The Adventures of Pocahontas and John Rolfe: Book I

by Spidersting

Book I picks up where the sequel left off. Pocahontas and John Rolfe are on the ship back to Virginia hoping to spend the rest of their lives together in peace. Instead they stumble upon a series of adventures and misadventures. Together, they discover that the road to happily-ever-after is paved with many more obstacles than they ever imagined. Characters and universe owned by Dis

8. Captain John Rolfe

The Adventures of Pocahontas and John Rolfe: Book I

Chapter 8: Captain John Rolfe

Manslaughter Sol got bored staring into the swamp, so he stood up and walked over to Tongueless Tom's post. Without Spike-Eyes, Flame, or Legless to keep an eye on him, Manslaughter had a bad habit of shirking his duties in favor of more enjoyable pursuits. He liked Tongueless Tom in particular because the man was mute. Manslaughter Sol preferred to do all the talking, primarily because he liked to talk exclusively about his favorite subject—himself. Short of putting a bullet through his skull, there was nothing Tongueless Tom or anyone else could do to shut him up once he got started.

When Tongueless Tom saw Manslaughter Sol approach, he tried to signal the idiot to go back to his own post. Naturally, Manslaughter pretended that he did not understand. He quickly plopped down on a charred log to recount the story of how he had slain, with his bare hands, an African crocodile that had made the mistake of swallowing a valuable diamond. Tongueless Tom rolled his grey eyes and turned his attention away.

Taking no notice of Tom's inattentiveness, Manslaughter Sol continued, "And after that escapade, the crew at the time set sail to the southernmost land of the New World. It was during the voyage there that we stopped at Hispaniola to pick up more crew members, yourself amongst them if ye recall. You're a lucky man, Tommy. I'm surprised Bleud let you join with all your shortcomings. Consider it good fortune on your part that you were commanded to mind the ship when we arrived on the jungled shores."

Tongueless Tom clenched his teeth, tempted to give Manslaughter Sol a good blow across the temple. "As ye know," Manslaughter said, "we had hoped to find a sliver of gold left by the Spaniards, but when we got there we realized they had combed the land so completely. We came upon burnt village after burnt village to find nothing but skeletal remains of the savage occupants, yet not one speck nor glimmer of riches."

Manslaughter shook his head, recalling the disappointment. "Journeying deep into the jungle, we had the good luck to stumble upon one survivor—a terrified and scantily clad maiden. We tortured the wench for information, though we gleaned nothing at first. When we raised our swords to end her, the lass's eyes turned black as coal as if she was possessed. She spoke in an otherworldly tongue through which a phrase or two in English could be heard: 'Kill the Spanish… slay me and you will be cursed for eternity'."

Tongueless Tom immediately perked up and spun back to Manslaughter. "Aye, I thought that'd grab your attention," Manslaughter gloated. "Only Bleud, Spike-Eyes, and I were there at the time and I was told never to tell. I'm doing you a favor confidin' in you, mate. So I expect you to keep me secret in return," he spoke with a hushing finger over his mouth. Tom blinked in surprise. Manslaughter held the pose for an extended moment and grinned, bursting into laughter at the notion of a man without a tongue trying to 'out' him. "I'm just foolin', mate," Manslaughter Sol returned, still guffawing loudly.

Manslaughter Sol calmed down after a few extended moments. "Well, we was all rather startled, to say the least. When the girl returned to normal, she immediately told us of a secret Spanish camp deep in the jungle. Said the gods had just revealed it to her to stop her torment. She led us there. It turned out to be an Aztec goldmine that had been taken over by the Spanish. We killed the miners and took the remaining gold for ourselves," he explained, grinning greedily at the memory. He held up his hands when Tom knitted his brows. "It was Bleud's command not to share with the crew! I had no say the matter," he blurted defensively, somewhat alleviating his companion's visible anger.

Manslaughter resumed the tale. "When we went back to the girl to thank her and offer her clemency for her life, she had vanished from the bonds adhering her to a tree trunk. There was no sign of tampering and no footprints leading away. It was the most bizarre thing, I tell ye. Bleud suspected she had somehow slipped out of the shackles and climbed up the tree, so we sent the cabin boy up to confirm this suspicion. The lad disappeared into the foliage and a few moments later, we heard a muffled scream. From a struggle up above, some of the branches broke away and we saw him—the lad was belly-deep and headfirst down the gullet of the biggest snake these eyes ever did see!" Manslaughter decried. He noted how Tom raised his brows. Then the man shook his head in disbelief.

"Don't believe me? I swear it to be true!" Manslaughter exclaimed. He pointed to his eyes with two fingers. "These very peepers beheld it. We laid into the monster lizard with a slew of bullets, yet it continued to devour the lad even as we made the creature's belly holier than the Bible! Finally, when the boy's feet disappeared into its mouth, the snake fell dead from the treetops. We immediately cut the beast open and pulled the child out, but the boy was dead from crushed bones and suffocation. A pity—the lad was not but nine or ten. Such a tender age to meet such a grisly fate. But now you know the mystery behind the last cabin boy's disappearance. I don't know why Captain Bleud insisted on keeping it a secret from the crew, but he did and I trust you not to tell."

Once Manslaughter Sol had finished his tale, he slid to the ground with his back against a log and pulled out a bottle of French rum. He took a large swig and offered some to Tongueless Tom, but the other pirate refused. Manslaughter shrugged and began to chug the delightful beverage. He was a third of the way through the bottle when a howl echoed in the distance, startling them both. Manslaughter Sol dropped his rum.

Tongueless Tom readied his rifle as Manslaughter snatched up the bottle by the neck and jumped to his feet. "Hello?!" he called out into the wilderness. His voice carried over the burnt trees. They stared southward for a while. When they were met with nothing but silence, Manslaughter shrugged and sat back down. "Darn. I was hoping one of the other hunting parties might have made it back. Guess no one's coming to relieve us," he said, burping loudly. He glanced over his shoulder again. "Probably just a coyote."

…

Dusk was on the horizon when Pocahontas, John Rolfe, Meeko, Percy, and Flit came upon a small mushy island. It was the best they could find, as neither wished to be in the water after dark. The first thing they did was pick off the leeches that had latched onto their bodies during the day. Fortunately, there were not too many. The mosquitos began to pester them again until Pocahontas used the turtle shell to gather mud from the swamp waters. They laid it on thick over every inch of exposed skin. Rolfe was not enthusiastic about the prospect of sleeping in mud, but he really had no choice in the matter.

The boggy island was covered in tall dry grasses and a few cypress saplings. The fallen limbs from overhead trees had accumulated there over time as well. John Rolfe scooped it all together and started a small fire with the available material. The fuel lasted just long enough to cook the frog meat. They used the turtle shell like a pot to braise all of the animal's flesh. As they waited for it to cook, they hungrily devoured the coconut meat that they had not finished earlier. They had eaten much of it during the day to fuel them while they were swimming, so there was not much left. John Rolfe opened the last five coconuts to rehydrate everyone as much as possible. There was the prospect of boiling swamp water in the turtle shell, but they all agreed on that as a last resort.

