Treasure

Friday, July Fifteenth 1729

My Dearest Catherine,

We have been at sea for several weeks now, and although I fear I shall never be a seaman akin to Uncle Harris (for the occasional roughness of the ocean does not sit well with my digestion) you will be pleased to hear that I am settling in well. The crew all seem pleasant enough, particularly the coxswain, a charming fellow by the name of Charles Hempton who seems to possess endless patience with my burning questions and queries concerning his naval lifestyle – ‘oh, to be a writer’ he would declare with a twinkle in his eye. Oft’ at nights we sit above deck, talking until the sun begins its daily commute once more. He is such an interesting chap, I am sure you would adore him as I do.

When not musing with the coxswain I am put to work in the kitchens, along with a fellow named John Amish who is slowly coming around to me. When I was first assigned to his ‘camp’ (as he calls the kitchen), he remarked that I had the ‘soft hands of a woman and the innocence of a child’, much to my dismay. I recall in my eagerness to prove myself a worthy crew member I had sliced my hands, accidentally I might add, several times whilst peeling potatoes with an old knife. He laughed somehow cruelly, yet equally good-natured, and suggested I stir the soup instead.

Perhaps the most distressing aspect though are my new quarters. A low-hanging piece of cloth tied up at both ends serves as bedding, with a threadbare cloth for a blanket, most distasteful to one such as myself as I am certain you would believe. A man should be kept in warmth and comfort, certainly the chronicler for what should be ‘the greatest discovery of the past hundred years’ but has so far amounted to an unexciting but still pleasant-enough voyage down the west coast of France and Spain.

As is my custom, I take afternoon tea with Uncle Harris, or Captain Harris as he has asked to be referred to whilst we are aboard his vessel, the Indigo. It is a fine ship, and according to various maps and charts I cannot pretend to understand we appear to be making good speed towards our destination, though even that remains a mystery to me. How ~~Uncle Harris~~ the Captain is able to steer the ship to ‘an island no man can find’ is beyond me. Perhaps it has something to do with the other guest aboard the Indigo. I am sure you would know, you always did have a knack for understanding riddles and poems.

I pray each morning that I might be delivered back to you safely, and I am certain we shall be reunited soon, my love.

Thinking of you always,

Benjamin Johann x

Sunday, July Twenty-Fourth 1729

It was a little over two months past that I left your side, some 68 days whereupon I was visited by my uncle and asked to undertake this voyage with him. Although I do not expect to return within the year, when I finally do return to you, darling Catherine, I shall be a richer and wiser man, perhaps I shall make some declaration within these pages that will ensure fame and fortune for our family.

Whilst there is little excitement to report in my letters to you, my sweet, for the day-to-day management (or should I say Captaining?) of a ship such as the Indigo does not bear much inherent excitement, tonight was something different. The crew has found ways to entertain themselves, no doubt collected from years and years upon the ocean blue. If you recall the ship’s cook, Mr. Amish, whom I had previously judged to be a serious and solemn man based on hours of working with him in the camp as a sous-chef of sorts (although I am no means an expert as you well know!). So you may imagine my surprise when one glum night he produces a fiddle from the Lord knows where and begins singing and dancing to a rather jaunty tune. Naturally the rest of the crew were all quick to join in this merriment, and a good time was had by all. Even Captain Harris joined us for a song or two; however our mysterious passenger failed to make an appearance. I do wonder about him, but I know Captain Harris has his reasons. I asked about him once, and his reply was a simple “you’ll see nephew, you’ll see”. What was I to make of that? Oh I wish you had been with us that night Catherine, although a ship is no place for a lady, to dance with you by starlight would have been truly wondrous. I look up at you some nights and wonder if you are looking up at them too.

All my love,

Benjamin Johan x

Thursday, July Twenty-Eighth 1729

There was much a buzz this morning up on the bow when I awoke. So eager was I to explain the crowd of seamen that I missed my opportunity to break my fast and as such I proved to be miserable until my afternoon tea with the Captain, where I ate (and with some haste I might shamefully note) five scones and half a dozen biscuits. I should perhaps explain that luncheon is oft’ simply a thin strip of dried meat; it is flavourless and grey and I could not even begin to describe to which animal it might have once belonged. If we are lucky a piece of dried fruit might accompany it, and even then it needs washing down with a generous tot of rum or whiskey.

