The Cayos Vacas was the name given by the Spanish to the string of islands extending in a curving southwesterly sweep away from the tip of Florida and into the Gulf of Mexico. There were just two things Oliver remembered from the sailing charts he had seen. That name and a warning about the reefs that plagued sailors from the early days of island exploration.

I remembered Tickle telling me about the Indians who were scattered about, but we saw no evidence of their habitation on the next island in the chain where I had seen fires. To our view the islands we passed were all deserted.

"Shoals ahead," Oliver called out from his position in the bow, and I moved the tiller to take us into deeper waters.

It was now late afternoon and we had come some twenty miles from Caesar's island, or so I guessed. Ours was a fool's venture in that we had no compass and no charts for these waters. I would have liked to keep sailing all night long, but that was not a possible or safe idea.

I was captain of this ship, small though it might be. That meant the safety of these boys was my responsibility and I was ill prepared to deal with that. Oliver had mentioned a dozen islands in the chain before the vast open reaches of the Gulf would embrace us. Mexico was a thousand miles away, an impossible task.

But Cuba was within our grasp. When we reached the end of the Cayos Vacas all we had to do was turn due south and we would reach the vicinity of Havana within a few days. We had water and foodstuffs for that short a trip, it's what we would have to attempt. If the wind favored us, if storms didn't plague our journey…if God was on our side.

Tonight we would have to put ashore and suffer the hours of darkness worrying about that warship. Sitting in the middle of the cutter were two chests of what I knew to be treasure, and yet we did not open them. I was sure a pirate's gold must hold a curse considering what it had done to Caesar.

"What do you suppose happened to Caesar?" Erick asked. "That warship was breathing down his neck."

Oliver laughed. "If they catch him that neck will get a good stretching." He held up his arm in a mocking sign of a man hanging from a rope and made gagging sounds which made the others laugh.

"If he made it back to the island I imagine he would quickly disappear," I said.

"How is that possible?" Oliver asked.

"Tickle told me there was a secret place where Caesar kept an Indian boat of some kind. Maybe this was just a tall tale, but if true I bet the man would paddle alone across the bay to the marshes and disappear. He won't be happy leaving all that treasure behind."

"We got some of it," Arie said.

"Whatever you do, do not open those chests," I said. "Does everyone hear me?"

"Aye, aye, Captain," Oliver said with a smile. "Are you superstitious now?"

"I don't know, and I don't want to find out. If a pirate's gold is cursed why unleash that fate upon ourselves? If you want to do something useful then pray we have good weather and find a safe place to land for the night."

By the time I judged we ought to put ashore the sun was far in the west and sinking fast. Oliver had been laid out in the bow searching the waters ahead for the coral reefs which seemed to spring up out of nowhere. Our mainsail was already down and I allowed the cutter to inch forward on the bowsprit alone.

"Ease it starboard," Oliver sang out, and for the hundredth time I took us away from the island we were passing. Would the coral never end? "All clear," Oliver finally yelled, and then. "Hey, we have a sandy bottom."

The reef had given way to smooth white sand and I turned towards the beach with relief. The waves curling into the shore were small here, the bottom flattening out long before we reached the beach. I had noted the flow of water here on the northern sides of these islands was different than the sea side, but knew little of the tides and currents.

We dropped anchor in about four feet of water and ran our longest line up to a palm on the beach. I was taking no chances; the cutter was everything, life itself. Thomas and William had spent much of the afternoon fishing over the side. Even with only a bit of cloth as bait they had managed quite a string of fat tempting fish. Again Oliver's knowledge of the sea creatures came to the rescue.

"If a fish has bright colors don't touch it," He warned. "There are poisonous fish in the Caribbean and we don't need to be burying anyone."

"How poisonous?" Thomas asked.

"Deadly poisonous. But most of them have bright colors or funny spike covered bodies to warn us. If you are going to catch fish just go for the dull grey ones, they taste best."

And they tasted delicious. We dug a pit in the sand off the beach to shade the glow of our fire and roasted fish on a stick. We each had knives but there was only one fork between us. We had no cooking pots, no pan for frying and no salt or sugar. What inept campers we were, but we were free of the pirates.

