Fallen Mangrove (Jesse McDermitt Series Book 5) Read Free

nightfall approached he gathered the officers on the quarter deck to inform all of them of his suspicions.
    As the sun fell toward the horizon, it illuminated from behind the high clouds that stretched unbroken from north to south, seeming to punctuate his words. “Señores, it is my opinion, and the Captain concurs, that we are running ahead of a slow-moving hurricane which is crossing the Florida peninsula. We have changed course and are making our way to a safe harbor called Xuma Sound, yet another day’s sail from here. I fear this storm, which is already within our sight, will be upon us by morn.”
    “Is there no safe harbor closer, Master de Benito?” asked one of the junior officers.
    “Only one,” Miguel replied. “A shallow and narrow harbor controlled by the French.”
    A murmur went around the men gathered before him. He continued, “We will attempt to make it to Xuma Sound. Failing that, we may have to fight a quartering wind and high seas to make the French harbor.”
    “Any port in a storm,” muttered the first mate. “But a French harbor, sir? I’d rather go over the rail.”
    Whispers of acknowledgement went from man to man, along with nodding heads. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, Señor Nieves.”
    Pablo Nieves was a big man, over six feet in height and almost two hundred pounds. He was well liked and respected among the crew, as was Miguel. He’d been first mate aboard the Magdalena under Miguel’s command for nearly two years.
    “Let the crew know, gentlemen. Have them prepare for a storm before night falls. Have the pages go among the sleeping crewmen and tell them. The Captain is informing the passengers now.”
    By nightfall, the crew had cleared the decks of anything not secured and made ready for the approaching storm. They didn’t have long to wait. By the time seven bells rang on the first watch, shortly before midnight, the wind began to increase.
    Dawn broke gray and raining, with building seas and near gale force winds. The passengers stayed below deck, save for a single individual, Enzo Navarro. He was a small, fair-haired man in his early twenties. Born in Havana, he was going to Spain for the first time, representing his father’s sugar plantation. No stranger to tropical weather and rough seas, he’d spent his youth piloting a small sloop up and down the coast of Cuba, exploring. Enzo stood at the rail, watching the tumultuous sea.
    The morning watch crew performed admirably in the building storm, constantly adjusting the sails to the shifting wind conditions at Miguel’s orders. The Captain had long since taken leave of the roiling deck, but not before depositing his breakfast over the rail.
    “May I come up, Master?” Enzo shouted from the bottom of the stairs. Miguel looked down at the man standing confidently on the main deck, shifting his body weight with the roll of the ship. Though soaked, with his hair pushed back over his scalp, he didn’t seem to be bothered by the weather at all.
    “Yes, and welcome,” Miguel shouted back over the wind.
    The young man went up the steps to the poop deck without the aid of the handrail and came to stand next to Miguel, the corners of his mouth turned up slightly as if he were enjoying a bright, sunny day at sea.
    “The Captain said on the eve that a hurricane might find us today,” Enzo said, taking a quick glance at the compass in its bezel. “From the looks, it’s passing to the north. Quite odd.”
    “You know the sea,” Miguel said while studying the passenger. It was more statement than question. He had, of course, met the man before they put to sea in Havana, but he regarded him now in a new light.
    “Yes,” Enzo replied simply.
    The ship was sailing before the wind, which was now nearly straight out of the west. They’d tacked east only hours before as they’d neared the reef north of the island of Lucaioneque. With the island and its reefs now many leagues astern, the crew was preparing to tack