A swarm of children appeared from the shroud of underbrush and descended upon the group. Many of them sported the same bright red curls as José. Some had blond hair and blue eyes, some were very dark and short while others were tall and fair.

Cielita knew her father had left the Spanish Navy thirty-eight years ago and become a pirate. But she was not prepared for the plethora of children he and Jean LaFitte had produced, children who had been born on this island and knew no other world. At least a dozen of them called José “Papa,” and more than twenty of them bore features similar to those of her father’s friend, Jean LaFitte.

The group spent the day preparing for the feast. More and more islanders came to greet them, wearing  a toga-like garment of silk or cotton. Some of the more voluptuous women wore the garment around their necks and criss-crossed to hold their breasts secure. The men wore a brief diaper. They gazed curiously at Cielita. Young adults began to appear, some, couples with naked children in tow and mischievous boys running helter-skelter.

Then, Cielita saw her.

A tall, young, beautiful woman approached her. It was as if she were standing before a mirror. “My name is Norla Gaspar,” she said boldly, and put out a strong hand in greeting. “You are the granddaughter of El Gasparilla?”

“No,” Cielita said. “I am the daughter of El Gasparilla.”

“Why would he bring his own daughter here? I saw his ship when it went down. We will never leave this place now. Only Gasparilla could have taken us home.”

“Where is home, Norla?”

“My grandmother was in New Orleans when he kidnapped her. My mother was born aboard ship. He brought them here. My father was a member of Jean LaFitte’s crew. He was killed by a shark. Now I am adult. I only live here on this island. I must return to New Orleans with my mother and grandmother. There is a large ransom for my grandmother.”

Cielita could see the young woman was becoming more agitated as she spoke. The very determination in her voice gave her an idea, an idea that only last night was embryonic, but now, standing before her own niece and listening to the edge on her voice, she began to develop a plan. A master plan for escape. She reached out and grasped both Norla’s arms and exclaimed, “I think I can do that!”