"If we start early I imagine we will reach the end of the island chain by tomorrow evening," I said.

"The islands can't be solid all the way down to the end. Can't we slide between them if we see a gap?" Erick asked.

"Reefs abound," Oliver said. "Once we are beyond the islands we may be sure of safe passage as that will put us beyond the reefs."

"It just seems the long way around," Erick said.

"And I don't want to return to the sea only to discover that bloody warship sitting on our doorstep," Oliver said.

"There is that to consider," I said. "I wish we had a tree to climb, but its growing dark. How wide do you suppose this island is?"

"A mile maybe, or less," Oliver said.

"We should go take a look before breakfast and then cast off," I said.

"Aye, Captain, we should," Erick said.

"Damn, not you too? Next person calls me captain gets a bloody nose," I said.

"Aye, Captain," All six of them yelled at once, and we all dissolved in laughter.

This was the first night in three years I would spend without pirates surrounding me. The freedom we had created was a fleeting thought. Caesar might still be out there and we had stolen his cutter and his gold, a powerful incentive for revenge.

I watched as Arie snuggled in close to Erick, the brothers had slept this way ever since their mother had died. Thomas, Lawrence and William all lay on their backs and stared at the stars until they fell asleep. That left Oliver and I still awake.

"I never had the chance to thank you," Oliver said.

"For Tickle? There was a man needed killing I'm sorry to say."

"That, and the other forms of kindness you have shown me."

"When we reach Cuba what will you do?" I asked.

"I don't know, I could sign on as a ship's boy again. It's not what I want, but I have nothing back in England."

"If we salvage those chests we'll all be rich, even if we turn them in to the owners. My grandfather will make sure we get treated fairly," I said.

"You came from Boston, what's it like there?" Oliver asked.

"Nice, a studied city. Perhaps you could attend school there, you have a good mind."

"I read on board ship in my free time, studied the world, literature. Would the Americans take to a boy like me?"

"You haven't been a boy for quite some time. A man is judged by his actions, you have done quite well in that regard," I said.

"We will get there, Cuba I mean," Oliver said.

"We'll try. A lot of shipping travels the area where we are going. It would be a feather in our caps if we could sail into Havana harbor. But that's a prideful thought, isn't it? I would take passage on anything but a Spanish warship, them I do not trust."

Oliver sighed. "I would just like to sleep in a bed that isn't sandy." After a moment's silence he giggled. "I have finally reached manhood, you know, down there."

I smiled in the darkness. "Congratulations, I hope your cannon always fires well and true."

"I know many things about life upon the sea but nothing about the sexual nature of man. I've heard all the stories, sailors can get pretty disgusting in their chatter. I have no desires for a woman, is that strange?"

"Probably not, how many women do you know?" I asked.

"None to be sure, at least not in that way. I have seen men, sailors engaging in the most incredible acts. Shocking to say the least," Oliver said.

"Life aboard ship, I don't doubt you have seen plenty," I said. "Our feelings of self preservation have been sorely tested these past few years. My father is captain of his own vessel but I haven't learned one part of what you know about the sea."

"I learned by doing, the knowledge was forced upon me," Oliver said.

"Those lessons have certainly held us in good stead," I said. "Now we must sleep, the dawn will come early and we have a short run to take across the island before we sail."

"Good night then…Michael," Oliver said.

"Good night, Oliver…my friend."

The sun was just on the rise when Oliver and I took our short dash across the island. It wasn't an island really; a cay or sandbar would fit the description better. But we dodged the clumps of pine trees and palms until we came out on a beach so clean and pristine that we both stood stunned for a moment. I thought we might be the first humans to tread upon these sands. But the horizon was not dotted with ship's sails or filled with Caesar's little boats. All was clear except for the darkness that filled the horizon.

"Storms ahead," Oliver said.

"So I see, I just wonder at their intensity. The cyclones do not pitch such dark clouds; this may be all rain and lightning."

"We can hope. We'll know by afternoon at least I guess."

"Fair enough, we ought to be twenty or thirty miles further along by then," I said.

We cast off the cutter and headed west once again. I made our course further away from the islands this time, looking for a little room to maneuver if the wind suddenly picked up ahead of the storm. I could tell this was a fairly disorganized weather front as the wind backed and changed directions a few times.

