Port Arthur was a company town. Copra from all over the islands was brought to the mill to be processed. The oil from the dried coconut kernels was then shipped to Papeete and from there sent to soap manufacturers worldwide. The town spread out over the white sand of the atoll along the edge of the lagoon. The ocean side of the narrow circlet of land was left to the scouring winds of the sea.

Struggling to keep up with David's long strides, Isabelle stole a glance at her handsome partner's face. His mood had remained pensive since her near mishap with the stove. But today as they came in sight of Port Arthur he had cheered considerably. Once their cargo had been unloaded he gave the crew a full day's liberty.

He'd granted the liberty without consulting her. Isabelle considered arguing that they had promises to keep in Matavai but she kept her mouth shut. She had been busy during the voyage and she was skilled at putting uncomfortable thoughts from her mind so she hadn't yet thought about Colin's invitation. She decided, for reasons she still didn't care to examine, to let David and the winds determine whether they made it back by the 28th.

At that moment, with sweat seeping down her back in the tropical mid day sun, all she wanted was a bath, a hot, soapy bath and clean clothes. Afterwards she would try to get them a cargo of processed oil to take back to Tahiti. She purely hated sailing with an empty hold.

"Do you know the manager here?"

David shook his head. "No. Mo always dealt with him. He tried to get them to let us take oil in the past but they like to use their own ships. They won't sell it out right to us you know; it will be a consignment. And that's if you get it."

"I know they're down at least one ship. All I can do is try."

He looked down at her, pushed his hand back through his sun-streaked hair and said, "Don't forget to bat your eyes."

"Is that how Mauriri dealt with the manager?" she asked with mock seriousness.

David's dimpled grin showed he appreciated the come back. "I'll see you on the boat in the morning."

"What?" Isabelle grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop and face her. "Where are you going?"

"There." He pointed to a yellow stucco building. It had a wide second floor porch on which several women lounged in various stages of undress. "You're welcome to come along. They have very hot water."

Isabelle regarded him coldly. He was smirking. She was tempted to call his bluff. But she was really looking forward to her bath. She doubted she would enjoy it much if she could hear David in the next room.

There was a rustle of activity on the porch. A woman leaned over the rail, her ample favors on display. Another woman came through the street level door. She wore a sarong of purple silk. Her mixed heritage played in her facial features but the brassy gold of her hair was inherited from neither parent. "David Grief," called the woman. "You look pretty good for all the bad things we've heard about you lately."

With a final raised eyebrow at Isabelle, David mounted the shallow step and accepted the woman's embrace. "Hello, Maudie. Business good?"

"Not so good, we can't give you everything you want."

"Including- -" David saw Isabelle scowl as he leaned over and whispered in Maudie's ear. "The whereabouts of Chinaman Pete?"

Isabelle turned away and marched down the street. It was none of her business what the wretched man did with his free time but he better be on board to load the cargo or he could swim home.

It didn't surprise Isabelle that her bath cost her twice as much as it should have since she had to pay for her privacy as well. Clean clothes, her favorite fawn colored linen skirt and a sparkling white blouse with an inexplicably missing top button made her feel considerably better. Successful negotiations for a cargo back to Tahiti restored her good spirits almost completely. She even got a delicious dinner out of the deal.

Back on the Rattler Isabelle was sorry she had declined the invitation to spend the night in the company guesthouse. Tah-mey was a quiet companion. No one else returned until morning. She found a battered copy of Sir Walter Scott's IVANHOE in David's cabin and read by the poor lamplight until she fell asleep.

In the morning, David congratulated her on the deal she'd struck with the company manager. Supervising the loading of the cargo he looked indecently healthy and cheerful for a man who had spent the night in dissipation.

"You look awfully pleased with yourself," she said sourly.

David cocked his head, lifted an eyebrow and half-smiled. "I knew I'd find what I was looking for here."

Isabelle didn't notice he was playing with something in his pocket. She turned and walked away. The wind blew her hair wildly about her face. The famous Trade Winds would blow them home quickly. Isabelle was suddenly very glad to be going back to Matavai. She looked forward to seeing her beloved horses and sleeping in her own bed.


"Good heavens, look at the size of it. What could it be?" asked Colin, walking around the packing crate Mauriri had just set down in the middle of his front porch.

"A piece of furniture perhaps," said Lavinia as she eyed the three foot by three foot by four foot box. It had her name and address stenciled across the top and a return address in Honolulu, Hawaii.

"I don't think so, it's awkward but not very heavy. I think it must be a saddle. That's what I'd expect her brother to give Isabelle. He taught her to ride when she was child," explained Mauriri. He accepted the glass of lemonade Colin handed him with an appreciative smile.

"Oh, you're probably right," said Lavinia with a nod of her dark head. Taking her own glass of lemonade she sat down gracefully in one of the rattan chairs. "I suppose we'll just have to wait until the party to be sure."

Mauriri leaned against the porch railing. "Do you think your guest of honor will make it back for this party?"

"Yes. At least, we hope so. Of course, none of us can do anything about the winds but pray. They seem rather strong today." Colin looked out toward the water. He knew very little about sailing. He had accepted that like no other form of transportation its success, no matter how skilled the sailor, was often in God's hands. He had always like that notion.

Mauriri cast a knowledgeable eye towards the sea and said, "Yes, a ship would make good time today. Of course, they have to actually be headed back this way."

"David knows it is important. He'll get them back in time." Lavinia spoke bluntly. Her dark eyes sought his. They were full of challenge.

"That's putting a lot of faith in David," stated Mauriri with equal fervor.

Colin looked from one to the other and recited the prayer for reconciliation silently. He was conscious, not for the first time, how the disruption of one relationship had such far-reaching effects. Mauriri and Lavinia had been friends since childhood. Colin had never known them to have a serious disagreement.

"I have a lot of faith in David," said Lavinia still looking Mauriri straight in the eye.

"Mauriri, what does Tahnee say about her experiences at school?" said Colin brightly. "Does she like it?"

The tall man's face relaxed at the mention of his six-year-old daughter's name. "Yes, very much. She is already pointing words out to me that she knows when I read to them. I'm really thankful we have the school here. Sending her to the nuns would have been hard."

"Surely you wouldn't have," said Lavinia refilling their glasses.

"I know you hated your time at the convent school, Lianni didn't care much for it either but without education my children would be at a serious disadvantage." The conversation continued for a few minutes. Then Mauriri said good-bye and left them; with discomfiture his friends watched him walk away.

"Tell me again why we want him and David at the same dinner table," said Lavinia still glaring at her old friend's back.

Colin laughed shallowly, "Because as people of faith we believe that a meal shared among friends has healing properties."

Lavinia looked out at the sea; her black eyes searched the horizon. Colin watched her face, struck as he often was by her serene beauty. He spoke, "I've been meaning to ask you why you were so certain Isabelle wouldn't tell me I was inviting her to dinner on her birthday."

Lavinia drank from her glass and set it carefully on the table beside her. She spoke thoughtfully, "Do you remember how she hid that she had cut her foot so badly swimming through reef when Mauriri was hurt?"

"Yes, David had warned her not to get scraped up on the reef, she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing she had. You must recall how they were quarreling."

"I do." Lavinia nodded, her thick braid of black hair fell over her bare shoulder. "You're right that it was David she most wanted to hide it from. But you realize that if I hadn't just happened to notice that she was bleeding no one would have known she was hurt. We probably would have let her swim back out to the ship on her own, certainly have let her go with David."

"She wouldn't have had a chance against that shark David and I saw. Thank God, you said something." Colin paused, a puzzled frown on his fair face. "She must have known, even if we'd seen no evidence of sharks yet, that it was dangerous to go in the water bleeding. Even I know that."

"Oh, absolutely. But she and David were fighting and she was getting the worst of it. She wanted to prove something to him." Lavinia paused and ran her finger around the rim of her glass thoughtfully. "I think maybe it goes deeper than that."

"What do you mean?"

"I think she simply refuses to admit to any weakness, to anyone. I know that she has asked for help but it's only when she is at her wit's end and except for when she was in jail it has usually been for someone else."

Colin nodded in agreement and continued the thought. "And when she was in jail she was still trying to manipulate things by giving me that locket to give to David. Although it was a gamble, she was still in charge. Admitting it's your birthday is not admitting to a weakness. Everyone has birthdays."

"Yes," answered Lavinia, "every one of the sailors who come into the bar but I don't know when any of them are and even if I did I wouldn't do anymore than give them one free drink."

"So what you're saying is that she hasn't told us because she would be disappointed if no one made a fuss."

"Yes, maybe. I don't know what I'm saying. I just know that she never wants to be thought of as needing anything. Well, that isn't exactly right, she admits to need and she always expects to make a deal."

