Chapter One

 

 

 

June 10, 2017

Bahamas

 

 

The seawater thundered over the stern as the old fishing boat attempted to cut through the eight-foot waves, soaking everyone on board to their core. Connor Murray felt the impact in his kidneys as he held on to the ladder for dear life. The tuna tower swayed above him. His arm muscle burned as he prevented himself being tossed into the sea from the violent movement. Saltwater stung his nose. The new motor growled like a wounded bear as it strained against the onslaught.

How long can this go on? he thought.

Connor had puked twice and didn’t relish a third attempt, but the nausea in his gut and throbbing in his head told him it was inevitable. The other two weekend warrior fishermen with him on the stern were leaning over the side as he contemplated his situation. He heard them groan as they tried to empty their stomachs, but there was nothing left inside them. He was miserable.

The day had started easy enough in the predawn hours as they boarded the boat at the end of New Providence Island east of Nassau. The water was calm this early in the morning. This part of the island was protected by natural reefs. The rapid change in depth as the ocean floor rose to the island caused the ocean and the island currents to crash into each other and protected the east end from the ocean’s wrath.

He had been planning this trip for weeks with his good friend. Alex, his Bahamian business colleague, had just finished overhauling an old, thirty-two-foot pilothouse cruiser, a labor of love for two years. The boat had been refurbished from bow to stern; many a weekend night they had spent drinking beer on the deck after a day’s work on the “yacht, “as Alex’s wife called it. Conner chuckled to himself. She was a little bit of a “wannabe.”

The boat was not pretty, but she was strong. Alex had seen to that. He took very good care of her. When someone tears down and rebuilds something that intricate, it becomes part of them. The boat had become his passion. His wife didn’t seem to mind; she had her yacht.

Connor had met his friend years ago when Alex was the head trader at a large hedge fund located in the tony Lyford Cay area on the west end of the island. Alex mingled with the movie stars. After trading together for several years and socializing on every trip Connor took to Nassau, they became friends and trusted one another completely. They took care of one another as they both moved firms several times over the years. Their careers flourished and their wealth grew.

This trip was a much needed change of scenery away from the Bloomberg terminal for both of them. The constant movement of the ocean was a welcome relief from the volatility of the markets. Stress relief was critical in their business. A day or two in different surroundings did wonders for one’s trading acumen. “The three-day weekend was invented for Wall Street,” Alex would often say.

The sun was rising as they cruised past old Fort Montague close to East Point. He could make out the row of old, British twenty-four-pound cannons lining the top barricade. The fort had held up remarkably well through the centuries, considering it was constantly exposed to the elements. The history here ran deep. Connor loved it. The islands were in his blood now. The open ocean waited for them ahead.

Today the only possible negative was the sea, as there was not a cloud in the sky. Their luck was not good.

The trip out of the channel was hellish as they crossed the churning waves. The barrier reefs produced a literal wall of water the boat had to climb, as the underwater structures halted the ocean’s momentum. It was no better on the other side, but Connor knew Alex would not turn back. He had promised everyone on board some fish and this was her maiden voyage. They all quickly decided it was too rough to make the two-hour trek to Exuma, which they had planned. Instead they would stay off Paradise Island. Connor was quietly grateful.

Later in the day, after they had landed three dolphin─a bull and two females─all mercifully decided that it was too rough to continue. Now they were making their way back to protected waters, but it wasn’t easy. The waves beat the side of the boat and refused to provide a respite to the passengers and crew. The fishermen were still hugging the rail in case they had to empty their stomachs again.

Thinking he would feel better higher, Connor climbed up the ladder and leaned into the back support next to Alex. He could see a line of boats making their way into the harbor to escape the violent sea.

The tower swayed violently as Alex strained to control the craft as she muddled her way up and over the crest of the waves.

 

“Must have taken on some water,” Alex growled. “I can feel it sloshing back and forth down below. It’s hard to control this pig.”

Connor wasn’t listening. “Tell me the latest on our discovery,” he said.

