"The last two ships we met could have paid us all for our troubles."

"I'm no pirate, David. You know that."

"It sure is a waste."

"A waste?"

"A waste of talent." David answered, swigging the last of his brandy.

Emer looked up from her needle. "This is talent. How I make perfect st.i.tches and hide them in the hem! How you were able to teach me so many useful things! Good English! Good navigation! is talent. How I make perfect st.i.tches and hide them in the hem! How you were able to teach me so many useful things! Good English! Good navigation! That That is talent!" is talent!"

"But aren't you bored?"

Emer dismissed him to his quarters. She finished st.i.tching her trousers and placed the needle and thread in a small sewing box and went to bed, thinking about what David had asked her.

Frankly, she was was bored. She'd accomplished very little in the year she'd sailed the bored. She'd accomplished very little in the year she'd sailed the Emerald Emerald, and she could do worse than become a pirate of the Caribbean in 1661. Surely she could take on any ship and win. What did she have to lose? Seanie was already gone. Her family was already dead.

She called David back into her quarters.

He arrived, half dressed and quite drunk. "Yes, sir."

"You say the crew is bored?"

"Yes, sir."

"And not just because of the wind?"

"No, sir."

"So, what are they complaining about?"

"Well," David stuttered, "well, there are three sailors we recruited in Port Royal. They tell the others tales about Spanish treasure."

"Spanish treasure? What about it?"

"Well, they fancy getting their own ship one day and pirating the waters west of Havana, sir. They say working the Emerald Emerald will do nothing for their savings, not without taking more pa.s.sing ships." will do nothing for their savings, not without taking more pa.s.sing ships."

"Savings? Sailors with savings savings? I'd like to meet these sailors, David. Bring them to me tomorrow."

"Yes, sir."

"Savings. That's very amusing, don't you think?"

"Yes, sir. Amusing."

Emer opened her sewing box again. She sat up in her bunk and reached for something on the shelf above her. She unfolded the old woolen cape on her lap and inspected its ragged seams and hems. "No point in making something pretty if it's not perfect," she thought, and began fixing a raw edge with her needle.

But something inside her burned when she thought about Spanish treasure. She'd had enough of being poor and desperate. She was sick of re-hemming the same old cape. Maybe it's time I faced the facts Maybe it's time I faced the facts, she said to herself. Maybe it's time I get what I deserve. Maybe it's time I get what I deserve.

From the moment I stepped off the plane in Montego Bay, my life became a sort of dream world. It was as if I split in two-my body down at the baggage collection area while my eyes watched from the door. My hand paying the taxi driver while my ears listened to the locals speaking patois.

I was frightened of the hordes of people gathered at the roadside, yelling to the taxi man. I was afraid of the erratic and dangerous drivers, the roads pockmarked with huge potholes. I grew so paranoid that I shivered with cold, even in the still, tropical air. Each time the taxi stopped, poor people approached-selling, begging, singing, smiling. Some stood back and glared at me through the window gla.s.s.

When I reached my hotel in Negril, a barb-wired compound guarded by men with walkie-talkies, a man showed me to my room. He seemed nice, but as my mouth asked him questions and my hand shook his, my eyes still perched somewhere else, fearing the worst of everything. No one seemed trustworthy. I locked my door and sat on the bed, listening to the squeaky ceiling fan above my head.

I even chickened out of going to dinner in the hotel restaurant and ordered room service. It was as if I had left Emer back in Hollow Ford, just when I needed her most.

I fell asleep early, feeling pathetic and stupid.

But I woke up determined.

After a breakfast of fruit and cocoa bread, I began my journey southeast, heaving my army duffel bag into a snorkeling boat I chartered to take me slowly to the next coastal town. That night, in an attempt to reclaim my courage, I went to a small live reggae show and danced a little. I met two girls there from Ohio who'd just graduated too, and even though we had nothing in common, I hung out with them for a few hours. Emer would have wanted to feed them their own giggly livers, but I still couldn't find her anywhere.

The next day as I ate my fruity breakfast, I looked at the other tourists eating their breakfasts. I imagined feeding the fat guy's eyeball to the skinny urbanite with the Brooklyn accent. I scalped my waitress and secured her curly hair to the now one-eyed fat guy. If Emer would only show up, she'd think this stuff was hilarious. But she didn't.

When I found a crusty boatman and secured the next leg of my journey, I imagined stealing the boat from him. I imagined holding his dreadlocked head under the water's surface. How he'd shake and quiver. How the sharks would eat him. Still, no Emer.

Later that day, when Billy's Bay appeared in front of me, I felt her stir in my ribs. I let the boatman pa.s.s and then asked him to turn around, so I could see the bay again.

"Can you take me there?" I asked, pointing to the empty beach.

He found the one route to sh.o.r.e between the jagged reefs and stopped the boat. I paid him and he nodded, smiling with three teeth, and then he steered the boat out again into the calm sea and headed back west.

I watched him disappear, and felt frozen. I had followed my nose this far, and had no idea what to do next. I walked toward an arrow-shaped sign advertising a hostel and followed it, uphill on a path that cut through a thick grove of grape trees. When I arrived at the hostel, an adobe-type place built to withstand hurricanes and covered in blooming vines, I met the jovial owner, Hector, who showed me to his only spare room and talked loudly over cranked-up Bob Marley.

