 A Float with Henry Morgan! Dolores Pizarro persuades her father Don Pietro, governor of Cuba, to allow her to go to Jamaica, masquerading as Antoinette De Lacy, kin's woman of the governor of Jamaica, Sir Thomas Motford. A Spanish sloop takes her to Jamaican waters, from where she has to finish her journey in an open boat, so as to lend conviction that she has escaped from the Spanish. She is picked up by the buccaneer Henry Morgan, who believes her story. While on board, she comes into contact with Jeffrey Hunter, but he ignores her advances of friendship, because she reminds him so much of her life he has lost. The memory of that life is so strong, that upon reaching Port Royal, he goes straight to the Dolphin Tavern, hoping to forget, in the arms of Kitty. You can make me be Kitty. You're so soft, so warm. Why, Kitty, what does this mean? Oh, you're just human clay like any other man, aren't you? I don't understand. I polished my behavior. I realized how wrong I was. Kitty, can't you forgive me? Oh, you come crawling back to me, do you? And expect me to welcome you with open arms. You don't understand, Kitty. Then you must think I have a remarkably short memory. I may be cheap, and I might have a foul life behind me for all me tender years, but I'm not a woman to be bought with a few soft words. You might not believe it, Jeffrey Hunter. Even though I'm not much better than a slave, I still have me pride. You think I can forget how you cast me from you, and the way you wiped your hand over your mouth as though I was something unclean. But you won't help me. To see me in a place like this, you must realize that my life isn't easy. You can make your own life. I care not for you. Don't be so hard, please. There was no place attached to what I offered you the lot time you were here. But even to you, I was just a tavern wench, a bond woman, and you were the fine gentleman. And now you come back and you expect me to fall into your arms. Let me tell you, Jeffrey Hunter, before long the tavern will be full of men and every one of them buccaneers and pirates. But whatever he may be, he'll be a better man than you are. And I'd rather he was any of them than to have you even so much as touch me again. Very well. Then return once more to the serving wench and bring me rum, plenty of it, and take this to pay your services. Go to your pirates and your buccaneers. I'll find my forgetfulness elsewhere. Nonsense, Lee. Kitty picks up the two small gold coins and slinks on her way. But at the curtains, which close in the alcove, she pauses and looks back. Her resolve to humble this man is weakening. And in this kitty who knows her men so well is a new, exciting, disturbing emotion. I could love him as no other man has been loved by a woman before. Conscious that she is still near him, Jeffrey looks up. His blue eyes are as cold as pieces of ice. In them there is no warmth. Rebuffed, she tosses her head and suffocates her newborn desire and resolves that tonight she will be especially generous to the others. Supplied with rum, Jeff sits alone with a demon memory jogging his elbow. Aboard the flying girl, the buccaneer, Henry Morgan and Antoinette Delacy, whom he believes Delores Bizarro to be, await the arrival of the governor of Jamaica, Sir Thomas Motford. But the sound has gone and the short twilight ended. It has put his spell over the island. But the news of the rescue and the fate of the British merchantman has spread like a bushfire about Port Royal. And the key is thronged with the idol and the curious as they wait, hoping for the glimpse of the rescued woman. Whose beauty increases as each person repeats the story. Suddenly above the crowd is the sharp tattoo of horses hooves. Twin oil lamps from each side of an elegant kench cut us to faint light over four perfectly matched white horses. The Caribbean's slave in red livery sits high on the box, holding in his strong hands thin leather reins. While on the platform at the rear stand two black slaves who could be twins. Arms folded, white gloves upon their hands, their bodies encased in creaseless livery. So dense the crowd that this handsome turnout is forced to stop. A window of the carriage is lowered and the head of his excellence appears out impatiently. Emmanuel, what's wrong? Come from behind and clear apart. Smartly Peter gets down and walks through this eerie scene of flaming tortures, babbling people and elegant carriages to the horse's heads. Clear the way, clear the way. Wielding a stout cane before him a passage is cleared and the horses pick their way to the key side up to the very hull of the flying gull. With the dignity befitting his office Sir Thomas goes aboard and is presented by Morgan to whom he believes is his kin's woman Antoinette Delacy. He listens to Morgan's account of his short journey. Here is from Delores' hearth story. Presentaries are exchanged and he and Delores prepare to leave. Well, Morgan, you have carried out my first command of credit. My only half fulfilled my mission Sir Thomas. I was not in time to save the Elizabeth Anne from her fate. But you've brought my kin's woman Antoinette