"Well," said Colin with a last look at Mauriri's tall figure as it disappeared into the confusion of the market at the other end of the dusty street. "I hope you're right about her wanting a fuss made on her birthday. At least then one of our objective will be met."

Mauriri glanced at the bay to see which ships were there. He could go back to sea whenever he wanted. He was a good sailor that any captain would be happy to have on his crew. But he'd been on a long voyage a few weeks back and all it had done was make him miss the Rattler more. On the Rattler he had the responsibility for the cargo and the trading. He could work his way up on other ships. Not many sailors had the knowledge of the islands that he had and a command of English, French and Polynesian dialects. But even that wouldn't replace what he'd lost.

Annoyed with his own thoughts Mauriri shoved his hands into his pockets and walked away from the water. Why not admit, he said to himself, that what he missed was David. Few captains would take the chances David would. They stuck to schedules, their only real goal making money. David would lose a week's time if an unfamiliar island struck his fancy. If Mauriri had a hankering to see his grandfather's grave a bemused David would make the detour. And then there was the sheer audacity of some of David's plans. Mauriri doubted there was another captain in the South Seas with the imagination to pretend to be a doctor to break a woman out of prison.

Mauriri exhaled with a small groan of frustration. He knew he was right in walking away from the partnership. David's irresponsibility could have gotten them killed; it had nearly bankrupted them. Mauriri had to think of his family. If David wasn't willing to grow up, so be it, but he had no choice.


Stillness, was Isabelle's first thought the morning of her birthday. The boat was never completely still; it rocked gently even at anchor on a windless day. My own bed, my own room, she thought with drowsy satisfaction. She heard bird songs and the slow drag of wagon wheels on the sandy street below her window. In the distance she heard a trumpet sound at the government building and closer by the movements of her horses in their stalls.

They'd made it to Papeete the previous evening, too late to off load. Isabelle, experiencing a totally uncharacteristic need to be home, borrowed a horse and rode to Matavia by herself.

She opened her eyes slowly and sat up within the gauzy tent of her mosquito netting. It was her birthday and try as she might she could not prevent herself from thinking about it.

"What the hell is there to think about?" she demanded of her hazy, scowling image in the mirror across the room. "I'm a day older than I was yesterday. So is everyone else. I don't look any worse for it."

Tendrils of mahogany hair had escaped her night braid and lay against her sun-touched shoulders. Her light eyes narrowed at her reflection. Maybe it was the embroidered, white, lawn nightdress that made her look suddenly young and vulnerable. William was right, she thought, I do look like our mother. But I'm not like her. I'd never let myself be taken advantage of as she did. I wouldn't scrimp and save so a little girl could have any pastry she fancied in the market on her birthday while her father bought himself fine wines in the company of other women.

Isabelle sighed deeply, "I know Mama, you did the best you could. I remember so little. William must remember more. Maybe if he were here he'd have remembered the day but he's too preoccupied with Alia and their coming baby. I could have gone to there. Maybe I will next year and we can talk about you."

Isabelle had no tangible connect to her childhood, no keepsakes and few memories. In spite of her love of beauty, the liquid smoothness of silk, the weight of gold and the sparkle of gems, she had lived a life almost perpetually on the move. Every time she had accumulated a few lovely things, she would have to leave them behind.

She thought of her dead lover. He had given her presents for her birthdays. When she was convicted of his murder she lost everything. Was it only a year since the trial? So much had changed since then.

She glanced again at the mirror. Marcel would have loved the deceptively innocent beauty it showed. Fat lot of good it does me when the only man I -With physical force she pushed the thought away. Grabbing the netting she wrenched it apart and got out of bed.

From the stable she heard Dante whinny. She smiled. Now there is one male animal who has the sense to appreciate me. She had no time to be laying abed thinking about the date. She needed to see how the livery's business was while she'd been way. She had new horses to look over. She wanted to find a good reliable mount for Claire.

Isabelle pulled the soft feminine nightdress over her head and tossed it at her bed. She put on her boned camisole and did up the eyehooks. Then she reached for a clean shirt. Her hand brushed against a green with red and yellow flowers silk skirt. She shook it out and looked at it critically. It was a bit formal for a simple meal shared with friends but where else was she going to wear it. Besides tonight she wanted to be beautiful if only for herself.

"I might have told Colin it was my birthday. He's a kind man. He might at least have had them sing a round of She's a Jolly Good Fellow. If I'd told Claire she would have done something, bless her heart. Oh, hell, it just too late now," she spoke her thoughts aloud as she unbraided her hair. She was dismayed to find it still so tangled. It was always tangled after a trip on the Rattler, much like her emotions.

Lavinia learned as a child to have sailors pay for their drinks before they started playing cards. She put out her hand and smiled as three of her regulars dutifully dropped coins into it. She turned away from the porch table and noticed David walking towards her along the shore.

She could tell even from that distance he was smiling, the trip had gone well and he was pleased with himself. David moved with barely leashed energy. A smile touched her pretty mouth as she thought of the times that she had unleashed that energy. She sighed and acknowledged the slight ache in her heart.

"You made it back in time," she called by way of greeting.

David raised his big shoulders in a shrug. "I told Colin I'd do my best. How goes the preparation for this affair?"

"Well. Colin has an amazing amount of fine china and silver flatware for a small mission church."

"I'm not surprised. So do all representatives of British civilization," said David with a half secretive look Lavinia recognized. He was thinking of something from his past, something she knew from experience he would not share. He mounted the steps with a long stride and stopped awkwardly beside her.

Lavinia laid her hand on his arm and standing on her toes brushed her lips over his rough cheek. "I'm glad you got back in time. We are all dying of curiosity to know what William's present is."

She walked into the tavern. David followed her. He watched with an appreciate smile how gracefully she moved. Once she was behind the bar she drew him a beer without asking him if he wanted it. "Where is Isabelle?"

"At the stables, I guess. We made Papeete last night, she got a horse and came on here."

"By herself?"

"She had a pistol with her. Believe me anyone who tried to bother her was in more danger than she was with the mood she's in. Thanks." He took a thirsty gulp of the beer. Just what he needed; Lavinia always knew what he needed.

"Didn't the trip go well?"

"Went very well indeed. The hold was never empty. But you know Isabelle and me, we rub each other wrong after too many days together." David turned around and leaned back against the bar. There was a card game at the table he had long considered his and Mauriri's. "Look, about tonight."

"Yes?" Lavinia paused in her work and cocked her head at him.

"Are they coming?"

"Do you mean is Mauriri coming?"

"Well, yes," answered David with asperity. Exactly why is it every woman in my life has to make me work so hard for simple pieces of information?

"They are all coming. The kids are very excited."

"What was that?" asked David turning towards the kitchen. A resounding crash had drawn his and everyone else's attention.

"At a guess," said Lavinia taking a deep breath and blowing it out through her teeth. "I'd say my copper bowl."

"Is that Claire?" asked David with a chuckle, "I didn't know she knew language like that. What's she doing?"

"Baking a cake," said Lavinia with an exasperated glare at the kitchen door. "Well, at this point mixing a cake. I've been barred from the kitchen. She swears she knows what she's doing."

"Really," said David as he walked slowly towards the back of the room. To his credit he didn't laugh when he saw Claire.

She had a streak of chocolate down the sleeve of her lavender cotton dress and a faint dusting of flour covered her from head to toe. She held a large copper bowl in the crook of one arm and a huge balloon whisk in her other hand. The oversized apron she had wrapped around her slender body made her look like a child.

David leaned against the door jam and took another sip of his beer. He was quite sure she was ready to burst into tears. "Can I help?" he asked softly.

"David!" She was so surprised when he spoke she nearly lost hold of the bowl. "You made it back, thank goodness. I was afraid this was all going to be for nothing. Although at the rate I'm going there won't be a cake by tonight." She set the bowl down on the table and picked up a spoon. She dipped it in a second bowl that contained melted chocolate, butter, sugar and eggs mixed together. "Would you like a taste?" Claire asked holding the spoon out to David.

He hesitated. Thus far he had been able to avoid Claire attempts in the kitchen but he had heard a great deal about them from Lavinia.

"Oh, come on, David. You're a man known for his bravery."

"Or foolhardiness," he said with a laugh. He took the spoon and tasted the batter. "That's good."

"Thank you. In a country devoted to tea-time even a bookish girl has to learn to bake at least one sure thing. All one has to do is follow the directions."

"So what's the problem?"

"Egg whites. I can't keep the wretched things moving." Claire picked up the whisk and glared at the bubbly mass in the copper bowl. "They must be beaten stiff or the cake will be flat. When my aunt made sure I learned to read and follow a recipe, she also made sure the cook was there to do the beating. Now I remember why."