After eating all the meat from the last five coconuts, Pocahontas and John Rolfe filled a small ditch with mud and lay down inside. Despite the disgusting conditions they were forced to endure, Rolfe was amazed at how much better his body felt not having to carry Pocahontas all day. It was a crucial break, giving his wearied bones and muscles time to recover from the hard journey. Swimming for so long carried its own kind of pains though, but at least he did not have to rely on the same sore muscles. Pocahontas was surprised when Rolfe's bullfrog actually tasted pretty decent. She had hoped to avoid eating it at first in favor of coconut meat, but as the day wore on she found herself getting hungrier and hungrier. By dusk, even the dragonflies were starting to look appetizing. There were no leftovers this time, not even one single scrap of coconut meat.

Pocahontas fretted that they were now out of food entirely, but John Rolfe promised her that they would find more in the morning. She was so exhausted that she just fell asleep after that. Her final words were "…can't wait to get out of this swamp…" as she dozed off. Rolfe nodded his agreement as Meeko and Percy curled up with them in the mud. Flit perched on an overhanging twig from a cypress sapling and fell fast asleep as well.

…

SEPTEMBER 25, 1613

Adahy caught up with the pirates an hour before dawn. He observed the watchmen from the bushes, creeping quietly from post to post to count them all. He tallied ten in total, most of whom were alone for several hundred paces. Adahy observed that they were waiting outside of a foul-smelling swamp. He could only gather that the fugitives had fled therein. "Bleud and Flame must have some plan to close in on them. But they won't catch them before we do, rest assured," he whispered to the dog whom he had named Kelele. It was short for Kelelemon Suprate, meaning 'Drooling Warrior.' Kelele growled in a low tone as they observed Manslaughter talking the ear off a much quieter individual. "Stay," Adahy instructed. He snuck through the brush toward Tongueless Tom.

It was to Adahy's great fortune that Manslaughter Sol was not even looking at his friend. Rather the drunken fool was busy making a bad carving of what he clearly intended to be a shapely nude female figure. "Rather annoying that Flame won't let us touch the other gals until we catch that stupid Spaniard. Boy, is Ignacio going to suffer when I finally get me hands on 'im," Manslaughter Sol bemoaned, flicking aside a sliver of wood.

Adahy raised an eyebrow. Spaniard? Ignacio? He had no idea what the idiot was talking about. Adahy performed the jugular hitch maneuver on Tongueless Tom using only his forearms—an ancient Copichican technique. It rendered the mute pirate unconscious in an instant. Adahy caught him in his arms before he could fall. He laid the unconscious body down quietly and did the same to the overly talkative and drunken Manslaughter. One by one, he knocked out all ten of the watchmen. The harder part was tying them up. He decided against it entirely. Instead, he used the demon blade to cut every man's arms and legs off to render them immobile and helpless. The heat from the dagger cauterized the wounds in an instant, preventing the mutilated buccaneers from bleeding out. Once Adahy had finished, he laid the limbless pirates in a row side-by-side.

Kelele stopped chewing on one of the severed legs for a moment, peering up to growl as one of the pirates began to rouse. The dragonfly blackstone dagger began to glow again. Tongueless Tom was the first to awaken in monstrous pain. The fearsome sight of a supposed dead man stood over him, the figure's hellish grin illuminated by the unnatural red light emanating from the blade. Tongueless Tom screamed at the top of his lungs.

…

The wind wafted northward as Spike-Eyes trod up behind Flame. The captain stared out into the dark swamp forest with the French hound Françoise beside him. The dog seemed to find the scents emanating from the swamp to be fascinating. She occasionally made to run inside the dank place, but she obediently sat down again whenever Flame ordered her to stay put. Still, she could not stop herself from whimpering slightly in frustration.

The first rim of twilight played on the eastern horizon as Captain Flame began to feel irritated again. He gritted his teeth tightly as he stared into the black swamp. "Gods be cursed, where is he?" he growled under his breath, growing impatient.

Spike-Eyes stepped beside him. "He might have perished, sir. I know you didn't want to send any of the crew into the pestilent land. But if we send the toughest man in with Françoise, he might be able to help us determine if Ignacio is still alive or not. Then they could turn right around and come back with the Spaniard, dead or alive."

"He's alive, I know he's alive!" Flame hissed. "The fop is trying to trick us—just like he did with the crossdressed woman. Hiding in the swamp till we think him dead. We'll not be fooled again. I'm not stoppin' the search until I have either him or his corpse!"

Spike-Eyes scratched his head and swatted something off of his shoulder. "Seems like an awfully desperate move, captain. He must be getting eaten up by mosquitoes in there."

"It's desperate, alright. But it's also clever. After everything that's happened, I'm starting to think there's more to this Rol… I mean, this Ignacio character than we realize. He's a real conniving bastard, he is. Remember the day he joined the crew? Seemed like a real weakling, barely able to lift a rum barrel. It was all a façade. If he was really so pathetic, he would never have made it off the ship—and with a lass, no less. Even if she perished in the fire, Ignacio's feats have been impressive. Methinks he could even be some type of mercenary perhaps, but I can't be sure. We have to find him and interrogate the wretch!" Flame insisted, balling his fists. The possibility that they might never catch John Rolfe was too infuriating to ponder. "The things I'm gonna do to that poor bastard…"

"Aye, let's send someone in to find him then," Spike-Eyes replied.

Captain Flame fell silent, glancing left toward the light blue glow on the horizon. "Very well. Pick the toughest man you can find and prepare him provisions and something to help him ward off the mosquitoes. A torch, perhaps?" he suggested.

"Aye, sir. I propose we send the bosun. He knows how to stalk prey without making too much noise, like Adahy. But unlike Adahy, he knows how to avoid serious injury and he's skilled with the sword—far more so than the Injun ever was. Surely he can be a match for the Spaniard's fencing prowess. Plus, he was born of jungled land even denser and wilder than that there swamp. I think he's the best man for the job," Spike-Eyes declared.

Captain Flame considered the proposition. He had to admit that he did not trust the bosun much. The man had always had a superior relationship with Bleud for reasons beyond the current captain's understanding. If not for the bosun's quiet antisocial nature, it was entirely possible that Bleud might have selected him for the role of quartermaster instead. Of course, the bosun had never shown an interest in leadership, so Flame did not see him as a threat. Still, the bosun's nature was too dark and brooding for comfort. The one thing that convinced Flame to send the bosun in, however, was the Affrikaan's obvious distaste for one, John Rolfe. Flame gave in and nodded his head. "Aye, send the bosun."

Spike-Eyes returned a nod and went to find the swarthy one. The bosun was immediately surprised to learn that Flame wanted to send him after the fugitive. Most of his personal duties were limited to dealing with the ship's equipment, bearing the cat against offending crew members, and serving as a brawny guard. Flame had never sent him on a real mission before. Mission work usually required some small amount of trust and the bosun knew how little Flame trusted him. The feeling was quite mutual. Regardless, the bosun agreed and prepared for his excursion into the dank forested land.

…

Pocahontas awoke with a fright, sitting up in her warm—if not soggy—bed of mud beside John Rolfe. She thought that she had heard something frightful in a dream but, as soon as her mind cleared, the world fell silent. She glanced around the grim bog laden with grasses, bushes, and marsh trees of all kinds. It was still dark, but she thought she could detect the faintest glow of twilight through the trees. All appeared well, but there was an unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach that she could not quite place.

John Rolfe and Percy were fast asleep, but Flit and Meeko had awoken along with her. They were both staring southward with blank expressions. Then she finally realized what was wrong—the silence. It was unnatural. There were no crickets chirping nor frogs croaking in the deep dark swamp that had hummed with life earlier. Pocahontas widened her eyes in fear as a flock of panicked birds burst through the trees. They rushed by over her head in such a frenzy that the Englishman and the pug sprung up, gasping.

