The fifth trip was unlike any of the others.
First, the small boat we were using was dangerously overloaded.
There were five grown men inside. Three of them—Squire Trelawney, Redruth, and the captain—were taller than six feet. The little boat was never built to carry so much weight.
On top of that, we had barrels of powder, bags of pork, and sacks of bread.
The boat sat so low in the water that the rear edge was almost underwater.
Several times waves splashed inside, and before we had even traveled a hundred yards, my trousers and coat tails were completely soaked.
The captain ordered us to shift our positions and balance the boat better.
We managed to make it sit more evenly.
Even so, nobody dared move too much.
The smallest mistake could have sent us straight into the sea.
Then we faced another problem.
The tide was going out.
A strong current was flowing west through the bay and then south toward the sea through the channel where we had entered that morning.
Even a small current was dangerous for our overloaded boat.
But the worst part was that it was pushing us away from our planned landing place behind the point.
If we allowed the current to carry us away, we would end up near the pirates’ boats.
They could appear at any moment.
“I can’t keep the boat pointed toward the stockade, sir,” I said to the captain.
I was steering the boat while the captain and Redruth rowed.
“The tide keeps pushing us away. Could you row harder?”
“Not without flooding the boat,” the captain replied.
“You must turn her against the current and hold your course until you see that we are making progress.”
I tried it.
After some effort, I realized the current kept dragging us west unless I pointed the boat almost directly east.
It was nearly at a right angle from the direction we actually wanted to go.
“We’ll never reach the shore like this,” I said.
“If that is the only course we can take, then that is the course we must follow,” the captain answered.
“We must fight the current. If we drift too far away from the landing place, we don’t know where we’ll end up. Worse, those pirate boats may reach us.”
“But the current is already weakening, sir,” Gray called from the front of the boat.
“You can loosen the turn a little.”
“Thank you, my man,” I replied.
I spoke as calmly as possible, as if nothing unusual had happened.
We had all silently decided to treat Gray as one of our own men.
Suddenly, the captain spoke again.
But this time, his voice sounded different.
“The gun!” he shouted.
“I have thought about that,” I said.
I believed he was worried about the pirates attacking the stockade with the cannon.
“They could never bring that heavy gun ashore. Even if they did, they could never drag it through the woods.”
“Look behind us, doctor,” the captain said.
We had completely forgotten about the long nine-pound cannon.
And now, to our horror, we saw the five pirates working around it.
They were removing the heavy tarpaulin cover they called its “jacket.”
At the same moment, I remembered something even worse.
The cannonballs and gunpowder had been left behind.
With one strike of an axe, the pirates could take everything they needed.
“Israel Hands used to be Flint’s gunner,” Gray said quietly.
We immediately turned the boat straight toward the landing place.
By then, we were far enough away from the strongest part of the current.
Even though we could only row slowly, I managed to keep the boat moving toward shore.
But there was a terrible problem.
The way we were now heading turned the side of our boat toward the Hispaniola.
We were showing the pirates a perfect target.
I could hear Israel Hands, that red-faced villain, loading a cannonball into the gun.
“Who is the best shot among us?” the captain asked.
“Mr. Trelawney, without question,” I answered.
“Mr. Trelawney, would you please shoot one of those men for us?” the captain said.
“Hands, if you can.”
The squire remained completely calm.
He carefully checked his gun.
“Now, sir,” the captain warned.
“Be careful with that shot. If you move too suddenly, you’ll tip us over.”
“Everyone prepare to balance the boat when he aims.”
The squire raised his gun.
The rowing stopped.
We leaned to one side to keep the boat steady.
Everything was done perfectly.
Not a single drop of water came aboard.
By then, the pirates had turned the cannon around on its swivel.
Hands was standing near the muzzle, using the ramrod to push the cannonball into place.
That made him the easiest target.
But we were unlucky.
Just as Trelawney fired, Hands suddenly bent down.
The bullet flew over him.
Instead, one of the other pirates was hit.
The wounded man’s cry was answered by his companions on the ship.
It was also answered by many voices from the shore.
I looked over and saw more pirates rushing out from among the trees.
They were climbing into their boats.
“The small boats are coming, sir,” I said.
“Row!” the captain shouted.
“We cannot worry about flooding the boat now. If we don’t reach the shore, everything is lost.”
“Only one of their boats is being used,” I added.
“The others are probably going around by land to block our path.”
“They will have a difficult journey,” the captain replied.
“Those men are on foot now. They are not my concern.”
“The cannon is.”
“A cannon at this distance is like a child’s game. Even a lady’s maid could hit us.”
“Tell us when you see them ready to fire, squire. We’ll stop rowing and hold steady.”
Meanwhile, we continued moving forward surprisingly well considering how heavily loaded we were.
We took in only a little water.
Now we were close to shore.
Thirty or forty more strokes would bring us onto the beach.
The falling tide had exposed a narrow strip of sand beneath the trees.
The pirate boat was no longer a threat.
The small point of land had hidden it from our view.
The same tide that had slowed us earlier was now slowing down our enemies.
Only the cannon remained dangerous.
“If I dared,” the captain said, “I would stop and shoot another one of them.”
But the pirates had no intention of waiting.
They did not even look at their wounded companion.
He was still alive and trying to crawl away.
“Ready!” shouted the squire.
“Wait!” the captain cried instantly.
He and Redruth pulled hard on the oars.
The force pushed the back of the boat deep into the water.
At that exact moment, the cannon fired.
This was the first gunshot Jim heard.
He had not heard the sound of the squire’s earlier shot.
None of us knew exactly where the cannonball passed.
I believe it went over our heads.
The wind from it may even have helped cause what happened next.
The boat sank backward.
Slowly and gently, it settled into three feet of water.
The captain and I found ourselves standing upright in the sea, facing each other.
The other three men fell completely into the water.
They came back up soaked, coughing, and covered in bubbles.
Thankfully, nobody was killed.
We could still walk safely to shore.
But everything we had carried was now lying at the bottom of the sea.
To make matters worse, only two of our five guns were still usable.
I had instinctively grabbed mine from my knees and held it above my head.
The captain had carried his over his shoulder with the lock facing upward, just as any experienced sailor would.
The other three guns were lost with the boat.
Then we heard voices coming closer through the trees along the shore.
Now we faced another danger.
We might be cut off from the stockade.
And we had to worry about Hunter and Joyce.
If the pirates attacked them, would they be able to defend themselves?
Hunter was reliable.
We knew he could stay calm.
But Joyce was different.
He was a kind and polite man, perfect as a servant.
However, he was not exactly a soldier.
With all these thoughts racing through our minds, we hurried through the shallow water toward shore.
Behind us, we left the little boat wrecked in the sea.
Along with it went half of our powder and most of our supplies.