"Why?" He was eyeing the bowl of chocolate with great interest.

"Because you have to keep them all moving at once for a long time. I don't have the arm strength," she said with a sigh as she picked up the bowl.

"Mm, well," said David with his most ingratiating smile. "I have a strong right arm."

"And I have a bowl of chocolate I don't need quite all of for the cake." Claire's lovely brown eyes grew bright with appreciation. "Thank you, David. You are an absolute Godsend. Lavinia would never have let me live it down if this cake weren't edible."



"Good gracious heavens! What happen to you?"

In the stable yard, Isabelle dismounted from a tall nervous black horse. She was covered in drying gray mud. "Hello, Claire," she said sourly. "Stand still, you beast." She snapped at the horse as she exchanged his bridle for a halter and attached him to a post.

"Are you all right?" asked the anxious Claire. She and the horse eyed each other with disfavor.

"Yeah. Bloody bird flew practically through his legs. He reared up and I went off. Landed in the only puddle on the road. It took me twenty minutes to catch him. What do you need?"

"Me?" Claire shook her head. "Nothing. I thought it might be fun to dress for dinner together. My cousins and I always thought that was the best part of the party."

"Oh, right, dinner." Isabelle dragged the saddle off the horse and put it on the saddle rack. She rummaged through a wooden box and brought out a currycomb. "Look, Claire. I'd be poor company tonight. No help at all in showing David and Mauriri the joys of friendship. I'm not going to go."

"What?" Claire squeaked. She thought rapidly through her options. She could tell Isabelle straight out the dinner was for her birthday but that would probably ruin not only the surprise the others had work so hard on but William Reed's as well. At least Isabelle would feel honor bound to go. Or she could accept that Isabelle was entitled to celebrate or not celebrate her birthday, as she wanted. Perhaps, thought Claire she was sorry to realize for the first time, there was some personal reason Isabelle preferred not to pay attention to her birthday.

"You haven't had a very good day, have you?" said Claire sympathetically.

"Not very," agreed Isabelle vigorously working on the horse's steaming hide. Although, except for the fall nothing too terrible had happened to her, she hadn't been able to shake the feeling of vulnerability that had followed her throughout the day. She supposed it was because of the date. Normally, when she and David had had a successful trip she felt elated. But this time everything, like the liberty he'd granted the men and himself in Port Arthur, had left her feeling out of step with him.

"Why don't you finish with him and then bring your things over to Lavinia's. She has this wonderful tub in her room. You can have a nice bath and I'll comb your hair out. When you are all clean and tidy if you still don't want to go, I'll make your excuses to Colin."

Isabelle stopped and turned towards her. It wasn't Claire's fault she had been short-tempered and edgy all day. She sighed. "A bath does sounds inviting. Okay, I'll be there in a little while." She paused and looked Claire over head to foot with a puzzled frown. "What have you been into? You're covered with white dust."

"Really?" replied Claire innocently, "I can't imagine."


Colin's house had three bedrooms of roughly the same size set side by side and a long gallery running the length of them that he used as a kitchen and sitting room. Mauriri had fashioned the temporary table from wide planks and sawhorses. After some thought Colin and Lavinia had decide to put the table in the back garden where there would be more space. Over it Lavinia had spread her godmother's French damask cloth and they set it with china, silver and glassware.

Carrying a stack of bright, white, linen napkins, Lavinia paused in the kitchen to look over Colin's shoulder. He was dicing a tomato. Beside him on the well-worn table was a bowl of cubed yellowfin tuna "cooking" in lime juice.

"Oh, Poisson Cur, my favorite," she said happily noting the diced cucumber and onion that with the addition of coconut milk would finish the traditional dish. "Is English cooking really so different than ours?"

Colin picked up a piece of tomato and offered it to her. Her hands full, she let him plop it in her mouth. "Yes, the climate there makes fresh food a treat limited almost entirely to the summer growing season. Where I'm from it's mostly potatoes, mutton and beef. Along the coast they have fish, of course."

Lavinia went into the yard. She placed a napkin under each fork. "You'll sit at the head," said Lavinia gesturing towards the table. "Should we put Isabelle at the foot?"

"No," answered Colin from the kitchen. He was skillfully poking the eyes out of a ripe coconut to let the milk drain. "We don't want her to know she's the guest of honor right away. You sit at the foot, Mauriri on your right, Lianni on my left with the children between."

"Jack across from Mauriri, Isabelle, David, Claire on your right. That way David and Mauriri won't be glaring right across the table at each other," said Lavinia, as she put a shorter glass beside Tevaki's place. "Do you need help with anything in there?"

"No. All under control." He stirred the tuna carefully. He looked around the kitchen, mentally checking his menu. "Do you think I should put the coconut bread in the oven yet?"

"If you going to bake it out here, yes. It will take nearly as long as the chicken," she answered, glancing towards the fire pit in which hot coals were already smoldering. Colin had a conventional stove in the kitchen but he preferred to cook in the traditional Tahitian manner of an earth oven. Three chickens wrapped in ti leaves already set in the oven.

"I don't know how it will taste but Claire's cake certainly looks good."

"Did you put it out of sight?"

"Yes, in the pie safe with a tea towel in front of it. And the crate is in the back bedroom. Mauriri will bring it out just as we finish eating." Colin came out of the house and stood on the narrow back porch looking out at the yard. The church was to one side. The jungle was at the back. Along the edges they'd lit torches, their flames danced in the shadows casting a warm glow over the table. He watched Lavinia arrange jasmine and ginger blossoms in a shallow jade bowl. She wore a scarlet silk sarong tied over her breasts leaving her dark shoulders bare. A single large pearl hung at her throat. A ribbon, the color of her sarong, was braided into her black hair. She put the flowers on the table and looked up at him with a wide, pleased smile. Her black eyes glowed with anticipation.

"There, we're as ready as we can be. What do you think?" she asked.

"Too beautiful for words," he answered softly.



Isabelle sat on a chair in Claire's room clothed in a silk wrapper. Claire stood behind her, similarly attired, working her fingers through Isabelle's thick damp hair. She marveled at the golds and reds the sun had brought out in it thanks to her time on the open sea.

"That smells like coconut oil," said Isabelle sleepily. She had surrendered herself to the hot fragrant water of the bath and was now luxuriating in the feel of Claire's nimble fingers against her scalp.

"It is, mixed with something. Lavinia says all the native women use something like it on their hair. She gave it to me when I was complaining of how dry mine had gotten. It is really quite wonderful."

"Will it get rid of the snarls?"

"It does help ease them."

"Do you have anything for- -" Isabelle broke off thinking of her tangled thoughts that morning. She had to rid herself of this feeling that she was going to jump out of her skin. Skipping dinner or snapping at Claire wasn't going to make it a different day. She needed to concentrate on what was important. They were making money. She hadn't broken a bone when she came off the horse. Maybe this dinner would turn the tide where Mauriri and David were concerned. That it was her birthday was a little importance.

"What?" Claire picked up a comb. She had seen a hairstyle in a magazine from home that she was sure would look wonderful on Isabelle.

"Nothing." She was determined to cheer up if only for Claire's sake. Claire seemed almost nervous about the coming dinner.

"I saw David this afternoon," said Claire as she carefully twisted Isabelle's wavy hair. "He said you'd had a very successful trip."

"Yeah, David certainly did."

"What's wrong? Aren't you getting along?"

"Me and David? Oh, me and David are mates."

"Isabelle?"

"It's nothing, Claire." Isabelle heard the concern in her friend's voice. She tried hard to sound satisfied with her working relationship with her partner. "We're fine. Honestly, we work together well. He doesn't like all the negotiating and I do. I don't know enough to captain the boat and he does. We make better partners than I thought we would."

"Business partners?" Claire supposed it wasn't very kind of her to tease Isabelle about David but it was interesting. If she was going to have no romantic life of her own at least she could enjoy her friends...

"Yeah, business partners and that's all. Don't start seeing romance where there isn't any."

"None. Are you sure?"

"All too." Isabelle heard the sigh that slipped into her voice in spite of her best effort to keep it out. "I suppose once you've seen a woman beat a man bloody with her bare hands it is hard to see her romantically."

"But- -"

"I'm serious, Claire. David, who is not known for resisting temptation, has no difficulty resisting me even if I throw myself at him."

"You've thrown yourself at him? I mean more than just the occasional flirtatious remark," said Claire curiously.

"Not lately," answered Isabelle. She grimaced as the memory of the morning after David was shot in the shoulder crossed her mind. In a different mood she'd have told Claire about wrapping her naked body around a fevered David to see if that fit her definition of more than a flirtatious remark. Isabelle loved to shock Claire. She thought it was good for her inexperienced friend. But today it didn't seem funny that David had showed such self-control. "It's better this way. I like making money. I can make a lot being partners with David until he and Mauriri patch things up. Besides I thought you wanted Lavinia and David together."

