Sara was the first to jump in the boat as the boys trudged it off the beach. She sat aft and ran her fingers through the cold blue, letting the droplets dance off her fingertips in the morning light. Sara was happy, for the moment, watching her twin brother do that which he loved most, and to spend the time with him, in his most true company.

"James, watch the rudder, the rip tide can be tricky here."

"And what is your plan exactly, Simon?"

"You will address him as Captain Harwell or you will not address him at all." James said, sneering as he pushed the long handle of the rudder away from him, turning the boat away from the shore. "Bad luck to have a woman aboard anyway."

"If we're such bad luck why do you men insist on naming your boats after us?"

"That's an entirely different situation," James stammered, "The best war vessels are not named after women. Just the skiffs and fisher boats."

"And where would the King's navy be without a fresh supply of Tuna?" Sara said, satisfied that her case, though ludicrous as it was, had been made.

Simon laughed and hoisted the sail, deftly catching what breeze was present. "Take us out to the cove. We're on the hunt for treasure."

All four of them, James Sherwood, Roger Hartley, Simon and his twin sister found the next hour pass in splendid conversation. All were wide-eyed in amazement as Simon went on and on about his voyages as a boy aboard the HMS VICEROY, a supply ship out of Liverpool. For years, he crewed the vessel, and though they were never in any direct attack by another ship at any point in his service, he picked up enough stories from passing sailors and military men, that he was well versed enough in the maritime history of England that he could successfully transplant himself in the most dire situations. Though they were lies, his audience could have cared less, but for the eagerness he told his stories, magnificently painting the valorous life of a seafarer.

Simon was fifteen years old and a great deal taller than the boys of his age. He was hardened and tanned and had seen much more of the world than they would ever expect to see. While they referred to him as Captain, the men aboard the Viceroy named him Ensign Harwell, and he would soon work his way to Captain in short order. It was a goal he had been striving to achieve ever since his childhood and he always believed in the true beauty of the Royal Fleet, the one unstoppable force in the world. He was away at the moment, a temporary leave that would last several months before appearing at Port Royal for his next commission, this time aboard a battleship. He was greatly looking forward to the opportunity, since he had yet to be part of a sea battle and greatly wanted a scar of his own to compare rather than the silly kitchen scratches he told the boys was musket fire.

"And how terrible the wind was. As if Calypso herself was ravaging the boat, waves as high as the tower of London crashing down with enough force to tear her hull apart. And the rain never came in naturally, always did it ricochet from every slick surface, droplets the size of roasts knocking men off their feet. If it wasn't for the boys of the service, tying the knots, we would have lost many men in the torrent." He was in the middle of a particularly true tale when Roger Hartley, on point with his spyglass at the ready caught sight of their destination. "Before you knew it, the ship was rocking so much, it could have swung itself underneath and we all would have been lost. Were it not for the clever navigation of our Captain."

"Captain." Roger yelped, standing excitedly at his post. "We've come upon it."

"Good news." Simon said, slapping him on the back. "We make port at those rocks. We don't want the old bastard to catch sight of us and have him fire that cannon again."

"You are not." Sara said in disbelief.

"I am not what?"

"You are not going to see that old curmudgeon again. Father warned you about him." Sara furrowed her brow.

"Of course I remember what father said, but I see him every time I make port and why should this be any different? I do hope he remembers who we are. He does keep a spare flintlock and I swear one day, that lead will have my name on it." Simon smiled through his teeth and Sara wondered whether her brother had gone completely around the bend. She imagined a scenario on the Viceroy, which painted a scene of him dipping into the rum, and perhaps when one drinks rum as a child, it changes his personality forever. But, he had always been a bit mad, and disobedient as a son. Sara could not imagine that sort of behavior would fit in the Royal Navy.

The curmudgeons name was Leon. He was part French and part English at a time when that was a conflict in and of itself, and he had the terrible luck of being adopted by a Portuguese sailor, taking to the seas before many people could walk. His lifeline was something of a legend, many people claiming he was a pirate, one of the first of the kind, to own his very own ship, the Valor, a stolen and refitted vessel. Though none of the legends were substantiated it was said that he hid his wealth of treasures in the islands around the Cape, and that in the dead of night he would steal from his treasures. Many young boys would take to following him around, but he was always more clever than them, and because of his old age and the lack of proof any judge would have of his past exploits, he was allowed to live alone on the north end of the Cape. He received shipments of food and drink and lived much like a man who was destitute on an island, in a shack, that despite its outward appearance, was home to a long cannon, though no one was certain where he procured the fancy bit of artillery.

James tied the boat around a particularly sharp and thin piece of boulder and the four of them stole away, Sara more cautious than the rest, hiking her skirt halfway past her ankles to avoid the cragged shells that lined the old man's beach. Simon confidently strode across the sand, keeping one hand on the knife in his belt, certain that the old man was growing more and more senile and that one day he would surely lash out at anyone that approached, but he pressed on nonetheless, arrogant as ever.

"He really will kill you one day. They say he eats children." Sara spat with vigor from the back of the line.

"That was why we brought you." Simon said smoothly and they turned the corner leading to the door of the shack. One step further and the ground beneath the group quaked as a loud explosion filled the air and Simon dove for his compatriots, knocking them to the sand as a cannonball roared over their heads and made a terrific splash in the shallow waters, kicking water high in the air so that when it fell it was like rain.

"Who goes there?"

