I put a pin where I expected we were and went above to look at the position of the frigate. The captain would have the same charts as we did and would be cautious to cross the reef line. We had to lose them now, as we didn’t have the luxury, as he did, to play it safe by shadowing us until night fell. The choice between facing the reef in the dark or the danger of the Navy ship was one I didn’t want to make. To make matters more complicated, if I chose to stay out to sea and avoid the reef, we took the chance of crossing into the Gulf Stream, which would carry us too far north.
The best option was to cross the reef behind the frigate. They would be unwilling or unable to come about in the tight channel, and we would have the advantage of a favorable tack. The frigate drew at least two fathoms from the looks of her and would not be able to follow us into the shallows. If we could make Indian Key, the Navy would be reluctant to send their boats into the reportedly hostile port.
I went back on deck, a spyglass in one hand and the chart in the other, careful to shield the delicate paper from the elements with my shirt. Using the protection provided by the companionway, I removed it and tried to orient myself with the land to the left. If I could approximate our position, I could try to plot a path through the reef.
The island chain spread out in front of us, each key a different shape and size, making them hard to place on the chart. With the spyglass to my eye, I could see more detail, but the motion of the waves would not allow me to concentrate long enough to place them. I thought I saw the tips of several masts in the distance and took a chance that the island I hoped was Indian Key lay ahead. A glance back confirmed the frigate was still in the channel. We would have to tack again to come in behind it.
I returned the chart and glass to the cabin and went back on deck. Mason was with Swift at the wheel, and Syd was in the bowsprit working the lead as we approached the reef.
“There’s where we’re going,” I pointed out. “But we need to tack again, then reverse course before turning behind the frigate.”
“What of the reef?” Swift asked.
“We’ve no choice,” I said, and called to Syd for the depth. We needed to get close to the reef before turning to give the illusion that we were going through it. If we appeared to remain on our course, the captain of the frigate would assume we would continue the tack in front of them and continue the pursuit. Syd called back that we were in ten fathoms and dropping. I looked forward and saw the dangerous green water ahead. “Keep calling,” I yelled into the wind and turned to Swift. “When we hit six fathoms make your turn.”
I could only stand and watch now, as Syd called out the depth and Swift clung to the wheel.
“What can I do?” Mason asked.
“I’d go below and make sure your mate’s secure,” I said, without taking my eyes off the frigate. The captain had fallen for our ruse and continued his course and speed, waiting for us to cross the reef line in front of them. I could see figures in the rigging watching us and more on deck preparing the guns. We were in green water now, and I waited for the turn. Finally Syd called six fathoms and Swift spun the wheel. The boat turned and the sails snapped into their new position. We were running southwest now and away from the frigate. I checked the sun and saw we had another hour or so before dark.
“They think we’re running,” Swift said.
“Right. Let ’em think we’re heading for the Bahamas.” Fearing a run-in with the British, I calculated the captain of the frigate wouldn’t cross the stream to follow us into the small island chain. “We keep this tack for half an hour, then cut behind them in the fading light. Then it’s just a matter of getting past the reef then.”
“You mean to run the reef in the dark?” Mason asked, as he climbed back on deck.
“A bit before,” I said with a little swagger in my voice that was not shared by my gut.
“It’s going to take more than one lead to get through. If you’ve got another, I can help. Your man can work his line, and I’ll toss one ahead and let it drag the bottom,” Mason said.
I nodded and went to my cabin to see if there was a spare. He was right. With two lines we would get a better picture of the danger below us as we tried to navigate through the maze of corals and shallows. I found a line and went back on deck.
“Here.” I handed it to him and watched him go forward.
“He might be some use after all,” Swift said. “How long ’til the turn?”
I was distracted as a wave of flying fish left the water in front of the boat and took it for a sign. The frigate was in front of us now, a dot on the horizon outlined in the setting sun. In this light we would be almost invisible to them. “Make the turn now.”
He cut the wheel, and the boat turned back toward land, where its angle would clearly bring it behind the frigate.
“Right, then,” I called to Mason and Syd. “Start calling when we reach ten fathoms.” I went to the foremast and began to climb the rigging for a better vantage, but the glare of the sun on the water made the color changes indistinguishable. It might as well have been dark for all I could see. I climbed back down and went to Swift. We stared at the dark water in front of us, waiting for the men in the bow to call out the ten-fathom line.
With nothing to do but wait, I started to think ahead to our anchorage and beyond. We needed to get back to the island and reunite the crew. Swift and Syd knew nothing of the silver in the bilge, and were anxious about the treasure we had left on the island. Upon reaching Indian Key, I hoped to buy a longboat with the coin left in my pocket, leave a watch on the ship, and use the longboat to navigate the shallow waters to the island.
“Six fathoms,” Syd called out. He had just retrieved his line, measured it with the span of his arms, and quickly tossed it ahead of the boat.
“Aye, six under the keel,” Mason called to confirm.
We were moving too fast, and I yelled to Syd to help me reef the sails. His lead probing under the boat was not much use now.
“Five and dropping,” Mason yelled.
Syd and I struggled with the fore topsail, finally dropping it. We climbed down and released the halyard for the fore mainsail, then repeated the process on the main topsail. The boat slowed, and I had a moment of doubt that I had removed too much canvas and we would lose headway, making it impossible to steer.
“Three and a half,” Mason called.
We were in twenty feet now, and it would be only moments before we knew if the reef was safe to pass here. I climbed halfway into the rigging to see if the coral was breaking the surface, or if the wave action was changed by an unseen object just below.
“Two fathoms and holding,” Mason called.
This was the point of no return. We had only four feet below our keel. If the depth held, we would be through the deadly reef. I jumped onto the deck and ran toward the bowsprit, unable to wait for our fate.
Mason worked the lead on the bottom. I held my breath as he retrieved a few feet of line, indicating the water was getting shallower.
“A bit over two.” He gradually released some line. “Three now.”
I could only wait.
“Four fathoms,” he called.
I knew we had made it, and we exchanged grins. My eyes strained as I looked ahead, and I could barely make out the dot on the horizon that was the frigate. It would be well ahead of us when we crossed its path, and I turned toward land, looking for a suitable anchorage.
37
The reef was notorious for the wrecks it had claimed, and I considered us to be fortunate to not be counted among their numbers. But, for all our luck in evading the frigate, we were off our mark. Ahead was a long island, with a small landmass in front, which I had guessed to be Indian Key, but Mason had told me otherwise.