Alas, I digress my sweet. I am certain you are curious as to the scene which greeted me this morning on the Indigo’s bow.

It was a bird. Now before you sigh or roll your eyes dear Catherine, allow me to describe the creature. Picture, if you will, a seagull. As you hold it in the eye of your mind, increase its body size by two in every direction and increase the length of its wings by tenfold at least! The bird was enormous, easily the largest creature I have ever seen, and there it was, simply sitting on the railing near the top of the figurehead.

The crew were in an unusual mood. We have recently had a spate of bad weather, either too much wind, or too little, choppy waves that cause the boat to roll in the water something fierce (I must confess my stomach lacks the strength of these proven sailors, and I sadly could not keep down my breakfast). Combined with the poor conditions of the grub, despite Mr Amish and myself doing our best, the mood has been pretty miserable of late. And now, this bird has appeared.

Many of the crew wanted to eat the thing, for as I have written above it truly was a gigantic beast, and to simply shoot or skewer it with a rapier and add it to our kitchen pot would have been easy enough. Mr Amish was particularly vocal about this – the rations were taking their toll on him, for he is a larger man than most, and they were barely enough to sustain him for much longer. When he glared at the bird – the Albatross, I swear I could see him licking his lips.

The remaining half-dozen crewmembers, led by the coxswain, Master Hempton, were fervently against harming the Albatross. For they declared it to be an omen of fortune, or else the souls of those lost at sea returned to guide the living. Sailors, you must understand, are incredibly superstitious folk and so the debate had become quite heated.

Even the Captain was eventually drawn into the ‘discussion’ after a half an hour of quarreling. Just in time too, for Master Hempton and Mr Amish were at each other’s throats and I seriously considered that a fight may break out. He ruled in his loud, definitive voice, that a simple vote would suffice, if the Albatross hadn’t flown away by then. But it didn’t, it sat and watched the entire proceedings unfold, and I felt the glare of Master Hempton’s eyes on me as I slowly raised my hand with Mr. Amish’s. That night we did not talk, although my stomach felt fuller and I felt happier than I had in the last week.

Saturday, July Thirtieth 1729

Pyrates! What an adventure this undertaking has become!

Captain Harris invited me into his quarters today and gave me leave of my kitchen duties in order to begin my narrative composition regarding our expedition. He introduced me to one Mr. Jack Ruby, formerly of the Arch Pyrate himself, Henry Avery! In all my years I never thought I should find myself keeping the company of a blackguard such as that, let alone one who had crewed the infamous King of Pyrates. The sensation is both thrilling and terrifying. He is a smallish fellow, mousy, with a long scar down his neck and small watery eyes. Captain Harris informed me that he had been pardoned by the Crown and was taking them to recover Avery’s hidden treasure, and perhaps even Avery himself!

I spent the remainder of the day in heavy discourse with the Captain and Mr. Ruby, who proved an interesting companion. He regaled us with tales of his piracy, and although he expressed remorse for his actions with his voice, his eyes said something else. I did not find myself entirely trusting Mr. Ruby, at least not at our first meeting, yet at the Captain’s command I conversed with him about our current voyage. I must assure you my dear that I was never in any danger, Mr. Ruby seems a pleasant enough chap, if a little disconcerting at times, and has not been allowed to keep any form of weapons on his person save for the cutlery he uses for his meals. Over the rest of the day and well into the night I posed many a question to him: how had Avery escaped Nassau, and hence evaded the capture of the naval forces of the world? Where had he gone? What had happened to the money, the grand haul that Avery stole from that Grand Mughal Fleet not five years prior? Such tales I could hardly believe them to be true, and yet I transposed them to my notes for greater reflection and assured Captain Harris I should take great care when writing in order to not release any revealing information about our heading. No doubt I shall regale you with these tales upon my return, or else in my writings of this expedition when I present them, yet for now it shall suffice to reveal our heading, the hidden pyrate haven of Libertalia, where Avery’s treasure awaits us. According to Mr. Ruby, it is an island that cannot be found except by those who know where it is – most thrilling I thought!

Oh fortune awaits us my dear.