April 4th, 1796.
Southern Andros Island, the largest island in the Bahamas.
Maspoint Port was packed with people. Everywhere you heard the groans of the sick and wounded. The children in their mothers' arms looked numb, neither crying nor laughing.
They had all fled here to escape Alon's brutal rule, simply because they'd heard there would be ships to take everyone away.
But now, the five or six hundred people on the shore stared desperately out at the surging sea—yet there was not a single ship in sight.
Mike Grant, with light brown skin, slightly curly hair, and standing nearly six feet three, frowned and glanced behind him. No one knew when Alon's "Royal Guard" would come after them.
If they did, every one of these refugees would be executed on the spot—no trial needed.
Suppressing his anxiety, he comforted his wife: "Julie, the ship will be here soon. Dunn's family escaped to Santo Domingo this way."
