TIDES OF ETERNITY Chapter Six

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Chapter Six

Knee deep in the surf that frothed along the natural bay's edge, William dropped the spyglass tethered to his chest bandolier.

It swung across his bronzed torso like a pendulum. His body was strong, well muscled with skin tanned to a deep sun-kissed gold, but his mind was weary.

Another goddamn bare horizon.

The seamless joint of turquoise sea and sky was unmarked by even a single ship. The daytime sea breezes blowing landward would have brought a ship in by now, if one were coming at all.

He kicked at small dune of the powdery white sand, sending a spray of fine particles up into the wind and back into his face, adding to his frustration.

"A month! A bloody month or more!" he shouted, his voice travelling out across the incoming surf. Grabbing the knife tied at his waist, he tramped over to a nearby palm tree and carved one more notch into its already scarred trunk. He counted the total gashes carved there so far.

Fifty-eight. One for each day.

Goddamn it!

He shook his head, nearly all of his blond locks escaping from the tie at the nape of his neck. Fifty-eight! As if he needed that confirmation.

No ship in all that time meant no plantation sugar or raw molasses had been sold to an arriving merchant to be traded elsewhere, and no incoming supplies of any kind had arrived at the island plantation. The running of the damned entire sugarcane operation had fallen into his lap by accident. Or by fate, as Tess would have interjected.

The only thing emptier than William's growling stomach was the Big House's pantry. He let out an irritated groan. Fish, and a few fruits and vegetables would be the only thing filling their bellies until the next ship showed up. He wondered how many more days that would be. Weeks probably. God, he hated fish.

He sighed.

Emma would be even more disappointed. The pudgy cook had made a point of warning everyone at her nightly table that her supply of spices and seasonings was becoming precariously low.

Emma's culinary skills in the Big House's kitchen were nothing short of magical. Her cooking kept a reasonable amount of flesh on everyone's bones, in spite of her dwindling supplies, and she had a knack of making flavorful meals seemingly out of not much more than watery broth and thin air, but even she had her limits.

William did a mental head count again.

Emma and Brigs, Tess, himself, and two toddlers. Hannah, his own daughter, was barely two years old and ate next to nothing, unlike Nathaniel, being of the same age, who was the other boisterous child and one who had been abandoned into their care at the plantation, but still he worried about the children's requirements.

And then there were the ex-slaves. Tess was adamant that everyone needed to get off this island.

Twenty-eight adults, and two very young children.

No merchant ship would be willing to take on that many passengers mid journey. And even if a captain were to take pity on them and agree to take them all, they had nothing with which to pay for their passage.

Except Tess's spinner rings wit all of those inset jewels. It was a possibility that William had been considering for a few weeks. He was sure that she would never give them all up to be traded or sold, but maybe one or two of them ....

Or what if I went alone? Or with Brigs? We could make business connections, sell some of his gunpowder and the rest of our molasses, and then hire a ship to return for the others.

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