Every night Montes sailed the ship west, bringing it about each morning before sunrise and turning the wheel over to Singbe, Burnah, or Grabeau. Their trust of him was limited, but it grew after the first week when they were overtaken by a huge tropical storm. They rode the gale's raging winds and churning seas for nearly two days, at times with both Singbe and Montes bracing the wheel together. The hard sailing was made more difficult because the tribesmen were terrified by the high seas and roaring winds. Many of them retreated to the hold. Others tried bravely to work on deck, but none knew what to do, and Montes' commands were rarely understood. They had taken down all the sails save for a jib and tried to hold the helm steady as the ship was tossed through the waves at the mercy of the sea. They held their own until late in the afternoon of the first day. The sea had become so vicious and the waves so large that the Amistad was being pushed sideways. Montes and Singbe had lashed themselves to the wheel and were trying desperately to bring the ship about. The rain was blowing sideways, stinging their faces like shards of glass. They had almost got the ship pointed into the wind when a huge wall of water crashed down on the bow, driving it under the sea and catapulting the stern forward and into the black sky. In an instant, Montes and Singbe were pinned against the wheel, the entire stern lifted out of the water and thrust 60 feet into the air. They stared helpless down the deck into the sea. Above the screaming skies and pummeling seas, Montes found himself in a second's flash, groping for the sound of the beam shattering, searching to see one of the masts shear off, feeling for the ship to roll over onto its side and break in two. But none of this happened, nor did the sea suck them under the waves. Instead the ocean heaved and exploded, spitting the bow back into the air and slapping the hull down against another wall of water. The Amistad rolled starboard as if to list, but the sea shoved the ship over and hard to port. It brought them upright again, though bobbing wildly. The whole exchange between ship and wind and waves had taken less than thirty seconds. Singbe and Montes clung to the wheel stunned and breathless.

      That was the worst of it. By morning of the next day, the rains had stopped and the winds lessened, though the seas still swelled and boiled, throwing waves 10, 20, 30 feet high at the ship. By the evening of the second day, the seas had grown more manageable, and by the next morning the ocean was eerily calm, almost placid. The only trace of the storm was the ship itself, with its ripped jib, snapped lines, and stunned crew. A head count showed that two men were missing, presumably lost over the side. The young boy, Ka-li, had also been killed when he was struck in the head by a tumbling water keg that had been jolted loose in the hold.

      But Montes' guidance of the ship raised his stature amongst the survivors. They realized that his efforts were nothing more than self-preservation. However, they also recognized that without Montes at the wheel during the storm, they would likely have drowned in the wild seas. Many offered Montes their food rations for days after the storm's passing, but he refused. Other squalls and rainstorms came up over the next few weeks, but they were nothing like "The Storm," and were weathered without much difficulty or any loss of life.

      More of a concern than the weather were rations. The Amistad was only carrying food for a five day trip, plus a few barrels of meat, bananas, and yams to be sold at market in Puerto Principe, and a few kegs of fresh water which doubled as ballast. They had been on the ocean now nearly 50 days. Singbe had twice ordered the ration size cut for all but the children. Water rations were now at less than a half a cup per day. Many drank water from the sea, though it made some sick and others thirstier.

      A week earlier, thirst, hunger and the hot sun had even conspired to drive two men into madness. Ka had found a wooden box in the captain's cabin filled with bottles of colored liquid. He suspected the bottles were medicines used by the whiteman. Some smelled familiar and proved helpful with wounds. But there were bottles which he had no knowledge of and believed to be closer to poison than medicine. He put them aside, but two of the tribesmen, knowing that the bottles were being kept in the captain's cabin took two of the large bottles without Ka knowing. They believed that medicine would be as good as water at this point. At least it would be something. They drained the bitter tasting liquids into their bodies. Both died within a day. After the incident, Singbe talked with Ka. They decided to throw all the bottles with unknown contents into the sea. It was Ka's suggestion, even though the thought of disposing of possible cures left him uneasy. A fever had set in among some of the tribesmen and Ka was hoping to find a cure. But using what was in the bottles was too dangerous, as was the temptation to some who were becoming "water mad."