We passed another of those long sandy isles and saw a good stretch of open water ahead. Oliver still had his head down in the bows looking for rising reefs, but the water was deep here. This channel was several miles wide and nothing lay between us and the open sea to the south, it was tempting.

But the storm worried me. If we turned for Cuba now it could mean we would have three nights on the open sea instead of just one or two. The cutter would ride well, she was a sturdy craft, but the sailors were less than capable. I could not do what my instinct said was wrong; we started across the wide open channel and stayed our course.

All too soon the dark clouds boiled overhead, tossed by the wind and billowing up to great heights. We were in for a major blow and were just reaching the eastern spit of land where reefs would abound and trees were non-existent. Oliver waved me to starboard, the coral blooms underwater had begun to appear.

I had the mainsail reefed to half its regular size because I could see the wind whipping the tops of the waves in the distance, and then it hit us. With little more than half our sails showing we were virtually tossed across the channel towards the island. I fought the tiller as Oliver remained on station, holding on for dear life. We had to go ashore; there was no doubt that this was only going to get worse.

I had Erick make sure the others were lashed to their seats and Oliver fully secured to the cleats at the bow. We had long ago dismounted the swivel cannon and tied them down at the foot of the mainmast. The added ballast in the middle stabilized the boat, not that Oliver hanging off the front helped our cause, but he was more necessary.

I was grateful that the wind was still behind us. If it backed the other way we were in real trouble. The cutter performed admirably, slicing through the waves even with the reduced volume of sail. Lightning flashed out followed by the roar of thunder, we had to get ashore.

Oliver kept waving me to starboard and I had no idea what he could see with the way the water was whipping up into such a frothing mess, but I had faith in his abilities. I looked to port and saw coral heads sticking up out of the water as the waves lashed over them. Then the storm took matters out of my hands.

A gust of wind backed us, hitting full on the bow and nearly turning us around. I fought the tiller as Erick scrambled to lower the sail the rest of the way. He was right; we didn't need a sail to be tossed about like this. Finally the wind got behind us again and Oliver waved me to port. I aimed the bow at the beach and kept us on track to run aground.

"Hold on," Oliver yelled and as he scrambled back into the boat we struck. The mast tilted but did not break. The boys quickly scrambled forward, dragging the anchor from the boat and firmly planting a fluke in the sand. Oliver moved to the stern beside me to rig a second anchor point.

There were only seven of us, an insufficient number to beach the whole cutter. Fortunately nature solved that problem for us; the cutter turned itself in the surf until the stern was headed for the beach. The minute it had begun to swing that way Oliver and I hoisted the rudder out of the gudgeons and pulled it aboard before we struck.

The cutter leaned on its side and I didn't want the hull damaged, but the craft was special made and quite sturdy with a goodly amount of cross bracing. We tied off the stern while the rains began, and then the world was a torrent of water falling from the skies. This was a full tropical storm, but not a cyclone, our luck was holding.

Oliver trundled the spare canvas up the beach and we sat huddled under it as the rain beat down on our heads.

"We got lucky this time," I said. "Everyone should thank Oliver for his keen eyesight."

Oliver laughed. "It was like riding a bucking horse up there in the bow. Maybe more like a feisty girl between the sheets, or what I would imagine that would be like."

We all laughed, mostly at ourselves since none of us had any experience. But now we ate a cold meal since a fire was out of the question. Each morning we opened the cask of hardtack and removed our daily ration. It wasn't much good but it filled the empty places in our stomachs.

Thomas gnawed on his biscuit. "I'm going to eat roast of beef when this is all done."

"I'd like a good ham and a rasher of fried potatoes," William said.

"You can make mine a large plate of bacon with a half dozen eggs," Lawrence said. "And what about you, Erick?"

"Ahh, a good schnitzel with noodles, and a stack of potato pancakes six feet tall."

"I'm eating his dinner," Arie said which caused more laughter.

"And what of you, Michael?" Oliver asked.

"Hmm, in Cuba? Ropa vieja smothered in tomato sauce. With black beans and rice on the side."

"What's that?" Thomas asked.

"It's your roasted beef steak in a tomato sauce, very delicious," I said. "We'll get you some in Cuba."

