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by W. A. Hoffman


  With my jaw as it was, I was relieved – both personally and by duty – of having anything to do with the sharing out of the treasure. Gaston and I went down the beach and built sand versions of the manor houses in which we had been born. I stomped all over mine once it was complete. We discussed slipping away and marooning ourselves on this fair isle. There was ample fresh water, and fish and other small game, including the cayman lizards it had been named for. We at last decided against it, but we knew without doubt we would not return to Port Royal with the others.

  When the treasure was shared out, all the men who had survived Porto Bello were wealthy beyond their expectations. It was the most treasure many of them had ever seen. The fact that this was due in part to there being far fewer of us now than had first sailed was simply overlooked as a thing that there was no remedy for, a cost of battle and glory: Morgan made a speech to that effect. The men laughed and drank and ridiculed or pitied the French for not remaining with us. There was so much love of life and money in the air that I was sure they would have sailed to the Rome and requested Morgan’s beatification had they been Papists. As it was, I knew it would take much to shake him from their hearts, and I drank to solace my melancholy over that matter. I saw the ruin of all about me in it.

  Finally, after days of debauch, we sailed for Jamaica. Gaston and I informed Striker of our wish to disembark at Negril Point. Our captain was distraught but accepting of it, and asked what he should tell those waiting for us at Port Royal. Gaston informed him that since Sarah was Striker’s wife, Striker could tell her what he would; that Theodore knew where to find us; that Rucker and Agnes were welcome to visit, with the dogs; and, that if she were truly with child, the Damn Wife should be told I saw little need to see her until after the babe was born – and if she were not laden, that she should be told I was wounded such that I could not perform my marital duties for a time. We knew that last might cause complications later; truly, all of it could lead to unforeseen problems, but we had resolved not to care for a few months. The future could wait.

  At last we returned to our home upon Negril Point. The roof was in need of repair, but little else seemed amiss: the few chickens left about had obviously found it a safe and dry place to roost. With great relief, we deposited our bags and weapons inside and made our way to the rock overlooking the sea to watch the sunset.

  As the golden light lit Gaston’s hair so that it appeared to be afire, I was minded of the first time I had sat upon this rock, nearly a year ago. It was the day Gaston had told me he would leave me alone whilst he disappeared into the forest to contend with his madness.

  Now, Gaston wrapped his arms about me, and nuzzled my neck before whispering, “I will not leave you, my love.”

  With a happy smile, I settled into his arms and watched the sun sink into a golden sea. I wanted to be nowhere else in all Creation. I did not see portents in the shining waves, or hear a siren’s call from the gulls swirling in silhouette against the fire-hued clouds. Nay, instead I felt as if the glorious light was the beneficence of the Gods shining upon us. For though They were surely not done with us, for this moment we were at peace, and all was right with the world.

  End - Volume Two

  Continued in

  Treasure: Raised By Wolves, Volume Three

  Bibliography

  The following titles do not represent the entirety of my studies; but they were the most useful, and the ones I would recommend for anyone interested in doing their own reading about the buccaneers and this period of history. To that end, they are ranked in order of usefulness to my research.

  Exquemelin, Alexander O., The Buccaneers of America (translated by Alexis Brown, 1969), Dover Publications, Inc., 2000. Original publication, Amsterdam, 1678.

  Haring, C.H., The Buccaneers of the West Indies in The XVII Century, New York: E.P. Hutton, 1910.

  Burney, James, History of the Buccaneers of America, London: Unit Library, Limited, 1902. First edition, London, 1816.

  Burg, B.R., Sodomy And The Perception of Evil: English Sea Rovers in The Seventeenth-Century Caribbean, New York: New York University Press, 1983.

  Pawson, Michael & David Buisserat, Port Royal Jamaica, Jamaica: The University of the West Indies Press, 1974.

  Buisserat, David, Historic Jamaica From The Air, Jamaica: Ian Randle Publishers, 1996. First edition, 1969.

  Marx, Robert F., Pirate Port: The Story of the Sunken City of Port Royal, New York: The World Publishing Company, 1967.

  Briggs, Peter, Buccaneer Harbor: The Fabulous History of Port Royal, Jamaica, New York: Simon And Schuster, 1970.

  Dunn, Richard S., Sugar and Slaves: The Rise of the Planter Class in the English West Indies, 1624-1713, New York: W.W.Norton & Company, Inc., 1972.

  Apestegui, Cruz, Pirates of the Caribbean: Buccaneers, Privateers, Freebooters and Filibusters 1493-1720, London: Conway Maritime Press, 2002.

  Marrin, Albert, Terror of the Spanish Main: Sir Henry Morgan and His Buccaneers, New York: Dutton Children’s Books, 1999.

  Pyle, Howard, Howard Pyle’s Book of Pirates, New York: Harper & Row, Publishers, 1921.

  Cordingly, David, Under The Black Flag, New York: Random House, 1995.

  Kongstam, Angus, The History of Pirates, Canada: The Lyons Press, 1999.

  About the Author

  I, W.A. Hoffman, am a reader who wishes to know nothing about the writers of the books I enjoy. I wish to regard another artist’s work on its own merit, as an entity unto itself, unattached to the mundane world by threads of minutiae and expectations born of labels. I don’t want to know how many dogs another author has, or the state of their conjugal bliss at the time of a novel’s publication. And what matters an artist’s bona fides, their talent and skill either blossoms on the page or it does not.

  I realize my opinion on this matter is not widely held. I am aware of the customs of publication. I choose to follow my own path through this life, however. That is why I started my own publication company, Alien Perspective; so that I might be free to write what my muse and the Gods inspire and desire; and freer still to send the fruits of my labor out into the world in any form I choose: to find readers who simply wish to immerse themselves in art born of my love for my characters and their stories.

  About the Cover

  The illustration used for the cover is a detail of Howard Pyle’s, Marooned. The piece was painted in 1907, as part of a series of paintings and illustrations for Howard Pyle’s Book of Pirates.

  Howard Pyle is regarded by many as the father of American illustration. There are numerous books and web sites devoted to his work and legacy, so I will not waste words here saying what many others can tell you. I do have this to say, though. Pyle seems to one of the few illustrators who have ever read Exquemelin or Burney (see bibliography). In his art and writing he accurately depicts what we know of the buccaneers in terms of dress and tactics. He essentially represents buccaneers, circa 1630-1680, and not romanticized notions from later centuries about “pirates” from the Golden Age of Piracy, 1680-1720.

  For more information, please visit

  www.alienperspective.com.

 

 

 


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