"I want," Claire pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I want everyone to have a chance at being happy. But given my lack of success in my own life where romance is concerned, I don't think I could be much help to anyone."

"I saw Lavinia walk out of here this evening in that red sarong. I'd say she doesn't need any help. If she crooks her little finger David will come running."

Claire secured Isabelle's hair in to a neat knot at the crown of her head and carefully brushed it in long curls down her back. She thought of what Lavinia had said about David. "Do you think he would marry her now?" She felt Isabelle suddenly stiffen.

"I don't know. I doubt if he wants to but he would sure like to be back in her bed." Isabelle's voice was rough with suppressed emotion.

Claire could not think of a suitable response to that remark. Although her friends found her pathetically innocent in such matters she was quite sure most men would like to find themselves in Lavinia's bed. She handed Isabelle a mirror. "What do you think?"

"Is that my hair? You've tamed it."

Claire frowned. She'd been very pleased with her work. Isabelle's hair curled naturally making the style possible without resort of to a curling iron. "You don't like it. I'll take it down."

"No." Isabelle twisted the mirror trying to get a better look at the loose cascade of curls down her back. "It's very elegant. I think it will suit my dress. You sit down I'll do yours."

Isabelle pulled the silver-backed brush through Claire long straight hair. "You know, I've wondered what it was Jack wrote that made you decide to come all this way."

"He wrote. . ." Claire hesitated. She didn't enjoy being told how witless she'd been to believe in the words of a man she'd met through an advertisement in a magazine. But Isabelle, who normally poked holes in anything vaguely sentimental, was in a very somber mood. "He wrote words, nearly poetry. He wrote describing sunsets and the colors of the sea. He wrote about little children gathering flowers and tattooed old men, the silence of the night, loneliness. Beautiful words. He also spoke of a lovely six-room house with a garden that over looked the sea. Of course it never existed, neither did the three-mast schooner."

"Did it ever occur to you that he wasn't lying? He was just being hopeful about the future. People do that, tell stories about what they wish were true. After all, you were thousands of miles away."

Isabelle's voice was more wistful than Claire ever remembered hearing it. She sat quietly for a moment. The brush continued its even swoosh through her hair. She sensed a sadness, maybe a sort of loneliness in her friend that she had never been aware of before. Please, God, let this dinner be the right thing to have done.

When Claire spoke it was without any trace of bitterness. "Jack has no memory of inviting me to Tahiti. He was stunned when I appeared at his creaking door. He admits that he was always drunk when he wrote to me. Between his drinking and my imagination we created a man who I still think of as Jameson, a man Cannibal Jack could never be."

"Probably wouldn't want to be," said Isabelle in her normal manner.

"I'm sure you're right. But I enjoyed my literary romance even if it was mostly in my head, and it got me here for which I will always be glad," said Claire with a smile. "Do you realized that nearly half the men in my family are reporters or editors for all sorts of newspapers and periodicals but not one of them is a managing editor. Being here has given me opportunities I would never of dreamt of at home."

Isabelle, having finished Claire's hair, sat on the bed and started to pull a silk stocking over her slender foot. "What was he like?"

"Who?" asked Claire, looking up from her small jewelry box.

"Jameson, the man you fell in love with in your head. What sort of man did you make him?"

A slight frown creased Claire's forehead. "Well, I made him handsome, of course, well-spoken, well-manner. I believed that he would care about me more than anyone else in the world. He was a perfect gentleman, through and through."

"Roger was a gentleman," said Isabelle, smoothing the second stocking over her shapely leg.

"Roger?"

"Oh, you remember Roger, the British Consul. He had beautiful manners and was exceptionally well spoken. Of course, he was using his position to get rich running opium. And I can't quite see him trekking up a mountain side to pull you out of a rushing stream."

As Isabelle intended, Claire thought of Jack reaching out to pull her to safety after their misadventure in the mining camp a few weeks before. "Are you trying to match make?" asked Claire suspiciously. "You know he will be at Colin's this evening."

"Who?" asked Isabelle, her gray-green eyes wide with false innocence.

"Jack."

"Good, I like Jack," said Isabelle reaching for her white silk shirtwaist. "Come and do this up for me, please."

Claire hooked the silk loops over the tiny pearl buttons down the back of Isabelle shirtwaist. "It's your turn now, tell what kind of man you dream of."

"Rich and old, ready to turn the over the reins of his vast empire to me," answered her friend glibly with a toss of her glossy dark hair.

"Oh, you're not getting away with that this time. Seriously, what is it you want in a man?"

Isabelle stood in front of the mirror and smooth the edges of the neckline that left her shoulders bare. "At bottom, the same thing you want. A decent man, kind, loyal. The sort of man who running for his life would think to look back and snatch me from under the hooves of a big black horse." Her impish smile flashed as she said, "It doesn't hurt that he is delicious to look at."

She knew Isabelle was describing David. What took Claire a little by surprise was that she was making no effort to pretend she wasn't talking about her business partner. Claire wished with all her quixotic heart that she knew what to say.

But it was Isabelle who spoke again softly. "I know you must think that I've no notion of romance. Certainly I don't want what most women do. I've seen a lot of women suffer trying to make the men in their lives conform to their dreams. I'm not going to do that. Whatever comes my way, I can take care of myself. It is a good thing to know." Her light eyes looked into Claire's with utter sincerity. "That's what I hope for you, Claire, that you learn how much stronger and braver you are than you thought. But--" she hesitated, looking out the window towards the sea. "If it is a weakness to want to believe that there is someone you can lean on when you get tired and scared then it is a weakness I owed up to. But it's one I think I share with most people."

Claire watched as Isabelle crossed the room and picked up her skirt of rich deep green silk with the scattering of yellow and red flowers embroidered over it.


"I know its not always smart to believe in a man, even a man you feel is good at heart. But sometimes it is nice to think you can," said Isabelle with a small sad smile. She turned to look at Claire. "Oh, no, I've made you cry."

Claire waved her hand in the air weakly. "I'm being so silly. It just you are very dear to me. Your friendship has been such a gift. I want you to be happy."

"I am happy," declared Isabelle stoutly. "I'm not going to expire like some heroine in a bad novel because David Grief doesn't have sense enough to know I'm the woman of his dreams. Just like you, Tahiti has given me opportunities I had hardly let myself think of and we're not going to waste them. Now enough of this soul-searching. Let's get dress and go eat Colin's excellent food and drink too much of Lavinia's best wines."

They were quiet for few minutes. Isabelle didn't normally share her feelings with anyone so openly. She was a little embarrassed and at the same time she was heartened that Claire did care so much for her. She was about to step into her skirt when Isabelle said, "What's that dress?"

Claire, standing at the cloth press, pulled out the blue dress she intended to wear. "This?"

"No, the ivory one. Isn't that the dress you wore to dinner with the governor?"

"Yes, but it is a little formal for this evening."

"So's this," said Isabelle gesturing towards her green silk skirt. "Come on, wear it. It's beautiful. We may as well give Lavinia a run for her money."

Claire looked at Isabelle who having hooked her skirt around her waist stood waiting to help Claire dress. Very different from the dark, petite and elegant Lavinia, Claire had always thought of Isabelle as having a sort of wild gypsy beauty. But this evening her wildness had been fashioned into something breathtaking. The wide rich green skirt and the soft white bodice accented her womanly figure. Her hair pulled high and away from her face emphasized her dark lashed gray-green eyes.

"What's wrong? Do I look that bad?"

"You look wonderful. I'm just jealous." Claire glanced at the ivory dress. It won't make that sort of transformation but I may as well get some use out of it...

Having looped Claire's honey gold hair into a loose knot at the nap of her neck and buttoned her into the dress, Isabelle stepped back and admired her handiwork. She realized then the reason for Claire's hesitation about wearing the dress. It was of ivory watered silk, beautifully close fitting and plain. It had no seed pearls or lace, none of usual embellishments of wedding dresses but if you had traveled all the way from England in hopes of meeting the man of your dreams it would have served the purpose admirably.


David walked slowly along the street that led to Colin's house. From his deep trouser pocket he took a small silk bag. He fingered its softness thoughtfully. It was perfect, he was sure of that. But would she like it? He wanted her to like it.

He looked at the well-lit house with a faint sense of dread. He couldn't remember a time he had been so reluctant to go to a party. It was just a meal shared with his friends. After everything that had happen in the past few months he realized he should be thankful he was even invited to dinner. It wasn't like Mauriri was going to throw a punch at him. Suddenly, David wished that that was exactly what Mauriri would do. At least if they fought, really fought, there would be a chance to relieve the tension between them.

