Black Sam - Prince of Pirates

Forty-Two - THE SULTANA

Forty - Two - THE SULTANA

February 1717

The crisp, cool morning was relatively quiet. Wood planks creaked as the sails flapped in the light breeze. A man came up from below deck, rifled through some cages full of chickens, grabbed some eggs and scurried back down. Two men that had been sitting up in the crow’s nest climbed down and another two took their place.

John Julian came up from the lower deck and walked to the bow of the ship. His steely eyes and short straight black hair made him a fearsome, yet handsome looking man. He stood by Sam at the Bow and for a few minutes, they enjoyed the silence together.

“It’s a beautiful day is it not?” Sam said still staring at the vast open sea.

John leaned on the railing. “It is that.”

Sam rubbed his hands together feeling a tad bit chilly. “Your friends stayed in port I take it?”

“Lured away by too much excitement I suppose.”

Sam turned to face John. “Sorry to hear that.”

John shrugged, “I have all the friends I need right here.” John rubbed a spot of pitch into a ball on the top of the railing. “I noticed that our pilot stayed behind as well,” John said still looking out.

Sam watched John play with the pitch. “We lost several others to Royal, but we’ll manage.”

John played with the pitch a little more, then stopped, stood up straight and looked Sam in the eye. “I’d like to throw my name in the hat for consideration.”

Sam turned and looked at John’s serious expression. He could tell he had built up to this moment. He hadn’t given too much thought into who his next pilot would be, but now with the idea in his head, he couldn’t think of another man he’d rather give the job to. “You only need ask my friend.” Sam took John’s hand. “The job is yours.”

John smiled and shook Sam’s hand with vigor. “Thank you, sir.”

Through rattling teeth, Sam spoke, “John, as your friend I beg you, call me Sam.”

“I won’t let you down Sam.”

Sam pulled his hand away and slapped his new pilot on the shoulder. “I know.”

“Enjoying the view?” Paulgrave said joining them.

Sam could always tell when his friend tried to mask a smile. “Good morning, Paul.”

Paulgrave leaned against the rail. “I just thought you’d like to know that there is a ship sailing due west. Spanish, I believe.”

Sam looked for the ship and saw nothing.

“West is that way, Sam,” John said pointing the other direction.

Embarrassed, Sam allowed a sheepish smile and looked to Paulgrave, pointing a thumb back at John. “Meet our new pilot.”

Paulgrave chuckled and gave John a nod. “Congratulations, John. Thank goodness we have you.”

Looking in the proper direction, Sam saw the ship sailing on a westerly course. He reached out his hand and before he could ask for it, Paulgrave handed him the scope. As Sam looked, he noticed the white flag with a red X.

“Well done, Paul. John, put us on a northwesterly course. We will slide right in behind her and give chase.”

“Yes, sir…Sam. Right away.” John took off toward the helm.