Fleeing the shores of your land to make a new life somewhere else takes courage. But, sometimes, it is a decision born of ignorance: You know nothing of the land you are going to and nothing of those peoples or their customs. And this is how you make strange alliances.

And this is how it was with Bryant. At home we would be unlikely friends but we had more in common abroad than we did with our new compatriots. Bryant was a tall, strong, Irishman; his every move and intonation suggested experience of the world. In his eye was a hard gleam but he never spoke harshly, rashly or in temper. In the convivial atmosphere of an inn he had warmth, humour and wit. Sometimes he would speak soulfully of the daughter that he had left back in Ireland and how he missed her so.

We first met on the ship that took us on the passage to our new life. I would often see him talking and laughing with the merchant men, accepted as one of their own. On occasions, when the ship’s company was shorthanded through sickness, he would pitch in taking on any duties that were left unattended. Every so often, when we passed, he would stop and talk to me about the weather, the strength of the currents and the winds. Once he stopped to check on me while I was being sea sick over the gunwale.

We were brought closer together when our sea voyage came to an end. Looking for cheap and decent accommodation as soon as we left our ship we found ourselves walking together down the same street in this foreign land. He seemed to take to me like a man takes to a young pup and over the weeks we formed a friendship that a surpassed our initial, convenient alliance.

Then, one day, after a period of work in the dockyards dried up, he came to me with a proposition. “Lad,” he said, “I have found us more work but it is dangerous. If you want in then that’s alright by me. If not that’s alright too but I’ll ask you to keep your silence to everyone in the meantime.”

I did not need ready cash right now but the monies that I had stowed away would not last forever and something extra would be useful. As the days passed Bryant explained more to me: “Smaller ships that sail to and fro around these parts have been encountering trouble with brigands intent on robbing their cargos. The local sheriff has come by the location of the thieves’ hideout and needs men to strong arm their way into the den, to arrest the robbers and seize the contraband. He’ll pay us well. And we will get to divide between us one tenth of the value of the goods we rescue – like a reward. You’ll have to carry a rifle and you’ll have to be prepared to kill a man if needs be. You must not speak of this to anyone else – if word gets around and finds it way back to the pirates they’ll be prepared and that’ll mean more killing.”

As it happened, I was a sure shot, learning the skills of hunting with a gun as young man from my father. But I had never killed a man. And I didn’t want to now. Yet, my best friend would need my help: Not many men would have my eye for a target - and that could make a difference.

The morning we set sail I felt sick even before I stepped on the launch. With a water canteen on my hip, a revolver pushed in my belt and a rifle slung over my shoulder I listened to the deputy as he outlined the sheriff’s plan: We would sail along the coast putting to shore ten miles from the bandits’ lair to avoid their lookouts’ careful gaze. From there it would be a night walk through the forest to our destination, advance scouts checking our path, and arriving just before dawn. We would then set up ready for our raid as the sun came up. The marksmen, I and four others, were to provide covering fire from concealed locations. The other men would be split into four companies. Company One would take the main assault directly to the hideaway whilst Companies Two and Three would fan out left and right around the encampment, encircling the camp and joining on the shore, with a few amongst their number tasked to disable the buccaneers’ boats. The fourth company was to be held in reserve waiting to assist if the eventuality arose.

The deputy handled all the questions with ease, inspiring confidence within the men. He explained that there were so many of us because the sheriff believed that a numerical supremacy of ten to one would ensure the best chance of victory. Nearly all of these men had military experience; I could hear the discussion of weapons and tactics, even the exchange war stories.

Bryant whispered to me that he felt very confident and that he thought the sheriff knew what he was doing. He passed me a small flask which I discovered, on taking a dram, contained whisky.

The night march took six hours, including a stop for dry biscuits, bread and then rum. Fortified we approached our target just before dawn, stealthily taking up our positions at the sheriff’s direction. I climbed a high tree that gave me a view of the camp and found a suitable branch to sit on that, luckily, also gave me another branch to rest my rifle on.

The attack began at dawn silently with Bryant in the first company acting as corporal to the deputy’s sergeant. From my make shift crow’s nest I could see the three companies move into the camp as one, deftly overpowering the lookouts and few other conscious members of the piratical clan before the alarm could be raised. Slowly and surely the rest of the rabble were woken by the touch of sharp steel of a bayonet at their back.

All seemed well but sudden movement caught my eye; a bandit had broken loose from an unsecured tent and was running with pace and purpose, knife in hand. Bryant was his first, and most obvious, target. Bryant with his back to the danger was too far away for me to shout to so I took aim and, with the murderous scally in my sights, started to squeeze my rifle trigger. But just before I released my round Bryant, somehow alerted to the imminent danger, whirled around to face is assailant using the force of this turn to propel his left arm out to block the oncoming dagger. Bryant then, as quick as Lightening Jack, threw his right fist to the pirates face, stoving in the man’s jaw. The pirate fell to the ground knocked out cold. Bryant then looked up to my spy place (how could he see me?), smiled and then waved. I took rifle butt away from my shoulder, shaking all the while.

In later years Bryant told me that he knew that I had the pirate in my gun sights all the time. Bryant also told me that he knew I was ready to shoot and that he had had no fear for his mortality at that moment. I was astonished.

To this day our friendship remains true and fast and, to Bryant’s delight, his daughter has now joined us in this land of opportunity.