"I'll stick to hardtack," Oliver said. "You know sailors have no taste. Just remember the awful mush Wills used to make us."

"I wonder what happened to him. He was always nice to me," Thomas said.

"Me too," Lawrence said.

"We are not going to talk about this," I said. "Those men are gone from our lives. If the storm passes we'll be headed for Cuba day after tomorrow. I'm sorry to say I don't even know what today is, do any of you?"

No one did, we had all been living one day at a time. Oliver and I went down to the cutter to fetch some rope; we were going to tie the sailcloth between several trees to make a shelter. The boat looked fine where it was. I just hoped it wouldn't get pushed any further up the beach or we would never be able to launch it.

The morning came and was filled with rain, but the winds had ceased their fury. I had no idea how much further we might have to sail to reach the end of the island chain, but we could not allow the weather to hold us back. The cutter lay as it had the night before and I realized what a serious mistake it had been to beach the boat.

The efforts of seven boys could not even set it back on the keel, I felt trapped and quite the idiot for having allowed us to assume such a hopeless posture. But Oliver was far from finished.

"It's just going to be harder, we have the means if not the muscle," He said.

He took Erick and pulled up one of the deck plates, a section of wooden construction about three feet square. They dragged it clear of the boat and lay it at the water's edge.

"Now for the anchor," He said and it took four of us to lift it and place it on the wooden plate. With great effort we launched it and I accompanied Oliver out from the beach trailing the anchor chain behind us until we could stand no more. He looked back at the cutter and shook his head.

"We must go further, another boat length at least."

And so we swam, pushing the rafted anchor before us. Finally he looked back and nodded.

"This will do. Over she goes." And with a splash the anchor sank to the bottom. He grinned at me. "I hope this works or we have lost our anchor for sure."

"What? That is not even funny," I replied, treading water and awaiting his next move.

"I'll stay here, take the raft back to the beach and bring me one end of the long rope," Oliver said.

The gist of it was that he passed the end of the rope through the eye of the anchor and we swam it back to the beach.

"Let us tie this off about halfway up the mast, I sure don't want to break that with our efforts," Oliver said.

"Oh no, dismasted and no anchor, we would be here forever," I said.

"This will work, it's all in the geometry," Oliver said.

"I suppose you studied that as well," I said.

"I did, a ship under sail is all about geometry. Shall we pull on the rope?" Oliver asked.

It seemed a simple task, but indeed it took all our best effort to right the cutter. By pulling on the rope we exerted force on the mast and the anchor's eye acted as a pulley for our rope. Once the cutter was upright it was still dangerously close to the shore and at risk of turning over again. Oliver simply tied the rope to the cleats on the bow and pulled her head around.

It took a little more effort to dive for the anchor chain but once that was fished up and made fast our cutter sat riding quite pretty some fifty feet from shore and beyond the curling waves. Oliver beamed and I knew there was only one thing for it. I fished one of the cutlasses out of the bundle and ceremoniously handed it to Oliver.

"As Captain of this expedition I hereby appoint you First Lieutenant and sailing master of the…of the… Goodness, our cutter has no name," I said.

As we bundled our supplies back on the cutter there was a great discussion on what she ought to be named. I thought it best to leave the decision to the crew; any name I might attach to it would be personal. It would give the boys a feeling of possession and a desire to face the hardships ahead. I knew the journey we faced was not going to be easy.

"The Invisible," was Thomas' suggestion.

"The Sneak," Lawrence decided.

Oliver clambered aboard and helped pull up our meager supplies. One by one the boys clambered aboard and I came last.

"I have a suggestion," Oliver said. "How about we call her The Revenge."

"Oh, yes…I quite like that," I said, and the other boys agreed. "The Revenge it is," I declared. "All hands man the sails, pull up the anchor," I ordered. And we were off once again.

The rains stayed with us all morning long, until finally we reached the end of an island and stared out on the vast reaches of the water between us and the next one. Oliver stood in the bows and gazed out at the distance.

"I can barely see the distant trees, this is the largest passage by far, Michael," Oliver called out.

