Pirate

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The crew was scattered among the bonfires lit to ward off the cold Florida morning. We waited on the beach of what had become known as Gasparilla Island on the west coast of the peninsula called Florida. The men were anxious, all knowing that the next few hours would decide both their fortunes and fates. We had passed bottles of rum back and forth last night as usual, but most remained sober in order to have their wits about them. I stood on the beach searching for any sign of the captain and the treasure we were to split, but as yet he had not appeared.

I felt naked standing alone, knowing all eyes were on me. As cabin boy, I usually stayed close to the captain should he need me, and I feared men’s restlessness would turn against me if he did not appear soon. I had never been sure if it was the four years I had spent by the captain’s side or my own abilities that the crew respected, but they generally left me alone. In fact, many often looked to me for orders, rather than Rhames, the first mate. Most knew that I could read and write, elevating me to the unearned status of advisor. Lately, several of the men had sought me out, asking questions that I couldn’t answer; mainly, what they should do and where they should go with their share of the loot? My value to them was lost if Gasparilla failed to appear.

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