A bellow sounded in the far distance that could only be described as bloodcurdling. Deep and harrowing, Pocahontas could not identify the source be it animal, man, or spirit.

John Rolfe heaved in fear, stumbling to his feet. The mud dripped off him as he found his balance and stared south toward the source of the anguished cry. "Wh… what is that?!"

"You hear it?" Pocahontas asked. The sound came from far away. John Rolfe's awareness of it indicated it haled from an earthly source rather than just a spiritual one.

The cry sharpened, sounding more human than before. John Rolfe shot a glance back at Pocahontas. "What do you mean by asking me that?! How could anyone not hear that? It sounds like someone is being burned alive… or crucified and then burned!" he cried. He barreled out of the pit and stalked around the small island, the dark mud obscuring his otherwise pale form. Pacing back and forth as the sound of anguish rang out over miles, he added, "It must be a hostile tribe at war. What else could it be? Maybe they found the pirates… or the pirates found them. We've got to get farther away from here!"

"John!" Pocahontas snapped. When he peered at her she put a finger to her lips, telling for him to be quiet. He fell silent and the screaming stopped, though the echo continued to carry over the canopy. After a brief pause, Pocahontas spoke up again. "Listen to the world around us. The animals have fallen silent. I fear this is more than just a hostile encounter between mortal human enemies. Remember what happened before the fire?" she divulged. John Rolfe blinked at her. Suddenly another panicked group of birds rushed by, one nearly colliding with the Englishman's head. Rolfe was forced to duck to avoid the blow. "The animals are fleeing north. We must follow!" Pocahontas decreed.

Pocahontas heard a gasp escape John Rolfe's lips and saw his eyes widen in recollection. "You don't… you can't mean…" he murmured, fearing for their souls.

With eyes wide and terrified, Pocahontas fervently nodded. "We need to get out of here!" she exclaimed, struggling to stand up. She hardly remembered her injury until it made itself known with intense pain. She cried out and grabbed her ankle.

Meeko, Percy, and Flit were in a panic, but surprisingly John Rolfe got a hold of his own wits. Despite how slippery Pocahontas was while covered in mud, he picked her up firmly and carried her to the water's edge. Then he lowered her gently into the water. He placed the turtle shell on her head, tying the survival pack to his own as she had done the day before to keep it out of the water. Rolfe shooed Percy into the dark water, but Meeko was scared stiff. "Come along, everybody! Hop to it! If we leave in an orderly fashion, we might just get out of this with our eternal souls intact," he expressed, clapping his hands to get their attention. Pocahontas was already swimming north. He tossed Meeko in after the others and then followed. Rolfe was surprised to glance Percy way out ahead of the group. Those stubby legs of his could really swim fast if he was scared.

John Rolfe felt things rush by him under the water. Fortunately, though, it appeared that all of the predatory beasts were too busy fleeing the demonic threat to care about hunting. While it was too dark to see clearly, the Englishman feared that a fast-moving log was actually alive when a pair of beady eyes peered at him from across the water. Whatever it was had no interest in them. It quickly sped past the fleeing group about twenty paces to their right, heading north like everything else in the terrorized swampland.

John Rolfe shook off the fleeting feeling of terror as he launched himself into a fast front crawl to catch up with the rest of his party. Even without the full use of one of her legs, Pocahontas could swim very quickly. They glided along as another even more horrifying howl erupted in the distance. It spurred them on faster. It sounded like a different victim this time. They could tell that much at least, though they tried not to think about it.

…

The bosun halted when he barely heard faint screams in the distance. The light of dawn was brimming on the horizon, but he did not fail to sense the demonic presence from afar. The main clues were the fleeing swamp animals that erupted from the brush. The bosun stopped knee-deep in mud and swamp water. Françoise stilled beside him, whimpering lightly. She seemed to sense a threat, but of what type she could not tell.

The bosun had fought a demon before, but it had been many years since and he had not been victorious. Neither had he been defeated, for a powerful shaman had intervened before the then twelve-year-old Affrikaan prince could be harmed. While the man had taken him as apprentice and he had learned much in the ways of demonology, at present the bosun did not have the talismans he would need to fight off such a powerful being from another dimension. The bosun did have something, though. It was a form of spirit camouflage to make himself invisible to the demon in the event of their meeting.

He could not very well return to the crew and tell them to flee. The spirit-blind would deem him a coward and he could be executed. Camouflage was his only option, so he pulled out the bracelet from his belt sack and put it on. Made of fine Affrikaan beads, he pressed it into his flesh until the tiny points bore into his skin. One by one, the beads illuminated red as his royal blood spread through the trinket. It was the only possession from before his slavery that he had managed to retain and he was grateful for it.

As the camouflage went into effect, barely visible beams of spirit-light emanated from his body about twenty feet in every direction—a protective forcefield. Françoise instantly calmed down and the fish rushing north in the water began to cluster around him, feeling much safer within the spiritual protection of the Afrikaan blood bracelet.

The bosun began slogging along again. He frowned as the mosquitos began to cluster as well, waving his torch around to keep them away. If only the bracelet had the same effect on mosquitos as it does on demons, he thought in annoyance. Fortunately, as a native jungle-dweller, he was well adapted to mosquito bites. They served as nothing more than buzzing annoyances, as the bites neither swelled nor itched on his skin.

Françoise whimpered as the insects swarmed around her eyes. The bosun shooed them with the torch. The dog sniffed the air and cocked her nose in a slight southwesterly direction. The bosun whistled at her, allowing her to go ahead and lead the way.

…

Flit zipped miles ahead of the group to ensure they would not come upon insurmountable obstacles. With the daylight emerging, he flew up above the trees and squinted his eyes north to see if he could spot the end of the vast swampland. To his irritation, the cypress and swamp tree growth seemed to stretch on and on into the thickening mist over the horizon. It was impossible to see over the full distance. The tiny hummingbird sighed in aggravation and flew onward to discover what lay beyond the cloud of fog.

Fortunately for him, the sun began to evaporate the mists as it rose. At last, Flit caught sight of the end of the tree line in the far distance. A grassy meadow and hammock forest lay beyond, but that was not all. As he gazed northeast toward the coast, something disturbingly familiar began to emerge from the dissipating mist—strange clouds.

Flit squeaked in horror as realization dawned upon him. He recognized the tattered sails of the Blood Draw and then he suddenly heard a noise from the swamp directly below him. It sounded like one of Percy's yips at first, but lower in pitch. Angry low ranting followed soon after, though Flit could not make out the exact words. The hummingbird's eyes widened in alarm and he shot down past the canopy, hiding behind a large leaf. He peered down towards the swampy water to find the source of the noise.

"Stupid dog!" the gruff-voiced bosun bellyached, waving his hand in a beckoning gesture. "We are not hunting for meat. Leave the rodent," he ordered.

Françoise whined but obeyed, wading over to the human. A terrified swamp rat that had been trapped in a tree hole emerged and fled up the trunk to the canopy, brushing past Flit as it climbed. Flit peered after it and cocked a brow, but then looked down again.

"Good," the bosun said more calmly, tossing her a piece of sausage as a reward. She gratefully accepted the treat and went back to work, sniffing along through the swamp. Flit had no doubts about what they were searching for. With the bosun's size and apparent strength, Flit worried about him finding Pocahontas and the others.