I knew what he was saying. If the water was deep and free of coral we ought to make our turn south and run with it. I was concerned that the sky was overcast, the sun a mere blur in the sky. Keeping to a southerly course was going to be difficult. We would have the stars at night to guide us, but just keeping the tiller straight was insufficient.

The winds and current would affect our drift, but I thought Cuba to be of sufficient size that we could not possibly miss hitting somewhere along their coast. I had searched high and low for a spare compass, but it was a device that Caesar kept closely guarded. There had been one in the crows nest to determine the direction of approaching ships, but I could not possibly have taken that one. Oliver finally clambered back to the stern and I could see the question in his eyes.

"Yes, I know, we need to decide," I said.

"One storm has passed, it could be less than a week before another strikes us," Oliver said. "We can't chance it, we should go now."

"If the clouds remain we won't get a good course reading until the stars come out, if they come out," I said.

"We have a hundred miles to traverse; there will be time to make changes."

"I agree, we must take the chance now," I said.

The best we could do was attempt to center ourselves in the wide body of water and then stay that course until darkness fell. Night would bring what it may and we needed to see stars. I had spent three years gazing at the stars and could determine south by their position in the sky. For now we would guess.

Away west there was once again a gathering of dark clouds. The wind was from our starboard quarter and so our tack was towards the east. We cleared the islands and felt an immediate change in the way the cutter acted. The open sea would require my constant attention as the waves were higher. Now that the reefs were no longer a major concern Oliver came and sat with me.

"I hope you know we are easting rather quickly," Oliver said.

"Thinking about that warship?" I asked.

"More worried about that approaching weather. If we have to retreat we will lose the advantage of distancing ourselves from that bloody pirate."

"I have no choice but to agree with you. I believe he would pursue us to the ends of the earth if he could. Let's hope that warship has ended his career, or at least occupied all his attentions."

We sat for some time and watched as the weather front spread out, reaching for the south and building up in our path. The east remained fairly clear, and that was a puzzle.

"I believe this is yesterday's storm returned to haunt us. It has changed its character," I said.

"You think it has become a cyclone?" Oliver asked.

"If it has we are doomed to fail on this attempt and should seek shelter again very soon."

"With this wind there is no return to our former haven, we should make for the nearest island. It will be more difficult on the sea side."

"Oh Lord Almighty, what is that?" I asked, standing and pointing out to sea.

Oliver stood as well and then went over and shimmied halfway up the mast. What he saw made the boy blanche and yell back to me. "Turn to port, quickly now." He dropped to the deck and hurried back to me.

"Two sails, small boats…they have to be Caesar's," Oliver said.

"Here? Now? How is that possible?" I stammered.

"We must run for cover and lose them in the islands. We have the speed they do not, turn us around."

A jibe like this was tricky at the best of times in the increasing gusts of wind, but turn we did.

"They must have run far out to sea to have caught up with us like this. Knowing Caesar they did not stop for storm or darkness either. Let us pray he is not aboard one of those boats," I said.

"He just wants the treasure," Arie said. "Can't we just give it to him?"

"I would rather toss it overboard," Oliver said.

The wind was now on our port quarter and we were making way back towards the island we had passed this morning.

"What chance do we have if we beach the cutter?" I asked.

"None that I can see," Oliver replied. "But I had best resume my reef watch. I think we should remount the swivel guns and load them with grape in case they come close."

"I would load ball first, then grape shot. If they come too close we might sink at least one before the other comes upon us," I said. "How many powder charges do we have left in the locker?"

"Six remain, Erick and I can man them well," Oliver said.

We both looked out at the small sails in the distance. There was no need to say anything; they had turned towards us in pursuit. I could not imagine the curse that we must be under to have gained such ill luck. The insanity of Caesar's chase spoke of his madness. I could not imagine how he had escaped the warship. Perhaps he had bought off her captain or the sudden storm had separated them.

The island ahead held a curving bay, a bight in nautical terms. In these waters I knew that would mean the area was somewhat sheltered and the coral would grow immensely larger. Oliver was back in the bow but we did not reduce our speed, not yet.

The storm was sliding to the south, distant but still threatening. The clouds over us were growing darker and I worried for the rain that might beat down. I didn't mind getting wet, but the surface of the water would be agitated making Oliver's watch on the coral below nigh on to impossible.

