~When I was apprenticed in London, I went to see my dear
The candles all were burning, the moon shone bright and clear~
April 13th,
1668My name is Eamon Cassidy. This is the first journal entry I've ever written and, god willing, it won't be the last. I'm not writing them by choice, keeping a journal was the last request my parents made to me. I've got a long story to tell, and hopefully my adventures will not end here. I can not say for certain, but from now on, my story will be written as it's told, thus we begin not a few hours ago,
I woke up on the shores of Havana, in the dead of night. The harbor was about a mile to the east, the docks were quiet and I could see the ships tied yonder. The moon was bright and bold, a full moon was to come in the next week, and it's light gave me full view of the coast for miles. I'd only been to Cuba once before, and my visit was short lived as my family and I weren't there on pleasant business. Quite a shame as Havana is said to be one of the more beautiful Caribbean cities, full of life and wonder, something harder to believe given the serene but otherwise uneventful coastline. The cliffs hung tall over the bay, the greenery swaying with every gust of the breeze. There was certainly an allure to these island cities, it was no mystery why so many have chosen a life among these waters.
Before I spent too long gawking at the view I needed to get myself together. My clothes were torn, I needed food and water, I was cold, and I had no money. I scrambled around for whatever had sailed ashore with me from the wreckage. All I could find were some soaked provisions and a flask of clean water. Not more than a hundred yards towards the docks, I spotted a promising little dingy. Inside I found a jacket, some boots, a half dead bottle of rum, and a small leather bag, tied to the head of the boat. I put on the jacket and the boots, both of them a bit large for me, but they'd do. I was going to kill the rest of the rum before I turned my attention to the bag but I glanced at it and it seemed to be glowing. The rum could wait. I took the bag and just before I could open it, I heard a call to me, from just a few yards away.
"You there!" I stood up from the underbelly of the dingy, bottle in hand, and saw he who called out to me. He was tall, taller than almost everyone I'd met. He stood at about six feet tall. He was muscular, you could tell he'd eaten well but he was no high class citizen. I could see the scars of sword fighting along his arms. He had a long, black mark running down his forearm, it had to have been a burn. He looked not more than 15 years older than me, but those years had weathered him. His eyes were a piercing green that cut into me as I realized this was his boat, and quite possibly his home.
"What business have you in my things?" The man said.
"I have none, sir" I said. I was never much of a liar. He looked me up and down. I'd like to think he took pity on me but the far more likely conclusion he drew was that I wasn't worth a fight.
"How long have you been ashore, boy"
"I just arrived"
"I take it you're alone?"
"Yes, sir" He thought for a moment. Then walked around the boat and ripped the bag from my hands and put it inside his coat. He then turned and started on his way for the docks.
"You can keep the jacket and boots" he said back to me on his way.
"What about the rum?" I asked. He stopped. After a short moment, he turned back, grabbed the rum, took a swig, then gave it back. Then he turned and left.
I had to take a moment to take in what had happened. All I could think about was what was in the bag. I'd never seen something so small have a glow to it. My imagination ran wild with the possibilities, diamonds, gold, even mystical stones. I had to know. I waited until he was just barely in sight, and I started to follow. I kept to the shadows, darting between the shrubbery. He was heading straight for the docks but he had no time to waste. He had somewhere to go and I couldn't help but think it had something to do with the bag.
YOU ARE READING
The Private Journals of Eamon Cassidy
Phiêu lưuEamon Cassidy, dread pirate of the west indies keeps logs at the final request of his recently deceased parents.