Captain Craig Beckett applauded, watching as Andrew Morton, a businessman from Key West and a good friend, reeled in a giant blue marlin, a magnificent fish in truth. “What a fine beauty! You’ve done yourself proud, Andrew!” “Couldn’t have done it with the expertise of your young friend there!” Morton said, acknowledging Bartholomew. “It was my pleasure, sir,” Bartholomew said. “A round of rum, a mighty toast!” Beckett said, grinning. He looked at Bartholomew—a look that assured him that he was a good man, and a good man making the right connections. “Rum, yes! Or grog, rather, I believe—we’ve sugared her down mightily and added a bit of water,” said Peter Yearling, another friend of Beckett’s, who worked as an architect. “Grog, it is! Peter, soon enough Bartholomew is going to need your services, you know. You had best plan to cut him a fine deal. He’ll be running merchandise up and down the coast, and bringing back the finest goods from all over the world,”