"Great view from the balcony," he said, pointing at the sliding doors. "Come down when you're hungry. We can cook up any time of day, mon." He took a loud hit from the enormous spliff in his hand and blew the sweet-smelling smoke from his nose.

"Thanks," I said, looking out to sea, still half frozen with doubt.

"I hope you don't mind good reggae, girl. We love our roots roots here, ya know." here, ya know."

"Yeah, that's fine, thanks," I managed.

When he closed the door, I locked it behind him and sat down on the bed. Every part of me wanted to burst into miserable tears, but instead I emptied my duffel bag on the quilted bedspread and looked at my stuff. I unfolded the army shovel and stared at myself in the mirror again, waiting to catch a glimpse of the woman who'd dragged me here-but all I saw was some skinny kid from Hollow Ford who was fooling herself.

Emer looked the three hungry recruits up and down. "So, you're saving for a ship of your own, then, are you?"

The three men were still adjusting to Emer's b.r.e.a.s.t.s-beneath her blouse, but visible for the first time in over a year. They looked over at David as if he had asked the question, but David kept his eyes fixed on his captain.

One man nodded. The other two still looked at David.

"Now, tell me about this 'savings.' I'm sure you lads have plenty of stories about it. Let's hear them."

"We haven't much, um, ma'am."

"Sir. I'm your captain. You call me sir."

"Sir."

"You haven't much compared to what? Compared to us? Compared to the Spanish?"

"We haven't much compared to the price of a ship, sir."

"David says you brag of a spot near Havana-a spot to cruise for Spanish?"

The three men looked at each other, dumbfounded.

"You know, Captain won't hesitate to kill you," David said.

One man piped up. "We followed a small fleet last September."

"West of Havana?" Emer asked.

"About seventy miles southwest, sir."

"And then what?"

"We just followed them. We were working a slave ship. We were on our way to Havana as well."

"A slave ship?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you as cruel as all that? I don't think you are, somehow."

"We left that ship as soon as we got to Havana, sir. Slaving wasn't for us." The other two men shook their heads in agreement.

"So what of the Spanish fleet?"

"Well, uh, Michael here saw them unloading many crates of gold, sir, and gems."

She turned to Michael. "You saw these gems?"

He nodded.

"Did you you see the gems?" see the gems?"

The talking man answered. "No, sir. I only knew from Michael about the gems. But I did did see much gold, and many jeweled rings on the officer's fingers. I do not doubt the fleet is heavy with such things on its way back to Spain." see much gold, and many jeweled rings on the officer's fingers. I do not doubt the fleet is heavy with such things on its way back to Spain."

"How many were there?"

"About fifteen in all. Mostly galleons and frigates. I counted over thirty cannons on a typical galleon, twenty on the frigates."

"Twenty, eh? I'd say that slows them down a bit, carrying so much iron."

"They beat us to port anyway, sir, and we had but a ship of slaves with no guns at all."

Emer shivered. "Enough about slaves. Let's not mention them again."

"Yes, sir."

She sat still and thought for a minute. Fifteen ships, an average of twenty cannons each. That was three hundred guns in total. "Three hundred guns? What a fight that would be! And you think you could take them with a ship your savings can buy? Surely even idiots like you must have a better plan than that."

The man stayed silent and looked back at David.

"Stop looking at David! Your own mouth has put you here, understand! I would have no reason to ask you any of this had it not been for your jabbering."

"We hoped to recruit other ships and form a fleet, sir."

"Go on."

"We hoped to recruit pirates in Port Royal and Roatan. We hoped to get back to Tortuga and find willing buccaneers to join us. So many people here hate the Spanish. We think it will be easy to find them."

Emer tapped her lips with her fingers. "Seventy miles southwest of Havana, eh?"

"Aye, sir."

"And what would I see if I cruised there now?"

"The Spanish bring ships to Havana from Campeche all year long. That's the port a hundred miles southwest of Merida, on the Yucatan, sir." He stopped and looked at Emer, who nodded. "In Campeche we saw seven small fluytes loading with treasure."

"You did?"

"Yes, sir."

She looked each man up and down slowly, then handed them a few gold coins. "Say nothing 'til you hear more, lads."

The men looked at their money and shrugged. David walked with them to the ladder and returned to the doorway. Emer still paced the cabin, looking serious.

"After we get some more supplies, guns, and men, we will go to this Campeche and see what we can see."

"It was generous of you to pay the men for their reports, sir."

Emer laughed. "I didn't pay them for that. I paid them to stay loyal and to shut up. h.e.l.l, I didn't believe a word they said but for the slave ship. Tell me, why is it that men who work those infernal ships always look half dead afterward? Could you see it in their eyes, David?" David nodded. He'd seen it. "But the rest? All bulls.h.i.t, I reckon. Just some story they heard from other sailors on a different ship."

Emer lay down on the small bunk and propped her head on several lumpy pillows. She pulled her cape from under the wooden frame and continued repairing the worn hems at its base. This was as good as a nap. It relaxed her and made her think of her mother.