"Reef ahead," Oliver sang out.

"Drop the mainsail," I yelled and Erick worked with the others to obey the command.

Far out astern the two small boats were under full sail. Their tiny bits of cloth were less than half what we could show to a good following wind, but that would only matter in the long chase. If the storm were not threatening we might have just run away, but I could not allow us to be capsized in the open sea.

I didn't know who might be in the boats. Caesar possibly, Gunny for sure. Their single minded ruthlessness would serve well for such a mad dash after us. They would have muskets and even in a tossing boat would be deadly accurate if the range closed between us. Erick would become a prime target if he was manning the swivels, I could count on only one shot from each of our cannon.

All this whirled through my mind as Oliver began his waving, guiding me port and then starboard to avoid the heads of coral beneath the water. Our speed was down to only a few knots while the smaller boats were still charging in at us, closing now to barely a mile. I would have given anything for a spyglass to see who was aboard.

"Hard a starboard," Oliver yelled, and I threw the tiller over. The crunch and squeal of coral sliding down the copper sheathing of the cutter raised the hair on the back of my neck. How delicate the fabric of our boat compared to the hard sharp reef under our keel, we could not survive a direct hit. "Hard to port," Came the call and I obeyed.

We were zigzagging our way through close channels of coral and I thought perhaps the smaller boats could ride over such obstacles. If Gunny was aboard he would have the skill whereas Caesar would risk the lives of all his men. The distance between us was closing and we would soon be in range for a long shot from a musket.

A distant shot rang out, but no ball found its mark. "Starboard…no…yes," Oliver yelled. The reef was confusing him; it must be very thick hereabouts. Another distant shot and this time the sound of a ball passing in the air.

"The reef ends," Oliver yelled. "We should turn to port and keep the wind to our stern."

I agreed. There might be more coral ahead, but with the wind at our backs we would continue to move away from the approaching boats. Another shot, and this time the ball hit the hull.

"Everyone stay down in the boat," I yelled. "Make ready the cannon."

Erick had loaded ball in the starboard cannon, grape in the port swivel. A solid three pound chunk of iron would hole a small boat if they came too close. I judged the muskets to have the range on us now; the swivel cannon would begin to be effective at a hundred yards. Unfortunately at three hundred feet a fusillade of muskets would seem like a broadside to us.

"Ahoy, Tig," Came the call and my worst fears were realized. Caesar was on one of those boats, he would kill us all before taking his treasure back. There was distant laughter and a few more musket balls.

Oliver had remained in the bow, lying low on the forward bench with Erick behind him sitting below the swivel cannon. Neither of them could be seen by Caesar, but over my shoulder I could see him standing up in his boat.

"You cannot run away," Caesar called.

"They're entering the reef," Oliver called out and I looked up to see him smile. "Going too fast, they will lose at least one of those boats."

"Then we must sink the other. Are you ready, Erick?" I asked.

He looked back at me and nodded. "I will hole the boat with the first shot, and hole the crew with the second."

I looked at the sky and knew we didn't have much time. We could continue to sail the length of the island, but then the bight of land had brought us in a curving arc and I feared that there would be more coral ahead.

"Fire," I hear Caesar yell, and a hail of musket balls blasted splinters of wood off the gunwales of the cutter.

"Damn him," Erick said.

"A little closer," I heard Oliver say. "Steer a bit to port, that will decreased the range and..." He never finished that thought before we could all hear one of the smaller boats run aground on the coral. I wanted to stand and look, but it was bad enough my head was exposed to see where we were going.

A single shot and the ball struck the tiller handle. They were after me now. Yells from the small boat foundering on the reef. Oliver looked up and then ducked down, another shot at us, or at him I was sure. He looked back at me and grinned.

"Pirates in the water and that boat is going down fast," He said.

"Ahoy, Tig," Came the call. "I will give you life for gold."

"Oh yes, I believe that," I yelled back.

"They are in range," Oliver said.

"Shoot the boat," I said.

"You believe me, you have courage," Caesar yelled.

I raised myself up and saw four men in the boat with Caesar, none of them were pointing muskets our way. Erick slid a hand up and cocked the flintlock on the swivel gun. He would have to stand and aim it, exposing himself to Caesar's muskets. I planned to provide a distraction.

