Sunday, 27th December 1676

I awoke on Sunday morning to an empty place beside me, and I rolled, rising to my elbows to look out through the windows. The horizon was clear and bright, so I assumed Charles had gone up top to shoot the Pole Star. After searching for the pirate ship and not finding her, I rejoiced in this for a while, until I realised she may well be there, seen from aloft as they would see Zeelandia from up their mast.

That I be ready when he returned, I rose and donned my new silken shift, and with my feet in my new slippers, I went to the privy. Then relieved and freshened, as I headed back toward the night cabin, Charles descended the steps. After an embrace, a kiss and a good morning greeting, he said as he led me to the chart table, "Come. I must plot the star latitude and the course onward."

He laid out the chart and ruled our line of position, then with the protractor, he measured angles and ruled two more lines, these leading across the North Sea, one from each end of our latitude line. Then pointing to these, he said, "We have tacked northward, hoping they lose sight of us in the glare of sunrise."

"Ooh! And they continue southeast."

"This is our hope. With the dawn, their sails were near fully dipped from on deck, and from aloft, their hull was no longer visible."

"So, from up their mast, they would see us in a similar manner."

"They might."

"Then they will see our tack and follow."

"Our hope is they do not." He pointed up. "Before I left, the lookout reported that they continue still on the old course."

"How long was that after we had altered?"

"Close to half a sandglass, near a quarter-hour."

"Oh, excellent! We are now sailing farther from them."

"No, rather the distance becomes less."

I tilted my head. "How so?"

"In a tack, we lose most of our way as the ship's head passes through the wind, then as the yards are braced across, the sails aback and slow us further. We as much as stand still until we begin trimming for the new course, then it takes another several minutes for the ship to regain her speed."

He pointed at the chart. "And even with our new course as tight to the wind as is possible, we sail slightly toward them."

"Oh, dear!"

"Indeed, and if they tack within the next quarter-hour or so, they can gain even more with this angle. But beyond that time, we begin sailing away from them."

"What chance is there that they miss seeing that we have altered?"

"About as fine as could be desired. We are now directly in their rising sun."

I chuckled at the cleverness of this, and I was about to speak when the voice pipe whistle trilled.

Charles removed the cover and replied, "Captain."

"Sir, they are closing faster. Their sails are now lit gold and their hull has broken the horizon from here."

"Thank you, Mister Cogswell. Have they begun to tack?"

"No, Sir. From both here and aloft, they are still three masts slowly growing apart."

"Excellent! Inform me if they begin growing together."

"Aye, Sir. Call you if they tack."

As Charles replaced the cover on the voice pipe, I asked, "Do you not want to be informed if they continue without altering?"

He wrapped me in his arms. "That would needlessly disturb our morning exercises."

<><><>

The voice pipe had remained silent as Charles and I enjoyed each other on the bed, and then as we sat breakfasting, I asked, "Will they search for us?"

He shook his head. "It would be futile exercise. They have no idea of where we tacked, nor in which direction we headed. It likely took them a good half-hour or more to be able to sufficiently see the horizon beneath the sun and to realise we were no longer there."

I chuckled at their plight. "So, now that we are free to make our way to the haven, how will we find it?"

"We could come a little port to sail due north, giving us a better wind and reducing the distance to Hispaniola." He shrugged. "But it is best we maintain this course to ensure we are upwind of Isla Beata when we reach the safe latitude."

"Aha! The same latitude we had sought on our way from Barbados."

"Indeed, and if my memory serves well, it is seventeen thirty, leaving us about three degrees and a half from here."

"Two hundred and ten miles. How long will that take?"

"Likely closer to two hundred twenty-five with the eastward angle. Slowed to eight or nine knots by the wind angle, we should arrive during the morrow's forenoon." He set down his cutlery and rose. "Pardon me a moment while I fetch the chart."

Half a minute later, he returned, folded the chart and placed it on the table. "Yes, seventeen thirty." He pointed. "We should arrive somewhere around here, between ten and a hundred miles upwind of Isla Beata, likely closer to fifty or sixty."

"I had noted the long line of position, but with the excitement of blinding the pirates, I forgot to ask why so long."

"When sailing into the wind and current, we must allow a wider range in our reckoning. About two miles each hour, one retarded and one advanced, keeps us safe. We were forty-three hours on that course, but rather than plotting eighty-six, I used the simplicity of a degree and a half from the margin scale."

I nodded. "So, we will come to anchor before nightfall to-morrow."

"Aye, if all goes well."