Prologue

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Feb. 13, 1717 11:22 a.m.

Captain Ignacio Azarola hoped he had minutes to live. He feared the future that awaited him back in Spain if he somehow survived.

A week earlier, Azarola departed Havana harbor aboard a galleon named the Nuestra Senora de Atocha loaded with one of the last large shipments of silver and gold that would ever be found from the wreckage of the eleven ships of the Spanish Treasure Fleet, which sunk a year and a half earlier. Salvagers planned more dives, although as soaked chests, crates, and boxes of treasure were brought to the surface and tabulated, the accountants discerned there couldn't be much remaining.

The day was cool and blustery, creating choppy swells in the shallow Atlantic. Thick cloud cover lay overhead, casting a dull pall over the cold late-winter waters.

With plumes of dark gray smoke spilling out of several holes in the hull made from cannon strikes, the Atocha struggled to stay afloat. The lanteen-rigged bonaventure mizzen at the front of the ship disappeared in a well-aimed volley of cannon fire. The decks and remaining mizzenmasts slanted to port.

A terrible storm the previous day caused the Atocha and her protecting ship, the San Jeronimo to separate and lose sight of each other. The onslaught of waves had propelled them apart. Endless torrents of sideways rain limited visibility to a few feet. When the storm subsided, the two ships floated miles away from another. The winds pushed the Atocha towards the Georgia shore and the Jeronimo further out to sea.

This had made Azarola uneasy. Before leaving Cuba, his crew removed most of their cannons because of the enormous weight in the holds. The ship, pregnant with tons of gold, silver, and jewels, had already sat low in the water before the first salvo of cannon fire struck. Then, when the ship stumbled closer to shore, it foundered on a sandbar. They were stuck.

As the Atocha's crew tried to collect their bearings in the shallow water after the storm subsided, a smaller sloop bearing a British flag had approached. It came from behind a small island. Although tensions between Spain and England were better now with the treaty, Azerola was still wary. He hoped they were just locals coming out to see if the newcomer needed help.

The ship came across their bow and heaved to on their windward side about three hundred yards away, which Azerola thought odd. He thought they would have done the opposite to make it easier to catch the wind and get underway once they were finished helping the Atocha.

Although it may perhaps be the Brits being Brits, he thought. Always making things difficult.

Something tugged at the back of Azerola's mind, keeping him alert. Many bays, inlets, islands, and shoals lined this length of the Atlantic coast, making it a popular hiding place for bandits. What made him suspicious was that he discerned he was still half a day's sail away from reaching British controlled waters. They were just north of the Spanish stronghold of Savannah, headed towards the safer waters of Virginia.

He ordered his men to arm themselves and be at the ready. He closed his left eye and brought a spyglass up to his right. He saw three smiling men on the top deck of the approaching ship with more joining them from below decks. They appeared ready to help Azerola.

He took the spyglass down, set it aside, and let out a relieved breath. Help was about to arrive.

Or so he thought.

As the sloop came to a relative halt, a crewman pulled down the British flag and raised the most terrorizing flag he had ever seen in his many years at sea. When a ship raised a pirate flag, it was meant to intimidate other ships. Imagery such as skulls, skeletons, and hourglasses on the flags often told of the death and torture about to come to their prey, although many pirates lacked imagination and used a traditional Skull and Crossbones flag.

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