Pirates of Savannah Trilogy: Book One, Sold in Savannah - Young Adult Action Adventure Historical Fiction

by Tarrin P. Lupo

  Chapter 5

  Savannah

  Patrick woke up to loud hoots and cheering. He sprung out of his hammock so fast that his foot caught in the netting and he fell. His cabin mates roared with laughter that after all this time, he still could not maneuver his simple hammock. After gathering himself up from the floor and untwisting his ankle from the hammock's netting, Patrick rushed up the deck to the jeers and hollering of the crew already gathered. Off in the far distance, docks could be seen as well as steps climbing up a steep hill.

  The boatswain’s whistle blew loudly and the entire crew was materializing topside. The men wore smiles from ear to ear as they slapped each other’s backs with joy. A loud Greek voice proclaimed “Prepare da Robin fur shore, pretend yar Greek so ya will dos it the right way dis time.”

  The crew hollered like a church choir, “Huzzah, Huzzah, Huzzah!” as each man scurried to their job like ants on an apple. The deck exploded with excited activity.

  Patrick smiled at Jessup, Sam Scurvy, and then Isaac. All the men were grinning at each other in anticipation of landing in Savannah, but a wave of odd feelings washed over Patrick. Something, or someone, was amiss. He wondered, "Where's Shamus?"

  Savannah was slowly approaching; a bluff could be seen with a dock jutting from it. A long flight of stairs was cut from the steep slope. The stairs ran from the dock to the upper plateau of the town. There was a large wooden, octagon, ratcheting crane that was very similar to the windlass used to raise the anchor on the Robin. The crane was used to slide heavy cargo from the docks up a skid to the top of the bluff. Most of the town was difficult to see beyond the large protective palisades, or the wooden fences, circling it.

  The crew was a fevered frenzy of activity. If the crew could swim, pushing the ship to increase speed, they would have. A call went out and the men scrambled, reporting to docking stations, as they drifted closer and closer to the bluff. More calls went out across the deck to drop the rigging in order to slow the approach of the speeding galleon. As land grew closer, the calls became more frantic, “DROP THE RIGGING! DROP THE RIGGING!" with no response. Furious, the master rigger questioned, "Where da HELL is da rigging mate?”

  Savannah dock in 1739