way, Eden peered out through the slats of her crate, wide-eyed. She couldn’t believe how big the vessel was as the Englishmen rowed closer. With her sails furled, her bare masts scraped the very sky.
They must have chopped down a hundred acres of oak to make that ship, she thought. Then suddenly, from out of the blue sky, a giant crane descended with a cargo platform hanging from its huge metal hook. When it came down low enough, the sailors began transferring the crates of fruit onto the platform.
“ ‘Hoy, Bob, think Cap would notice if we took a few o’ these ‘ere limes?” a large fellow with an earring asked the others as he lifted Eden ’s crate onto the platform.
She balled up as small as she could make herself and prayed no one would see her.
“Course he’d notice, knowin’ ’im, you tit. Tie ‘er up tight there!” Sharky ordered the others, then they secured the stack of crates with rope. “Himself’ll have a fit if we drop ’em in the brine.”
“Right, take ‘er up!” the one in the red shirt yelled, gesturing to the men operating the davit.
Up on the ship’s deck, another team of sailors lurched into motion, pushing the mighty winch around in a circle, and drawing the great pulley upward. Meanwhile, another pair of seamen posted at the taffrail kept a weather eye out for the Spanish fleet.
Eden stared out over water and land, barely daring to breathe as the cargo platform ascended, up and up and up so high, until she could see for miles over the jungle’s tree-tops.
The forest was afire with a blazing fuschia sunset behind it, silhouetting towering spiky moriche palms and the leafy giants of the canopy that had been her playground, while the Orinoco ran like liquid gold. She could see the Delta’s labyrinth of meandering
canos
and could almost make out the flat-topped mountains called
tepuys
in the distance.
Somewhere in his green paradise, Papa believed she was preparing to cook his dinner. She felt a twinge of conscience, but heavens— England !
She clung to her dream for all she was worth and refused to look back. She swore to herself that this was for the best.
As the cargo platform floated over the ship’s bustling main deck, she caught a glimpse of the river steamboat now sputtering to a halt at the beach.
Lord Jack jumped down onto the sand, waded through the shallows and paused to splash himself. She could still taste his kiss. She watched him flinging water over his dark, tousled hair and then striding up onto the beach to take control of the operation. The men were already working hard, but visibly doubled their efforts when their captain arrived.
Better not let him catch you
, her feminine instincts advised as the sun burned his tanned, powerful image into her brain.
Then she was plunged in darkness as the crane descended through the large square hatch, going down ever deeper into the bowels of his great ship, until, at last, she was swallowed up in the deep, dark recess of the cargo hold.
Chapter
Five
That night,
The Winds of Fortune
slipped away under cover of darkness, evading the Spanish patrol boats by stealing around Galeoto Point at the lower corner of Trinidad, and then breaking sharply northeast at the twelfth parallel.
Jack had ordered the crew to be silent and the ship’s lanterns doused. The mood on board was tense until they could be sure they had not been spotted by the Spanish. Nevertheless, a fair wind out of the south drove them along.
It was a fine night to make sail, cool and partly clear, but though tranquil, there was an eeriness to the silence and the way the bright half moon lit up the cloud clusters here and there.
Luminescent algae, famous in the torrid zone, glowed atop the waves.
“Lieutenant, what is our speed?” he asked the officer in charge of the watch.
“Five knots, sir.”
Not bad, for all our cargo
, he thought. Because they were still in coral reef areas, caution dictated a moderate pace.
They glided along under
They must have chopped down a hundred acres of oak to make that ship, she thought. Then suddenly, from out of the blue sky, a giant crane descended with a cargo platform hanging from its huge metal hook. When it came down low enough, the sailors began transferring the crates of fruit onto the platform.
“ ‘Hoy, Bob, think Cap would notice if we took a few o’ these ‘ere limes?” a large fellow with an earring asked the others as he lifted Eden ’s crate onto the platform.
She balled up as small as she could make herself and prayed no one would see her.
“Course he’d notice, knowin’ ’im, you tit. Tie ‘er up tight there!” Sharky ordered the others, then they secured the stack of crates with rope. “Himself’ll have a fit if we drop ’em in the brine.”
“Right, take ‘er up!” the one in the red shirt yelled, gesturing to the men operating the davit.
Up on the ship’s deck, another team of sailors lurched into motion, pushing the mighty winch around in a circle, and drawing the great pulley upward. Meanwhile, another pair of seamen posted at the taffrail kept a weather eye out for the Spanish fleet.
Eden stared out over water and land, barely daring to breathe as the cargo platform ascended, up and up and up so high, until she could see for miles over the jungle’s tree-tops.
The forest was afire with a blazing fuschia sunset behind it, silhouetting towering spiky moriche palms and the leafy giants of the canopy that had been her playground, while the Orinoco ran like liquid gold. She could see the Delta’s labyrinth of meandering
canos
and could almost make out the flat-topped mountains called
tepuys
in the distance.
Somewhere in his green paradise, Papa believed she was preparing to cook his dinner. She felt a twinge of conscience, but heavens— England !
She clung to her dream for all she was worth and refused to look back. She swore to herself that this was for the best.
As the cargo platform floated over the ship’s bustling main deck, she caught a glimpse of the river steamboat now sputtering to a halt at the beach.
Lord Jack jumped down onto the sand, waded through the shallows and paused to splash himself. She could still taste his kiss. She watched him flinging water over his dark, tousled hair and then striding up onto the beach to take control of the operation. The men were already working hard, but visibly doubled their efforts when their captain arrived.
Better not let him catch you
, her feminine instincts advised as the sun burned his tanned, powerful image into her brain.
Then she was plunged in darkness as the crane descended through the large square hatch, going down ever deeper into the bowels of his great ship, until, at last, she was swallowed up in the deep, dark recess of the cargo hold.
Chapter
Five
That night,
The Winds of Fortune
slipped away under cover of darkness, evading the Spanish patrol boats by stealing around Galeoto Point at the lower corner of Trinidad, and then breaking sharply northeast at the twelfth parallel.
Jack had ordered the crew to be silent and the ship’s lanterns doused. The mood on board was tense until they could be sure they had not been spotted by the Spanish. Nevertheless, a fair wind out of the south drove them along.
It was a fine night to make sail, cool and partly clear, but though tranquil, there was an eeriness to the silence and the way the bright half moon lit up the cloud clusters here and there.
Luminescent algae, famous in the torrid zone, glowed atop the waves.
“Lieutenant, what is our speed?” he asked the officer in charge of the watch.
“Five knots, sir.”
Not bad, for all our cargo
, he thought. Because they were still in coral reef areas, caution dictated a moderate pace.
They glided along under
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