      The threat of dying from thirst had been abated somewhat, however, from a large three-masted ship. They had encountered it four days ago, about two hours before sunset. It was not the first ship they had seen. They had come across a few others during the weeks past. One was an especially close call. Singbe awoke from his sleep to the sound of a voice hailing. He went on deck only to find that Montes had steered them close to a two masted ship about the same size as the Amistad. Singbe took the wheel from Montes and steered them away from the ship. The ship followed for a few hours but broke off after Singbe ordered the tribesmen to stand on deck and wave their machetes and yell their fiercest war cries. It must have been a curious sight for the crewmen of the other ship.

      Singbe had wanted to head away from the foreign sails of the large three-masted ship, too. He feared it may be a slaver or warship from the land of the whites. But Grabeau and Burnah had talked him into getting closer so that they may try to trade for food and water.

      "We can put out in one of the row boats and trade with them," Grabeau said. "If they are hostile, then we will sail away."

      "What of the men in the rowboat?" Singbe asked.

      "They will have to take their chances. I will go. I and three others."

      "I will not leave men behind." Singbe said.

      "It is our only chance. We are starving and dying of thirst. We do not know how far we are from land. We must do something."

      As they spoke, the ship had gotten closer. The tribesmen had become excited and many stood on deck with their machete's in hand. Singbe decided that Grabeau's plan, though dangerous, was reasonable.

      "One difference in the plan, Grabeau. I will go on the rowboat. You will stay here."

      "You cannot. You are our chief."

      "As chief I must assume the risk. It is only right."

      "But it is my plan. I am willing to take the risk. Others joining me will be volunteers. No one is going into this with their eyes closed, Singbe."

      "If something wrong does happen, Grabeau, the tribesmen will need your good sense and wise judgement to lead them back home. Besides. I am chief, yes? It is my will that I go and you stay."

      "I will go with you," said Burnah. "Yaboi and Bagna will join us."

      "Good. Prepare the rowboat and inform the tribesmen of what we are doing. Put an empty water barrel in the rowboat, as well. And take the two guns. "

      Singbe turned the wheel toward the other ship. As he got closer he could hear someone calling at them from their deck but he could not understand the words. He looked across the deck to Montes and Ruiz who had begun talking together excitedly.

      "Grabeau, take the whites below and have Konoma and two others watch them. Make sure they say nothing. I do not want them crying out to this other ship."

      Ten minutes later the two ships were within 100 yards of each other. Singbe and the others climbed down the rigging into the longboat and rowed out toward the big ship.

      The other ship was the Emmeline, a freighter out of New Bedford, Massachusetts. It was on a return trip from China and had just off-loaded half their cargo two days earlier in Charleston. The captain and crew found the Amistad a curious sight, its sails in tatters, some flapping loose in the breeze, and no colors flying from its mast. However, the oddest thing was the all-black crew. The captain had never heard of such a thing, not even putting out of a port in Africa. And this crew, many of whom were nearly naked and stood on the ship's rails holding what appeared to be cutlasses, did not look like a seafaring lot at all. The Emmeline had a single small swivel mounted cannon on the foredeck. The captain had a crewman follow the longboat with the gun as it came across.

      As they got within ten yards of the Emmeline, the captain called down to them, but Singbe could not understand the words. In response, Singbe stood up in the boat and held the water keg over his head, then turned it upside down to show it was empty. He pointed to his mouth and squeezed his stomach. The captain nodded and yelled back to one of the crewmen. After a few minutes two men appeared at the rail of the Emmeline with a large barrel. The looped a rope around it as Singbe and the others rowed closer and then came alongside the big ship and a line was thrown down. The tribesmen tied it off through a ring in the bow but the boat bobbed madly next to the ship's hull. Quickly, the crewmen lowered the water keg down. The captain also held up a burlap bag and then threw it down to the boat. Burnah caught it wrong and apples spilled out the top and rained down all over him. Singbe and the others began laughing and bowing in thanks to the captain and his crew. The captain called down to them but he could see they didn't understand. Two of the crewmen started to lower themselves down ropes to the rowboat. Singbe couldn't take any chances. He cut the bowline with the machete and pushed the small boat away from the hull, bidding Burnah and the others to row hard. As they did Singbe smiled and bowed and waved at the Emmeline with his machete. The first mate stood at the ship's rail with the captain and watched them.

      "What do you make of that, Captain?"

      "You said you saw them through the glass taking two whitemen in chains below?"

      "Aye, sir."

      "I'm not sure what we got here. The ship is in a queer state. I can't quite see the name. It looks like `Hempstead.' And I've never seen a crew like that one."