The ship's presence led Flit to wonder where the other pirates were. He saw the bosun lift something to the dog's face that he immediately recognized. It was John Rolfe's ruined boot, the same one he had left on the beach after the fire. The dog sniffed it, renewing her senses. She then cocked her nose in the direction of Pocahontas and Rolfe.

Flit squeaked in concern for his friends. Fortunately, the pirate was miles from them yet. Flit knew he had to gather more information before going back to his friends to warn them of the danger. Perhaps he could come up with an alternative route for them to get around the fiends. He buzzed on ahead, onward past the end of the swampland.

A gunshot went off and Flit felt something graze his tail feathers. He squeaked in terror and glanced straight downwards. There were two pirates bickering on the ground. "You bloody moron!" Spike-Eyes raged, slapping another pirate across the face. The man fell to the ground, dropping his weapon. "What are you firing off bullets for? We aren't supposed to be makin' noise!" he snapped, threatening the individual with his large fist.

"Sorry, sir! It was an accident, I swear!" his victim replied, trying to shield his face.

Flit buzzed along the outskirts of the swamp and discovered many of the pirates on duty at different posts. Spirits only knew how many were searching in the swampland itself. Flit wondered if he could do something to throw them off the trail. He could think of only one thing to slow them down at all. The hummingbird turned tail and flew back to where he had seen the bosun. The man and dog were moving fast, despite the deepening mud and water. The bosun was like a bear. Nothing could stop him from getting to his honey prize, not even a field of sticky mud or a swarm of pesky insects. Flit needed something much more compelling to dissuade the big fellow from continuing the hunt.

Flit flew down until he was a dozen paces south of them, hidden behind a tree trunk. He peeked around the corner and narrowed his eyes, thinking up a plan. The idea that popped into his head was risky, but he had to do it. His friends depended on him to be their scout and way-finder. He steeled himself and flew forward at top speed. The small bird crossed the space quickly, burying his needle-like beak into the bosun's right eye socket. The man let loose a thundering howl and the dog started barking at the top of her lungs.

Forcing the pirate to make noise to warn his friends was not enough, Flit knew. There were human enemies to the north and spirit enemies to the south closing in on them. The hummingbird had to go back to show Pocahontas and John Rolfe a way around. He knew it would be a long shot for all of them, but they had to try. It was their only chance.

Flit barely managed to yank his beak out before a massive hand came to slap him away. The giant fell to his knees in the muddy water, holding his injured eye. With his free hand, the bosun grabbed his machete and began brandishing it wildly in an attempt to kill whatever had attacked him. Flit dodged the swipes and flew out of range.

Now free, the hummingbird turned tail and headed directly south as fast as he could fly to find his friends before someone else found them and tried to hurt them.

…

John Rolfe immediately stopped swimming when he heard the scream and subsequent barking far up ahead. It was a very bad sign indeed, especially with the demon still on their trail to the south. "Pocahontas, stop!" John Rolfe cried to get her attention.

Pocahontas heard him and stilled in the water. The sound of the barking dog became clear when she put a hand to her ear. "What is that? It's coming from the north!" she spouted. She spun around and swam back over to John Rolfe, holding onto him fearfully.

"The pirates," John Rolfe indicated. "I thought I heard a gunshot from there, but I wasn't sure. It must be them," he said, sheltering her in his arms. No matter what, he could not let them get a hold of her. He feared far less what they would do to him.

Meeko and Percy stopped swimming and turned to face Pocahontas and John Rolfe as they trod water in place. "John, what are we going to do? If the demon is south of us and the pirates are north, we're surrounded!" Pocahontas hollered.

"I'm not sure yet, love," John Rolfe expressed, his eyes widening. "Where did Flit go?" he inquired aloud, glancing all around. Minutes passed and they were all relieved when the aforementioned hummingbird burst through the brush. He came to a stop before the two humans. "Flit!" Rolfe cried in relief. "It's the pirates, isn't it? We heard them!" Flit nodded. He buzzed around them in circles and headed east toward the ocean, beckoning them. "There? But isn't that where their ships must be?" Rolfe inquired.

Pocahontas immediately followed. "Just do as he says, John. He's seen things that we haven't," she replied, launching herself into a swim after the tiny bird.

John Rolfe hesitated, but then followed when Meeko and Percy swam past him in pursuit of Pocahontas and Flit. It was about two miles before they finally reached the dense wall of mangroves that marked the boundary between the swamp and the open sea. Given that Pocahontas was injured, John Rolfe saw no other option but to use her machete to forge a path through the briny thicket. The downside was that it would leave a trail.

Pocahontas did not protest, as she saw no alternative. John Rolfe began chopping a path through the dense subtropical shrubbery with fervor. It seemed to be a mile thick. In reality, it was not much more than ten to fifteen feet across. He labored his way through as Pocahontas waited on a thick branch, her toes swirling in the water below.

Eventually, John Rolfe finished the task. He returned to Pocahontas's side and propped her up on his back, carrying her over the mushy ground as he used mangled mangrove limbs for support. The sea emerged in shallow waves that gently lapped the edge of the mangrove slope. Rolfe stepped down to discover the saltwater was quite shallow. If not for the high tide, there might have even been a small beach for all he knew.

With Pocahontas on his back, John Rolfe waded deeper into the saltwater. "Finally we can wash this mud off. The current seems to be flowing north. No wonder they were able to catch up to us." He sat Pocahontas down in the shallow waves and hung their belongings on outstretched mangrove limbs. Sitting down next to her, he began to wash the mud off his body and clothes as much as possible without disrobing. Pocahontas copied what he was doing, hardly even noticing when he got up and started tearing away mangrove limbs to make a raft. He cut and chopped with the machete as he went.

It was not until Pocahontas was done rinsing the mud off that she even realized what John Rolfe was doing. "John?" she murmured, trying to get his attention.

"I'm hoping we can sneak past the ships while the pirates are focused on finding us in the swamp," John Rolfe expressed. "We need to keep the gunpowder dry, so I'm building a small raft. We can travel north faster with the strong current." Gazing northward was no help, as the curving coastline obscured their view of the sea ahead. They could only see directly east and the sun was excessively bright as it rose over the horizon.

Pocahontas scooted over to John Rolfe to help prevent the pieces from floating away from each other as the Englishman lashed them together with literally anything he could get his hands on—twine, clothing scraps from the survival pack, vines, etc.

It took an hour, but together Pocahontas and John Rolfe were able to build a canoe-like raft five feet in length. Because the bottom was not solid wood, it would not keep them completely dry. But that was not the objective anyway. Rolfe fashioned two paddles out of branches with diverging limbs, winding vines around them to form the blades.

Sitting on the front of the raft with her injured ankle propped up, Pocahontas snatched one of the paddles from John Rolfe. He glanced at her in surprise and then took his place in the back. Meeko pulled Percy up into the center of the raft between the two paddlers. Rolfe placed the turtle shell topside down beside the two animals and stowed the supply pack inside of it with the intention of keeping the gunpowder dry. Pocahontas took her machete back when Rolfe had finished with it and tied it onto her belt as usual.

Just as they were about to set off, a canine howl could be heard much louder than before. It was too close for comfort. John Rolfe pivoted himself off the raft and into the warm water. Hastily turning around, he shoved the tail end of the canoe as fast as he could into the deepening water. Pocahontas shielded the supply pack as he pushed past the gentle but splashy waves, aiming to reach the strong current along the shoreline.