"I figured you would fire that thing anyway!" Simon shouted back. "Couldn't resist seeing if it still worked, could you?"

Leon opened the door and stepped out. His staple moustache was long and scraggly where once it had been perfectly manicured and shaped to point upwards like Devil horns. His eyes were squinting through the sun and he was shirtless, deeply tanned but for a tattoo on his chest of a crane in flight. He carried in his right hand the very Flintlock pistol Simon feared and held it out to the four of them, not looking for a moment that he knew who they were.

"Not many come around my door. They all know to stay away. I am the most dangerous person on this island and you might as well turn tail and leave. I have no treasure to part with." He said, his Portugese accent was lightly flavored in the English dialect.

"Leon, you old git. It's me, Simon Harwell and this is my dear sister, whom almost parted with her dear head no thanks to you."

"Simon?" The old man was struggling with his vapid memory, scrunching his brows together before he finally came up with it. "Little Simon, the boy from the plantation on the other side of the island? Why you were not much more than a belts height on me and now look at you. Nearly at my chin you are."\

"Yes, you crazy fool. I have grown in the four years since I've come around."

"And why have you brought these children with you?"

"I was afraid that left to your own devices, you would have surely gone astray. And you have, taking pot shots at us. You should be ashamed."

"Yes. But, sadly, I am not. But I do see your point. Were you a band of thieves I would have been in the right. And if my aim had not been so poor I would have split apart the lot of you." He laughed in a bully way and opened his door. "Well, make yourselves comfortable, I am sure you have come for a reason, boy."

They all gathered in his shack, which was terribly unclean and made themselves home on the littered chairs and tables. Leon hang his flintlock in its place beside the mantle and gave Simon a hearty shake. "It is good to see you, boy. Tell me, what news have you brought?"

"Not much to say. We are continuing our quest to tame the oceans of the world. England has her dominance and so far, no one has been able to usurp our power. But, none of that matters. Leon. On the journey I did come across an old sailor, possibly as old as you who did talk at length about a great many things."

"Yes. We do tend to do that, when the audience is captive."

"Believe me, I was. I had always suspected certain things from you. Many think you were a pirate, but that was not at all true? You rode the seas surely, but you might be called an adventurer, wouldn't you?"

"An adventurer. Surely you could call it that."

"A conquistador."

"Yes. At one time, I was something like that." Leon turned his gaze away and poured himself a stiff drink from a dusty bottle.

"Funny that you would relocated to the ends of the Earth, but you would not bother to change your name. This man I spoke to, he was Portugese as well, spoke in a very broken English, and where the other sailors would not have the patience to listen to him, I took great care in my explanations and listened with greater intensity than I had ever imagined, especially when it concerned you." Simon smiled and Sara began to feel something turn inside of her, what was he up to? Why had they bothered coming all the way out to see the hermit, he was better left alone, to his own devices.

"You come here and seek answers, but I am not sure these are answers you want to know just yet."

"When I first met you, you took me in and taught me many things about the sea. You were the very reason I wanted to become a sailor, to become a great warrior like all those men you read about in the histories and in the epics." Simon put his hand over the old man's. "You were preparing me for something and do not deny it."

"I do not." He said mistily.

"This man I spoke to explained that the great Portugese adventurer had come across a tale. A tale about three Mariner Artifacts. Three relics both ancient and new, all that once brought aboard a ship, would give her powers to conquer and sea. With these talismans of luck, any boat could survive drought, tempest and battle. Not to mention, the ability to find your way to any destination on the planet. It was said that Leon and his ship, The Guindaste, searched for these artifacts. And that they claimed two of the three in their perilous quest. Two of the three. The Portugese crown wanted all three, that they would reclaim the waters for Portugal. Have you heard this tale?"

"Yes."

"And you are this Leon, are you not?"

Leon said nothing and took another sip of his drink.

"You are! I know it. The Guindaste, the very ship that the Leon of the legend is named after the Portugese word for Crane. The very symbol you so proudly tattooed onto your chest. I am not a liar, I know this to be truth more than anything I know in my body. You are this man and you found these artifacts. And you have been guarding these things here in your home for the lifetime you have spent on this miserable island."

"Simon!" Sara shouted, unable to soothe her brother from his tirade.

"A man on an island has no need of a long nine. You are not protecting a treasure and you do not care about unwelcome guests, you are protecting the artifacts you have acquired. You have been grooming me all these years to take over for you in protecting them. But why, Leon, why hide them away? With this, you can have all that you want?"

"For that very reason boy. For that very reason I would lay my life down so that no one can take them from me. I would more gladly destroy them than let the hands of greed descend upon them and this world. You have come and you have insulted me, your trusted friend. I can not bear the look of you. Perhaps you are right that one day I would have given you these to protect, but that is not going to happen now." Tears streamed down his face as he took up the flintlock pistol. "Go boy and take your mates with you. I never want to see any of you here again."

James and Roger were the first to run out the door. Sara went with them, towing Simon along by his hand. His head was down and his teeth were clenched tightly. "Come on, Simon."

They piled into the boat and pushed off, Simon looked over at the shack. Sara put her hand on her brother's face. "I'm not entirely sure what went on in that place, but I can tell it affected you."

"You need not worry about me sister. Because tonight I am coming back."

James and Roger looked at each other quizzically, and Sara said in the most earnest voice. "Why would you do a foolish thing like that?"

"To steal his most prized possession." Simon smiled with manic sincerity. "Why else would I?"