In a whisper, she continued: “Soon after my mother left, an Irish man I knew only casually sat beside me in church and, much to my chaperone’s horror, this man took my hand and said simply, “I believe you to be a most beautiful woman. You are unhappy and I want you to come away with me.”
The ship suddenly lunged forward several times before settling down again. Pilar straightened her back, as if struck by a memory. She looked at Jack. “Your father and I lived together on the ship coming from England to America, for six long weeks, huddled as if man and wife. Your father was even sicker on that trip. Please be understanding of him; he is ill now but he is physically strong. In this regard you are his equal.” Pilar looked at Jack with such love, he was forced to smile. But he also saw a troubling uncertainty.
“What is it, Mother?”
“You have in you a strength that is beyond—” Pilar again hesitated. “It is a thing in your blood we Spanish call machismo. Do you know this word, mi hijo?”
“I have seen this word written, but I have not heard it spoken.” Jack didn’t understand what she was trying to say.
“It is to say only that your love of your father must not be tempered by his failings. You have too much of a dangerous thing, my love.”
“What is that, Mother?”
“You are far too strong and big as a boy without the knowledge and sense of a man.”
“I don’t know what you speak of,” Jack said, suddenly irritated, her words making him uncomfortable.
“As we left the port of Salem and you asked me, ‘Can we speak of this later,’ I knew then that you had taken some sort of revenge on the men that cheated your father out of our horses.”
Jack started to speak.
“Momento, por favor. Not only was your blouse soaking wet, but, I could see it in your eyes. They glistened. Your body was swollen in victory. I did not miss the angry crowd of men at the wharf or the deadly look in their eyes. Whatever you did, I pray it was only just. Remember most men are not as gifted as you, mi hijo.” She kissed his forehead. “Your father is a wonderful man. But I will need your strength—and most of all your intelligence—these next few months. It will be wonderful on the island. You’ll see the finca; beautiful with rolling hills, looking out to the ocean. All will be well, I believe, and yet—I feel that things may not be so easy. I’ll need your help.”
“I’ll be everything you want me to be, mamacita,” Jack said, his anger vanishing. “And if you wish me to tell you of that day’s events in Salem, I will.”
“No, please.” She held up her palm. “But tell me why the girl of good direction happened to be at the wharf, dressed as if to go to church?”
Jack smirked. Trying not to disturb Ethan, they laughed and Pilar embraced her son warmly.
The Star’s rudder began to bind, steadily getting worse over the next two days. The helm took two able-bodied seamen to correct her path; each tack grew more arduous. In the open ocean this may not have been a problem, as a ship could be on one tack for days. But maneuvering in the close proximity of Diamond Shoals off the outer banks of North Carolina was extremely dangerous.
Jack heard from Hansumbob that the captain was going to take the ship into shore to fix the rudder. He stood in his usual place of observation as far forward as he could get, propped between the bowsprit and port handrails. The seas were thrashing, whitecaps casting an unearthly glow on the water. In the distance, Jack spied a long spit of land. The sky—gray lead—was streaked with purple clouds, lit by a red sun. Thin shafts of light spread across the horizon. But behind to the east rolled dark clouds, racing them to the protection of the inlet.
The wind behind the ship drove them quickly toward shore. It seemed there were two bodies of water vying for the same ocean; a different color and temperament sea, equally violent, reared from the opposite direction. The temperature dropped and the wind picked up.
Jack could hear crisp orders to shorten sail. They came from Cheatum, the second mate, a large overbearing sailor with a mole on the port side of his nose. Three sailors bolted past Jack, scampering to a line stretched under the bowsprit. Jack felt an urge to climb the foremast and lend a hand to another group of men trying to gather the flapping sails sixty feet above the swaying deck.
Quince stood by the starboard rail, a large coil of rope in his left hand. With a mighty heave he tossed the weighted line over the rail, letting the rope trail through his hands until it went slack. Bending out over the rail, he shouted, “Starboard side, seven fathoms and deep water!”
From the port side of the ship came a similar call, but only “six fathoms.” The inlet still lay south by several miles.
“We’ll head for Drum Inlet, mister.” The captain had come on deck. “Take five points off your starboard helm.”
Jack inched closer so he could hear over the raging wind.
Cheatum diplomatically suggested they steer the ship further north. “The wind is backing around, Captain. We’re in the lee off the Hatteras Cape. We may have to settle for Ocracoke, sir.”
Jack strained to hear the exchange. The choices made by the seamen were endlessly exciting to him.
“Have your way, then,” the captain said. “Just don’t run us aground till we get into the bay.”
Cheatum seemed to eye the captain with a sense of discomfort. The captain, an unsteady hand on the second mate’s shoulder, whispered, “You know the Star can’t be seen in Portsmouth harbor, don’t you?”
“Aye, aye, Capt’n.”
The captain turned, then suddenly whirled back. “I detect a manner of insubordination from you, Mr. Cheatum. You did understand my orders?”
“Aye, aye, Capt’n.”
“Repeat them verbatim.”
“I believe you said that the Star could not be seen in Portsmouth harbor, sir.”
“Indeed, and why is that?”
“I have no idea, sir.”
The captain began to pace between the binnacle and the port rail.
“No idea? Not a glimmer of a thought?”
He stopped to look out at the sea. Jack saw him suddenly raise his hand as if to wave at someone in the water, then just as quickly change his mind, making an unsteady departure for his cabin. The few crew members who witnessed the interchange passed knowing looks and continued the ship’s work. Jack heard one of them whisper that the captain was off to the comfort of his rum.
Disheartened, Jack pondered the exchange. The captain made the men uneasy; they didn’t seem as much afraid as they were wary of him. As if something was wrong.
They pitched toward land, the ship rising and falling in great surges. Quince, passing by, told Jack they were going into North Carolina, headed for Pamlico Sound. Jack could see the barrier reef and two inlets. The ship was inexorably rushing to the north. The call from the sounding lines warned that they were rapidly approaching shallow water. Cheatum stood calmly next to the helm, issuing orders for small changes in the ship’s direction. Jack marveled at his demeanor—to be so calm, when it seemed a mistake of fifty feet in either direction would lead to disaster. With a shout from the port side, Cheatum yelled, “Hard a starboard,” then after a moment, “now, center your helm.”
In the week he had been on board, Jack constantly was amazed at how well the men managed the ship. The crew seemed rough and surly—and yet they obeyed without question. Easy to see, Jack thought, how any abuse of power would lead to trouble.
Ensconced in his spot, Jack could make out the approaching sand dunes on either side of the passage. The opening was narrow, the dunes coming right down to the water. He could smell the sweet native grasses as they bent in the wind. The ship raced into the sound, speeding between the two bodies of land. The wind continued to drive them forward, but the water became suddenly calm as the dark clouds caught up with them. Jack could see lights from a village tucked behind the south side of an island.