"Slide that small chest down here," I told William and Thomas. The damn thing was heavy, but I figured it was time to open it. I pulled it between my legs and unfastened the clasps. The lid moved easily and I looked inside at the mound of gold coins lying on the bottom. I reached in my hand and grasped something bejeweled that was lying face down on the bed of coins.

I held it up and started laughing. "Hey, Oliver…a compass," I said. He looked back at me, puzzled as I began tossing handfuls of coins over the side.

"What you doing?" Caesar yelled.

"Sending your treasure to Neptune," I yelled.

"No," Caesar bellowed. "I kill you."

"Not if I kill you first," I said quietly. "Fire," I commanded.

Erick popped up and aimed the swivel. The explosion shook the cutter and sent the ball skipping across the water and right through the bow of the small boat. Several musket shots rang out but Erick had ducked below the side of the cutter.

I could hear cursing. "They're trying to reach us before they sink," Oliver warned.

"Ready with the grape shot?" I asked.

"Aye, Captain," Erick said.

"Be careful, they have a bead on you," I said. "Fire at will."

Erick cocked the flintlock and popped up, sitting on the gunwale and aiming the swivel across the cutter at his target. I heard a musket shot just as he pulled the lanyard, and the explosion sent a cloud of small steel balls at Caesar's boat.

"Lord Almighty," Oliver said. "They're all down."

"Well done, Erick…" But he was slumped in the bottom of the boat with blood on his shirt.

"Erick," Arie screamed and crawled to his brother's side.

"Oliver, are they any closer?" I asked.

"Who?" He asked.

"Caesar's boat."

"What boat? We've been alone out here since Erick fired that shot. Caesar went down and his boat just slipped beneath the waves. They ought to be sitting on the bottom about now."

"Good," I said. I stood up and strained to hoist the chest onto the gunwales. I closed the lid and snapped it shut before shoving the chest over the side. It floated for a second and then sank like a stone. Arie was bent over Erick in the bow and I looked their way to see what had happened.

The cutter suddenly rocked and I felt a hard grip clutch my arm. I turned and screamed as Caesar lurched upwards, one hand on me, the other on the cutter. His face was a mess of bloody flesh, one of the grape shot must have hit him there. But his body was unhurt and he was deadly strong, pulling on me, trying to take me into the water where I would certainly die.

I saw movement from the corner of my eye and Oliver appeared, a cutlass in hand, and he swung it down and into Caesar's neck. The blow was fierce and it nearly took the man's head off.

"Die you bastard, die," Oliver screamed and Caesar sank beneath the waves.

I dropped to the deck and watched Oliver toss the cutlass overboard. He looked down on me and smiled. "I'd say we're even now, Michael."

We had been distracted by the fight with Caesar and ignored the coming storm. But now the pitching of the cutter made demands upon our attention and we looked to the shore which was barely a musket shot away.

"Lord Almighty, there is a cove over there, let us make for it," Oliver yelled. "Hard a starboard, if you will."

The small inlet was formed by a curve of the land, providing us with a sheltered anchorage. I sailed the cutter to within a stone's throw of the sandy beach and we dropped anchor just as the rains came pouring down. The musket ball that hit Erick had creased his side, more blood than gore. Arie had already wrapped the wound and we could treat it later on shore.

Oliver stared into the water and then grinned, jumping right over the side of the cutter to stand waist deep. It was hard going with the rain pouring down upon us and the wind picking up to fierce intensity. We crossed the beach and sought shelter among the trees.

The storm raged for two days and nights, a fearsome blow that I judged to be a cyclone of the smaller kind. But when it was done the skies turned blue and the sun shone down on seven bedraggled and very wet boys.

It took us most of a morning to bail out the cutter and set sail. I was concerned about Erick's wound although a good dousing in salt water seemed to have done him no harm. He would still need the care of a doctor. Now with our jewel encrusted compass we had no fear of running astray of our intended course and heading south to Cuba.

The last night ashore on this island of salvation we figured our bad luck had run its course and opened the last treasure chest. Inside was a large pile of golden Spanish coin.

"We are rich beyond our wildest imaginings," Oliver said.

