be telling Captain Rogers, will you Mr Dampier? I do not think he has much tolerance of pirates.”
“Nay, he has not.” Dampier agreed as he held his arm out to Tiola. Companions, they strolled back to the Golden Hind , and the prospect of breakfast, through streets coming alive with the business of the new day. Some fortunate fellow was going to find himself with a lucky catch for a wife one day in the not so distant future, Dampier mused. A fellow, he sincerely hoped, with more to offer than the rugged charm of a sea-scoundrel.
“Captain Rogers,” he continued saying as they walked, “is the sort of man who, if he were to see a wolf, would shoot it. He would never notice its beauty.”
“Where do you suspect they are sailing to?” Tiola asked, taking one last glance over her shoulder down the hill towards the harbour.
“Oh, they could be bound anywhere. Pirates are free to make their own decision. Apart from their agreed Ship’s Articles, their rules, which many of them make up as they go along, and the avoidance of any Ship of the Line, they go where they wish; India, the China Seas perhaps? Or back to the wolf pack and their familiar hunting grounds among the islands of the Caribbean.”
Dampier too, looked over his shoulder. First though, he guessed, they would sell their plunder at the pirate trade post in Madagascar, careen the hull and only then go home.
He envied them; envied the rogue his youth and his freedom. Envied the attraction he had for a young lass’s fancy.
Seven
Mid May – 1716
Weed quivered and fishes, disturbed, flashed and darted in exotic, woven patterns their colours illuminated by the distorted shafts of filtered sunlight. A crab scuttled sideways and buried itself rapidly in the soft, yielding sand. But the sand itself was moving, tipping and sliding, funnelling downward faster and faster – and then the depths below, the very crust of the earth, gave a heave and the underwater world that was the bottom of the turquoise, sparkling sea collapsed in upon itself, yawning into a great chasm ripping across the ocean floor. Pulling it apart as easily as a ship ploughs through a wave.
And where the jagged tear of the earthquake gaped, sand and weed, shell and fish plunged into its open jaws and the very sea itself gushed downward into the abyss. Chaos for a few, passing seconds that were as nothing to the millennia of eternal time. Then everything settled and the moment of violence and confusion was past. Forgotten. There was no one to see or feel, or remember its brief excitement.
Except for Tethys, who was aware of all that happened within her realm.
Their business completed in Madagascar, the decision of where to sail next had been put to the vote in democratic pirate tradition. The crew had opted for going “home” to the Caribbean. Jesamiah had not been so certain. As he had predicted to Woodes Rogers, England had negotiated a treaty of peace with France and Spain. It would have been too costly for Parliament not to, like dropping gold coin down a bottomless well.
As he had also predicted privately to Malachias, that same government had no more honesty than the worst liar in London’s Newgate Gaol. With the end of war, pardons had been promised to the sea-roving privateers who had aided the English struggle against the Spanish Dons and the Frenchies. Except, the men who sought these pardons soon discovered they were as rare as two-headed donkeys to procure. Free given, aye, if you had the gold to buy one, and if you could prove you had not committed any debased act of piracy against any vessel not French or Spanish. If you had the gold? You must be a pirate.
Jamaica : aligned east to west, the largest island in the Caribbean; one hundred and forty-six miles long by fifty or so wide. Jesamiah knew the facts and could not give a damn about them. Bringing the Mermaid here to the Royal Naval harbour of Port Royal in search of one of these pardons was a bad idea. He had said
“Nay, he has not.” Dampier agreed as he held his arm out to Tiola. Companions, they strolled back to the Golden Hind , and the prospect of breakfast, through streets coming alive with the business of the new day. Some fortunate fellow was going to find himself with a lucky catch for a wife one day in the not so distant future, Dampier mused. A fellow, he sincerely hoped, with more to offer than the rugged charm of a sea-scoundrel.
“Captain Rogers,” he continued saying as they walked, “is the sort of man who, if he were to see a wolf, would shoot it. He would never notice its beauty.”
“Where do you suspect they are sailing to?” Tiola asked, taking one last glance over her shoulder down the hill towards the harbour.
“Oh, they could be bound anywhere. Pirates are free to make their own decision. Apart from their agreed Ship’s Articles, their rules, which many of them make up as they go along, and the avoidance of any Ship of the Line, they go where they wish; India, the China Seas perhaps? Or back to the wolf pack and their familiar hunting grounds among the islands of the Caribbean.”
Dampier too, looked over his shoulder. First though, he guessed, they would sell their plunder at the pirate trade post in Madagascar, careen the hull and only then go home.
He envied them; envied the rogue his youth and his freedom. Envied the attraction he had for a young lass’s fancy.
Seven
Mid May – 1716
Weed quivered and fishes, disturbed, flashed and darted in exotic, woven patterns their colours illuminated by the distorted shafts of filtered sunlight. A crab scuttled sideways and buried itself rapidly in the soft, yielding sand. But the sand itself was moving, tipping and sliding, funnelling downward faster and faster – and then the depths below, the very crust of the earth, gave a heave and the underwater world that was the bottom of the turquoise, sparkling sea collapsed in upon itself, yawning into a great chasm ripping across the ocean floor. Pulling it apart as easily as a ship ploughs through a wave.
And where the jagged tear of the earthquake gaped, sand and weed, shell and fish plunged into its open jaws and the very sea itself gushed downward into the abyss. Chaos for a few, passing seconds that were as nothing to the millennia of eternal time. Then everything settled and the moment of violence and confusion was past. Forgotten. There was no one to see or feel, or remember its brief excitement.
Except for Tethys, who was aware of all that happened within her realm.
Their business completed in Madagascar, the decision of where to sail next had been put to the vote in democratic pirate tradition. The crew had opted for going “home” to the Caribbean. Jesamiah had not been so certain. As he had predicted to Woodes Rogers, England had negotiated a treaty of peace with France and Spain. It would have been too costly for Parliament not to, like dropping gold coin down a bottomless well.
As he had also predicted privately to Malachias, that same government had no more honesty than the worst liar in London’s Newgate Gaol. With the end of war, pardons had been promised to the sea-roving privateers who had aided the English struggle against the Spanish Dons and the Frenchies. Except, the men who sought these pardons soon discovered they were as rare as two-headed donkeys to procure. Free given, aye, if you had the gold to buy one, and if you could prove you had not committed any debased act of piracy against any vessel not French or Spanish. If you had the gold? You must be a pirate.
Jamaica : aligned east to west, the largest island in the Caribbean; one hundred and forty-six miles long by fifty or so wide. Jesamiah knew the facts and could not give a damn about them. Bringing the Mermaid here to the Royal Naval harbour of Port Royal in search of one of these pardons was a bad idea. He had said
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