John Rolfe's first concern was that the pirates possessed firearms. He and Pocahontas would be sitting ducks on the open water. The farther away they could get before the fiends arrived, the better. "John, I think you can get in now," Pocahontas told him. The water was deep enough now such that Rolfe's feet no longer touched the sandy seabed. He was kicking them along, using the strength of his legs as propellers.

"Paddle, Pocahontas! They're too close. Once we're out of sight around that bend in the coastline, we can relax a bit," John Rolfe pointed out, kicking with all his might. He was grateful as they entered the northern current, pushing them along at a faster pace.

Flit remained perched on a thin tree branch on the shore, keeping guard as the others fled. If only it had not taken so long to build the raft, they would have been well ahead of the bosun. The dog had gone quiet, which worried the small hummingbird. He heard a twig crack a short distance away and flew back into the forest to check it out. His worst fears were confirmed when he saw the bosun, now wearing a makeshift eye patch, tearing his way through the dense brush and swamp water in pursuit of the hound. Françoise was hot on their trail. She had nearly reached the mangrove trail forged by John Rolfe.

Thinking fast, Flit zipped down in front of the dog and started buzzing around her head in circles to drive her bonkers. The dog growled and began snapping at the air in an attempt to ward off the flying pest. To Flit's disappointment, the bosun hardly took notice of them. He rushed past and Flit squeaked in horror when he saw the large man catch sight of the butchered mangrove path. The dog managed to snap off one of Flit's tail feathers while the hummingbird was distracted, evoking a loud squeak from said bird.

…

John Rolfe yelped when he felt something smooth brush his submerged leg. Pocahontas, Meeko, and Percy glanced back in surprise as he scrambled up onto the raft and out of the water. "What's the matter, John?" Pocahontas inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"There's something in the water!" John Rolfe cried, tearing into the survival pack. He whipped out the pistol and pointed it shakily into the dark saltwater. Percy let loose a high-pitched yip and stared nervously over the side of the raft, trembling in fear.

Pocahontas reached back and gave Percy a reassuring scratch behind the ears. "It could just be a friendly sea creature, John," she pointed out. "There's no need to panic."

John Rolfe glanced at her, frowning. She smiled back at him. After some hesitation, he let loose a sigh and put the gun back in the supply pack. He grabbed his paddle, propelling them through the water with all the speed and strength he could muster.

A booming sound erupted from behind them and John Rolfe felt something zip by his left ear, giving him a start. He cried out in surprise and threw a glance over his shoulder. The Affrikaan stood on the narrow shore, hurriedly reloading his matchlock musket.

The bosun was normally a deadly shot, but his eye injury interfered with his aim. "Get down!" John Rolfe cried, grabbing Pocahontas from behind. He pulled her down flat against the raft, laying his own body protectively over hers and the animals.

As John Rolfe covered his head, they heard the pirate's booming voice. "That was a warning shot, Ivory Man! I'll hold fire if you swim back to shore and give yourself up!" he shouted over the slowly widening distance as he finished reloading.

"The current's too strong!" John Rolfe called back. "I-I-I, um, I'm a terrible swimmer! I'll drown before you ever get to me!" The bosun gritted his teeth in anger at the pathetic lie and took aim again. It was difficult with only one eye, but he was determined to injure the white man and thus force him to flee the open water for fear of sharks.

But just as the bosun locked onto his target, something largish and quite annoying began buzzing around his face like before. "What the…?" he cried, waving his hand around to ward away the pest. He stumbled back and tripped over a fallen log. Françoise dashed past him and began running up and down the narrow shore through the foamy surf. She barked madly at the raft as the saltwater rapidly carried it off into the distance.

Pocahontas and John Rolfe sat up and peered back at the chaotic scene on the shrinking shoreline. "Be careful, Flit!" Pocahontas called to him, looking deeply concerned.

Pocahontas and John Rolfe screamed at the top of their lungs when a big gray creature leapt out of the water over the raft and dove down on the other side. Pocahontas stopped screaming when she saw it was a dolphin. Rolfe did not get a good look since saltwater had splashed in his eyes. He assumed it was a shark and kept right on shrieking.

Pocahontas grabbed the pistol before he could turn it on the mammal and reached to clap her hand over his mouth. "It's okay, John! She won't hurt us," she spoke in a reassuring tone. The athletic animal leapt over them again, drenching John Rolfe.

The Englishman's stinging eyes darted over the surface as he held his paddle like a baton, carefully keeping all of his limbs up out of the water. "Are you crazy?!" he snapped back in terror as he flashed his female companion a look of angry skepticism.

"It was just a dolphin," Pocahontas declared, pushing the pistol back into the supply pack. John Rolfe raised a brow and almost rolled back into the water as the raft began moving at a much speedier pace. Pocahontas reached forward and grabbed a hold of his collar before he could tumble overboard, helping him regain his balance.

"What's happening?" John Rolfe exclaimed. Pocahontas pointed behind him. He saw a big dolphin using its shiny gray beak to propel the raft forward in the water. More of them appeared in the surrounding area, thinking the raft was a toy for them to fool around with. The Englishman held onto the sides of the raft to keep himself steady as the animals jerked it around. He glanced at Pocahontas with a worried look on his face.

"They're just playing," Pocahontas explained.

By the time Flit stopped pestering the bosun, Pocahontas and John Rolfe were much too far away to shoot at. They were tiny specks rapidly disappearing behind a bend in the coastline. The bosun snarled in anger and threw down his gun. It exploded and nearly hit Françoise. The startled hound ran off into the swamp whimpering loudly.

It took Flit a minute to catch up to the seafaring raft. When he arrived, he perched on John Rolfe's shoulder panting rapidly. The dolphins had already grown bored of the floating item and were leaping around nearby, playing with each other instead.

Pocahontas was immensely relieved when she spotted Flit. She took him in her cupped hands. "That was very brave of you, Flit!" she extolled, not failing to notice his missing tail feather. "Are you my brave little warrior falcon or what?" she teased, giving him a stroke on the belly. He stopped heaving long enough to gloat for a moment.

Meeko and Percy were curled up together in the raft, whimpering fearfully. Pocahontas put Flit on her shoulder and reached over to pet the others. John Rolfe was still huffing and puffing from the shock and exertion. As they sailed farther away from the crazed pirate, he began to relax. He took to the oar and drove them along at a faster pace, only to growl in aggravation when one of the dolphins snatched away his paddle.

John Rolfe sighed and decided to let the current do the work instead. He sat back and peered up at the rapidly passing clouds overhead. The winds were relatively calm, so they were all five startled when two more dolphins appeared on each side of the long raft. One of them gently nudged the Englishman's thigh with its snout in curiosity.

"May I please have my oar back?" John Rolfe fruitlessly beseeched. The porpoise made a rapid clicking noise and swam backward, balancing itself out of the water on its muscular tail. The diplomat clapped his hands onto his hips in irritation. "Oh, very funny!"

Pocahontas laughed. She was lying on her side up front, nuzzling and cooing at the other dolphin. John Rolfe frowned and crossed his arms in annoyance. Fortunately, though, the gorgeous scenery did something to lift his mood. Pocahontas peered over at Rolfe. "It's beautiful. This moment would be perfect if only I weren't so thirsty," she noted.

