 A float! Well, Henry Morgan! Jeffrey Hunter is put to work in the swamps. As soon as he arrives at the jungle camp, he is sent to work beside a negro named Hero. They are helping to make a channel which is part of the swamp drainage scheme. Jeffrey soon learns from Hero how chief human life is regarded in this hill, and he realizes how little a chance he has of prolonging his life. Jeffrey saves Hero from an attack by an alligator, and Hero swears eternal gratitude. Late that night, Hero asks Jeffrey to join him in his attempt to escape. He tells Jeffrey that he knows of a deserted stone hut. The next day, while out with the chain gang, Jeffrey slips away with Hero to see this hut. He is dismayed to find Kitty there. Delores, having gone out for a walk, Kitty tells him briefly what has transpired. Then they are interrupted by Hero calling out that someone is coming. Hurry! Hurry, Master Jeffrey! Hurry! Oh, Jeffrey, go, she's returning! I can't stay with me, Kitty, not yet. But here are the men who are waiting outside now. We are planning to escape, and as soon as they do, we'll come back for you, I promise. No one let them take me back with some willy, Jeffrey. I swear it. I'll come back for you before they have a chance to take you away from these shores. Master Jeffrey, will you hurry? I'm coming here! Jeffrey, you'd better put the gag back in the mouth. I don't want them to suspect that anyone's been here. Very well, Kitty, I wouldn't make it too tight. You keep your spirit up. It won't be long before I'm back. I'll see that you come to no harm. I promise you that. But now I must go. Remember, I'll be back. Perhaps tonight. Jeffrey, you didn't leave any too soon. Look through the trees. Woman, she's coming this way. Quickly, over here behind this tree. Let her pass. What's going on in that hut? You know, I believe I told her all Morgan's plans. And she'd arrange you to go back to a Spanish possession. Well, we'll see about that. So that's what I meant to her, eh? That would all have fine premises meant. I see, young lady. You just wanted to get information from me, eh? Well, we'll see just how much chance you have of getting away from Jamaica when I've seen Captain Morgan. Now, what are you talking about there? I don't like staying down here. We should be getting back to the others. We'll be missed, and if we're missed, it will mean a flogging for both of us. All right, we can go back now. The woman's gone to the hut. Can't do any more at the moment, so let's join the others. Someone who knows all of Morgan's plans has turned out to be a Spanish spy. She's returning to a Spanish possession a trip will be set to catch Henry Morgan. We have to escape here before Henry Morgan sails. We can't afford to wait for the weather. We'll have to escape tonight. I've been thinking, Geoffrey, that is more than a possibility. I spent all my days in the jungle. I can read the signs that nature gives, and I can smell in my nostrils stormy weather. They'll be rain about. Oh, the same. There's something inside me that tells me it's going to rain mighty hard. Our nose, bad storm come to our aid. You see, maybe tonight we'll be free of our fetters in a way. Listen to old hero, and you'll be right. I hope so. But we have no time for waiting. We have to get to Port Royal before dawn, even with being recaptured. But first we return to that hut, release that girl, and take the other one up to prison. It's not dangerous to go to Port Royal right away. That'll be the first place they'll look for us. If we reach Port Royal ahead of Alpha Sears, we'll be all right. Captain Morgan will help us. You saved my life before. I'll not forget that. I believe in you. If you say we go to Port Royal, then we go to Port Royal. But keep your voice down. We're just about to join the others. You know that, and I hope we'll not be missed. Look through the trees. Over there. See? City Overseer is still talking with the men. We have not been missed. My gods are watching over us. I have the feeling we're going to be very successful. Here we are under clearing. No one has seen us come back. And now if we just take the end of this barrel that we dumped down here before, we'll look as though we've been working all the time. What's the matter? Have I been to pick up my end of the barrel? I suddenly felt giddy. You're not getting sick, are you? No, of course not. It's the heat and the walking up the hill from the hut. It made me feel quite weak. You're right in a moment. I can manage. Don't worry, I'll be all right. The arts? Yes, Captain Morgan. Come over here to me. I'll be here in the poop. I want to speak to you. I'd like not to look at the sky as wind about in rain. It's quite calm and still, Captain. I've been at sea long enough to be able to smell an approaching storm. This night it's going to blow. I can smell it in the air. And nothing, the arts, is going to stop my fleet sailing tomorrow morning. Is it wise, Captain Morgan, to set sail so soon if a storm is happening? I may not mind to sail tomorrow and no one will stop me. How goes the provisioning of the other ships, the arts? It's going at best, Captain, but... I have no buts. The ships will sail as they are tonight. But, Captain, you set them out of mourning. I want the ships away from the quayside before the storm sets in. They'll move out into position and anchor there until the morning. Nothing is going to prevent my sailing tomorrow. Nothing, you hear? Yes, Captain, but it's sign expected leaving the quayside. I've given an order and it must be carried out. The flying girl will leave her berth in half an hour. The other