The bearded captain ordered one of his men toward Timpoochee’s trading boat.
After a few minutes of searching the soldier stepped to the bow and reported back to the captain. Whatever he said pleased the captain who nodded and relaxed some.
“En tus pies,” the captain ordered, sweeping his arm upward. “Ven conmigo, pero no hagas ruido.”
He swung his arm in the arm, making the “forward” motion. Timpoochee understood somehow and ordered his men to follow the captain and his men.
The captain and his men led Timpoochee and his delegation through some thick and sharp-edged vegetation. Through grasses and palmetto fronds, even a shallow marsh.
They were loaded onto the captain’s small fleet of boats and rowed across the sound to the ribbon-like island on the opposite shore.
The band trooped from the island shore toward the high sand dunes, shining like gems under the bright moon.
They trudged down onto a wide, sandy path which led along the edge of the great sea. The water was flat, put to sleep by the cold, north wind.
Over his shoulder, Timpoochee suddenly noticed a bright light filling the sky. Flames leaped into the air.
Confusion and wonder filled his head. Why a fire this big? What could be burning?
HIs trading ship, he realized, was on fire.