I asked Andelbert to write his recollection of this portion of the tale as I was confined to a jail cell with Stout.

Fortune was on our side that night as it was a full moon. I cannot imagine how we would have flown in total darkness. The crew had the balloon unpacked and ready to fly by nightfall. Then they began preparing The Jellyfish for a quick getaway. The Captain and I would execute the rescue attempt.

We waited a few hours after sundown then fired up the balloon. Once filled with hot air, we set off and silently floated toward Port Royale. I was the pilot. The wind made a sea approach the most viable path. We had loaded several cannonballs into the basket to simulate the weight of Britpop and Stout. We intended to drop the cannonballs on the roof of the prison from a significant height and hopefully break through it.

There was still a considerable amount of revelry going on in Port Royale as we approached. We hoped the ruckus would provide cover for the sound of the cannonballs crashing through the roof of the prison. As we ever-so-slowly drifted over the prison, the captain let the cannonballs fly.

They hit their target and accomplished the intended effect. The roof of their prison cell, being the weakest part, was easily demolished. We dropped a rope down, and Britpop and Stout both grabbed it and started to climb. We had tied knots into the rope so they could get a secure foothold on it. Then they merely had to hang on while we drifted back toward the village.

The noise of the crashing cannonballs through the prison roof did not go completely undetected. Guards soon unlocked the cell, and upon seeing the hole in the ceiling, looked up. Having never seen a hot-air balloon before, I am sure they were quite shocked. But after a momentary lapse into wonder, they regained their faculties and began firing their muskets at Britpop and Stout.

Fortunately, we had already started vanishing out of view, and their shots went wide of the mark. They made a futile attempt from the window also, but we managed a clean getaway.

To my relief, I managed to pilot us back to the village, where we made a safe landing just offshore. The crew quickly went about the business of packing up the balloon. Meanwhile, Stout and Britpop expressed their gratitude for being rescued.

Before dawn broke, we had said our goodbyes, boarded The Jellyfish and were out to sea. I asked the captain where we were headed.

“The navy will be after us now. We must leave the Caribbean. We sail for New France.”

Fleeing The Caribbean

Once again, I shall take up the narrative.

“New France is north, is it not?” I asked Captain Peanut Butter as we sailed.

“That is correct. It sits at the top of The Gulf Of Mexico. We will dock in New Orleans. It is little more than a swamp. A miserable place in the summer months. Insects as thick as butter. But it is located at the mouth of a mighty river that cuts across the entire continent, making it a strategic shipping port. We can resupply there and go unnoticed.”

So we sailed north.

Upon arriving in New Orleans, we docked alongside several other ships. The dock ran a considerable length up one side of a wide river. The dock was lined with buildings of all sorts. The crew headed to the nearest inn for some fresh food before the task of restocking began. Meanwhile, the Captain headed off to find a bakery selling cherry pie. A personal favorite of his.

We found a nearby inn and ordered food. It turned out to be some of the oddest food I had ever eaten. There were unusual sea creatures in red shells. I had to pull the meat out of its shell to eat it. There was a thick soup-like dish with rice and meat. It was very spicy and required lots of ale to cool the mouth while eating. But it was a treat to be on land again trying new foods.

As we were enjoying our meal, Andelbert was re-telling the story of our rescue from prison. Suddenly, my heart jumped. The daughter of the French merchant ship owner, whose ship we raided, was standing next to the table looking down at me.

“Baron Blastfurnace, was it?”

“You,” I said in disbelief.

“Surprised? Yes, I imagine you are,” she said. “Would you care to join me at my table? I hate dining alone. I would very much enjoy the company of a Baron.”

“Careful, Lad,” Stout said.

“Fear not. My father is onboard The Elise overseeing the loading of cargo for the trip back to France. What harm could I possibly do?” she asked.

I was suspicious, but my heart won the battle with my mind. I rose and followed her to another table. Moments later, Jonas left to find Captain Peanut Butter.