Everyone was asleep now, and I stood to walk the camp, keeping the first watch and sorting out our provisions in case we needed to make a hasty exit. I split the meat, wrapping it in palm fronds to keep the bugs off. We were into December, and it was drier and less buggy than the summer months, but this was Florida, and there were always bugs. I gathered ripe coconuts fallen in the wind the other night and set a dozen in each boat as well. Finally, after what I thought was four hours, I woke another man and laid down in one of the boats to rest.
9
The unmistakable sound of steel striking steel and the grunts of men woke me. I looked around trying to get my bearings—and found the clearing crowded with men fighting at close quarters.
I left the cover of the boat and crept toward Rhames, who stuck his pistol in my hand. “Guard the treasure,” he said, and ran to the fight.
I went to the boats, the chests still loaded where we had left them, and started pacing back and forth. There was no immediate threat to me or the boats, at least not yet, and I was able to observe what was happening. We were fighting a group of men, maybe a half-dozen, all dressed as we were. I looked at the gravel beach, not seeing a boat, and wondered who they were and how they had gotten here. The most dangerous unknown was if there were reinforcements on the way, but at least I knew from the ragtag dress of the men it wasn’t the Navy.
They must have come overland, probably from the channel, which ran between the barrier islands and our location. I heard a man scream in what sounded like Cajun, and I started to piece together what was going on. Jean Laffite and some of his crew had escaped Galveston earlier this year, running from the same Navy that now sought us. They had set up a small camp on an island south of ours, and he and our captain, both aging and wishing to retire, had become friends, often talking about joining forces and heading to Columbia, where they might obtain naval commissions and live out their years. They must have seen our ship go down and, after seeing the Navy burn our village, had joined the pursuit. It was no secret some of our men had sought out Laffite to join his crew when we disbanded. They knew we had treasure and were greedy for it.
More men came through the brush, and it looked like we would be overwhelmed, but Rhames saw them and rallied our men. We stood a better chance to escape if we scuttled one of our boats, so with one eye toward the fight, I started to load the provisions I had split last night into two boats. Just as I finished, Rhames cut through several intruders and fought his way toward me, yelling at the men to follow. Laffite’s men, guessing our motive, started to pursue. I took the pistol and fired at their group. This stopped them momentarily and allowed our men to reach the boats. Rhames ordered several of the men into a semicircle to protect us.
“Get the treasure in two of the boats and trash the other,” I yelled over the fracas. Understanding that our only means of escape was by water. A few men fell back from the fight, flipped the empty boat and started to punch holes in the bottom with rocks. Rhames and I moved the chests to the two remaining boats and pushed them into the water.
“Fall back!” I ordered, and the men jumped in the boats and manned the oars. We looked at the others staring at our escape, now knee deep in the water and unable to follow.
Rhames handed me the black powder. The flintlock pistol reloaded and the pan primed, I got another shot off and reloaded again. When I looked up, ready to fire, they were out of range. More than a dozen men stood on the beach waving cutlasses at us as we made our escape. But off to the side, I noticed what looked like one of our men held at knife point by two of the intruders. I counted the men in the boats and confirmed my sighting. My short reign as leader was faltering. In two days I had lost three men, three boats, and two treasure chests.
The only way out of the estuary was over the oyster bar where we grounded yesterday, but the tide was high and, even with the heavily-laden boats, we only lightly scraped the hulls as we floated over. I moved toward the bow, shielding my eyes from the rising sun, as I looked for any other boats. The Navy frigate was probably still anchored at the mouth of the harbor, about to start the search afresh with the new day. I suspected they would send boats in this direction as well. The unknown was Laffite. If the old pirate had seen or heard the fate of the Floridablanca, he would guess the Navy frigate was anchored to the north and move his ships to block the southern exit from the sound. He would then send out small parties, like the one we encountered, to search where the Navy was not yet looking. With two exits blocked, we had no choice but to abandon my plan to seek refuge in Estero Bay and make for the river. The Caloosahatchee was dangerous and unknown country, its source rumored to be a massive inland lake that had a river of grass running south into the Florida Keys. If we made it to the Keys, we could figure it out from there.
“To port,” I yelled to the men who had their backs to the bow. We crossed the channel and made for the mouth of the river. Just as we reached open water, I saw Laffite’s boat anchored where I expected it. We were too small for him to see from that distance, and I ordered the rowers into a small inlet. Not knowing if it had an exit or not, we blindly rowed south hoping it was fed from the river. I had no idea if we could make the river from here without a portage, but we needed a place to hole up and regroup. I looked back toward the rowers, and it was then that I saw the blood mixing with the water in the bottom of the boat.
“Which one of you is hurt?” I asked, looking at the backs of the two men.
“Aye, but it’s nothing,” Rhames responded.
It didn’t look like nothing from the amount of blood mixing with the seawater in the boat, and I looked for a place to land. If something happened to Rhames, I had no doubt my short tenure as leader would be over. I directed the boats toward the only dry land I saw, a small beach. I jumped out and pulled the boat onto the beach, wanting to go to Rhames right away, but also aware that would look like a sign of weakness. Instead, I waited for the men to disembark and scatter on the beach before I went to him.
The cut was long and deep across his stomach. If there were a surgeon amongst us, he surely would have stitched the wound, and if we had supplies I would have attempted the same. Instead I took off my shirt and tore several strips from the tail, helped him remove his shirt, and checked the cut. It looked clean, and I bound the linen around his body hoping to stem the blood flow. He lay down, his face pale from blood loss and exertion, and I looked at the other men, wondering what they were thinking.
10
We stood in a circle, and I watched each man as their eyes moved from Rhames, to the chests, and finally to me. It was an uneasy feeling, standing there being scrutinized, and I put on my stone face. I couldn’t afford one uneasy look or gesture. Rhames lay in the boat, moaning in pain. There was nothing more I could do for him—time would tell if he was to survive. My problem now was to keep the crew rallied around me.
“Red.” I looked at their leader. “We should scout the river mouth. We can’t stay here too long.” I looked around. There was no freshwater and starting a fire here would be out of the question. Although sheltered by the estuary, the smoke from the smallest fire would be seen by the watching eyes of the Navy and Lafitte. Without waiting for an answer, I looked at each of the men, fixing my gaze on them until they made eye contact. “You men stay here and keep an eye on him.” I pointed to Rhames, who was trying to sit upright. “No fires and keep a watch. We are nowhere close to safe.”