~~
Having arrived at that point in time which the captain had directed me to sail, I knocked upon his cabin door and was summoned within. The captain was bent over charts–several charts–he'd obviously been studying. He stepped away from his work and greeted me. "Take a seat, Crockett. There are matters I've need to discuss with you. I'd offer you a drink, but 'twould appear the only thing those wretched Spaniards forgot to return is me blessed wine!"
"Aye, there is a blessing!" I thought to meself, feeling a weight of guilt and discovery lifted from me conscience.
"And I've no taste for the grog," he continued.
"No matter, Cap'n." I took to me seat and awaited his remarks.
"Old friend," he began, "it must be apparent to you that events have not transpired in accordance with me elaborately constructed plans. And much thought–and diligent preparation–had gone into those plans. I've never afore had a well-set plan come to such a disaster–and at its inauguration! 'Twere as if God, Hisself–or some other supernatural power–had determined to veer me from me intended course. If that be the case, Crockett–I must confess, I shall submit!"
Me discussion with Mam' Tiére about the "life spirit" flashed through me brain, and left the imprint of a smile upon me countenance.
"By that grin on your face, I'll gather you know me heading, and I'll spare us both a long voyage of words. I've determined to put all other plans, schemes and purposes aside, and make it me sole mission to aid you in returning our Annalea to England, and to whatever awaits her–and us–on those distant shores."
"Aye, 'distant' is the word, Cap'n: distant in place, distant in time–and so distant in memory as to be likely as unfamiliar to us as it is to Annalea. But, praise God for your decision!"
The captain continued. "It still is premature for us to make the crossing. We must plan and provision for such a journey. I must prepare this for the most advantageous time–to avoid the turmoil of weather or warships."
"Bless you, Cap'n! Whether it take four or five months, or four or five years, matters little to me, now. Knowing that we are all set on the same course–intended for the same destination–is enough to give me heart, and renewed strength of purpose!"
"Aye, Crockett, I feel this is the proper course for me and the others, as well as for you, Mam' and Annalea. We'll detail our new plan, in progress. In the meanwhile, look to this chart. I want you to come about and make for this new heading."
I looked; and I looked, again. "But, Cap'n!"
"Just do it, Crockett! Summon me when we reach the third mark."
"Aye, Cap'n."
"And keep a sharp eye for Spanish vessels," he added. "Let me know, at once, if one is spied. I'll not be taken by surprise!"
So I brought the ship about, and set on a heading south by southwest. 'Though we'd been, still, in Spanish waters, I'd been quite at ease, so long as we sailed to the east. But west? Me stomach was bent to clench like a fist! What was he about? Was this intended to elude somebody?
When we struck the next mark, we veered into a northerly heading. Now, we were fairly hugging the coastline. As we finally approached the third mark–having spied not a single vessel, Spanish or otherwise–I felt a sense of relief. Interesting how the sensibilities can be so removed from the realities. Continuing on this course would soon return us whence we started! But I refused to trouble me mind–or me gut–any further. I notified the captain of our location. He emerged from his cabin–seeming in high spirits–and took over command.
I was conversing with Mam' Tiére 'bout the captain's decision, and the seeming influence of the "life spirit," when I heard the captain's shouted command, "Drop anchor!"
"Oh, to Christ, now what?" I expressed me consternation to Mam' afore hurrying off to see what was afoot.
When I joined him, I saw the captain was amused by me puzzled look. I asked, simply, "Well, then?"
He chuckled through his response, "Come, join me in me cabin, Crockett; we've time to spare."
We reemerged about two hours afore dark, and set sail once again. During this brief respite, I'd learned more 'bout the captain's thoughts and intentions, and the direction of our next venture, than I'd known from him in months. As second to hisself, I went about the ship instructing our lads of their stations and purpose, for the next event. Just afore dusk, we arrived at our destination: those Spanish docks we'd departed shortly after dawn!
All men at their stations–and all prepared, properly–we awaited the captain's orders. Quite calmly, rather matter-of-factly, the captain beckoned me to his side. "Think you, Mr. Crockett, that these Spaniards are unduly apprehensive 'bout English 'pirates?'"
I could not forestall the laughter this produced in me; but soon as I could answer, I told him, "Most assuredly so, Cap'n!"
"Well now, Crockett, I think you are mistaken in that. I don't believe the Spaniards are unduly apprehensive, at all. I believe they have every reason to fear English 'pirates.' And I intend to demonstrate that to you. FIRE!"
All hell broke loose! We put cannon shot to their docks, to their fortifications, to the few ships slumbering at anchor, and even to the walls of that cursed city. We discharged volley after volley after volley. 'Twas not so much light, but enough to see we were rendering much damage–and more than a few Spanish casualties. But most significant was what occurred aboard our ship. 'Twas not the attitude of attack–'twas not like any battle. 'Twas like a festival! Everyone was jubilant! You'd never imagine this involved life and death and wanton destruction. You'd believe you were witnessing revelers cavorting and playing games. 'Twas a frolic–a party!
But even a frolic runs its course; and every party must end. The captain ordered, "Cease fire!"
He stood for a moment–as did we all–enjoying the sight of the glowing fires from the Spanish docks, ships and fortifications, and then turned to me with a broad smile. "Enough said. Take us away, Mr. Crockett: on a heading north by northeast."
Annalea spake out, for the many who wondered the same. "Whither, Captain?"
"Home, child. To home, at last."
Quietly–softly–to me alone, Annalea asked, "And whither is home to me, Papa?"
~~
April 19, 1718, at that shadowed corner table in the Boar's Head Inn, in Bristol, the grizzled old sea dog still sits with the younger man in gentleman's attire. The young gentleman speaks,
But sir, the last missive I hold from you was despatched from the French territories, some time later?
There is a vast expanse 'twixt the Caribbean and the English channel, son: an expanse of time as well as distance. And the tide of events do pull and direct your course as certainly as do the ocean currents. Practice patience, lad, and you shall know all you seek to know. But I warn you, knowledge moves a man. It can cause a complacent man to trod a dangerous path. As you now know more of Annalea than any man alive–save meself–your foot is on that path. I think I've earned meself another drink. Ahoy, lass!
The young gentleman does not take a drink. He bides his time, patiently. He ponders all he has learned about this amazing young woman: the unorthodox life she's lived and the perils she's survived–and the perils she must certainly still face. He is uncertain as to why he was summoned to this meeting. What is to be his involvement in all of this?
As he sits quietly, he accumulates a thousand questions. But he does not press the old seaman. He bides his time, patiently. He knows the saga of Annalea will continue.
The End
Thank you for reading
Annalea, Princess of Nemusmar by Stephen James Shore
We hope you will enjoy the second volume in the Annalea series,
Annalea, a Princess in Exile
Copyright Stephen James Shore 2009
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