      The captain yelled to the bridge while still watching Singbe and the others row back.

      "Get us underway, Hanson. Original heading."

      "Aye sir."

      "I think we should get out of here fast. I don't think water and apples is what they really have in mind. My guess is that they're a bunch of black pirates, maybe come up from the Indies."

      "Pirates, sir! There ain't been pirates on this coast in more than a hundred years."

      "Yeah, well, I don't think we'll be hanging around to see if there's a renaissance in thieving going on. Hanson! Be quick now."

      The Emmeline lowered its sails and pulled starboard. By the time Singbe and the others were back on the Amistad's deck, the big ship was nearly a half mile away. The next evening, when they weighed anchor in port, the captain sent out his mate with a message for the local Naval office. It spoke of a suspected contact with a "pirate ship" manned by a crew of blacks. The captain gave the longitude and latitude of the encounter and his best guess of the ship's course. It was the fourth such report in the last three weeks of a suspicious black-hulled ship. The Navy had already dispatched two ships to investigate the reports.

      The apples and water satiated the Amistad's occupants for a few days. But Singbe knew their position was tenuous. He also was pretty sure that Montes had been deceiving them and that they were not on course for Africa. He decided to kill Montes. After a long discussion, Grabeau and Burnah agreed, but they would not carry out their plan until Montes could provide them with one more useful service.

      Singbe roused Montes from his sleep with a kick. Montes' whole body twitched, startled and awake at once. He looked up. Singbe, Burnah, and Grabeau, stood over him, blocking the sunlight. All three held machetes.

      Singbe squatted down and drew on the deck with a piece of chalk. It was a crude drawing of the sea, the ship, and a patch of land. Singbe tapped the land with the chalk.

      "How long to get to the closest land?"

      Montes didn't have to understand the words to know what he was being asked. They were starving and almost out of fresh water. He looked up at Singbe and held up two fingers. Singbe grabbed him by the collar and stood up. He lead him to the wheel, chained him to its base and ran another chain from his waist to the rail.

      "Take us to the land."

      Montes turned the wheel hard to port. His hands shook. He wasn't sure if was from hunger or the certainty he would be dead soon.

      By noon of the next day a pale thin shadow of land had become visible on the horizon. Montes took them in, finding a small inlet almost right away. They dropped anchor about a mile from a sandy beach. Singbe went into the captain's cabin and came out with two pistols and two small canvas bags filled with gold coins taken from a chest. Burnah, Yaboi, and eight other men waited for him in the rowboat they had lowered into the water.

      "We will look for food. Try to trade these coins for it. If we are not back by the time the sun begins to set..."

      "We will come after you."

      "No. Take the ship and sail up the coastline. Look for a safe place."

      Grabeau laughed nervously.

      "What would that look like, my friend?"

      Singbe shook his head. "Just do it."

      "I will not leave you behind to become a slave again. Any of you."

      "I will not be a slave again. I will die first."

      "The spirits did not keep us alive this long to suffer such a fate."

      Singbe smiled. "We will find food and water my friend. I promise."

      He lowered himself into the boat and the four of them rowed through the choppy surf to the beach.

      Grabeau waited on deck nervously. About an hour after Singbe and the others left, Kimbo came up to the bridge to tell him that Ka had died. It was the fever.

      It was mid-afternoon when they got the rowboat pulled up out of the water. The beach was long and flat going back away from the sea about 30 yards before breaking into rolling, high-grassed dunes. It was not like the beach at Lomboko, but neither was it like the whiteman's land Cuba. There were no huts or dwellings of any kind to be seen. Singbe and Burnah decided to split the group in half. Singbe and Yaboi would take four others and head up to the right. Burnah would take his men down the beach to the left. Both of the leaders had a small canvas bag of gold coins from the captain's chest. The men were dressed in billowy duck pantaloons and cotton shirts they had found in crates in the hold. Some of the men decided to leave their shirts behind in the boat but Singbe wore his, dull red and collarless, unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up. He told the men to keep their swords hidden. He and Burnah had each taken a pistol. They would meet up again at the boat when the sun was two fists from the horizon.

      Singbe and his group made their way up the dunes through the tall grass. At the top of a small hill they could see the Amistad riding anchor in the calm tide. In the other direction, the beach grass and sand gave way to a small thin forest of low pines. They headed toward the tree line. About half way through the woods they came upon a few small houses set in a circle.

