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“Cap’n!” one of the men called as he helped set the crate on the deck. “This be too heavy for spice.”
Curious, Morgan removed his long dagger from his belt and pried loose a board. He searched through shredded pieces of paper until his hand brushed against something smooth and hard. Seizing it, he pulled out a piece of raw gold.
Morgan laughed. No wonder the British had risked their lives. Even though he would have to give the new American government a share of the bounty, there would be plenty of gold left to make all of his crew happy men.
“What be the fate of theMolly Doon, Cap’n?” Barney asked as soon as the last crate was brought over.
Morgan glanced about the terrified faces of the Brits and pondered the answer. None of his crew had been seriously hurt, and with the exception of a few pieces of split rigging and nicks in the railing, his ship stood sound.
And, they had taken a king’s ransom in gold.
Today he was feeling merciful.
“Raze all the jib and mizzen sails,” he told Barney. “That should keep them occupied for a while and eliminate any thought they might have of renewing our fight.”
“Nay!” the English captain begged in a raspy whine. “That shall leave us prey for pirates.”
Anger creased Morgan’s brow and he curled his lip at the man. “Well then, you should be grateful. My experience with pirates is that they treat their captives much better than the English navy treats its impressed sailors.”
Kit laughed at his words. “Aye now, Captain, don’t you think that he’d make a fine cabin boy for some pirate prince?”
Barney slapped the youth on the back. “Better a swabber. What with those pudgy fists and fat bottom, he could cover the decks in a matter of minutes.”
Morgan shook his head at their banter. “Raise the sails and chart a course for home,” he called to Barney. “I think our guests are more than ready to weigh anchor on solid ground.”
His words brought a cheer from the newly freed Americans as his crew rushed to carry out his orders.
No sooner had they drifted past theMolly Doonthan one of the American sailors came forward.
Gratitude burned brightly in the man’s brown eyes as he pulled his ragged English scarf from his head and stopped in front of Morgan. “I don’t know how to thank you, Captain. We’ve all prayed many a night that one dayTriton’s Revengewould cross our paths and make us free.”
Morgan remembered a time when he, too, had whispered such desperate prayers. Only, his prayers had gone unanswered until he’d been forced to take matters into his own hands. He’d learned early in life that he could depend on no one but himself. “I’m glad that I had the chance to free you.”
“Aye,” another sailor said, moving up alongside the first. “You’re just like the story said. Proud and true.”
Morgan went cold at the words. “What story?” he asked.
“Why, this one here that I picked up from a colonial ship last month,” the man said while he fished inside his pocket. After a moment he produced a crumpled scrap piece of parchment and handed it to Morgan.
As Morgan scanned the writing, anger throbbed through every fiber of his body. God’s blood, someone had found out who he was!
“Mr. Pitkern!” he shouted, gaining Barney’s attention. “Shift course and head us for Savannah.”
“Savannah, Cap’n?”
“Aye, I’ve got a fish to fry.”
