the small wooden boat, causing Rugby to dig her claws into Jack’s shoulder. Jack carefully extricated the cat and placed her on the floor of the boat. Rugby remained there until the first whitecap sloshed over the side, drenching her paws. Wanting no more of that, she jumped onto the front bench and pressed her body flat against it, locked her paws on either side, and held on for dear life.
Jack removed the hoist, secured his oars in the oarlocks, and began rowing toward shore. Over the next twenty minutes he worked the oars expertly, knifing the dory through the Bay, while accepting minimal water from the heavy chop. Finally he steered his little boat into the still, sulfurous water of the Little River. He lifted an oar high above his head and waved it to let the crew know he was safe. Then he continued upriver.
The first bend was no more than fifty yards from the bay, but the high dunes and scrub brush effectively blocked the wind and made for stale air and stifling rowing conditions. Within minutes Jack was at his canteen, wiping his brow.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Jack said to his hairless companion.
Rugby didn’t answer. She wasn’t interested in conversation. Something had drawn her to the side of the boat, and she leaned out and over it, transfixed by something just below the water line.
“I wouldn’t put my face that close to the water,” Jack warned. “If that’s a snapping turtle you’re tracking, it’s apt to take your head off.”
Rugby arched her back and hissed loudly, causing Jack to follow her gaze. He leaned over the side and shielded his eyes against the sun’s glare on the water.
“What do you see down there that you haven’t seen a hundred times, girl?”
In this part of the river the water was brackish, with light green patches of algae hugging the shorelines. Whatever it was that had riled the cat was still troubling her, but Jack couldn’t make it out.
Until he could.
“God’s blood!” he exclaimed, jumping back in shock. There, just below the stagnant surface, he’d seen the hideous, human-like face of a yellow eel. Five feet long if an inch, and covered with dark brown spots that looked like eye balls. Jack had never seen an eel in these waters before, let alone the eyeball markings. This one had obviously slithered out of one of the numerous limestone caves that lay beneath the waters of the Little River. A terrifying sight; and Jack shuddered to contemplate what manner of soulless, unknown species might be too large to escape the dark caves below his boat.
For the better part of an hour, into late afternoon, he navigated the river, relying on his sharp vision and keen intuition to evade the submerged tree limbs and sandbars that discouraged less skilled travelers from duplicating the journey. He and Rugby passed snakes, turtles, raccoons, skunks, cranes, and lily pads teeming with great, bellowing bullfrogs, and giant spiders mending their webs. Other than the occasional puff of hot breeze, the air was rank and stagnant, and filled with the odor of rotten eggs. Rugby winced and sneezed.
Jack laughed. “I know, smells like hell fire, don’t it, girl? But it’s just the sulphur pits that line these coves. We’ll move past them soon.”
He kept to the center of the river to avoid the thick, green pond scum that had all but taken over the river at this point, and the ravenous mosquitoes that hugged the verdant shore.
Rugby’s ears pricked as they neared the final bend that led to their destination. Jack knew what his companion had heard. A moment later, he heard it too.
Children’s voices.
Though he knew whose children they were, he stopped rowing, and kept his oars in the water to hold the boat in check. He listened a moment, studying the cadence of the voices. They sounded enthusiastic.
“Rugby, make nice, for they’ve assembled a landing party to greet us.”
The cat looked at him and Jack said, “I don’t know how they knew I was coming. But they always know. It’s probably Rose, the witchy one. She senses things.”
Chapter 4
THE LANDING PARTY, Jack knew, would number six: George and Marie Stout, their three young children, and Johanna, the young girl who lived and worked with the Stouts. Jack let out his signature whistle before rounding the final bend, and the voices immediately stopped, their minds processing the sound. Then, almost instantly, they began cheering. Jack had taught Johanna and the Stouts this particular whistle as a means of identifying themselves from a distance. He had taught them a danger whistle as well.
The group had gathered at the Stout’s dock, thirty yards west of George and Marie’s outpost. For years the dock had been the primary means of accessing the outpost by the river families that settled on the banks north of this location. But the previous year’s hurricane had deposited so many trees that the river north had become virtually impassable. These days, those who visited the outpost were forced to walk or ride the rough trail on horseback. Though the post was isolated, people willingly made the trip to obtain the one thing George had that they couldn’t get elsewhere.
Medicine.
Medicine, the most prized and valuable commodity in the colonies, had been the foundation for Jack and George’s close friendship. Other than gold, Jack’s principal reason for attacking ships was to acquire medicine, which he sold and traded for goods and services. He had two paying customers in St. Alban’s: the Mayor’s physician and Thomas Griffin, who owned the local apothecary. He also traded medicine with George Stout in return for information regarding the town’s current attitude toward pirates, the unlimited use of George’s horses, and care for Johanna, whom Jack had rescued from an abusive family two months earlier.
When the greeters saw Jack making the final turn, they cheered. But when they saw Rugby, George and Marie crossed themselves and spit over their shoulders. Even the children, accustomed to all manner of woodland creatures, crossed and spat, and hesitated to approach the boat.
Johanna was the lone exception. She sported a smile that seemed to occupy her entire face. When she bent down to accept the bow of the boat, she and Rugby eyed each other closely. Jack said, “This is Rugby. She’s yours, if you want her.”
Johanna squealed with joy, which caused Rugby to arch her back and hiss. One of the Stout boys yelped at the sound, and Marie recoiled in horror. But undaunted, Johanna put her hand out, and waited for Rugby to respond. Eventually the cat bent her head against Johanna’s hand without launching an attack.
“She likes you,” Jack said.