      When they returned to the rowboat about an hour and a half later Singbe was worried. Neither group had found much food. His group had only been able to trade for a few chickens, a bottle of rum, and a bag of sweet potatoes. Burnah's group had not done much better. They had two dogs, a jug of apple cider, and four beets. Together they had only been able to find six houses. The people they encountered, all white, had been frightened. One old woman who had two goats would not even look at the gold in Burnah's hands. Instead she took the goats and herself into the house, locked the doors, and stood at one of the windows with an old musket in her hand.

      But despite the lack of food, Singbe's group had found a brook that flowed into the sea. The water held only a hint of salt, which Singbe thought would dissipate as they moved back from the stream's mouth. The brook was also filled with fish and crabs, which he was sure they could catch if they could fashion a net of some sort. Perhaps tomorrow. He told the men to get in the boat. They would row down to the brook, fill the water keg and head back to the Amistad. The food they had would have to get them through the night.

      It was an odd sight to be sure, Henry Green would later say. A dozen blacks, black as coal and some nearly naked, standing around a rowboat holding a few chickens and a pair of dogs. Green, a local fisherman, had taken his wagon out to the dunes with four friends to shoot birds. They were going down to the mouth of Shelt's Brook, which would be thick with birds of all kinds feeding on the aquatic life stranded in pools left by the receding tide. But when he saw the Africans and the tattered black schooner anchored off shore, he slapped the reins hard. Singbe and the others didn't have time to get into the boat before the whites were upon them.

      "What do we do?"

      "Give me the coins and have the others hide their swords."

      Singbe buttoned his shirt so the pistol stuck in the waist of his pants was hidden. Green and another man, Peletiah Fordham, hopped down from the wagon seat. Green walked up to Singbe slowly, stopped and smiled.

      "You fellas lost?"

      Singbe smiled as well but took a step back. He pointed to the ground.

      "Koo-ba?"

      "What?"

      Singbe pointed to the dunes and the land beyond it in both directions.

      "Koo-ba? Here Koo-ba?"

      Green looked around and then realized what the black was asking.

      "Naw. America. This is America. The United States."

      Singbe had heard the word "America" before. At the slave factory in Lomboko, he had heard it many times. He pointed to the ground again.

      "Slave here? Slave?"

      Green shook his head.

      "No, sir. This here is Long Island. It's part of New York. We don't have slavery here no more."

      Singbe stared at him not sure what the answer had been.

      "I don't think he believes ya, Henry." Fordham said.

      Green turned to the wagon.

      "Boys, we got slavery here?

      The men all said "No." Green turned back to Singbe and shook his head hard.

      "No. Got no slaves here."

      A huge smile exploded across Singbe's face. He turned to the other tribesmen.

"The whiteman says they do not have slaves in this land."

      The tribesmen broke into laughter and shouts. Some began jumping up and down excitedly and waved the machetes over their heads. Green and Fordham took a few steps back. The others in the wagon had become a bit nervous too and fingered their guns.

      Singbe was screaming as loud as the others. But when he turned and saw the apprehension on the face of Green and the others he dropped to his knees and took Green's hand shaking it madly. Seeing this made Green even more nervous. Singbe reached under his shirt, took out the pistol and handed it to Green.

      "We mean you no harm my friend."

      Green looked from the tribesmen and pointed out to the ship.

      "Your ship looks like she's seen better days."

      Singbe turned toward the Amistad and smiled.

      "Ship. Ship Africa."

      "Africa, huh?"

      Singbe looked back to Green and made the motion of turning the ship's wheel.

      "You ship?"

      Green nodded.

      "Yeah, I've been fishing these waters since I was a boy. Got my own boat, `Lisa Marie,' up the coast aways." He wasn't sure Singbe understood so he made the same motion of hands on the wheel and nodded his head repeated.

      "Sure I'm a sailor."

      Singbe smiled and walked over to Burnah and the others.

      "This whiteman knows how to drive a boat. The driver we have has deceived us. Maybe we can get this one to drive the ship for us."

      "How?"

      "We pay him with the gold and anything else he wants. He may have the ship for all I care if he can get us back home."

      "How do we trust him?"

      "He will be on the ship with us. He will have the money once we are underway and can claim the ship when we reach port. It will be different for him than the whites we have. It will be an issue of trade and property. It will be as much in his interest to complete the journey as it would be in ours."

      "And what of the two whites and the black slaveboy?"

