Chapter Five

1718

    Adam huddled in the corner of the captain's cabin.  The storm that raged against their ship had frightened him terribly.  He had sought the safety of his captain's cabin to get away from the danger out on deck.  Adam had hoped that in the madness no one would notice that he was not among the men.  As much as he wanted to be one of the men, he was only ten and far from being a man.  Here in the inner sanctum of the one man that ever came close to being a father to him, he felt safe.
    He huddled even closer in the darkness as the cabin door flew open.  Captain Lodge came flying in and made his way to the cabinet where he kept the ship's log.  Adam watched in silent fascination as Captain Lodge talked to First Mate Quintor and made an entry into the log.  The looks on their faces frightened him even more than the storm.  Within moments the two men left the cabin again.  The captain left the log out on his table in his rush to get back out on deck.  The log, the captain's most prized possession, was just sitting there on the table.  For several moments, Adam sat there staring at the log.  He didn't quite understand what was written in it; the captain had only begun teaching him to read and write a short time ago, but Adam knew that it was very important. 
    As the storm grew worse and began to heave the ship violently, Adam became certain that she would go down.  He grabbed the log and ran out of the cabin, afraid of being trapped inside.  With the precious book clutched close to his chest, he clamored across the wet and rolling deck until he found a storage barrel.  He climbed inside just as the ship lurched to starboard.  The last thing Adam would ever remember of that terrible day was being flung in the barrel from the deck of the ship into the raging sea.

