There'll soon be a price on our heads in every English settlement from Virginia to Bermuda."
"From the shape of our rigging, I'd guess we're going nowhere for a day or so. We've got to heave-to till the weather lets up, and try to mend those sails. After that I figure we'd best steer north, hope to beat the fleet up to Nevis, where we can careen and maybe lay in some more victuals."
"And then are you really going to try your scheme about Jamaica? With just the men you've got here?"
"Not just yet. You're right about the men. We don't have enough now." He lowered his voice. "So I'm thinking we'll have to make another stop first."
"Where?"
"There's only one place I know of where we can still find what we'll be needing." He slipped his arm about her waist. "A little island off the north coast of Hispaniola."
"You don't mean Tortuga? The Cow-Killers . . ."
"Now Katy, there's no better time than now to start learning what they're called over there on that side of the Caribbean. I know the Englishmen here in the Caribbees call them the Cow-Killers, but over there we were always known by our French name."
"What's that?"
"Sort of an odd one. You see, since we cured our meat Indian-style, on those greenwood grills they called boucans, most seamen over there knew us as the boucaniers. And that's the name we kept when we started sailing against the Spaniards."