26. The Anchorage

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Sunday, 30th August 1733

The last Sunday in August dawned clear as Elizabeth glided westward through small wind waves. The swell from the storm had now all but disappeared, so the ship had little motion except forward under the steady press of the following wind in her sails.

The morning twilight sight of the North Star had placed her latitude at twenty-one forty-six eleven, and by DR, her longitude was reckoned to be about seventy-five ten. Aldrick plotted the estimated position on the chart; then he drew the line of position of the anchorage.  

After reading the notes on the back of the sketch to refresh his memory, he uncovered the voice tube and blew the whistle

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After reading the notes on the back of the sketch to refresh his memory, he uncovered the voice tube and blew the whistle.

The reply came within seconds, "Officer of the Watch, Sir."

"Continue due west."

"Aye, Sir. Due west."

Aldrick covered the funnel; then he turned to Elizabeth. "The directions are to approach from the west on twenty-two twelve, then when the rightmost hill bears east-northeast, steer on it."

"How far from here?"

"We do not know." He pointed to Mira por Vos and the Jumettas. "What we do know is that these are charted incorrectly. We have confirmed this many times over the years."

"Will we run into them?"

"Our lookouts will ensure not." He ran his finger along the anchorage latitude. "Bolton shows it as lying between seventy-five and seventy-six west of London. We will sail due west to seventy-six before we steer north to find twenty-two twelve. Make the DR easier."

Elizabeth picked up the dividers and measured on the longitude scale. "A little over fifty miles. Less than five hours, then north for two more."

"If the wind continues. Doing it this way takes us close to twenty-two twelve when the sun crosses our meridian, enabling us to determine our latitude close to the approach line."

"Wise. And still six hours of daylight remaining from then."

"Yes, and we will likely need it all. Unless the wind shifts, our course will be into it, needing a long series of tacks."

She nodded as she snaked her hand to the front. "Like we did coming out the channel between England and France. Back and forth, back and forth."

"Exactly. I assume the good water is wide enough for that here. With the prevailing winds, Bolton would have had to approach into them."

"I still do not understand why you trust his drawing and his figures. As a convicted pirate conniving to be set free, his information may be no better than that which places the Caicos..." She waved her hand over the chart. "All of these so far out of position." 

"He was a highly respected naval officer and navigator before he turned foul. I know his family, and they are honourable. I trust him on this. Besides, it is his only way to prevent being branded and transported." 

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