“De Annisquam was a fast packet outta Boston, bound for Corpus Christi. She put in here for a couple days to unload some cargo and take on fresh water and dry stores, and she clear Key West harbor with de tide at five de mornin’ of the tenth. Long about seven, your papa climb up de wrecker’s lookout tower by Tifton’s wharf to have him a look at de weather. He got his spyglass, and see de Annisquam’s sails away off—she didn’t make too much westerin’ in dem light airs—but he sees somethin’ else way, way off to de west, and dass a black line way low in de sky. Dot wasn’t no promise, wasn’t no prophecy, dot was a goddom guar-an-tee dot a gale is comin’, and dot gale and dot packet gwan to meet up somewheres near de Dry Tortugas. Ain’t no guarantee dot de ship gwan to wreck up, but dere’s a fair chance she will, ’cause dot wild water out dere, reefs and rocks and shoals dot ain’t on no chart to dis day! Cop’in Cy got us all together, and we come runnin’ with our Georgia bundles. Dot spare clothes and whatever food you can snatch up real quick. Dere was me and two other divers, Jim Wakefield and Bodden Cross—dey old Harbour Island boys like me, Bodden de one take up cigarette smokin’—and Hank Albury, de engineer who worked de salvage gear, and ten crew, sailors and lumpers together, your papa’s first mate, a half-Sponnish fella name of Ben Moreno—he’s dead now—and den your papa and Lockwood. Boys, we was one crack crew! When dot cry go out from de towers, ‘Wreck ashore!’ de Main Chance most times de first to speak de wreck and claim rights to be salvage master. So you can bet we had her under way in no time flat, and we sailed right into dot storm.…”

“But why—” Nathaniel started.

“Stead-day, mon. I’m comin’ to dot part directly,” said Artemis. “We did dot for de salvage, for de loot, but we did it too for de lives. Dere was one hundred one souls board de Annisquam, she a square rigger, got to carry a big crew, forty-four includin’ her skipper, name of Robinson, and de rest was passengers. Folks used to say, de insurance folks most times, dot us wreckers was no better’n pirates, like Black-beard hisself, but dere is many a soul walkin’ dis sweet earth today what would of been sayin’ ‘Good day to you’ to de fishes, if it wasn’t for some wrecker savin’ his no-account ass from de cruel ocean. Yeah, dere was some rascal wreckers, if it come to choosin’ to lettin’ dere own mama drown and gettin’ to de loot, would of said goodbye to Mama, but Cop’in Cy wasn’t dot kind.”