His attention was drawn by a noise behind him. David cocked his head and watched the man he'd known as Cannibal Jack for the past five years walk hesitantly towards him. He was scrubbed within an inch of his life and David would bet his next cargo every stitch of clothing he had on was brand new.

"You look like you're facing the gallows not a party, Jack."

"Aye, I feel it. Don't remember the last party I went to, at least not in someone's home. Not sure I've ever been to a party in a vicarage." Jack narrowed his eyes and took a closer look at David. "Not that you look all that much more eager yourself."

"No. I was about to suggest we go get a drink." David raised his hands as if to ward off a blow. "I know, I owe Isabelle this, you don't have to tell me, everyone else has."

"Last thing on my mind. I was just thinking, the both of us showing up so shiny and clean, we'd make a fair killing at the card table before the fellows got their wits back from the shock."

A sly grin appeared on David's freshly shaven face as he said, "Now there is a good thought. Ah, mine host. Good evening, Colin."

"David, Jack, so good of you to come." Colin stepped from the porch and approached them with his hand extended to Jack. Jack accepted his hand and gave it a firm shake.

"Good of you to have me, Reverend."

"Jack and I were just saying - -" David paused and looked at Jack who was staring down the road towards the main part of town. "What's wrong with you, you've gone pale?"

Jack didn't answer at first, then very softy he said, "Do you happen to recall the line of Shakespeare about the jewel in the night, Reverend?"

The other two followed his gaze and saw Claire and Isabelle walking arm in arm. In the moonlight the silk of their skirts glowed faintly and whispered on the air. Their laughter floated towards the men.

"From Romeo and Juliet?" asked Colin quietly. "Yes, a most appropriate thought. "It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night /Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear; / Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!"

David felt his breath catch in his throat. Could that elegant, beautiful woman possibly be the same scrappy firebrand that helped save his ship from pirates?


The evening had started well enough. In the kitchen the men had stopped to get something stronger than wine to drink. Isabelle and Claire had continued into the back garden where little Tahnee shyly offered them the fragrant tiare flowers she had collected. When David came out of the house Tevaki threw himself in his arms and talking very quickly asked a hundred questions about the Rattler. The women moved on to where Lianni, Lavinia and Mauriri stood by the fire pit. The air was filled with the scent of night blooming flowers and the mingled aromas of baking bread and chicken. Mauriri greeted them with compliments that brought a rosy flush to Claire's cheeks.

David sat on the edge of the porch with Tevaki on his knee. With a gentle smile he asked Tahnee how she liked going to school. The little girl's dark eyes moved anxiously between her father and David. Mauriri stood with his arms crossed and his mouth set in a firm line. He nodded at David who nodded back. Tahnee went to her mother and pressed her face into her skirts.

Colin, coming from the house with Jack at that moment, saw the look of sadness that crossed David's face. He had carried Tahnee on his board shoulders since she was a baby. He had built sandcastles for her and told her tales he remembered from his own childhood, stories full of wolves and snow and other unbelievable things. But she was a typical six-year-old girl who idolized her father. She didn't need to be told there was disagreement between the two men.

From that moment David had been almost silent and his silence affected everyone else. Colin stifled a frustrated groan and looked at each of his guests. Lianni and Claire both immediately murmured something about how good the food was. Both children were looking from person to person with worried expressions. Isabelle sat with her fork in her hand, staring off into the night. David, his plate nearly untouched, poured himself another glass of wine. Mauriri was eating as if he were starving. Lavinia at the opposite end of the table looked up at him with dark eyes he was afraid were full of tears. Colin tried desperately to think of something innocuous to say. Something that would not fall into the pool of silence like a rock.

"Mauriri, do you remember old Keenau on Tubuai, the pearl diver?" asked Jack suddenly.

Mauriri nodded. "He isn't still diving, is he? He was old when I was a boy."

"The pearl he sold Captain Lodge didn't just fall into his hands," answered Jack who went on to describe a beautiful pink pearl. Isabelle always curious about other traders business started to ask Jack about Lodge's last trip. That led to a discussion of Lodge's boat the Mahahni which had been refitted after being wrecked and stripped by salvagers. Which in turn led to Mauriri asking Isabelle about the Rattler. At the other end of the table Claire and Lianni started to talk about the little school. Shyly Tahnee answered Claire's questions about her school days. Tevaki began to eat. David remained quiet but when Colin's eyes sought Lavinia's again she smiled and Colin felt considerably cheered.

Lianni observed the exchange of glances between Colin and Lavinia. It seemed that they were sharing thoughts and worries. They had long been good friends although when she recalled Lavinia's aggressive questions when they first met she had not expected them to be so. But Colin had proved a different sort of churchman from those they had dealt with in the past. He embraced the culture of the islands, indeed he did his best to teach Christian values by showing how they were already present in their own teachings. Not that he ever forgot the importance of the Lord Christ and salvation. Lianni's family had been Christian for several generations; she and Mauriri had taken to Colin immediately. But it was most curious that he would be such a very good friend of Lavinia's. Lavinia's time with the nuns had been a running battle. She made no secret of the fact that she believed just as strongly in the old gods as she did in Christian salvation.

Lianni looked at her old friend at the other end of the long table. How beautiful Lavinia was tonight. She'd stuck a shiny white gardenia over her left ear. How much the hostess of this gathering, thought Lianni.

Mauriri was still talking to Isabelle about the Rattler. Lianni could not help thinking, If you are so interested in the boat, my love, for goodness sakes make it up with David and go back to sea.

Claire asked her a question and Lianni's attention was drawn to those across the table. She knew Claire a little from the church. At first she had seemed like so many other young European women. Uncertain and out of place, they normally clung together in small groups of colonials trying to recreate the life they'd lived at home. But Claire had ventured out of the safety of such a group, seeking opportunities that Mauriri said would never have been available to such a girl in England. Tonight there was nervousness about her Lianni had not been aware of before. That's right, this party was her idea. That it is so quiet must distress her.

Beside Claire sat David, eating little and saying less. Lianni's could not reproach her daughter for snubbing him. Poor child, she adored David but no one could test her loyalty to her father. Mauriri kept saying that David hadn't changed but in all the time she'd known him David had always been the life of a party. It was little things that he did, compliments he gave, stories he told, that was what was missing.

Jack McGonnigal was trying his best to keep some sort of conversation going, bless his heart. Lianni didn't know Jack. She'd heard of him, of course, but her life was lived in the native village and around the church. What she knew of the waterfront she learned from Mauriri and David's stories. Which was how she knew Isabelle Reed even though she had met her a number of times. When she'd first come to Matavai, Mauriri didn't trust her. The stories he told at first were of a woman without virtues. Perhaps because her steady hand had saved his life, his attitude towards her changed.

Isabelle suddenly turned her strange light eyes in Lianni's direction. Lianni, embarrassed that she had been so obvious in her curiosity about the woman, flashed her a warm smile and glanced towards David.

Isabelle was more aware of the silent David beside her than she would have been if he'd been shouting in her ear. She knew Mauriri's wife was trying to get her to draw him into the conversation but David had answered every question with a single word.

She'd told Claire they would eat delicious food and drink too much wine and that was what she intended to do. Isabelle stabbed a piece of chicken. What is wrong with me? After how sweet Claire was I should be able to shake this feeling of loneliness. I could tell them it's my birthday, she thought, why can't I just tell them? She knew the answer, they would be kind and wish her well but it would only be kindness. This evening wasn't about her; all this effort was for David and Mauriri. She took a sip of wine and glanced at David. There had to be something she could say that would force him to talk. Lavinia and Colin had gone to so much trouble, there had to be someway of jolting David out of his stupor of self-pity, or guilt or what ever the hell it was.

"Oh, by the way, Isabelle, I took delivery on some mail for you. Here you are," said Lavinia, handing Isabelle a folded sheet of writing paper.

Her voice had taken Isabelle by surprise. She realized the others were watching her expectantly and discomfort washed over her. Isabelle frowned and held the paper to the candlelight. Her name was written across it in a board firm hand. She smiled suddenly. William didn't forget. Affection for her elder brother flooded through her. She unfolded the paper and read:


My dearest Sister,

I wish I could be with you today. Next year, perhaps our family can be together for such happy occasions. I wanted you to have a surprise. I wanted you to know that through all the long years of our separation I remembered the beautiful clever child you were. And each year on your birthday, I thought of you, I tried to imagine how you would have grown. You are even more beautiful, even more clever and more dear than my loving imagination could conjure. I have so many memories of you as a child, how fearless you were, how affectionate. More than anything I would remember your childish voice raised in song, oh, how those memories cheered me through long hellish nights. And so, my little love, I give a gift of music to share with your friends and cheer your time alone.