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2004

    Brett was forced to sit there staring at Mr. Blackwood's secretary.  He had arrived promptly for his appointment with the President of Black Hawk Diving and Research, but Mr. Blackwood was on a very important phone call.  He would have to wait.  Brett fidgeted discontentedly.  He was a man of action, and sitting around waiting did not suit him at all.
    The headquarters of Black Hawk was not in the midst of a bustling modern sea port.  J.B. Blackwood, instead, chose a tiny fishing village in Rhode Island for his base of operations.  As his business grew, the more he dominated the town.  His sleek modern office building overshadowed the harbor of the rustic little town.  Just about everyone who lived there either worked for or had ties to Black Hawk.
    Brett never felt intimidated by anyone, but all those years in the Navy and as part of the SEAL program ingrained in him a great deal of respect for men in power.  J.B. Blackwood was the only civilian ever to affect Brett the way a navy Admiral could, and Brett had the honor of serving three of those.
    So Brett waited quietly, if not too patiently, and took in the trappings of success and prestige.  The architecture and decor of Blackwood's seat of power was strongly influenced by the ascetics of modern ship building.  Even the views from the windows out into the harbor gave the impression of being out to sea.  Brett was beginning to settle in and feel at home.
    "Mr. Blackwood will see you now," the pretty blonde smiled as she set the phone back in its cradle.
    Brett bolted from the chair and stalked to the door to the inner office. 
    "Ah, Mr. Jennings, or should I say Captain Jennings?  Come in, come in," Blackwood greeted Brett as he walked through the doors.
    "Good morning, Mr. Blackwood," Brett replied as he took a deep leather chair across from Blackwood's massive mahogany desk.
    "I've been hearing lots of good things about you, my boy.  I was planning on inviting you up here soon, but you seem to have beat me to the punch."
    "Yes, sir, I guess I did.  But, I didn't want to let an opportunity to thank you pass before I went back out to work."
    "No worries, my boy, you earned that post."
    "Thank you very much, sir.  I'm simply following my passions."
    "Passions, eh.  Interesting, Jennings.  Tell me about your passions."
    Awkward as it might have been, it was just the opening in the conversation Brett had hoped for.
    "Well, sir, I think I can honestly say that the sea is in my blood.  My dad and granddad were both Navy men.  And my great granddad was a merchant sailor.  Going into the Navy after school was a given for me.  But I think it goes even deeper than that, sir."
    "How so, Jennings?"
    "Even as a little kid I loved my dad and granddad's stories of sailing adventures the best.  For years I wanted to be a pirate, until I grew up and discovered that there weren't pirates anymore."
    Blackwood chuckled.
    Brett continued, "Anyway, I grew up, but the stories stuck with me, like they had become a part of me.  I think that's what drew me to Black Hawk once I was out of the Navy.  I could keep working at sea and satisfy my fascination with pirates and shipwrecks and such."
    "I see."
    "But here's the kicker, sir.  Not all the stories were just mere stories.  Some of them are true, or at least the basic facts are true."
    Blackwood leaned forward onto his desk.
    "When my granddad passed on, he passed several things down to me.  One was a very old ship's log.  At first I didn't really think a thing of it.  My granddad collected all sorts of stuff like it.  But I leafed through it one day.  One page caught my attention in a hurry.  It was the reference to a cabin boy joining the ship's crew.  That cabin boy was the same one in all the stories I'd been told all those years.  Well, one thing lead to another, and by the time I was done tracking it all down, I not only confirm that this kid was the real deal but that he's a great-great grandfather of mine several times over.  The log was his at one time and has been passed down in the family over several generations."
    "Nice little story, Jennings."
    "But, sir, that's only the beginning.  The ship my relative served on was a pirate ship that went down in a storm.  I confirmed it through court records and such, but most of the details are right there in the log."
    "So what are you telling me, Jennings?  You know of a old pirate ship that went down full of treasure?  Talk about your bedtime stories."
    Brett pulled the old leather log book out of his brief case.  "Far fetched as it may sound on the surface, yes, sir, I am."
    Blackwood stood up and leaned across the desk to see the log in Brett's hands.  Every instinct he had was telling him he had a winner, but he was not going to let this young buck in on that just yet.  "But if this great-grandfather of yours was the cabin boy, how did he happen to have the log?"
    "All the stories I ever heard go like this, sir.  Adam Grey, the cabin boy, had been hiding in the captain's cabin during the fateful storm, but as it got worse he grabbed the log and got into a barrel.  The barrel was tossed off the ship in the storm.  He floated free of her before she went down.  How he survived that monster in a little barrel, no one really knows for sure, but he washed up on New Providence in it the next morning.  A family took him in and nursed his injuries.  When it was discovered that he was an orphan, that family adopted him.  He never went back to sea again, but hung on to the log.  It was so precious to him that he made very specific arrangements in his will for its keeping.  From there it has been passed down from father to son several times over."
    "And have you checked the information in the log against other records?"
    "Absolutely, sir.  As much as I've had time for, anyway, sir.  I've had to do all the research on my own time.  The log belonged to one Captain Thomas Lodge, and it begins with his commission as a privateer for the Colonial Governor of Carolina.  So far I can confirm the commission and that he spent several months in 1712 in Charles Towne while his sloop, 'Neptune's Daughter,' was being outfitted at the Bellemy Shipyards.  My next steps would have been to go to Charleston, South Carolina and track down whatever else I could on Lodge and the members of the original crew of the 'Neptune's Daughter.'  The log is very old and not in the most pristine of conditions.  There are lots of gaps I need to fill in."
    "Ok, Jennings, but why would I be interested in searching for a little privateering sloop?"
    "It's not the sloop I'm after, sir.  The log indicates that somewhere along the way Lodge turned from privateer to pirate.  As a pirate he would capture and commandeer bigger and better armed ships.  The one we want sir, is his last, the 'Redemption.'"
    "And what do you know of the 'Redemption?'"
    "So far only what's mentioned in the log.  She was a slaver when they captured her.  Lodge liked her speed and lines, so he set her crew onto his old ship and took the 'Redemption' for his own."
    "Then finding records of a slave ship should be easy enough to do."
    "That was my thinking, sir.  Track down whatever records there would be of the ship and her original owners.  See if I can confirm from outside sources that she was captured and given up for a loss."
    Blackwood sat back in his chair to think a bit.  Jennings was an excellent diver and knew how to do his work well.  He had a good instinct for things and had already proven himself on previous operations.  And, damn it, this just tasted right.
    "Ok, Jennings, I'll consider a search for the 'Redemption.'  But you've got to give me more to go on.  Take what's left of the off season and get yourself to Charleston.  But you had better come up with something solid, because you're on my time now."
    The knot in the pit of Brett's stomach finally began to unwind.  "Aye, aye, sir," he responded as he stood to leave.
    Blackwood stood and offered his hand across his desk.  "Good hunting, my boy."
    Brett took his hand and shook it vigorously.  "Thank you, sir."
    Brett left Blackwood's office and didn't stop until he was packed an on the plane for Charleston.