      Singbe hesitated. The slave boy had been condescending and contemptuous of them all during the journey, but he hated seeing any man a slave. He would offer to let him come with them, back to Mende or whatever tribe he chooses. If the boy did not want that, he would be free to go in this land of the whites without slaves. The slave traders were a different matter. Singbe wanted to kill them, especially the older one who had been deceiving them all these weeks. They deserved to die. But Grabeau's words echoed in his head. Singbe knew killing the whites would be justified, but it would also serve no useful purpose beyond revenge.

      "I would do this. I would give the slaveboy his choice of freedom, either here or in Africa. And I would set the whites free, too, but not right away. A day after we are underway, we give them one of the long boats and enough food to get back to this land. From there they will be on their own."

      "Where do we get enough food to finish our journey?"

      "We give this whiteman some of the gold for food. He can go among the whites and buy what we need."

      Burnah nodded.

      "This is a good plan. I think Grabeau would agree."

      He handed his bag of gold to Singbe. Singbe walked back over to Green.

      "You ship Africa? You Africa?"

      The statement caught Green off guard and tickled a laugh out of his throat.

      "Me sail to Africa? With you fellas? I don't think so, lad."

      Singbe took Green's hand gently and turned it over so the palm was up. He opened one of the bags and poured out about a dozen gold coins into the sailor's.

      "You ship Africa?"

      Green felt the cool heavy coins against his weathered palms. The doubloons were Spanish but they were gold, at least two hundred dollars worth judging from the weight. And there was more in the bags, and probably more on the ship. Green looked at Fordham as he began to speak to Singbe.

      "You want to pay me to sail to Africa? In gold?"

      Singbe smiled and shook the bag. He pointed to Green and to the gold. He turned toward the Amistad sitting in the water, held up the bag and made a motion several times as if to capture it in the bag. He turned and held out the bag to Green.

      "Henry. I think he wants to give you the gold and the ship."

      "I think you are right, Peletiah."

      Green reached out to take the bag from Singbe, but Singbe pulled it back.

      "You ship Africa."

      "I'm thinking about it, lad."

      "Henry, you're not serious."

      "Shut it, man. I'm thinking about it I says."

      "Henry! Henry! C'mere."

      "Not now, Jack. I'm negotiating."

      "Henry, yes. C'mere by the wagon, dammit. I got something to tell you. Before you do any more negotiating."

      Green smiled to Singbe and walked back with to Jack at the wagon. Fordham and the other whitemen followed.

      "It's the pirates!"

      "Where? What pirates?"

      "The blacks. They're the pirates they talked of in the paper."

      "Jack! Did you drink the whole bottle while we've been standing here talking?"

      "They're pirates I tell, ya. There was a report in the news just yesterday. Frederick Blanchard was reading it to me out on the docks while me and Corker were mending nets. He read it right out of the paper. `Pirates,' it said, running up and down the Atlantic in a low hulled black schooner with no flag. Ships had reported it to harbor masters in New York, Philadelphia, and Baltimore. And it said the pirates was black."

      "These men ain't no pirates. In case you ain't been paying attention, they ain't even sailors. Look at the their ship, for Godsakes. It's a shambles."

      "Yes, look at the ship, Henry," Fordham said. "Look at it well. A low hulled black schooner. No flag. And the gold. Them is Spanish coins. Came from a Spanish ship they pillaged, I reckon. And the pirates is black. Well, these men are certainly the blackest coloreds I've ever seen. Like they're fresh from Africa itself."

      "Well, of course they are. That's why they want to go there. Bad enough, it seems, to give me gold and their ship. Naw, they ain't pirates. Just a bunch of ignorant savages who've lost their captain. Maybe to illness, maybe to somethin' else."

      "Maybe from hunger," Peletaih said. "From the dogs and chickens and whatnot, it looks like they came ashore to scrounge some food."

      "C'mon, Henry," Jack persisted. "Where's a bunch of coloreds get a schooner, no matter what shape it's in?"

      "I don't care and I ain't asking. However their case may be, it's sure they're looking for a captain and I'm disposed to taking the job."

      "What!? Are you mad?"

      "Not at all. In fact, I'm about to become a rich man."

      "But goin' to Africa?"

      "I ain't goin' to Africa. I'll take `em to New York harbor."

      "New York?"