"Too rich, for men of such wealth are a target for pirates and criminals of the baser sort," I said.

"Baser than pirates?" Arie asked.

"There may be some, but I doubt any come worse," Oliver said. "I must ask, why did you throw the other chest overboard?"

"Curse Caesar and his gold," I said. "I was angry, but it was certainly an irrational act on my part."

Oliver smiled. "You almost dropped it on his head."

"Let us forget those moments. I suggest we bury the remaining chest here and take only a token of the wealth available to us," I said. "I say we should avail ourselves of twenty-five coins apiece. We will all know it is here, and even if we never return we will feel rich in our minds."

"What if we want more?" Thomas said.

I looked at Thomas, Lawrence and William. "You three will return home to the loving embrace of your parents, who would probably not believe such a treasure exists. If they did I am sure they would find good use for it to pay for your education, so you would lose it.

"As to Erick and Arie, you will return to the Dutch country and the family I am sure awaits news of your return. None of you have the need of such wealth; you have a richness of family life to tide you over."

"What about me?" Oliver asked.

"Ahh, well…I have saved the best for last. I would not abandon my comrade in arms; we have fought together and nearly died for our efforts. You will come with me and begin anew. If you so desire to put to sea once again it will be on my father's ship. I could wish no less for I have found that love exists between us, we were meant to be brothers."

Oliver gave me a smile and a nod. "I could ask no better of this life than to spend it as your companion."

And so we divided up the gold, and what we took hardly made a dent in the pile contained within that chest. The inlet was our marker as we stepped off seven hundred paces due north from the waterline, a hundred for each of us. And there we dug our hole until water began to arise from the sandy bottom. The chest was placed, covered over and we all stood in reverent silence looking down at the mound of sand.

"No pirates we that stand above this treasure. Seven brave young men is all I see who go to seek their leisure," Oliver said.

"Ahh, a poet at heart," Arie said.

"Could be," Oliver said. "But the sailor's life is poetry enough for me. Of course I would like that steak Michael keeps talking about."

"Then let's be about our business," I said.

Two glorious days of sun and heavenly nights of starry skies took us to Cuba where with our luck holding out we arrived dead on in Havana's harbor. The officials at the dock would not let us come ashore as we had no papers. I sent word into the town to my grandfather who arrived with a squad of policemen to escort us. As I pen this story I may have forgotten to say that he is the Chief Justice of the Court and quite a powerful man in Cuba.

Three weeks later Oliver and I embarked upon Captain Farnsworth's ship the Sweet Jenny, named after his wife. We were bound for Boston, while Erick and Arie joined the others on a ship bound for London where they could seek passage to Holland.

We had eaten our fill of steak and the other delicacies offered us by the sweet and caring people of Havana. Our story quickly spread throughout the city and we were afforded every courtesy, every social opportunity we could possibly desire.

Our cutter, The Revenge, was returned to its rightful owner, Senor Delgada, who graciously rewarded us with a pile of coins and doubled our fortune. Speaking for myself and Oliver, I sincerely thanked our five companions for their courage and steadfast natures. If we had not pulled together as a crew then none of us would have survived this trial, they would be sorely missed.

My grandfather and I were in mourning as befit the loss of my mother, and he quickly applied to the American government for permission to search out her grave and have the remains returned to Cuba. I would have liked to be on that expedition and seen the look on Mama Koobo's face if she still resided there. But now we are finally upon the sea and Oliver is sharing a tiny cabin with me.

And so ends my tale of adventure and woe. There are not many boys who can say they fought pirates and carried off stolen treasure all before their fourteenth birthday. I shall never speak Caesar's name again, I have no need. It was all like one long nightmarish dream, an education of the worst sort.

But I have gained five fast friends, and one very close one. Of all of us he bears the largest scars from this encounter, at least in the physical sense. Our minds are open to joining my father's venture and studying to become masters of our own ships.

For could you see us sitting before the fire with our feet upon the hearth and remembering nothing but our past? Certainly not while there is yet a breath within us. Adventure calls and we shall answer.

Michael J. Burns. Fast approaching Boston harbor ... and home from the sea, if only for a little while. 1823.


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"Marathon Gold" Copyright © 2010 by Chris James. All rights reserved.
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