Guarma

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Arthur slowly opens his eyes then coughs as he starts to push himself up. His vision slowly comes back into focus as he looks around and sees that he had landed in some sort've beach. 

"Where the hell am I?" He mutters once he gets up to his feet and starts to walk. Minutes or hours, he wasn't for sure, he walked on although he stumbles every now and then. Eventually, he saw some smoke up ahead and started to head towards it.

He rounds the corner and sees Dutch, Javier, Bill and Micah around a fire pit. "Dutch." Arthur said in a weak hoarse voice then he raises a hand and said, a bit louder. "Dutch. Boys." Dutch and the others look up and over and see Arthur. "You're alive. Arthur?" Dutch said, shocked, then he and the others stand up and run towards Arthur.

"You're alive." Dutch said, happily.

"Mother...You're okay." Javier said as they run up to Arthur.

"Arthur, it is a miracle. It is a damn miracle." Dutch said, relieved. "Here, have something to drink. Have a drink." he said then he turns to the boys.  Somebody give him a damn drink." Dutch shouts and Bill gives Arthur a drink, who accepts it and drinks it.

"Oh son. Son, take it easy. We got you. We got you." Dutch assures Arthur and they take him over to the firepit, which had shades from the trees over it.




"So, where the hell are we?" Arthur asked Dutch sometime later after getting to rest and a drink. "We are on the island of Guarma. Javier asked a local. It's an old sugar plantation island. Second Island east of Cuba." Dutch explains. "Is it anywhere near Australia or to Tahiti?" Arthur asked him. "It's on the way, I guess." Dutch said, shrugging. But they don't know that they were getting surrounded by some sort've enforcement officials.

"So, what next?" Arthur asked. "I don't know." Dutch said then he hears a noise then turns around and looks up to see the men surrounding them with guns aiming at them. "Well, next I guess we're going to get shot." Dutch said, with exasperated sarcasm, as the others and sees them.




Moments later, the boys were chained together by their ankles as the guards speak in Spanish. Then a man on a horse comes up to them. "Gentlemen, this is quite a welcome." Dutch said. "Who are you?" the man asked him. "We are no one." Dutch replied.

"What's your name?" the man asked him. "Aiden O'Malley." Dutch replied. "Is that so? What are you doing Mr O'Malley?" The man asked, sounding like he doesn't believe Dutch. "Surviving. We were lost at sea in the storm." Dutch said but then man gives him a suspicious look. "Is that so?" The man said, suspiciously. "No, I'm in the habit of looking like this." Dutch remarks, sarcastically, then he looks down at the ankle chains and cuffs.

"Is all of this really necessary?" Dutch asked the man. "We've got enough troubles around here right now, Mr O'Malley, without taking a chance on a bunch of vagabonds. Behave yourselves and no harm will befall you." the man said then he turns to his men and speaks to them in Spanish. 



"Let's go. We got another group round it up down the way." The man said, in English, and they start walking. "I don't get your drift, mister, uh?" Dutch said, not sure what the man's name is. "Levi Simon. Senior overseer for Alberto Fussar. We run the third most productive sugar plantation in the Northern Caribbean. Of course, where there's money to be made, there's trouble." Levi explains.

"What sort of trouble?" Dutch asked, curiously. "Oh the usual sort. People wanting what ain't theirs and others telling them to take it." Levi said. "I don't get you?" Dutch asked. "Labor troubles. And other thieves and pirates looking to disrupt our ways of working." said Levi. "How very upsetting for you." said Dutch.

"Not half as upsetting as it will be for them. Mr Fussar has a lot of very powerful friends." Levi said. "I will bet that he does." Dutch said. "Bunch of Haitian pirates won't frighten him. They'll be strung up in the streets soon enough." said Levi. "And do we seem like Haitian pirates to you, Mr Simon?" Dutch asked him. "You seem like someone or other." Levi said.

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