Come to us soon. We are thinking of you on this blessed day. Happy Birthday, your devoted brother, William.


"Don't cry, lady," said Tevaki. He'd come around the table and was standing beside her. He peered up into her face saying, "Papa has a big box all for you. It is such a big box I want it as a house."

A wave of laughter passed around the table and Isabelle found that indeed Mauriri had just set down a very large wooden crate next to his son. He produced a crowbar and asked if he should open it. Isabelle nodded.

"What on earth is it?" asked Lavinia as Isabelle pulled a bright pink steel object from the box.

"It a trumpet flower, the biggest one I've ever seen," said Tahnee, her eyes wide with wonder.

"It's a phonograph!" exclaimed Claire. She left her chair and started to help Isabelle search through the packing material. "Are there discs? He must have sent discs. Look, here is a box of needles."

"What is it?" asked Lianni, frowning at the oddly shaped apparatus. "What does it do?"

Colin turned to her saying, "It's a machine that plays recorded music."

"Like a music box?" asked Lavinia.

"Not exactly, I don't know how to explain it. Perhaps Isabelle will allow us a demonstration."

Looking at Claire's joyous face as she searched through the packing material, Isabelle laughed. "I don't think Claire is going to give me a choice about that."

It took several minutes but soon the contraption was assembled on the table. The base was a wooden box; on it was a lazy-Susan; the huge pink horn attached to the base. There was a crank and a moveable arm into which fitted a steel needle. Beside it was the carefully wrapped stack of shellac discs Claire had found in the packing box.

Mauriri was cautiously spinning the lazy-Susan. Jack had the instruction booklet. He was reading it by the light of a torch. He looked at Isabelle and said, "It seems simple enough. Should we try it?"

"Yes, of course," she answered eagerly.

"Play this one," said Claire reverently removing a disc from it paper sleeve. "It's a march."

Jack fitted a needle into the arm. He took the disc and laid it carefully on the turntable. He turned the crank and set the needle down on the disc. Everyone watched him with rapt attention.

John Phillips Sousa's Stars and Strips Forever exploded out of the horn. Both children climbed their father and hung on to his arms like startled monkeys in a tree. Their dark eyes were full of a mixture of fear, curiosity and joy. Lavinia and Lianni who had had no idea what to expect looked much the same. The music played for a little more than a minute.

"Here, play this one. It's a polka. Colin, will you dance with me, please?"

"I'm sorry, Claire, I have two left feet."

"Jack?"

Startled, Jack looked up at her with uncertainty. "I think I better stay with the machine. It says you have to change the needle every time you play it."

"Oh, yes, I remember that." Claire paused and looked down at Isabelle. "I'm sorry, I seem to be pushing myself in. Maybe you would prefer to hear something else."

"No," said Isabelle shaking her head. She was watching Claire and Jack with amusement sparkling in her eyes. "I do want to see you polka."

Jack avoided the eyes of both women. With deep concentration he inserted a new needle into the stylus. Claire pursed her lips with disappointment.

"I'll dance with you, Claire." David had been sitting at the other end of the table watching the proceedings in silence. Now he stood and walked over to Claire. He led her to a cleared area of the yard. Claire gathered up her ivory silk skirt in one hand and stepped into David's arms. He nodded at Jack, who set the needle on the disc. It was a spirited dance, full of hops and skips and turns. When it was finished Taveki declared he wanted a turn. Claire put her hands out to him and picked him up to whirl through the dance while Lavinia came to partner with David. He looked surprised when she took his arm but his face relaxed into a pleased smile. When the music stopped, Tahnee with a little urging from her mother asked if Uncle David would dance with her. He took her up into his arms and spun round and round. His deep throated laugh mixing with her giggle.

David's laugh, thought Isabelle. How long had it been since she'd heard David laugh like that? There was something so joyful and complete about David when he really laughed. It was one of the things she liked best about him, that humorous slant he took on life. Anything was possible for a man who could give himself over to the sheer pleasure of dancing with a child of whom he was fond. Seeing him so happy, even if only for a moment, was the best present Isabelle could imagine. She looked at his old partner and saw an odd mixture of emotions on his face. Come on, Mauriri, you know you miss him. Give him a chance to make it up.

Lianni smiled fondly at her children swirling in the arms of their friends. She was so glad Tahnee was willing to dance with David, not just for David's sake. The children needed to know that in spite of the quarrel between the adults, their uncle still loved them. No matter what happened between the two me, Lianni was determined to always think of David as a member of their family. Her dark eyes shifted back to her husband.

Mauriri stood just out of the light watching David and Tahnee. His arms were crossed over his chest and his head was high. He looked just like the proud, powerful, old chiefs from whom he was descended but there was sadness in his dark eyes.

Lianni walked over to her husband and slid her arm around his waist. She felt some of the tension leave his body as he dropped an arm around her shoulders.

"I'm going to have to build a fence around the house to keep the boys away in a few years," he said, looking at his daughter's happy face.

"A fence wouldn't have stopped you," she whispered as she rested her head against his chest.

"Isabelle, are you ready for more surprises?" asked Colin when the music stopped.

"What?" Then suddenly she realized that the evening was for her. Her light eyes traveled around the group of smiling faces and settled on Lavinia's. "You knew. William told you. It's-"

"It's your birthday," cried Claire from the porch step. She was holding a cake, covered with white frosting and blazing with candles. They all sang For She's a Jolly Good Fellow. Isabelle for the second time that night felt her eyes fill with happy tears. She blew out the candles.

Little Tevaki had declared himself the master of ceremonies. He insisted Isabelle open her presents now. From Mauriri's family there was a beautiful set of hair combs inlaid with abalone. From Jack a small volume of Shakespeare's sonnets. While she was thanking Colin for a copy of Robert Louis Stevenson's IN THE SOUTH SEAS, Tahnee said, "What did you give the lady, Uncle David?"

"I'll give her my present later," said David with a wink. He was looking through the stack of musical discs. He wished he'd have put the little bag with the other gifts earlier. To pull it out now would make it too important.

Isabelle chuckled, "Do you hear that, Lavinia? The next time he has five franc in his pocket he owes me a glass of the good stuff." Then she opened a heavy awkward package from Lavinia and Claire that turned out to be a bolt of deep red shantung silk.

"We thought you would want to choose your own pattern," said Lavinia handing Isabelle a small plate of cake. Talk became general, centering mostly on music. Mauriri who had seen opera in Europe as a student told them it was boring compared to the great performances of the island singers. Colin agreed with him and went on at some length about a competition he'd witnessed between the tribes of two islands in the Gilberts. Tevaki was curled up in his mother's arms asleep and Tahnee was sitting beside Isabelle looking for words she could read in the book of sonnets. Lavinia made a formal show of saying how delicious the cake was which brought a round of applause for Claire.

"Jack, do you know the words to this?" David asked quietly. He angled one of the disc towards the candlelight.

"Aye."

A sly smile curved David's lips. "Would you sing it? I can't remember the verse exactly."

"If you like." Jack took the disc and positioned it on the player.

Claire, sitting beside Jack, leaned against his shoulder as she tried to see the title of the song David wanted played. "What is it?"

Acutely aware of her closeness, Jack answered her. "The Black Velvet Band. Do you know it?" When she shook her head, he said, "He's chosen it for a reason."

Claire watched David walk over to Isabelle. His stance suggested the formal bow of a gentleman politely waiting for a lady to acknowledge his presence. There are a few cotillions in your past, David Grief, for all your pretense of a life spent at sea, thought Claire, suddenly aware of how little she knew of David's background. "It won't hurt her feelings, will it?" Claire asked Jack.

"No, she's a fine sense of humor. He means it kindly."

Isabelle ate her last bite of cake and turned to look up at the tall handsome man beside her suspiciously. "Yes?"

"Will you waltz with me?"

The request took her aback. He was so formal; he was using such perfect manners they might have been at a ball. David had never treated her with such thoughtful courtesy. She felt oddly nervous. Isabelle hesitated for a moment then accepted his proffered hand and stood gracefully. She curtsied, he bowed and took her into his arms.

"I'm sure this song was written about you."

"Ah, my present," she said, noting the mischievous glint in his greenish brown eyes. Impossible man, does he really think a dance with him is present enough? Oh, maybe it is, she thought as David pulled her slightly closer as the first strains of music played. Isabelle could feel the warmth of his hand through the thin silk of her dress. She placed her own hand on his shoulder. It felt so right, she knew she could easily follow his lead through the graceful steps of the dance.