John Rolfe glanced down, twiddling his thumbs. "I'm sorry, love. I promise I'll get you something to eat and drink as soon as I possibly can. I think we're going to be alright now so long as we don't run into any more pirates." Pocahontas just nodded and started petting the slippery cetacean with a relatively serene expression on her face.

…

Adahy's dragonfly blackstone dagger glowed with power after hours of extracting energy from unfortunate hosts. The pain of thieves and murderers was not enough to make the blade capable of rejuvenating Adahy's lost limbs fully, but the demon made its best effort. The result was a half-formed skeletal hand extending from his severed left wrist—he had always been left-handed. It was missing a pinky and the last phalange of each finger save the thumb, but it was functional enough for the time being nonetheless.

The man gripped the dagger's hilt in his bony new hand as the last streaks of the demon's power coursed through his body. The pirates that he had captured were now all dead. The demon had extracted every last drop of life-force from them to regenerate itself.

The demon still needed purer souls to obtain the quantity of power it truly desired. Only innocents possessed the type of energy that could free the wicked spirit from its confines within the dagger. The being detected only two such souls around for hundreds of miles and Adahy had no doubts about who they were. The Copichican had been foolish enough to ignore the woman the first time around, but he would not repeat that mistake.

Adahy crinkled his nose at the smell coming from the swamp. The vast marshland was the last barrier between him and the souls he was after. Check the shoreline for boats. We may be able to bypass the muck. It will only slow us down and I have waited long enough! came the demon's shrill voice in his ear. Adahy ground his teeth at the noise, but he quickly nodded in compliance. Good. Now, go! the voice commanded.

Adahy gathered as many food items and supplies as he could carry from the mutilated human carcasses, whistled for Kelele, and marched off toward the beach. It was mid-morning and the sun shone brightly against the pale beach sand. There was a rowboat pulled up on the shore that looked like it could carry ten men. He chucked the supply packs into the boat and used his feet to push the vessel back into the shallow surf. The waves were mild, making the task easier for him to handle given his handicap.

Adahy smiled when Kelele arrived carrying a chewed-up human bicep in his mouth. The animal dropped its snack into the cock-boat. As soon as the boat was afloat in the saltwater, the dog jumped in and Adahy pushed the vessel out of the shallows. The northward current was strong. Adahy could only hope that the wild goose chase for the fugitives had slowed everyone down enough for him to catch up to them.

Adahy realized the other crewmen likely thought him dead. He knew what he had to do once he got a hold of the Englishman and clever tribal woman. But he feared what would happen if the crew captured them first. He had to have them both for himself. It was the only way to overcome the shameful defeat that threatened his afterlife.

His soul depended upon his success. If he had to attack the rest of the crew to get at the escapees, then he would do so. He had already slaughtered more than ten of them. What was a few dozen more? As the current picked up, Adahy used one of the oars as a rudder to keep the boat on course. Unfortunately, he was not capable of rowing in his condition, but he kept his hopes up and his eyes on the north horizon regardless. The wind picked up speed quickly, tossing his black hair about like leaves over a forest canopy.

…

They had barely traveled a dozen miles when the ominous tattered sails of the Blood Draw came into view over a distant canopy. The ship appeared to be anchored in a small bay. John Rolfe felt his throat bob as he caught flashes of the hull through the woods. He sat up and grabbed Pocahontas by the shoulder, as he sensed they were approaching the swamp's end. The mangroves grew sparser and sparser the farther they went.

"We need to keep hidden," John Rolfe uttered. "There could be spies with telescopes posted anywhere along the shoreline and on the ship. I need to figure out how to get us past the ship without being spotted." As they arrived at the end of the mangroves, Rolfe lowered himself quietly into the water. He pushed the raft up next to the mangroves and tied it to a protruding branch with vines to keep the water from carrying it away.

Pocahontas blinked back at him. "You have any ideas?"

The Englishman thought for a moment and then nodded. "I believe I do. We need a scout. Flit, could you go and assess the coastline? See if there are any pirates on the ship and how many," John Rolfe instructed. Flit promptly nodded, saluted him, and buzzed off into the sparse woods and over the bay in the direction of the sinister pirate ship.

When Flit arrived, there was no one on deck. He peeked over the side and saw one man on shore about a quarter mile away keeping watch over the anchored ship. Flit flew down into one of the open-hatch windows and found himself in the captain's personal quarters. He checked the place top to bottom and found no one. Then he left and surveyed the rest of the ship. All of the cabins were empty, including the berth for the low-ranked members of the crew, the galley, and the mess hall. The ship appeared to be totally deserted.

The little hummingbird turned tail and flew back to land, hiding near the crewman who was guarding the ship. There was an empty bottle of rum at his feet and he was slumped against a tree in a deep drunken stupor. Flit scouted the area further and found the next pirate farther inland. There were others as well. Some hiding in bushes, others in trees. It appeared that the crew expected the fugitives to pass through on land.

Flit smirked fiendishly, knowing that this gave him and his friends an advantage. Time was limited though. If the bosun made it back to the crew and told them what happened, Pocahontas and the others would all be in real trouble. The hummingbird knew he had to move fast. He flew back to his companions as fast as his wings could carry him.

John Rolfe was the first to spot him. "Was anyone on the ship, Flit?" he inquired.

Flit shook his head.

"What about on shore watching the ship?"

Flit nodded.

"How many? More than one?"

Flit shook his head.

"Only one guarding the ship?" John Rolfe said, surprised at the news.

Flit nodded and John Rolfe peered at Pocahontas. "That's odd that they left only one man to guard the ship. There have to be hundreds of pirates in the crew. Whatever could have happened to the other ship?" he speculated aloud, scratching his bristled chin. "Perhaps they stayed on the southern end of the swamp in case we decided to backtrack."

Pocahontas shrugged. "I have no idea, John. By the way, I just had a thought. If there aren't any pirates on the ship, maybe we can sneak up there to steal some food and water from them while they're away. What do you think?" she cleverly proposed.

The suggestion made John Rolfe very nervous. "I don't know, Pocahontas. That would be awfully risky." He glanced at Flit, who seemed to side with Pocahontas in the way he hovered by her shoulder grinning. "On the other hand… going without food or water is risky too. Alright, fine. We'll do it, but only I go aboard. You're too injured to make a quick escape, so I want you to stay in the raft with Meeko and Percy. Use your oar to get to safety should anything go wrong," he decreed, relenting. "You don't have to wait for me, I can swim. I will know to find you in the direction of the current."

Pocahontas nodded her agreement and John Rolfe turned his attention back to the small hummingbird. "Flit, will we be spotted if we head straight for the ship?" he inquired. Flit quickly thought back to the drunken crewman on shore and shook his head.

"Alright, let's go. We'll hide the raft behind the ship while I'm on board. Pocahontas, I'd like you to stay down just in case," John Rolfe beseeched, taking her oar. She did as he requested and lay down in the raft to avoid being spotted. Rolfe started to paddle them into open water. It was a nerve-wracking experience for Rolfe, as he feared a pirate might spot them on some off-chance and notify his brethren. They stood no chance against the crew by themselves, same as before. They were hopelessly outnumbered.

It took ten minutes to cross the bay, though it felt like much longer. Pocahontas sat up and breathed a sigh of relief as the raft glided up next to the hidden side of the Blood Draw. John Rolfe wiped the sweat from his brow. "Whew, that's a relief!" he whispered, letting his anxiety go. He grabbed one of the ship's spare lines to tie the raft in place.

