Opening Scene:
Provides a glimpse of the protagonist and secondary characters and provides the background for future conflict.
Prologue
September 1710
Somewhere in the Bahama Archipelago
The unforgiving surf ripped Harry Llewellyn’s boot off and sent it tumbling. The captain felt like a child’s rag doll trampled into the muck when he crawled onto the beach. Wearing one salt-encrusted cavalier boot, he righted himself. He limped hard, trudging up the highest dune. Gingerly lowering himself, he sat on a massive hunk of coral thrown ashore by the tempest. He plucked at the cactus thorns embedded in his stockinged foot with a heavy sigh.
The ruin of his beloved Raging Queen lay smashed to splinters. The lookout’s warning of the impending reef came as the hurricane had blown itself out, dashing the rising hope in the breasts of the crew. With a broken rudder and shattered masts, it was impossible to save his foundering ship. The survivors salvaged what they could from the crashing of the fierce waves. It was unlikely that the mile-long island had fresh water. The chance of a rescue was slim. The storm’s ferocity scoured the low shrubs and stunted trees of their foliage. Ever optimistic, the tall man sagged from the dire catastrophe. He doggedly pursued a French vaisseau in hopes of a fat prize. Harry should have sought a sheltered cove when the fearsome winds bore down. The corpses of his crewmen rose and fell in the surf. A lucky few made it to shore, along with the six who, like Harry, always survived.
Harry hung on to his cocked hat despite being trounced by the surf. Beating it against his leg, he sighed at the shredded plumage and clapped it on his head. Raking his fingers through his prodigious beard, he tried to rid himself of the plastered sand. Sharp pain forced him to tug off his remaining boot. A tiny crab had attached itself to his stocking. Flicking it away, he dumped the sand and shells from his boot. He rolled down his stockings and wrung them.
“Bah!”
Harry’s first mate climbed the dune. The small, olive-skinned man bore a parcel and Harry’s lost boot. He sat cross-legged by his captain. “Bloody, nasty little bastards,” he cursed, plucking sand spurs from his feet.
“Well, I’ve royally buggered this up. Ricci, what happened to your shoes?” Harry inquired.
“Floating around out there somewhere. By god’s piss, this is a mess. I’ve saved your log and papers wrapped in three layers of waxed canvas. Your pipe and tobacco, too.” Ricci handed his captain the bowl, bag, and sodden boot. “A little damp. Two kegs of freshwater floated in with chicken crates. The pig swam ashore. The sheep broke a leg so Jean cut its throat. Mutton tonight.”
Harry tamped out the pipe. “I don’t know what I would do without you. Now if you could spirit us out of here. The log isn’t as important as my plan for our future. I’ve lost the best damn crew any pirate ever had. As always, the seven of us remain.”
“Privateers, not pirates. Jean spotted a mast to the northwest. I hope for a rescue if we can make a big enough smoke, as long as it’s not the Spanish. Others are making it to shore. The Mestizo drifted in on a spar. Those papers you treasure so, are they for creating a gentlemen’s club for people like us?”
“Ladies too, of course. Think of it. Between all of us, we know a hundred others like ourselves. People who don’t age, who don’t get sick, who survive catastrophes. Wouldn’t life be easier if we compiled our resources for mutual protection when times are hard? I’ve thought of gathering our people to work out a plan, to formalize our intent. You said you know a dozen in the east. Jean knows a few in Africa. We all know plenty in Europe. I even met a Tuscarora fellow in the Virginia colony.”
“If you could get word to everyone, we could plan to meet in London. They like their clubs and coffeehouses there,” Ricci offered.
“I have a price on my head in England,” Harry mused. “Maybe Lisbon, or Marseilles, or Tangiers.” He gestured with his pipe at the five working on the beach. “Look at those magnificent people.” Even Lilbourn, who’s doing his best to steal my woman.”
“Pshaw. Susannah would never look twice at a bounder like Richard Lilbourn.”
“Oh, she’s looked twice. More likely three times. He is handy in a fight. I’ll give him that. My darling Susannah Abigail says I’m not a serious person. That I’m a braggart who makes unnecessary trouble for myself. I take risks. I’m the grasshopper in Aesop’s fable.” Harry lit his pipe, coaxing forth a slight curl of smoke. “Tastes like kelp. I stole her from Viggo, so serves me right. If Vigs paid her more attention, I would never have stood a chance. She needs somebody who can make her laugh.”
The lady in question whaled away at the bowsprit with an axe to free a rope. Susannah was attired in sailor garb. Her long blond hair hung in salt-sodden waves below her hips. She flicked her hair away in annoyance, as it constantly blew in her face. Richard and his bosom pal Viggo assembled a shelter nearby with scraps of wood and canvas.
“The Moor is mending,” Ricci commented.
The two observed the limping, dark-skinned man rolling a cask out of the pounding surf and up the beach.
“Jean knows what’s important. At least he saved the rum. Good thing the shark didn’t like the taste of him,” Harry laughed.
Shouting and cheers drew their attention to the ruptured hull protruding from the angry waves. From it emerged a half-naked man with long, dark hair. He bore a small chest.
“Hey, look! The Gaul found our loot,” Ricci said.
“René’s a good man. Too bad we can’t eat money. I don’t think we’ll starve, but the living will be rough. At least we can buy a new ship with the gold.”
“If we ever get out of here,” Ricci commented glumly.
“Hmm. Be of good cheer, my friend. I’ve been in tighter spots. Promise me something, Ricci. If I should get thrown in prison, or lost in the Tortugas, or kidnapped by slavers, swear you will follow through. Take these documents and carry out my plan to launch a fellowship of the extraordinarily long-lived. It will be a remarkable gathering.”
Ricci smiled fondly at his old friend. “It’s a promise I’ll never have to keep, but I will swear to bring about my captain’s mad dream.”
Harry laughed a great belly laugh. “Let’s get roaring drunk and persuade this crew to be the founding members of a great fraternity of endless possibilities.”