ships will follow she. Half an hour? I might have run my ship to please my crew. Take that scowl off your face. Send someone to give my orders to the captains of the other ships. Come on, hurry up, bring to us. But, Captain, half an hour, there's so much to be done. All the patented, there's something of which I've forgotten. A number of the men are on leave, on shore. If you leave in half an hour, they'll not have time to rejoin the other ships. I can found it. That matters not. UD Arts will have permission to return to the shore tonight and round them up. Yes, Captain Morgan. I think that it's right that you should send me. They'll show me respect and quickly obey my orders. The ships will be ready to put out to anchor in the bay in half an hour, Captain. Having averted what might have been an impossible situation, because he knows that once the ships leave the quayside, it will be impossible to go ashore unless on a special mission. Diaz promptly leaves the poop, shouting orders to the men who are leisurely going about their tasks in the waste of the ship. His voice galvanizes them into activity. Their aimless wanderings become missions of orderly action. Orders are shouted. Oaths and curses fall upon the air. Men, ant-like, swarm up the ring, laboring in loosening sails from the clossands. And the sun moves down in a cloutless sky. But Morgan on the poop is not deceived by the sun's guileless smile. Born of the sea, he has come to know all of nature's quips and tricks. Standing firmly with feet apart, he gazes up into the heavens and notes again the tell-tale pink haze, which is filtering itself into the skyline. Gently he sniffs the air and absorbs the faint fresh odor of coming rain. His orders have gone forward to the other ships, which lie at the quayside. They seem alive with men who swarm over them, preparing for the unexpected sailing order. Now the flying gull is ready. The haze is spread over the sky. It's pinkness deepening into red and the horizon is fringed with tumbling black clouds. We must be in the bay before the storm starts! Faintly the freshly born wind sighs in the ringing and softly billows into light the canvas like white shrouded drunken ghosts. Hens grasp on ropes and pull his creek and the air is filled with singing men. The capstan groans as it turns. The chain protestingly rattles as it drags from the seabed the mighty anchor. The helmsman stands at the wheel, the sails are filled, the flying gull becomes a thing alive. Horses are cast from the quayside. She moves and black clouds toss and tumble overhead, splitting forth large blobs of rain while the seabirds scream and roth and the sun sinks in the west, leaving the island at the mercy of an angry night. Didn't get away any too soon. Hope the other ships make it. And as the flying gull gets underway, he turns to watch the rest of his fleet leave their berths. One by one they sail and line across the wind-whipped sea to the anchorage in the bay. Their sails gleaming white against the failing day. Black clouds and a deep green of the sea. Soon night will unfold them in their darkened brace. Lanterns are lit and put at the mast heads. Eyes are locked in the closed nests, drain in the dusk's dismal gloom. And suddenly the heavens split as the clouds recoil from the jagged flesh and rumble in their bellies protestantly. And their tears fall like a cataract in flood. Bring in that canvas! Drop anchor! Signal finance in that order to the other ships! And the wind mocks while the ships are mated secure for the night and ready for sailing at daybreak on the next day. The odds! Yay to Captain Murray! Looks like we'll be sailing short-handed. What do you mean, your captain? Well, it isn't possible for you to put back to port Royal in a long boat tonight. You couldn't live in such a squall. But Deats must leave the ship tonight. Else there'll be no chance to desert and join Delores. Desperately, he looks towards the coastline, but the night and the storm have hidden it from his straining eyes. And on the island of Jamaica, over the hill and down in the swamps, work is over. The meagre meal has been eaten. The men light chain to their thin, hard parriasses. The tired limbs aching. Their minds dull with fatigue, growing cloudy as they sink into the get-full slumber. Dimply conscious of the storm outside. But there are two who stare hard into the darkness, fully conscious of the rain outside, knowing that the fetters which bind them are almost filed through. Silently they'll listen to the men's groans and mutterings until they grow quiet. I'm pretty quickly. Not all the time we can get. I told you the storm would break. I was right. I thought. When she gets outside and smells the air of freedom, you'll soon forget your tiredness. Working quickly. You know, he frees himself with his fetters. He then frees Jeffrey. And then, like two spirits from another world, they move silently towards the door. Look out into the blackness of the storm, then back at the other occupants of the hut. All is quiet and still. There is no movement. Good message, Jeffrey. We've got to hurry. You follow me. Don't lose me into darkness, though. You don't have to go and help me. I certainly feel so well. I'm burning inside. I don't think I can move another step. You go on. Glory be a message, Jeffrey. You've got the cursed fever. Escape in sight. And Jeffrey Hunter is struck down by this dreaded fever. And at the top of the hill in the stone hut, Kitty awaits for Jeffrey to rescue her. Deats is held stormbound aboard the flying gull. Hear what happens in the next episode of A Float with Henry Morgan.