CHAPTER 8 “He carried their heads off in a sack!”
L’Intrepide lay at anchor in the narrow inlet where she had spent the night. Tall palms danced lazily in the morning breeze, bringing the mingled scents of gardenias and orange blossoms. It was a welcome break after the bitter, sweetish stench of the slave ship. Renato had ordered the clothing of all concerned thoroughly washed, then had the schooner’s decks scoured with lye.
The ship was quiet but for the muted chorus of wails and moans drifting up from the cargo hold. The noise had not stopped since the previous afternoon, when the slaves had been rescued from the merchant ship. The pirates had time to free only eight of the estimated four hundred crammed horizontally into the shallow slave deck of Old Hickory, and the sound those left
