Revelation: Passage away from difficulties.
It was Peter’s fourth, uneventful day as a pirate aboard the Dorada, and he was inspecting the inside of the hull for any minor battle damages. He was also brooding about his fate again, when he heard Bartholomew playing a lively jig on an accordion.
As Peter watched several men laughing and dancing, his mood lifted. One of the fellows beckoned to him to join them. His spirit soared even more when they began singing a familiar tune with ribald lyrics. As each sailor added a verse, Peter’s frame of mind became more buoyant.
When his turn came, he enthusiastically delivered, “And now for number eight, and she says, ‘You’re my best mate!’”
His new peers joined in, bellowing happily, “Roll me over in the clover; do it again!”
A few tunes later, Bartholomew took a break and Peter went over to talk to the musician. “Great entertainment, Bart! Wonder if you know a little ditty from my homeland; don’t know the words, but I could whistle a few bars. . . .” Peter began to pucker up.
Bartholomew reached out to grab his shoulder. “No you don’t, Peter. Whistling onboard will curse us with a terrible storm!”
“Really?”
Bartholomew’s nod was stern. “Aye!”
“Good to know.”
“Try humming the tune, though; I can play by ear. Always looking for new music. That’s my job. Keep the boys from getting bored; don’t want them getting drunk. So if my music keeps them moving, makes them merry, then this ship is run efficiently.”
“You’re a valuable member of the crew!”
“Thanks, but certainly not as crucial as you, Peter! We’re lucky to have found you, since Jack is still recuperating from his hernia. All of us depend on your keeping the ship’s leaky seams in check!”
“Keeps me busy—lots of wood around and beneath us!”
“And you may even be asked to fill in as a surgeon if we go into battle!”
“What? I can’t possibly; why, I wouldn’t know what to do. . . .”
“Think about it: you have similar tools and cutting experience. If we have many wounded, who else? That happened a couple of times when I was sailing on merchant ships out of Boston.”
“Boston? You’re an American?”
“Aye, but when President Jefferson started the embargo, I was unemployed. That’s why I signed on a coastal trader headed for New Orleans. Now, that’s a dancing town! Those Creoles can always find a reason for a party or a ball: weddings, baptisms, holy days—even after a funeral! I’m not a churchgoer, but I sure like how religion’s practiced in New Orleans, compared with Boston. I’ll never go back there! But I missed the sea and signed on with Captain Lafitte.”
Changing the subject, Bartholomew said, “You seem to be adapting well, Peter; you apparently approve of our privateering.”
“Privateering? So, that’s what you call it!” Peter laughed.
“Of course! We’re merchants operating private armed vessels. We’ve been given a letter of marque. It’s a document that authorizes us to capture the ships of that country’s enemies. Therefore, the crews of such ships are also called privateers—not pirates.”
“What country hired the Dorado?”
“The Republic of Cartagena.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s on the northwest coast of South America. Declared itself independent of Spain in 1811.”
“But what about the loot you take from other foreign ships?”
“Yes, well . . . that all ends up in New Orleans, too, and the proceeds are divided among the crew. You’ll see! But whatever you call it, you’re feeling more comfortable within our operation?”
“Definitely! Much better than I did in the English navy. Although,” he added, “some things are the same.”
“Like what?”
“Well, the crucial jobs of the gunners, sailing masters, boatswains, carpenters, and surgeons are also held by the most skilled. And some of your rules are the same as those of King George’s vessels.”
“Such as?”
“Drunkenness and gambling for money are both forbidden, fire safety is imperative, and weapons have to be well maintained and fit for service at all times.”
“Same rules on the merchant ships, and of course they make sense! And there are differences?”
“Absolutely. The captain of the Dorada was elected by the crew members, as well as the rest of the officers. And although breaking the rules leads to punishment, the crew decides the severity.”
“Aye. Each of us has an equal voice in the affairs of the ship, as well as an equal share in the captured loot. That’s different, and better than the merchant ships, too.”
