He shifted and I thought he was awake, until I realized that it was the boat moving on the sandbar below, the keel struggling to release itself from the suction of the sand. I returned to the forward hold to continue my search for a spare anchor. The light was dim as I moved forward, and I thought about going above for a lantern, but the boat shifted again. The sound of the water racing against the hull as the tide rose increased my urgency as I dug through the sails.
The boat shifted again, and I knew we only had minutes before we would be free of the sandbar and at the mercy of the tide. There was nothing in the hold, but in the dim light I could see another hatch in the floor. I went to it with some trepidation after what the last hatch I had opened revealed, held my breath, pulled the latch, and opened the wooden cover. The sound of water sloshing around told me it was the bilge, and I was just about to shut the cover and look elsewhere when a thought struck me.
I jumped down into the ankle-deep water and waited for my eyes to adjust to the dark. The sound of the sea was louder here as I started to feel around for the ballast. I bumped into a board stuck from the floor and, not knowing what it was, moved around it. The boat shifted again and I stumbled, unable to gain footing on the uneven floor. On my knees, I ran my hands along the objects, and found a mixture of materials. With no time to look further, I grabbed a smooth, rectangular-shaped piece of metal and tried to pull it off the floor. It resisted my efforts and I scurried back to the main hold, seeking the rope attached to the boom.
The boat moved again, this time turning with the tide. “Help!” I called down the companionway to wake the sleeping men. With no time to wait, I yelled again and went toward the stern. I grabbed the rope hanging from the block and tackle, pulled the slack with me as I climbed back into the hold, made my way back to the bilge, and started to work the rope around the heavy object. Satisfied, I went back to the main hold and saw Swift and Syd standing above me.
“Pull the line,” I called, and raced back for the ballast. I could feel the rope come under tension as I reached the object and started to guide it through the ship. I hoped it had not damaged anything as it banged against the bulkheads around the lower hatch. Through the sail locker and then into the main hold, I guided the weight until it sat below the main hatch.
“What the bloody …” Swift started.
I ignored him and climbed the ladder. “Anchor. It’s all we’ve got. Hurry up and let’s get it over the side.” Together we hauled on the line, and the weight rose through the opening. I let the other men take the weight and went to the boom to swing it outboard. With a final grunt, the men hoisted the object over the side.
“Let her go and tie off the line,” I called out, as it crashed into the water. Line whipped through our hands as the heavy weight sought the bottom. Syd grabbed the bitter end and tied it to a metal cleat near the transom and we waited. The boat seemed to lift and turn beneath us as the tide lifted the keel from the sand.
We waited to see if the weight would hold, unable to do anything but watch, as the tide swung the boat. Feeling a tug, we exchanged a smile as the line came taut and the boat settled.
Before we could congratulate ourselves, we looked in shock as a man emerged from the hold. Syd and I went to him, but he shrugged us off and gained the deck under his own power.
“Mason,” he said with a heavy accent, and extended his hand.
We exchanged names and stood there staring at each other.
“I’m guessing y’all are not the men that took the ship.”
I hesitated, not knowing if he was referring to us or the smugglers. “We ran across the ship up the coast.”
“So, you pirated a pirate ship,” he asked.
Apparently he hadn’t sustained a head wound, as he cut to the quick of our situation. “Something like that. But slavers we are not. You and your friend are free men now.”
“What about the rest?” he asked.
“Sorry,” I answered, then together we went to the galley.
We had several hours to wait until the sun was up and it would be safe to navigate. I brought him some food and water, which he ate and drank greedily. I left him after a time and went to adjust the boat to her new anchorage. Satisfied the anchor held the boat in deep enough water and in the center of the channel, I went below and we told our stories while we waited for daylight.
They had been a crew of a dozen, running fish, turtles, and tobacco from Havana to New Orleans in an older wide-beamed ketch when a storm had brought them into Key West. They had left the port after the weather cleared and noticed a boat shadowing them as they moved up the coast. They were apprehended and boarded several hours later, with half their crew dying in the fight. The pirates took the cargo and scuttled their boat, forcing the remaining men to the hold, where they hadn’t seen daylight in what he guessed was a week.
“Four were dead, and there’s another below. He’s alive.” I finished our story, leaving out the murders of the pirates.
“What are your intentions, then?” he asked, just as the first ray of light showed above the line of water to the east.
My plan at the moment was to find a deep-water pass to the Gulf side and our island, but without an accurate chart or guide, that would prove impossible.
“Time to get underway, we need to move,” I said, as I rose from the bench. We went to the deck and I took the helm, while Syd and Swift went into the rigging. Without a command, they unfurled the mainsail, and the light breeze moved the boat forward on the rope holding the ballast. They climbed down and went to the bow. Swift took in the slack, wound it around the winch, and with Syd’s help, hauled the weight toward the boat.
There was no way to secure the object, so as it came aboard we dropped it into the hold. I couldn’t help but notice the sheen to it, but had to wait until we were clear of the shoals before examining it. The boat was floating free and, with a light touch, I was able to steer toward deeper water. Once I felt we were safely in Hawk’s Channel, the band of deep water running between land and the reef, I turned the helm over to Syd and went to inspect the object.
Mason followed me into the hold, and I brushed my hand against the metal, using my shirt to clean the scum from its surface. It shone back, a silver hue.
35
I set the mystery of the ballast from my mind, as the need to navigate through the narrow channel became paramount. The sun was high enough to show the shallows a light green, and I called out directions from the rigging. The breeze was light from the northeast, causing us to trim the sails as we beat into it. The channel was wide, but I dared not press the edges as the huge hunks of coral that formed the reef would tear the bottom from our boat. The area I judged to be safe was too narrow to tack, which caused us to creep forward into the wind, with the sails luffing instead of full.
I climbed down from my perch after we were clear of the last obstacle and ordered a course to the east. There was some room to maneuver in the channel between land and the reef, but if we were to make any progress today we would have to cross the reef line into deeper water. I went to the helm and glanced around the deck for Mason, but he was nowhere in sight. Syd was a the wheel and must have caught my look.