Zeelandia

45. The Anchorage

I sat by the windows of the great cabin, chewing on a piece of willow bark and pondering what Charles had said – strong and healthy. Would they have considered Father strong and healthy? What do they do with those not... Oh, God!

I always saw Father as strong, but that was from admiring eyes. How would the pirates have seen him?

And after two and a half years, would they still consider him sufficiently strong to keep? I choked on this. The fate of the honest and good in the hands of the evil. Is the work done worth the cost of feeding?

How horrid a thought. But, these are horrid men.

I needed a distraction from this, so I busied myself with dusting the bulkhead panelling and buffing the wax there, concentrating on the variety of patterns in the wood, as I had done to relieve my boredom during my first weeks aboard. Parallel lines, waves, swirls, ripples, lozenges within lozenges. In my mind, I formed images of from where in the tree the pieces would have been cut.

This worked for a long while, then my thoughts returned to Father. What chance is there? I shook my head and refocused on the wood grain, finishing the starboard side. I had just begun on the other side when Charles rushed into the cabin and wrapped me in his arms.

"Good news, Camille. There is hope."

My heart sped. "Truly? For Father?"

"There is hope. Good hope."

He pointed to the steps. "We must get underway and sail onto the anchor while we still have light." He took my hand and led me. "Come, I will tell you up top between issuing orders."

On the quarterdeck again, quiet orders from Charles became loud barked commands from Master, and the jibs and mizzen sail soon filled with the brisk late-afternoon breeze, drawing Zeelandia forward. As we gained way, Charles said to me, "The six naked from the water had been slaves. All the clothed ones are pirates."

I grimaced. "Stripped naked to distinguish them?"

"Yes. They have now been given clothes by some of the crew."

Charles paused and ordered the helmsman to steer on the left edge of the island, then he resumed, "I spoke with them at length, but none knew anything about Venturer, or Adventurer's. I did; however, learn about the encampment."

He paused again, this time to acknowledge that both longboats were well in tow, then he continued, "The pirates had become short-handed in a recent skirmish, and they had begun using slaves aboard to work the sails. Those left ashore are chained, just as they are at night, and there are no guards. We will have an uncontested landing."

"Do you trust this information? Having no guards seems unusual."

"I questioned this myself. The island is very small, not five miles end to end, and but for them, uninhabited. The chains are to prevent having to hunt down and kill any who leave the encampment."

"Oh, God! How horrid!" I shuddered at the idea. "How many are there?"

"Their counts varied from one to the other, ranging from a ninety-five to a hundred ten. Then one stated that now, with those lost in the two ships, they are even less certain, but maybe seventy or eighty left, and then all agreed."

"Did you ask if there are older men? Those with grey hair?"

"I did. There are several."

I blew out a deep breath. "Oh, thank the Lord!"

"This is why I had said there is hope."

Relieved, my thoughts turned to the others, and I asked, "What about the two injured?"