While there was likely a rope ladder on the other side, John Rolfe did not want to risk exposure. He hopped over to the nearby anchor line with the pistol clamped between his teeth and made to climb up the thick rope, receiving an unexpected boost from a pair of playful clicking dolphins. The Englishman almost dropped his gun at the sudden upward jolt, but he managed to catch hold of the hefty rope higher up. He hauled his body up and peered back down. "Fanks!" he uttered as best he could through clenched teeth, giving the creatures an appreciative wave. He clambered up the line and climbed over the railing onto the ship's deck. The place was totally deserted, just as Flit had indicated.

John Rolfe took the pistol in hand and almost cried out in alarm when he felt something claw its way up onto his shoulder. It turned out to be Meeko, who had followed him in hope of getting food sooner rather than later. Percy remained in the raft whimpering, unable to follow. "Oh, Meeko, thank goodness! Perhaps you can help me." Rolfe peered around. The only signs of sustenance on deck were large barrels of French rum tied to the railing. He was more interested in food and water, but he was unfamiliar with the layout of the Blood Draw. "Help me sniff out the food storage, Meeko," he said.

Meeko nodded and hopped down from his shoulder. They found a stairwell leading below deck. It was dark and eerie. John Rolfe gulped at the thought of having to go down there. "Be careful and check for pirates," he whispered to the masked animal.

Meeko sniffed his way down the stairs and into a narrow hall. The Englishman followed, moving slowly to make the floorboards creak as little as possible. He held his pistol in a ready position in case someone tried to ambush him. John Rolfe waited at the bottom of the stairs as his eyes adjusted to the dim light from round hatch windows.

Once John Rolfe could make out a few shapes in the dimness, he crept over and spotted what looked like a full skin on top of a barrel. He suspected it was full of rum, but figured he would test it to make sure. To his delight, it turned out to be a skin of rainwater. He glanced around cautiously and cracked open the door to the pirates' berthing quarters. The room was lined with hammocks, trunks, and trappings that Rolfe assumed belonged to the crewmen. His goal was on the other side of the room. There were two round hatch windows high on the wall of the inner hull. They were slightly out of reach. Rolfe pushed a wooden chest beneath one and used it to boost himself up to the window.

John Rolfe unhooked the hatch and poked his head out. "Psst, Pocahontas!" he uttered, tapping on the hull lightly to earn her attention. She raised her eyebrows and peered up at him as he tossed the full skin of water down to her. "It's water, love. Drink up!"

Pocahontas caught the item. "Thanks, John," she replied in a low tone, pulling out the attached plug. She started chugging the water like there was no tomorrow.

Wow, John Rolfe thought. He peered down at the floor to Meeko, who had found a small sack of hardtack biscuits. "She really was thirsty!" he noted. The raccoon hopped up onto the man's shoulder and stuck his furry head out the window with a mouthful of biscuits. He waved down to Pocahontas and Percy. The pug growled at him and was about to start barking, but Pocahontas poured some water into her hand and offered it to Percy. The dog quickly lost interest in Meeko's taunts as he lapped up the water hastily.

"I'm going to find more water and hopefully food somewhere. I'll be back soon, love. Don't worry," John Rolfe announced in a hushed tone, blowing her a kiss.

"Okay, just be careful," Pocahontas called back in an equally hushed voice, but he was already gone. She and Percy drank all the water until the skin was sucked dry. Then she set it aside, smiled, and bent over to pet one of the friendly porpoises again.

Inside the ship, John Rolfe hopped down from the chest and left the room. He explored the rest of the level until he came to the mess hall near the stern. There was no food in sight. It was completely empty, save some large barrels of rum and a few disorganized chairs and tables. He spotted a narrow stairwell on the far side of the room, which he hoped led down to the galley. Rolfe stepped between some overturned chairs and descended deeper into the belly of the ship. The galley was small and cramped, but there was food lying around. Fat sausages, fish, and coconuts hung from hooks on the ceiling. Pouches of herbs and a loaf of stale bread sat on the dirty preparation counter.

Meeko snatched the stale loaf and began to scarf it down with his sharp little teeth, not much caring about how hard and dry it was. John Rolfe grabbed the fish, sausages, and coconuts, stuffing them into an empty flour sack. As he explored the cabinets a bit more, he discovered other preserved meats, French cheeses, potatoes, and fresher bread. He gathered as much as he could fit into the sack and went still, wondering where the pirates might keep their main water supply. Even if they preferred rum, they would surely need fresh water for cooking. Rolfe suspected it might be all the way down in the hold.

Meeko found another bag of biscuits and jumped up on John Rolfe's left shoulder to eat them. Meanwhile, the Englishman crept out into the dim hall with the flour sack over his right shoulder, freezing in place when he heard an unexpected noise coming from down the hall. Meeko stopped stuffing his face momentarily when he heard it too.

They heard it again, louder. It sounded almost like weeping. John Rolfe raised his brows, wondering if there were any livestock on the ship. Meeko dropped the bag of biscuits as he raised his ears to the source of the sound. Detecting something, the raccoon hopped down to the floorboards and started to sniff his way down the dark hall.

John Rolfe followed cautiously until they came to a hefty door with big wooden letters that spelled out the word 'BRIG.' Rolfe gulped and prepared his pistol, shaking. "Flit might've missed this area," he barely whispered to Meeko. He gestured for the raccoon to step aside and then kicked down the door with his gun raised. "Don't move a muscle or I'll shoot!" he shouted as the big door exploded in a heap of dust and splinters.

A series of terrified high-pitched screams erupted from the interior. John Rolfe stumbled backward in alarm, falling on his rear end. As the dust settled, the occupants came into view behind heavy iron bars. Rolfe stood up, wide-eyed, and slowly inched his way into the room. Twelve. He counted twelve frightened young ladies trapped inside the cells. The room was mostly dark, but one dim lamp hanging from the ceiling assisted Rolfe's vision. The girls, some as young as fourteen, huddled together in fear. "S-s'il-vous-plaît, monsieur… no hurt. Please, no hurt!" one of the girls pleaded in a weak voice, breaking into tears. It was a poor attempt at English, but Rolfe understood it well enough.

When the Englishman got over the immediate shock of the situation, he shook his head to clear his mind. "I'm not going to hurt any of you," he spoke. Still discombobulated, he stepped out into the hall and peered around carefully. The keys hung right by the door. He promptly snatched them and opened the two cells, freeing the captives.

He yanked down the wall lantern to see the women better. They cowered away from him in the back of the cells. The girls had to be French maids from St. Augustine. "I'm not a pirate. I'm a gentleman from London and a diplomat. The pirates who sail this ship have been after me and my companions for a while. I only came on board to steal food while the crew is away. Beyond releasing you from these cells, I am afraid I cannot offer much assistance. I've got my own to look after," he explained sadly, frowning.

When John Rolfe noted all the raised eyebrows, he repeated what he had said in French before turning around and sighing deeply. He wished he could save everyone, but he was only one man. The Englishman hardly had any wilderness survival skills himself to speak of and he relied heavily upon his forest-born female companion to find food.

"Wait! You cannot leave us, monsieur! Please, those men will come back. They've taken two of our friends already. They did unspeakable things to them within earshot of the rest of us and threw them overboard when they were done! The bad men destroyed our home! Don't leave us!" cried one of the girls in French, tears streaming down her face.