Like many sailors Jack was an accomplished singer. He had a rich baritone voice that surprised Claire. She turned away from the romantic sight of her waltzing friends to look at him. She caught him staring at her while he sang. He looked away but not before she saw such frank admiration in his eyes that she felt her cheeks grow warm.

The song was an old Irish tune from the days when many a young man had been transported for minor offensives out of Ireland to Australia.


As I was strolling one evening, not meaning to go very far,
I spied the pretty young damsel, parading her wares in the bar.
A watch she took from a customer and slipped it right into my hand.
And the law came and put me in prison, bad luck to her black velvet band.


The others stopped talking. The lyrics brought smiles to their faces. His hand on her slender waist, David led Isabelle expertly through the steps of the waltz. They whirled and slid in time with the music, her wide silk skirt shimmering in the flickering light. David's voice joined Jack in the chorus.


Her eyes they shone like the diamonds,
You'd think she was queen of the land.
And her hair hung over her shoulder,
Tied up with a black velvet band.
Now come all you jolly young fellows, and a warning you take from me,
And whenever you go out for liquor, lads beware of the pretty colleen.
She'll fill you with whisky and porter, Until you're unable to stand.
And the very next thing that you know me lads,
You've landed in Van Diemen's Land.


Isabelle held her head back and looked up into David's face. The change in it startled her. David's dark eyes were bright but it wasn't with mischief. Was it really desire she saw burning in their depths? He tilted his head as if he would kiss her. But he only drew her closer and said softly against her hair. "Happy Birthday, partner." Then he joined in singing the chorus again. Isabelle pressed herself against him and felt the warmth of his breath on her bare shoulders. She closed her eyes and lost herself for a prefect moment in the sound of his voice and the strength of his embrace.


David watched the Lepaus saying their good-byes to Lavinia at the garden gate. Her dark hair fanned over his shoulder, Mauriri held the sleeping Tahnee. Tevaki was in his mother's arms. A few months ago David would have automatically carried the little boy home for her. Now he didn't offer, now she didn't ask.

As they walked away, David approached Lavinia, who stood looking after them. "I'm going to carry the phonograph back to the stables for Isabelle. Do you want to come with us now or shall I come back for you?"

"What?" Lavinia looked up at him with a smile on her dark beautiful face. She'd been thinking about Mauriri's family, how connected, how much a single unit they were. "Oh, don't bother. I can't leave Colin with all this to clean up. I'm sure he'll walk me back."

She is so beautiful, so familiar, thought David as he said with more force than he intended. "I don't mind."

"I know. But it will take us a while."

"I could help."

"Wash dishes?" Lavinia's charming, tinkling laugh sounded. "I think Colin would prefer to have a complete set. But thank you for the offer." She stood on her toes and kissed the corner of his mouth. For a moment her resolve wavered but only for a moment. She smiled at him fondly as she said, "If you want to do me a favor, see that Claire gets home."

"I think Jack will take care of that."

"You're probably right." She could see Claire, giggling and talking, piling Isabelle's presents into Jack's arms. He looked like a man under a spell. "It is good to see her so excited, so happy. The party was her idea, you know, she was worried it wouldn't work out when Isabelle was in such a foul mood this afternoon."

"Even Isabelle looks happy now," said David nodding towards his beautiful partner. The waltz had been an inspiration of the moment when he saw the ballad title on the phonographic disc. It surprised him that there had been no hesitation or uncertainty in their dance. It was as if they had waltzed together all their lives.


Mauriri turned back towards the house when he heard Lavinia's laugh. He saw her standing with David and an angry groan escaped his lips.

"What's wrong?" asked his wife. She shifted their son in her arms.

"You know Lavinia is going to take him back. David will crawl right back into her bed just as if he never broke her heart. He hasn't learned any thing. He'll do it again, betray her trust, disappoint her." Mauriri lowered his voice as his daughter stirred uneasily in his arms.

Lianni thought of what she'd observed during the evening and said softly, "What I know is that Lavinia will do what she wants and what she wants only she can know. As for David, I think, he has learned a great deal and the cost has been high."

"He couldn't be bothered to get Isabelle a present. He owes her his business, maybe his life but he treats her with less respect than he treats the crew. You women always make excuses for him. David smiles, he dances with you, he laughs and you all forgive him anything."

Lianni looked up at her husband's stern profile. There was much she might say. She could tell him that the ease of Lavinia's laugh led her to quite a different conclusion where she and David were concerned. She could say that anything between David and Isabelle, even a birthday gift, would be more complicated than it appeared to the outside. She could point out to him that he had put a tremendous amount of effort into not talking to David this evening. But she chose to say none of these. Mauriri was a good man. He would work out what he needed to do. Besides she had had a wonderful time and she wasn't ready for it to end in a useless argument about "you women".

When they got to the house, they put the children in bed. Lianni walked back out on the porch and looked out to sea. It was a stunningly clear night. She raised her slender arms above her head and smiled. She was fully aware of Mauriri watching from the doorway.

"I feel like a swim," she said, stepping off the porch and running towards the shoreline.

"Now?" he asked. He kicked off his shoes and followed her. The sand was warm against his bare feet. Lianni waited for him by the water's edge. She put her hands against his chest, her fingers playing with the buttons of his shirt.

"Western clothes look very nice on a man but they have a tremendous disadvantage," she said deftly opening his shirt.

"What's that?" he asked as he skillfully loosened the knot of her sarong. He held the edges apart and admired the soft, smooth, roundness of his naked wife.

"They take so long to take off." She kissed him quickly on the mouth and then ducking under his arm ran into the sea. Mauriri struggled with his trousers and watched her dive into the rollers, sparkly green with phosphorus light.

With long sure strokes he swam out to her and caught her by her slender ankle. Pulling her back to him, he rolled them over until she lay on top of him. The small waves rocked them gently as her hungry mouth sought his. They were island children; the water was their home.


"So, are you pleased with how the evening turned out?" asked Lavinia as she carefully washed the royal blue and white bone china in a tub of warm soapy water.

Colin, who stood next to her drying a plate, wanted to tell her what pleased him most was that she had chosen to stay and share this homey task with him. He had seen her talking with David and had been quite sure she would leave with him. It didn't mean, Colin told himself sternly, that she wouldn't be seeing David later. Not that it was any of his concern either way.

"Yes," he nodded. "I think it went very well. I was worried when we started to eat in almost complete silence. But Jack certainly came through, getting Mauriri to talk as he did."

"That surprised me. I don't think I've ever heard Jack talk that much, at least not when he was sober. Do you think--?" she broke off with a wry grin.

"What?"

"Oh, I know you won't gossip," she said with a twinkle in her dark eyes.

"I might offer an opinion if asked a direct question."

"Well, I have known Jack for, what is it ten years, as, well, as one of my regulars. He finds work when he needs money, he plays even more poker than David does, he's just another sailor with a story. When Claire showed up, so English, so--" Lavinia shrugged at a lost for a descriptive word for her friend.

Colin smiled and supplied, "So earnest, so romantic, so young."

"And so educated. I couldn't imagine even a written romance between the two of them."

"And now?" asked Colin with a look of genuine curiosity.

"I don't know. The man had a bath and a shave and a civil conversation with her friends that doesn't make him the man she fell in love with back in England reading his letters. As she willingly admits she created the man she thought he was out of her romantic imagination."

"Yes, but there was something in Jack's letters that fed that imagination. And what ever that was is a part of him." Colin finished drying the plate and set it on the stack on his kitchen table. He continued cautiously, "I'd have to say that I've never given Cannibal Jack a second thought, he was as you say just one of the sailors. But when I spoke with him last week I did realize that underneath his rough exterior he is very perceptive. Now, whether Claire can see him for who he is without letting her feelings be colored by her past preconceptions, I don't know."

"No, I don't either." She took another plate and started to wash it. For a while they were quiet, then she said, "There were times this evening when I really thought Mauriri was going to speak directly to David. It must mean something that he is so interested in the ship."

"We didn't really think they could work it all out over dinner. Thank God, David managed to pull himself out of that mood he was in. I was afraid he was going to be silent all evening."

"Poor Tahnee," said Lavinia sadly, "what a choice for a child to have to make. No wonder she turned to her mother. I don't think David realized he was challenging her loyalty to her father to ask her to speak to him."

"He would never do anything deliberately to upset either of the children. It was good to see him make the effort and stand up to dance with Claire. After that I felt like it was really a party," said Colin, accepting the plate she handed him. Unconsciously they had developed a rhythm to their work.

"And then he laughed. It felt so good to hear him laugh. It has been so long since I heard him laugh like that." Lavinia paused with her hands deep in the soapy water and closed her eyes with a happy little sigh of remembrance.

Colin, fascinated by her beauty, reminded himself for the thousandth time that all he wanted was for his friends to find their way to true happiness. It should come as no surprise to him for Lavinia and David that would be together.

