Noble Intentions

13. Stranded

Tuesday, 7th June, 1718
Cayo Bizcayno

Atlantica's spars and decks were a flurry of activity after Master Jenson called instructions. Hands aloft gasketed the sails as they were furled by lines from below. A small group unlashed the longboat and prepared it for flipping upright and hoisting overboard. Another group snaked a mooring line up through the cable locker hatch and ranged it on deck as a towing hawser.

All this while, Atlantica continued forward into the narrowing channel between the lee of the mangroves to starboard and the reef to port. Down through the crystal-clear water, the vibrant colours of the flitting fish added magic to the wondrous shapes of the coral.

As I examined the reef, I saw Gillian and Judith doing the same at the port bulwarks. A far finer view of the sea bottom from up here, but how can I accomplish this without showing my true intention? And what is that intention? To have her near – and away from the ogling of the men.

Aha, the risk from the coming activity. I called down to them, "Hoy, ladies."

They turned as one and looked up at me, their faces lit with smiles.

"Good morrow to you, ladies. But standing there will soon make you in the way as the boat is slung over the side. And with all the other activity on deck, it is safer for you inside." Then, close to my chest, I made a beckoning motion with my fingers and tilted my head toward the space beside me.

The ladies smiled and nodded, and within a minute, Gillian led Judith up through the hatch from the great cabin. As they approached me, I pointed toward the fore corner of the port rail. "It is safe for you over there. Would that I could join you, but Master and I will be fully occupied for the next long while."

By this time, Atlantica had lost most of her way, and all appeared arranged, so I called, "Bosun."

He turned from the group and looked aft. "Aye, sir."

"Is all in order to launch the longboat?"

"Aye, sir. Ready."

"Launch."

"Aye, sir. Launch."

With a series of orders, the boat and seven men rose from the deck, slung from lines through blocks at the end of the main course yard. When it had risen above the bulwarks, the yard was jeered to swing the boat over the water while hands on deck eased the slings through the blocks until it settled in the calm sea.

"Well done, all," I called. "I know this task is new to many of you, but you handled it superbly. This is the spirit we need to take us safely onward."

A while later, as the men on sweeps in the longboat pulled Atlantica through the narrow passage past the coral head, men aloft on the mainmast rigged blocks and rove them.

The mangrove roots to starboard showed a foot and a bit of dry gray bark above the water, and I said to Jenson, "We have a rising tide, as much as a foot until it is full. About two hours. What is your assessment of our timing? Should we proceed without pause?"

"What are the depths toward the mangroves, sir?"

"We sounded next to them, finding between three and six feet at low tide. The bottom is sand, and it drops rather quickly away from the edge of the roots." I pointed to the small embayment. "We laid there, bows-to, about twenty yards off. Our stern in fourteen feed at low tide, the bows in thirteen."

"It is too deep for us there, sir. We need to find bottom at about that distance. I suggest we have the boat turn us about while we have the depth, then pull us sidewards to about twenty yards off. They can then tow us astern until we strand."