As soon as one had spoken, the rest of the women lost their fear of the Englishman in an instant. Three blondes and a redhead rushed over to him to cut off his retreat from the dark chamber. "Please, you must help us! What kind of gentleman leaves helpless women to fend for themselves against brigands like those?" pleaded the redhead.

John Rolfe bit his lip in guilt. "Well, I-I was going to recommend you all swim to shore and travel north to Jamestown. My raft won't carry all of you and the cock boats are gone. The pirates could return to the ship any minute, for all I know. I'd be happy to lead the way to the settlement but, beyond that, I can't be of much assistance. Really I want to help, but I already have an injured woman to care for as is," he explained.

"What is your name, monsieur?" one girl inquired, surprisingly in English. "Je m'appelle Louise de Vallisée." It was a brunette, the only one who seemed to know any English.

John Rolfe placed a hand to his chest. "John Rolfe. It's a pleasure to meet you all. I only wish it were under better circumstances. Those of you who can swim should follow our raft. Those who can't—perhaps we can make room on the raft. Come along," he offered, gently pushing his way past them. Rolfe turned back and beckoned them to follow.

"But none of us can swim!" Louise cried.

John Rolfe frowned at her. Then he remembered the dolphins. It seemed like a farfetched idea, but he had to try something. "Now that I think of it, I've got some friends who might be able to help," he uttered. Rolfe spun around and shuffled up the stairs, the girls all following him. Up several flights they went. He crouched down when he emerged on deck to avoid exposure and the ladies all followed his example as they trailed after him. Flit flew right in front of Rolfe's face and started frantically squeaking at him, pointing over to the landward side of the vessel. The Englishman's eyes widened in apprehension. He crawled over to the railing, grabbing a telescope he found atop a barrel. Some of the pirates had oddly gathered on the shore, chatting. It looked quite worrisome.

John Rolfe cursed to himself. Making a getaway without being spotted would be much more difficult now. He sat with his back against the railing, trying to think of a way out of the situation. Getting away with just Pocahontas would be a challenge, let alone twelve delicate Frenchwomen. "What now?" Louise whispered, wringing her fingers.

John Rolfe did not answer her at first and haphazardly glanced up at the sky, growling in aggravation and anxiety. He was about to massage the tension from his temples when he spotted the bound sails on the main mast and the shrouds leading up to them. The winds, which had been calm all day, picked up considerably and quite suddenly.

Louise and the other women watched his countenance transform as his green eyes grew wide and his mouth gradually fell open. They glanced up, trying to figure out what he was looking at so intently. After a few tense moments, Louise could not take it anymore. "What is it?!" she vehemently insisted, startling John Rolfe out of his stupor.

He peered at her and then at the rest of the girls. "I think I just got an idea. Ladies, raise your hands if you're afraid of heights," he announced to the lot of them.

All of the girls raised their eyebrows at the odd question. After a moment's hesitation, two girls half-heartedly raised their hands. Five more shrugged. A devious grin curled its way up the side of John Rolfe's face. "Well, then! I suppose you lovely girls wouldn't be opposed to a bit of difficult labor in exchange for your lives, now would you?"

"Of course not!" Louise blurted, a little louder than she had meant to. The rest of the French maidens fervently shook their heads, all in agreement with the speaker.

John Rolfe beckoned them to come a bit closer with a clever forefinger. They curiously complied. "You two, I want you to help each other unfurl the right side of the foresails." He looked at two others. "You ladies unfurl the left side. You four back there help each other with the topsails. But be careful! On my orders. Everyone get ready. We're going to out-pirate these scoundrels and steal their ship right out from under their noses. Crawl over to the masts and await my signal, all of you," he decreed, pointing.

The girls did exactly as they were told. John Rolfe waited until all were in position and snuck over to the ocean-facing side of the ship. He found a break in the railing near the anchor and poked his head through. "Psst, Pocahontas!" he called to her. The Powhatan woman and Percy both peered up at him. "Current's pretty strong, isn't it?"

She nodded. "I'm afraid this flimsy line is going to snap soon. What's taking so long?"

"Change of plans," John Rolfe replied, chucking a line over the side with a large wooden pail tied to the end. "Put Percy in there and I'll pull him up," he instructed. "Hurry!"

Pocahontas looked confused. "What? Why?"

John Rolfe shushed her. "Actions now, questions later!" he shortly decreed.

She sighed and did as he said. John Rolfe pulled Percy up to the deck and warned him to keep quiet. He took another rope and tied a large loop at the end, lowering it down to his lady friend. "Put this around your legs and hold on. I'm going to pull you up."

Pocahontas slung the survival pack over her shoulder and put the turtle shell on her head. She slipped the loop around her feet and pulled it up to mid-thigh level, holding onto the knot tightly with her hands. "Okay," she returned, throwing a last glance at the dolphins. She waved goodbye to them before John Rolfe pulled her up and out of the raft.

When Pocahontas was almost all the way up, John Rolfe reached down toward her. "Give me your machete, quick!" he beseeched. She handed it up to him. He took it with his free hand and severed the anchor line in one smooth motion. The ship bobbed up, free from the tether, and began to move with the current toward the mouth of the bay.

With the sudden jerk, John Rolfe nearly lost his grip on Pocahontas's rope. He was forced to drop the machete and snatch her rope with both hands. She yelped at the jolt but was able to reach out and catch her machete by the hilt before it fell to the depths.

Pocahontas quickly tied the machete back onto her belt just before John Rolfe yanked her up with a great deal of strength. He caught her in his arms bridal-style and carried her over the railing onto the ship's deck. "Now!" he bellowed to the Frenchwomen as the current began to sweep the ship out of the bay faster and faster. With wind and current power combined, they would leave the marooned crew behind in no time.

The ladies did as they were told and climbed up the masts as fast as they could, helping each other to unleash the sails. John Rolfe was surprised to discover they required less instruction from him than he had expected. It made some sense, considering that they were all the daughters and granddaughters of seafaring French sailors. How else would their families have gotten to St. Augustine from France in the first place?

The deafening sound of gunfire erupted from the shrinking shoreline. John Rolfe yelped in alarm. "Girls! Climb down now!" he called up into the masts, sitting Pocahontas down on a sturdy barrel. More gunfire was heard and a bullet zipped right by Louise's position, tearing a small hole in the topsail. The frightened young lady screamed at the top of her lungs and lost her grip. Her companion tried and failed to grab a hold of her.

She fell toward the hard deck, shrieking. But the expected impact never arrived because John Rolfe caught her in his arms and placed her back on her feet. "Thank goodness!" cried one of her friends, only to cry out herself as another bullet zipped by.

"Jump! I'll catch you!" John Rolfe shouted up to her. She squeezed her eyes shut and let go, unable to stop herself from screaming as she fell. To her relief, he caught her deftly and put her down on her feet. He had to catch two more women and the rest were able to climb down the far side using the broad main mast as a shield. All the girls crouched to the deck. Rolfe rushed to the helm, aiming the ship right out of the bay. He pulled the stop to keep the wheel in position so it would not spin out of control and dashed over to the railing. "See you later, Captain Lame!" he called out, thumbing his nose at the pirates as he waved goodbye. He quickly ducked to avoid more gunfire, laughing.

The winds filled the sails, turning the deck out of firing range from the gunners. "I'll get you, fop! There's nowhere on earth you'll be safe from me! MARK MY WORDS, BOY!" Finley Flame bellowed at the top of his lungs. The furious howl echoed over the bay, fading as the Blood Draw entered the salty waters of the Atlantic Ocean.