"Isabelle looked beautiful tonight," said Lavinia suddenly, "I don't think she suspected that the dinner was for her until Claire brought the cake out. Even after we gave her William's note and the crate she seemed unaware that the rest of us knew it was her birthday. Doesn't that seem strange to you, she is usually so quick to figure things out?"

"It is possible that she has never had a birthday party. She was orphaned young, wasn't she?"

"Yes. I think so."

"Then perhaps the thought never crossed her mind that anyone would give her one."

"You could be right. I'm glad we did this," she said, placing a wineglass in the rinse water. Their fingers touched as Colin reached for the glass.



"Don't let her walk through the bar," said David with a nod towards Claire. She and Isabelle walked arm in arm ahead of the men. They were giggling like schoolgirls. David was very curious what they found so amusing. "You'll need an oar to fight them off if you do."

"I don't suppose there is a more beautiful sight than a happy woman," said Jack unable to take his eyes off of Claire. Experience had taught him to keep his feelings to himself but he didn't care that David clearly knew how he felt about her. After the trek into the mountains when Claire and Isabelle went missing, he had a few suspicions about David's hidden feelings.

"Specially one you care about."

Jack's rare smile came and went quickly. He reached his hand out to David. "Thank you, David, I know that invitation came through you. It was a fine evening."

David nodded and shifting the phonograph against his chest he shook Jack's hand. With a raised eyebrow in Claire's direction he said, "You know, you might want to mention that beautiful part to her."

Jack looked at her again. Maybe it was the ivory dress but all evening he had been thinking of her as his angel. Not that she would ever be his in any true sense. Reading her letters he had, of course, thought about what she was like. She was even lovelier, sweeter and more intriguing than he had imagined.

"You really were surprised?" asked Claire for the tenth time. She was completely unaware of the admiring looks cast her way.

"Yes, I was really surprised," answered Isabelle, she gave her friend a tight hug. "Go home, go to bed. You are silly with wine."

"It's just so wonderful to be happy, to have shared a meal, wine, music with my friends."

Isabelle giggled and gave her a little shove. "Good night, you goose. Have wonderful dreams of real gentlemen and beautiful music."

"Yes, I will." Claire stood on her toes to kiss David's cheek. "Good night, David."

He smiled fondly down at her. "Good night, Claire. It was a excellent cake."

"It was the properly whipped egg whites that made it."

Jack piled the presents he had been carrying for her in her arms and said, "Happy Birthday, Isabelle."

"I'm glad you were there, Jack," said Isabelle with her open smile. "Thank God, you're mechanical we'd never have heard the music. See her home will you."

"I will. I was glad to be of use."

Claire took Jack's arm and fairly danced towards the tavern. Her clear voice floated back to them singing The Happy Wanderer.

"Poor Jack," said David with a half-smile and a shake of his head.

"She doesn't mean to lead him on," said Isabelle feeling suddenly defense of Claire. "She's just happy."

"I know." He shifted the weight in his arms and started walking towards the stables. Isabelle fell into step beside him.


There were torches lit along the street, they threw strange shadows across the face of the building. Jack took David's advice and led Claire around to the side stairs so that she could get to her chamber without going though the taproom. Claire turned to him at the foot of the stairs and said formally, "Thank you for seeing me home."

"You're welcome. It was my pleasure," said Jack with the same formality.

"I should go up."

"Yes." He nodded. He wanted to follow David's advice and tell her how beautiful she was. But he would get it wrong. She would think he was proposing something he didn't even dare to think of.

She turned and took a few steps, then glanced back. He looked so different to her now than he had when she had first met him. He'd seemed half-savage then, even when he made the effort to clean himself up. She supposed the contrast between the picture she had created in her mind of Jameson Jackson McGonnigal and the real man had been too great for her to see him clearly. Now in the flickering torchlight he was quite a handsome man. Neatly barbered and wearing a clean white shirt he looked liked many other young men she had known in spite of the dangling earring. Maybe Isabelle was right; maybe she had never really known what true gentleman was until very recently. Maybe a shy man who would make the effort to get two quarreling friends to talk was exactly the sort of decency it called for. Claire said, "I'm very glad you were with us this evening."

"It was kind of the Reverend to ask me. Nicest evening I can remember. You have good friends." His voice was soft.

"You're my friend, aren't you, Jack?" asked Claire her brown eyes searching his face and suddenly locking on his blue ones. She felt her heartbeat speed up. Jack always looked at her as if he really saw her.

"I hope so."

"I should go up."

"Yes, it's late."

Claire gave herself a mental shake and spoke more causally. "Isabelle is right, the wine has made me silly and sentimental. Do you think she had a good time? I wanted so much for her to know, to feel how much we all care for her."

"She seemed very happy." He knew she really would turn and go up in a moment. He felt he was missing an important opportunity.

"Yes, well, Good night."

"Claire?"

"Yes, Jack?"

"I couldn't remember the words on my own but the Reverend knew them. They said just what I was thinking when I saw you coming towards me out of the night."

"What words?"

"Beauty to rich for use, for earth too dear."

Claire took two steps to reach him. She pressed her lips to his, her hands on his shoulders. Jack stood still, his hands clenched at his sides. He let his mouth open slightly and for no more than a second felt her slender tongue slide over his teeth. Claire's hands slid down his arms until she intertwined her fingers with his. He was afraid to move, afraid that if he did he would frighten her, that he would break the spell. But for the briefest moment he held her hands tightly in his own.

Claire stepped back then, their hands coming apart slowly. She looked at him with huge brown eyes. She was stunned by her own forwardness. Her voice shook slightly as she said, "Thank you for seeing me home, Jack."

"My pleasure, Claire."

She turned and ran up the stairs. He waited until he heard the door of her room open. Then he started to breathe again and walked away past the lighted taproom. He did not see her standing on the upstairs porch, watching him walk into the night.



Isabelle and David walked to the stables without speaking. She stole quick glances at his handsome face. To her eye he looked very pleased with himself. Having seen Lavinia's slender body mold itself briefly against David, Isabelle kept imagining the plans they made. She knew she was jealous, a completely useless emotion.

I suppose he has a lot to look forward to, she thought glancing at David again. Then she regretted the bitterness of the thought. David would do what he would do. She couldn't let that spoil what she felt. She was happy. She was one of them. They had gone to all the trouble of making it a surprise for her. No one ever had before. Oh, she'd had presents from her lovers but those she had demanded. This party, these gifts she held in her arms had been freely given to her. I have friends, real friends, she thought as she walked through the arched entrance to the stables. And William remembered. After all this time, I have a family.

Dante whinnied at the sound of her step. Putting her burden on the stairs she went to his stall to rub his long nose. David carried the phonograph upstairs and set in on her desk. A few minutes later he came back to take the rest of the presents up for her. She was still with the horse when he returned. David sat on the stairs to watch her.

How feminine she seemed tonight. When she'd been in his arms she'd seemed almost most fragile; she was so light, so easy to lead in the dance. And her eyes, a man could drown in her gray-green eyes. He wished suddenly he could follow his own advice and tell her how beautiful she was. Stop it. Don't let a silk dress and a few flowers make you forget how tough she is.

She had misjudged his expression while they were walking; David was not feeling in the least self-satisfied. He'd found the evening emotionally exhausting. He had too many feelings and impressions to sort out after so much wine. David pushed himself off the step and started to walk towards her. He'd go back to the solitude of his bunk on the Rattler. But first he would tell her goodnight.

Isabelle kissed the big horse's nose and turned to see David standing over her. What was it she saw in his eyes? Affection, amusement, desire? If she put her arms around his neck and pulled his full mouth down onto hers now would he respond to her with those emotions she thought she saw. Probably not, she thought, it was more likely he would turn away as he had in the past with a patronizing "You're a beautiful woman, Isabelle, but- -" It was better not to know.

"Did you replace that pulley?" she asked, glad to have something mundane to say.

Back to business, thought David as he answered. "Yes. The ship is ready to go whenever you say,"

"Good. Well, good night." She started for the stairs.

"Good night." He headed for the street and then said back over his shoulder, "By the way, I left your present on your desk." He continued walking and softly sang, "Her eyes they shone like the diamonds .. ."

Isabelle stood on the stair with a puzzled frown until she could no longer hear him. Then picking up her skirts she ran up the stairs. David had lit the lamp in her office. Beside the phonograph on her desk was a small red silk bag tied tightly shut with a gold cord. Carefully she loosened it and opened the bag. Isabelle poured something small and cool into her hand. She held it up by a length of fine gold chain to the lamplight.

From the chain hung a sleek swimming seal, carved from the palest green Chinese jade.

A Meal Shared      Part 1       Part 2      

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