A/N: I completely thought I had posted this already. Opps. I wanted to start writing the next chapter and then saw I'd not yet posted this one. Silly me...

Chapter 3

August 11, 1750

Tomas sat at a table with his friend Juan. A bottle of rum half empty lay on the table between them. Juan fingered a gold pocket watch. "He just gave it to you?"

"Yes. And then he refused to take it back."

"And you are certain you had never met the man before?"

Tomas chuckled, "We are in Havana. I am a world away from my friends, family, and everything I have ever known. You are the only person on this God forsaken islands I have spoken more than ten words to until yesterday."

"Really?" Juan shook his head in disbelief, "We have been here for two months and you have not explored? There are over seventy thousand people in this city alone. Do you mean to say you have not spoken to any of them?"

"They work us all day and night. How am I to find the energy to socialize. And we leave for Spain next week. I no longer see the point."

Juan ran his fingers through his hair and looked down at the table. It was a sign Tomas knew well. Juan was keeping something from him. "Did the man who gave you the watch tell you his name, or explain why he had given it to you?"

"He spoke less than I do. He simply said we would meet again soon and he wanted me to have it because he knew me to be a good man. How he could make such a claim having observed me for no more than two minutes, I cannot say."

"Well, Tomas, your benefactor is observant. You are a good man. Too good, in fact, to stay here with the likes of me."

Tomas's eyes shot up. "You cannot mean you are staying here! The El Salvador is set to sail in a week."

With a sheepish Juan pointed to a woman behind the bar. "That woman there is named Rosa. She is my destiny. I traveled over 4,000 miles to find her and I mean for us to start a life together. But I wish you well. You are meant for great things.

Tomas lifted his glass and toasted to Juan and Rosie. His heart broke a little that in a week's time he would be sailing across the ocean and would likely never again see his oldest and dearest friend.

August 25, 1750

The towering wall of water crashed into the side of the boat announcing the sea's rage. The ship leaned dangerously to one side. It was Tomas's first voyage on a galleon ship, and if he survived this hurricane, it would be his last. He had lashed himself to the mast, but this by no means assured he would remain on board. In the last half hour, he had watched a dozen crew members slip out from beneath their tethers into the violent sea. Their screams were lost against the crashing of waves and deafening gusts of wind. He scanned the waters around him. He wanted to see how the rest of the fleet was fairing but he could not see through the curtains of rain.

Seven days earlier, the El Salvador had left Havana as part of a fleet of seven. It had taken months to load the treasure for the Spanish crown onto the ships. This unexpected delay and the hope of avoiding pirates had placed them in the middle of the Caribbean during hurricane season and instead of catching the Atlantic Tradewinds on their way home, their ship was now being pulled up through the Americas by the Gulf Stream.

Tomas was paralyzed by fear and the knowledge he was helpless. Mother Nature's power was too great. He closed his eyes and prayed. He could not say for how long he clung to his bindings, begging God to protect him, but a piercing scream woke him from his internal dialogue. He opened his eyes and he saw Miguel clinging to a rope with a single fist while the ocean tried to shake him free. Tomas would never be able to explain what overcame him. It was as if the danger surrounding him melted away and all of his fear was replaced with purpose. He loosened the ropes holding him in place and went to Miguel. He grabbed the man's arm. He hoped to loop the rope, which still clung loosely to his waist, around the appendage thereby linking both of their bodies to the mast. His plan failed, however, when another wave washed Miguel off the deck. Tomas's focus shifted back to his own survival, and all of his strength went into holding onto the ropes he had loosened only moments before.

To say the ship battled the sea would be like saying the flee battled the dragon. The ship merely waited for its ultimate demise which eventually came when it went aground. With one final push, the El Salvador hit a sandbar and broke apart. Once the hurricane passed, the ship was covered in eight feet of sand and all but four of the crew members had perished.

Tomas woke up on the banks of North Carolina. He had lost everything but his life and was overcome with guilt for being so fortunate. As he lay in the sand, he reflected on what he had just overcome. He rolled onto his back and noticed a hard lump digging into his leg. He reached beneath him to remove the rock, but there was nothing there. And then he remembered. In his pocket lay Miguel Santiago's watch.