And for what? To pretend our family was different from all the others.
5
JUNE 12, 1727
FLORIDA COAST
Ruth’s letter was still fresh in my mind as I woke up the next morning on theAdventurer. My hammock creaked as it swayed gently to the rhythm of the moving ship. My cabinmates came and went at all hours of the day and night, which suited me fine. I wasn’t eager to get close to any of them. I kept my distance, did my work, and tried to stay as inconspicuous as possible.
I’d mastered rolling out of the hammock, making sure my binding was still tight and in place. The fabric had become stained with my sweat, and I longed for a bath, but there was none to be had. And now that I smelled like the rest of them, it was probably easier to believe I was a boy.
I had quickly learned when the head was being used and when it was free. Usually, right after a watch ended it was occupied, so I waited another twenty minutes and then used it in privacy. When I was done, I walked through the forecastle and onto the main deck. The chickens were squawking, and the squeal of a piglet told me that someone had misstepped. The cattle were silent but would soon need to be milked. We had been in St. Augustine for the pastthree days, and the captain had sold some of the livestock, so the goats were no longer bleating on the main deck.
We were now on our way south again with fresh supplies. Florida was a thin line on the starboard side of the ship and would soon be gone from sight.
Nassau was our next stop. I could feel the tension coiling in my belly. What would I say to my mother when I found her? Worse—what if she wasn’t there? I tried not to think too far into the future because too many unknowns made me feel anxious.
I was about to open the latch to enter the galley when one of the lookouts from the crow’s nest shouted to the captain standing on the quarterdeck, “Ship along the starboard!”
I turned in the direction the lookout pointed as Captain Frisk lifted his spyglass. It was hard to make out the ship, coming from the northwest, but I saw the speck in the distance.
We had passed many ships on the way from Charleston to St. Augustine, so it didn’t give anyone alarm. The trade route was littered with hundreds of merchant ships. But they were always on the lookout for pirates. Pirating had been at its peak about ten years ago when Blackbeard was causing terror along the eastern coast in retribution for his pirate friends who were hanged in Boston. But King George had brought an end to the tyrannical pirates, killing Blackbeard and Charles Vane, two of the most notorious pirate captains. He had managed to shift the allegiance of hundreds of others by offering them the King’s Pardon. And he had done it all with the help of his navy and a man named Woodes Rogers.
But that didn’t mean they were all gone. Piracy was still a serious threat to the merchants traversing these waters, and they were diligent to watch for them.
Harry would be angry if I was late, so I went down the ladder and into the galley at six bells to begin my morning chores.
Breakfast was oatmeal with fresh milk, and since I was the one responsible for milking the cows, I grabbed two buckets and headed down another ladder into the dank hold.
I could smell it before I stepped foot into the chamber. It wasthe foulest smelling place I’d ever been. Must mingled with manure and the stench of rats.
One of the young sailors, Timothy, was already there with the cows. He tended to the animals, mucking out their stalls and refreshing them with clean hay. He wasn’t more than sixteen or seventeen, and he had a pleasant, ruddy face. His blond hair was bleached from the sun, and his blue eyes were crystal clear.
“No fresh milk on the return trip,” he said to me with a New England accent as he pitched some of the soiled hay out an opening in the side of the ship. The fresh air that came in through the opening was a godsend. “Enjoy it while we can.”
I wasn’t even sure I would be on the ship when it came back, so I only nodded. The less I interacted with the rest of the crew, the better.
After I removed the stool from the hook near the first cow, I took a seat and positioned the milk bucket under the cow’s udders.
Timothy stopped mucking and rested on the handle of his pitchfork. “Why are you so quiet, Carl? Missing a sweetheart back home?”
Looking away from Timothy, I leaned into the cow and started to milk. “No.”
“Something’s eating at you,” he said. “Every morning, you come down here, I try to make conversation, and all I get from you is a nod, a shrug, or nothing at all.”
“I don’t have much to say,” I told him, though my response was muffled against the side of the cow.
“If you want a friend, here I am.” He talked as we worked, sharing various facts about sailing, not needing me to answer.
I finished milking as quickly as I could and then carried the full buckets to the galley, trying not to spill along the way.
After I gave the milk to Harry, I had a few free minutes before it was time to serve breakfast, so I went up to the main deck to get some fresh air.
The activity on the topside had increased. Captain Frisk still had his spyglass trained toward the northwest.
The other ship was much closer.
“Hoist the topsail,” he yelled at the sailors on the deck. “It looks like the galleon is trying to overtake us.”
