knew I could not leave without her.
I grabbed Swift and led him back down the game trail we had followed to the camp. At the river, he started talking, but I hushed him and moved toward the water, where I waded around several bends and overhanging cypress branches before I stopped and waited for him to catch up. I hoped he had not seen her.
“Well, what now?” he asked.
“We find their canoes and then go back to the beach and make a plan.”
“Looked like those men were well armed,” he said.
“I didn’t see any guns, and I’m not planning on waiting for them to return,” I said, and moved along the river bank, making better time now that we could walk along the shore. We carried our boots and moved barefoot in the sand so as not to leave a trail. Within minutes, we reached the boats, and I went to check on Rhames.
He was leaning against a boat drinking water from a coconut shell when I approached.
“What’d you see?” he asked.
“Men went off hunting. There are some canoes by the water. I think we ought to make our move now and get upriver before the men get back,” I said, as I went to him and removed the torn shirt binding his wound. It looked better; the puss had dried, and the dark edges looked red now. I went for a fresh coconut and to gauge the strength of the other men. It would be another day with little rest, but I knew as long as we had the treasure they would make it. Staying here was too dangerous with this large a tribe nearby, and this was the perfect chance to take the canoes—and Rory.
When I returned, he allowed me to recoat the wound with more coconut oil and rebind it. “We go now?”
“You should stay with the boats,” I said.
“Bloody hell,” he replied.
I knew it was a waste of breath to fight with him, but I needed to tell him about the other problem I faced and leaned toward him. “There’s a girl from Captiva there and I mean to take her with us.”
13
We moved as a group toward the Indian camp. Rhames had the pistol and agreed to guard our rear after several minutes of heated discussion. He was accustomed to leading these forays, but had finally agreed to watch our backs. I had to admit, as I looked behind us to check on him, that I was impressed a little by my doctoring skills. I had cleaned and wrapped the wound with fresh linen before we moved out, and I could see no sign of blood or discharge on his shirt.
The mention of the girl had not gone over well with him or the other men, but in the end they were pirates and used to taking what they wanted without permission. If I wanted to rescue the girl, it would be my task alone.
We retraced our steps, barefoot along the sand. I suspected some of the tribe’s more experienced trackers could tell the difference between our footprints and theirs, but the more we could do to hide our presence, the better. As we approached the overhanging cypress tree, I held up my hand to halt the group.
“Swift knows where the boats are. Follow him, take three, and destroy the rest.”
“And you?” Red asked.
“I’m going for the girl. Get the canoes and head back to our camp. Leave me one canoe and tow the others with the longboats. Until the river forces us to abandon them, we can make better speed with the oars than the push poles they use for the canoes. Go, I’ll catch up.”
I moved inland before they could argue. Rhames had led them through more dangerous raids than this, and I had to believe they would succeed without me. Careful to hide my movements, I followed the game trail we had used earlier and reached the camp unnoticed. The men were nowhere in sight, and there were fewer women and children in the clearing than earlier. I suspected they had gone to forage or work some crops that were further inland.
Mosquitos swarmed, and I coated my exposed skin with mud and dirt hoping to fend them off, but they continued unabated. I tried to ignore the bugs and focus on my mission. Rory was a prisoner, brought here against her will. Whether abducted or sold, it didn’t matter at this point. She was able-bodied and would surely be forced to pull her weight and work with the stronger women.
I moved back down the game trail and stopped short, as it ended in a clearing. Through the rows of corn, I could see several figures working. From this distance, I couldn’t tell if Rory was one, but I needed to check. I moved fast now, staying in the rows, using the height and density of the plants to hide my approach. As I got closer, I heard talking and slowed to listen. I couldn’t make out the language, but used the noise to guide me to a section they had already harvested and peered around the corner.
There she was, pulling the ripe ears from the stalks and placing them in a basket at her feet. Two women were nearby, working and talking. Neither paid attention to the girl as they felt no threat. Their biggest concern was that she worked. On my knees now, I crept toward her, stopping every few feet to listen. A few minutes later I found myself in the adjacent row.
“Rory—don’t look,” I whispered.
I could see her tense and stoop, her head moving back and forth. I thought she was about to call the other women when she bent over. “Who are you that knows my name?”
“It’s Nick. From Gaspar’s crew,” I said.
“The devil!” she hissed.
I had not thought of the possibility that she hated us as much as her current captors. “No, I’m the cabin boy. They took me several years ago, too,” I pleaded with her.