safely to Port Royal. Am I right, Antoinette? Sir Thomas? Your Highness, you're my kin's woman. You have to be my hostess here in Port Royal. Call me Uncle. I hope, Uncle, that you are going to reward Captain Morgan for so gallant the rest joined me from a watery grave. Perhaps you might ask him to dine with us very soon. Right, that's rich, rich child. Morgan spends much his time with me in Port Royal so it's quite right and proper that he should, eh, Morgan? I'm always pleased to be your guest, Sir Thomas. Perhaps when you come you would like to bring a guest with you. I thought perhaps the man who so gallantly picked me up from my foregoat and carried me safely on board. I would like to reward him and give him my thanks also. Would you bring him to dinner one night? Jeffrey Hunter? I don't know. Oh, Antoinette, my child, it's one thing to ask Morgan to dine. After all, he's a nice admiral. I mean to say, well, well, dash it after all. They're buccaneers, aren't they, Morgan? Oh, no fears, Sir Thomas. I'd be quite safe in bringing him to your home. He has been and perhaps he still is a gentleman. I could give my word for it. Oh, that's the case, bring him by all means. But if he will accept your invitation, it's another matter. Oh, I would... I'd like him to come, eh, Captain Morgan. Well, uh, Antoinette, now it is time with that. We must go home. There's much you and I have to talk over. No doubt there are lots of things you have to tell me. So bid you good night, Morgan and thank you very much for all you've done. With the respect due to a kin's woman of Sir Thomas Motford, Bacchardia Morgan gallantly kisses Delores' hand in farewell. Her eyes amused, look down upon his bewigged head. A faint smile leaps from the corners of her mouth. Morgan watches Sir Thomas Motford and Delores leave his ship, enter the carriage, and drive off. As he disappears into darkness, he returns to his quarters and is about to enter when a figure emerges from the darkness. You're sick to have thought of me at the time, Captain Morgan. Who gave you permission to come to this part of the ship? Ah, the wise, didn't I? It was my right to go to any part at any time. I was your trusted servant. You dismissed me for no reason, nothing. When I want to speak to you, I'll call you. You've got to tell me why. Come inside. I'll tell you why. Well, what have I done? This is this other man, this hunter man. You've given him the trust you once gave me. I like him. He saved my life. And he has no desire to have for himself the Aztec necklace. Oh, you think I want that bit of rubbish? You'd like to have it. But it's Kitty the Buccaneers who desires it most. And I know that you, the arts, are only too eager to please Kitty. Ah, you're unjust. You took the necklace from me. It is yours. Because I admire it. It is not any reason for you to cast me aside and put your trust in a stranger you know nothing of. You trust him too much. Someday you'll be sorry. You'd better return to the crew's quarters where you'll be among the arts and thank your stars for one thing. That the two assassins you set upon me died before they could tell me their story. Now, get out! The arts knows in his heart that Morgan has every right to distrust him. That he knows too much about him. Realizing that it is dangerous for his own safety to stay with Morgan, he slinks away. And let in some way he'll make Jeffrey Hunter betray the trust Morgan has given him. But Hunter at this moment cares not about any trust. The dolphin tavern has now filled with its noisy, foul-mouthed customers. It din pierces his brain and the drink cannot make him forget. I'm going to get out of here. Get away from it all. Blushing to his feet, he pushes the table from him. The rickety chair tips back on the floor. Then the curtains pop to make a soft folding frame around Kitty. Be there anything else you want, Hunter? Take this to pay for your services. Provokingly, Kitty moves towards the table that her eyes irresistibly look into his. She sees they're full of pain and memory. The longing she has suffocated rises in her throat. It sends sharp messages of pain into the very pit of her stomach. How is it he can do this to me when I've known so many others? Looking at her again, Jeffrey goes to the curtains, parts them, and after a second he'll be gone. Jeffrey? He stops, doesn't turn around, just stands holding the curtain with one hand. Kitty sees the droop of his shoulders, the tiredness of him, and longing strangles her heart. Jeffrey, turn around. Come back. For a moment she fears he hasn't heard and is ignoring her. Then his grip at the curtain releases. Slowly he turns, reads the message in her eyes. He savagely takes her in his arms. His lips are hard and cruel in hers. Her hands steal pathways through his hair. Hair together, they are out of the world, soaring up to the planets of another universe, seeking a heaven of their own. Sore, you betray me again, eh? I reward you, Kitty. You make me too jealous. For this I'll kill you. Deux, the jealous lover, has found Kitty and Jeffrey Hunter's arms. Listen to the next episode of A Float with Henry Morgan.