      "Sure. It's an uncaptained ship. By law I can claim salvage rights. That means I have rights to a percentage of ship and cargo, whether these boys like it or not. It won't cost me no middle passage to Africa. Just a day's sailing up the Sound. You boys help me crew her and I'll cut you in for a percentage."

      The men quickly agreed.

      "Now, no laughing, no messing about, no letting on, and by tomorrow night we'll all be rich men."

      Green turned to Singbe with a smile. But the smile melted off into a look of anger. Singbe turned following Green's stare to the sea. A large ship with broad white sails and a huge American flag flying from the middle mast had just come around the point and was headed toward the Amistad.

      "Shit, lads. It's the government."

      At that moment all of the men saw a puff of smoke appear just above the big ship's bow. It was followed almost immediately by a loud thundercrack and an explosion of water about two hundred yards behind Amistad's stern.

      "Holy Christ," Jack whispered. "It is the pirates."

      Singbe and the other tribesmen broke for their boat. Green followed after them. Grabeau already had the anchor out of the water and they were beginning to lower one of the big sails.

      "Wait! Wait! Take me with you!"

      Green ran up to the rowboat as the men were pushing into the water. He tried to get in but a flash of the machete in Burnah's hands changed his mind. The tribesmen got all four oars in the water and began pulling hard. Green watched them and then turned and began jumping up and down in the water.

      "Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!"

      The sun was beginning to burn and bleed just above the top of the dunes. The eight men pulling the oars stared into it, watching the distance grow between them and the raging whiteman on the shore. Singbe stood so far forward in the bow that his front foot was almost in the sea. The big ship, three-masted, wide and solid, had a huge wave cresting from its bow and a fat wake trailing behind. It was gaining quickly and Singbe thought it would be on the Amistad soon if they could not get her underway. He had Burnah steer the boat ahead of the Amistad so they could meet it as it was moving. Grabeau could throw them down lines and they could scramble on board with the food and leave the rowboat behind.

      Another blast roared out of the deck gun, hitting the waves a little closer, but wide. The tribesmen were struggling to get the sails down. The Amistad was barely moving. Singbe and the others in the boat were less than 100 yards away. He yelled with all his spirit for the men on the Amistad to throw down lines. In two minutes they were there. Burnah grabbed a line and tied it off in the center of the rowboat. The boat banged against the hull of the slow-moving ship.

      "Tie it off with one of the other lines!"

      As Singbe worked a knot, the others went up the dangling lines one by one. Singbe was able to tie off the rope but, now the little boat was slamming and bobbing against the hull even more violently.

      "Get up on deck. Go!"

      Burnah pulled himself up the line he had been holding. All the other men were out. Singbe undid the knot on the rowboat and pulled himself up the rope. There was a loud crack and the sea exploded less than ten yards away. As he got to the top of the rail, he saw the other ship across the deck, about 30 yards out, slowing, angling to come up right next to them. There was a man on the deck with a big hat yelling through a megaphone. The ship had hatches all along its hull just above the waterline. Each hatch held a cannon. On the bow, a man stood at the deck cannon aimed right at them.

      The cannon shots had frightened most of the men. Many had gone down below. Others were running back and forth aimlessly on the deck, screaming and shouting madly. Grabeau was at the wheel, yelling out commands.

      "Get the sails down! We must get the sails down!"

      Burnah already had the men from the rowboat working on one of the sails. Singbe grabbed a man who was trying to get down the hatch. It was Ba, a Mendeman.

      "Ba! Help me with the sail."

      "But Singbe..."

      "Do it! Or be a slave again to the whites."

      "Singbe!"

      It was Grabeau's voice. Singbe turned. Whitemen were coming up over the railing. Six of them were already on deck and others were clamoring up the lines. The whites pointed their guns and yelled at the tribesmen. Burnah drew his pistol but one of the whites slapped it from his hand with the butt end of a musket and then swung the barrel around to his face. A loud crack of gunfire ripped into the air. Burnah jumped with the sound. But he was not shot. A tall white with a broad hat had fired his pistol into the air.

      "Stand off! Stand off, I say!"

      He dropped the pistol so it was even with Burnah's face. There were more than a dozen other whites on deck now, all with muskets and pistols aimed at the tribesmen. A deep sagging ran through Burnah, as if something had reached into him and drained out all hope and spirit from his heart. He dropped his head and sank to his knees. One by one the other tribesmen on the deck also fell to their knees.

      "No!!!"