 

 

 

April 23, 1696

 

 

Captain William Kidd turned one last time and looked over his shoulder at the Plymouth landmass disappearing in the background. The city that produced the Pilgrims had long since lost its dominance as a critical port for the Crown. The coastal lights faded in the mist.

Kidd would not miss England. He would, however, miss his beautiful wife of five years, Sarah, and their daughter in the English colony of New York, recently acquired from the Dutch, which called her New Amsterdam. The city was on its way to becoming a cultural and economic center of North America.

Sarah was one of the wealthiest women in the New World, primarily due to her inheritance from her first husband. She had been already twice widowed and was only in her early twenties.

He had left them several months ago to fulfill his dreams. He would not see them again for three years. Such was the life of a sailor.

This voyage has started very badly, he thought to himself. Maybe it was a sailor’s intuition, but he had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He turned his attention back to the Adventure Galley. He had overseen her construction himself in London. She was built in record time, so there would be leaks and other imperfections to deal with but she would do the job. Kidd had sold his former ship, Antigua, in order to raise funds. The King was lusting for pirate blood and treasure. He made no secret of his haste for Kidd’s voyage. The new ship would have to do.

She was a strong, thirty-four-gun privateer and would be formidable when he engaged pirates. Her design was elegant at 284 tons. Her oars would be an important capability when maneuvering against an enemy. His crew, however, was another story.

He had tried to leave England several weeks earlier with an altogether different group of men. His mission was financially speculative. The men would be paid the prize booty they could seize from legitimate pirate or French ships. Therefore he wanted men of good character who were excellent seaman. Having personally chosen each of the 150 men, he took pride in his selections.

In a hurry to depart London, he had chosen not to salute several Royal Navy vessels leaving the mouth of the Thames. It had been a mistake. This was a long-standing tradition and a direct affront to the English Navy and the King. His men had even taunted the English yachts as they passed, showing their backsides. Hence the Adventure Galley was boarded, and thirty-five of her best seamen were pressed into the Royal Navy. It was another several weeks before he could get Admiral Russell to return sailors to him to fill his crew. He received back landsmen and troublemakers rather than the original able-bodied seamen.

He was now on his way to New York to fill out his crew with another eighty good men. Then he could chase pirates.

“My crew will not like to be sailing under an unlucky captain,” he said aloud. Perhaps it was nothing to be worried about. “Maybe we have gotten the bad luck out of the way at the start.”

He turned around and faced the bow.

The open sea helped calm his nerves.

Captain Kidd was very glad to be leaving England in command of his own powerful ship. The crew could be dealt with over time. He was a restless man.

He had desperately wanted a commission from the King to command a Royal Navy vessel and had sailed to London from New York in late 1695 in search of this honor. He loved the sea and had been a respectable member of New York society for several years. He had used his considerable maritime skills as a merchant seaman to build his wealth. Kidd was in love with his beautiful Sarah and their young daughter of the same name, whom he adored. But, his first love was the sea. He wanted adventure.

He had sailed to London with a recommendation letter to request an audience with the King in his quest to become a Royal Navy Captain. While there, he became involved in a scheme to help the monarch with his pirate problem while making money for himself and others. Several financial benefactors backed him in building a ship and outfitting it to sail against any pirate he could find, with the booty paying the mission’s expenses. The profits would be split among Kidd and the powerful English gentlemen. These included the Earl of Bellomont and other aristocrats. He never met the King, but he did receive a written commission to perform this duty. The King was to receive ten percent of the take.

This was a dangerous gamble, and Kidd knew he was sailing in treacherous territory. He was already at odds with the Royal Navy, who presumed it was their duty to deal with the piracy issue. It was an unlucky start indeed.

He had no friends at sea, and he suspected as much as he crossed into the Atlantic. The rewards, however, could be great and in his mind worth the risk.

Looking out over the vast ocean, he felt at peace for the first time in many years. His wife and daughter were the furthest subjects from his mind. He was with his love at last.