“Also, there’s more free time. Unless I’m busy cleaning and repairing my weapons, doing my carpenter’s mending, or needed for normal ship maintenance—”
“And don’t forget raiding!”
“Right. Raiding . . . Hmmm.”
“Don’t worry about it, Peter. But you were saying?”
“There’s more free time. I can play cards, checkers, or backgammon, dance, sleep, or talk, whenever I want.”
Yes, Peter thought, the pirates’ code of conduct is simple and fair, and I have willingly sworn my allegiance.
Of course, if I hadn’t, I would be marooned on a deserted island with only one bottle of water, a pistol, powder, and shot.
Still, Peter missed his home in Penshurst. He felt like an outsider. The other crew members were cautious around him; many of them were French or Spanish and did not like the English. I wonder if they think King George impressed me to decrease the number of inmates in English jails.
Plus, although the crew had gathered provisions on “his” island, he surmised that eventually the food aboard the Dorada was bound to be like that of the Royal navy. I’ll wager this food, too, will be meager, pickled, and infested.
Last but not least, he worried about the ship. It could sink!
Bartholomew broke into his thoughts.
“You’re frowning now, Peter. What’s the matter?”
“Huh? Oh. Sorry, Bart. To be honest, I don’t really feel like I belong yet, but I hope to. There’s a sense of trust, respect, and, of course, freedom onboard here. It’s a fellowship like my pals in Penshurst have.”
“Give it time, Peter. They’ll get used to you.”
“Good.” He smiled. “So, besides sinking—”
“Won’t happen!”
“Or being killed in battle, what’s the worst that could happen?”
“You could be captured by a ship of another country’s navy and impressed or even hung.”
Seeing Peter frown again, Bart patted him on the back. “Don’t worry. Our leader, Jean Lafitte, is smart and shrewd. We’ll be home in a couple more days, and you’ll meet him.”
“Home?” asked Peter.
“Yes! Before you joined us, we picked up some slaves and goods from a Spanish ship. They’ll be auctioned off to plantation owners when we get to Barataria, which is our home.”
“Where is it?”
“Barataria Bay is south of the city of New Orleans, in the new state of Louisiana in the United States.”
“And the American government allows this auction?”
“Absolutely not!” Bartholomew laughed. “Governor Claiborne despises Jean Lafitte. The auctions are held secretly, but they’re well attended. The Louisiana Creoles love our goods. They can’t import them legally, because of the war and embargo, so business is good.”
“Besides the auctions, what else is there to do?”
“The city of New Orleans has plenty of pleasures for a fellow like you, Peter! Do you like Opera? Theater? Cockfighting? Billiards? The racetrack? But first you’ll need to take care of the Dorada. She has to be careened.”
“Careened?”
“Don’t worry—we’ll all be helping you. Several times a year, during low tide, the ship is turned on her side and secured. Then, under the carpenter’s supervision, we carefully scrape all the seaweed and barnacles off the bottom of her hull. Come high tide, she flows back into the water.”
“And is able to sail faster without all the critters and muck hanging on?”
“Right. As privateers, we spend a great deal of time cleaning and repairing—not only the ship, but also our weapons. Which reminds me: you’ll need to get yourself a boarding ax to slash through rope netting, and several pistols. Some of the seamen carry six at a time in a sash slung over their shoulder—keeps their hands free for fighting, you know. And maybe a musket, which you can always use as a club. Your choice.”
“Oh. Yes. About the raiding; I, um, don’t really know much about weaponry. . . .”
“You will. And actually, although we’re well armed and always ready to attack, we also have four to five times more men than you’ll find on a merchant ship. We only want to terrorize them and capture the ship and its cargo. We don’t want to spill blood for a sunken ship and cargo, especially the ship, if we decide to take it. So it’s best if we can scare them into cooperating. And they usually do. You’ll see.”
Peter nodded slowly, thinking, Not soon, I hope!
“Now, how ’bout another tune?” Bartholomew began playing a few chords. “One of my favorites; it’s called ‘Yankee Doodle.’”