      The man in the broad hat swung his pistol's sight across the deck to the scream. He found Singbe, still standing, holding a machete.

      "Mr. Clifford! Mr. Cobb! Belay that man of his weapon."

      Two sailors, muskets leveled, walked over toward Singbe. Singbe backed up as they came. He reached the railing and glanced down into the sea. The whites were nearly upon him now. One was yelling at him. Singbe held the machete out, both hands on the grip and swung wildly.

      "I will not be a slave! Never again! Never again!"

      Both the whites were yelling now. One of the sailors was less than four feet away. Singbe let out a loud war cry and threw the machete. The man ducked. The other man fired. Singbe went over the railing.

      "Man overboard!"

      "He's off the starboard bow," yelled the officer in the broad hat.

      By now the Amistad had been secured to the other ship with lines and drawn close. Three men had stayed in the longboat that had been used by the boarding party. They pulled around Amistad's bow. Singbe was about one hundred yards away and swimming toward the shore. It was a land without slaves. If he could get there, he might be safe.

      "I want him alive, Mr. Jansens!" the officer yelled from the railing.

      "Aye, sir! Pull in front of him, lads! Cut him off from the shore!"

      Singbe did not look back, but he could hear the boat and the men yelling. The beach, though almost a mile away, looked close enough to touch.

      A musket cracked. The volley whistled over his head and exploded into the water about ten yards ahead of him. Singbe turned. The longboat was right there, a man in the bow reloading. Singbe dove beneath the waves and swam away from the boat, away from the land. The water of the Atlantic was thick and green. He swam hard but could see nothing. It was peaceful, quiet, like a cold and heavy cloud all around. If he died here, deep under the sea, would his spirit be able to find its way to the sky, or would it be lost to wander with the fishes? Stefa and the children flashed into his mind. Even now, some part of him still believed he would see them again. He swam until the air in his lungs burned and clawed at his chest and throat to get out. He couldn't hold it anymore. He kicked hard, breaking out of the surf, rising above the waves with a desperate gurgling gasp. He turned only to see the flat of an oar slapping into his temple.

      "Welcome to America, you pirate sonofabitch!"

      In his mind, Singbe saw Stefa, then darkness. The sailors lifted his limp body into the boat.

      The ship, the U.S.S. Washington, had secured all tow lines on the Amistad. Its commander, Lieutenant Thomas Gedney, had listened to the well-spoken Spaniard, Pepe Ruiz, tell his teary-eyed tale about how the cargo of slaves had mutinied and murdered the captain and crew. Where were they headed? Ruiz was not sure. He thought perhaps they meant to find a slave-free port, or perhaps undertake piracy, but they were poor sailors, and if it were not for the other Spaniard -- Montes -- and his skill at the helm, they all would have been dead long ago. Thank the grace of God that the U.S. Navy had found them. Ruiz, who mentioned that he was schooled in Connecticut, said they were all starving and it would have been only a matter of days before they were dead of hunger. Ruiz also expressed interest in meeting with a representative of the Spanish counsel as soon as they were in port so he could arrange to get his slaves and what was left of the cargo back to Cuba.

      Gedney assured the Spaniards that everything would be taken care of when they were in port. He had slaves in the Amistad's hold under guard, except for the leader, who had been chained and put in the Washington's brig, and the children, whom he placed in Ferrer's cabin. Gedney had also ordered his cook to provide full rations for everyone and as much water as they wanted. He gave his own cabin to Ruiz and Montes. It was near midnight before the Washington got underway.

      "Plot us a course for port, Mr. Tucker." Gedney ordered.

      "Aye, sir. New York, sir?"

      "No. New London."

      "Aye, sir."

      Lieutenant Meade, Gedney's executive officer, turned his back to the navigator and whispered.

      "New London?"

      "I know, Richard, it's a little farther away. But I mean to claim salvage on this ship for us and the crew."

      "We can do that in New York as well as Connecticut, Tom. I don't understand the difference."

      Gedney smiled.

      "How is salvage calculated?"

      "It's a percentage based on the aggregate appraised value of ship and cargo."

      "Right. That means if we tow her into New York, we lay claim to the ship and whatever is left in those crates in the hold. But if we tow her into New London, we can immediately increase the cargo's value by a substantial sum."

      "How so?"

      "Slavery is still legal in Connecticut."

      A smile broke across Meade's face and then they both began laughing like men who had just found themselves standing in a pile of gold.