It is a counsel of war, thought Claire. She was standing near the door of Isabelle's office observing her friends. Colin and Lavinia sat in ladder backed chairs, watching Mauriri intently. Isabelle perched on the edge of her desk. Her long, slender fingers wrapped tightly around the edge.

In a tight raspy voice, Mauriri told the others what they discovered on the Rattler and how they had found Tah-Mey. Claire could sense the tight control Mauriri had on his emotions. He stood in the center of the room with his feet apart and his strong hands clenched at his side. He was poised for action if only he could determine which direction that action should take.

"So David is alive," said Lavinia forcefully. Her dark eyes challenged her friends to disagree with her.

"There is every reason to believe he was when he was taken off the boat," answered Mauriri carefully. He could see the hope that flamed brightly in his old friend's eyes. He didn't know whether it was kinder to fan that fame or blow it out.

"But why was he taken?" asked Colin. His blue eyes shifted between Mauriri and Isabelle but neither volunteered an answer. "What do they want? They left the boat, that is the only thing of value he has."

"I don't know," answered Mauriri wearily. He had asked himself that question a thousand times during the voyage home. If they knew who had taken David -- or even why -- at least there would be starting point.

"They have gone to so much trouble, planting those sailors on the ship, arranging to meet practically in open sea. There has to be some reason," Colin went on doggedly.

"It doesn't matter." Isabelle's feet hit the floor with a sharp smack punctuating her words. "He's out there and we have to find him."

Claire watched Isabelle cross the room, she poured a glass of water from a carafe but walked away without drinking it. Her restless energy was forcing her to move again. "How?" snapped Mauriri, "There are a thousand islands. Where do we start looking? How do we even go about it, Isabelle? We have to go Morlias with what we know. We need help. We need a plan."

"Oh, and you think that the French will just drop everything and send the Navy out to search for David," retorted Isabelle.

"No, but--" Mauriri emitted a sound something between a groan and a curse. They were replaying a discussion they had had many times in the past few days.

"Mauriri is right," said Lavinia softly. It was the softness of her voice that drew the attention of the others. "The French have ships and ways of communicating between them. They can cover thousands of miles and a hundred islands that we could never get to. You're right too, Isabelle, it won't be their first priority but they will help,"

"And if he isn't in French waters?" Isabelle demanded, glaring at Lavinia.

"Then we ask the same thing of the British and the Germans," said Colin. "We have to cover the islands. We move out in a circle from here using as much help as we can get. We keep looking until we find him."

"There are hundreds of islands no navy ever goes near," said Mauriri thoughtfully.

"But there are others ways. I must know forty missionaries I could write to and they know people. The monsignor at the mission in Papeetee can send out an appeal through his pastors for any information about a white man being held prisoner. Lavinia has family; you and Lianni have family. We can cover the islands."

"By word of mouth?" asked Mauriri skeptically. "By the time it reached Rotunga they'll say we are looking for an old Chinese woman."

"Not if we print it." It was the first time Claire had spoken and the other turned to her as if surprised to find her standing by the door. Their sudden attention brought a blush to her cheeks. She hadn't meant to say anything only to listen. "We write up a questionnaire. Perhaps even have a drawing done of David. We write it up in French and English and Tahitian. Then I can print thousands of copies. All I need is ink and paper. We can give them to every boat that docks, send them to every government house in the South Seas."

"Yes, that's how we start," said Lavinia excitedly. She stood up and came to Claire. She hugged her shoulders. "Colin, you write something up. You'll know how to put it."

Colin, still seated, glanced between Mauriri and Isabelle. He was quite sure that the voyage back to Matavai Bay had not been a peaceful one. He knew Mauriri well and had complete confidence in his leadership but he was no longer David's partner in any legal sense. Colin was a thoughtful, fair man. To his mind Isabelle was David's partner not only because of the money she had invested in the Rattler but because she had stood by David when he needed her. Her wishes should not be ignored in this matter.

Isabelle was standing still. She appeared to be in agreement but she looked as if she were concentrating on some new thought.

"Yes, please, Colin, write something up," said Mauriri as he walked to the door. He paused beside Claire and took her small hand in his for a brief moment. He had no way of expressing to her how her suggestion of printing a questionnaire had allowed him to see a plan he could follow. Now he had a place to let his energy flow into. "I'm going to see Morlias."

"I have to have the Rattler ready to sail tomorrow," said Isabelle suddenly.

"Where to?" asked Mauriri as he turned back to her with a puzzled frown.

"Mauke. We have our regular shipment of copra to pick up." Her voice was cool and businesslike.

"Copra!"

"I have to keep making money, Mauriri. Ink and paper cost money. So does postage and bribing officials. And there are the payments on the Rattler. I have to keep trading."

Isabelle braced herself for some angry retort from Mauriri, perhaps from Lavinia as well. She knew her cold-blooded practicality startled even Claire. But when she thought about it that Claire would be grateful to her. Claire could ill afford to give away ink and paper that she had trouble paying for in the first place. Isabelle realized her reference to the business seemed heartless at that moment when they were all feeling some sense of relief and satisfaction that they had at least come up with a course of action to find David.

Mauriri frowned at her as he left the room but he didn't say anything. He didn't want to be sidetracked by an argument with Isabelle when he finally felt he had a direction in which to put his sense of purpose. He let it carry him to Morlais's office. He found the French official eager to be helpful. He had ideas of his own as to how the local government might be willingly to look for David.

Mauriri left the government building with a hopeful feeling that carried him half way home. Then he caught sight of the Rattler rocking gently at anchor in the turquoise bay. He had to go to sea. He had to keep looking for David. It didn't matter how much help Morlais was willing to give or how many flyers Claire could print; Mauriri had to be at sea hunting for David. Whoever took David, wherever they took him, they wouldn't keep him alive indefinitely. Mauriri knew he had to get a ship and the ship he wanted under his command was the Rattler.

The Rattler now belonged to Isabelle. It was a cold, hard fact. She had made the payments on the boat and kept it out of the hands of the bank. Although on paper the business and the boat were as much David's as Isabelle's, in truth, until David paid her back he was really working for her. Mauriri had given up his entire interest in the boat which hadn't been as much as David's in the first place.

As if she had been summoned by his thoughts, Mauriri heard Isabelle's voice. He turned and saw her with Sparrow and Tey-Mey on the quay. She was speaking very seriously to the sailors. Mauriri didn't have to put much thought into figuring out what she was talking about. If she meant to put to sea tomorrow there was a lot to be done to make the boat ready.

But who would captain the Rattler. Sparrow and Tey-Mey were good sailors but not-Mauriri groaned with frustration. He couldn't bare the idea of someone else, even a local sailor who he knew, captaining the Rattler. And what if Isabelle tried to do it herself, no, that wasn't worth thinking of. She wasn't that arrogant or fool hearty.

Mauriri took several deep breaths and slowly approached Isabelle. He had to know what she planned to do.

"How did it go with Morlais?" she asked by way of greeting.

"He is willing to help anyway he can."

"Good. That's at least a start."

Mauriri let his eyes drift out to the Rattler. Isabelle watched him thoughtfully. She knew what he wanted. In fact it was the same thing that she wanted but there had to be ground rules in place. Under other circumstances she would have enjoyed making him ask her to let him captain the Rattler but now all that was important was that they got started looking for David.

"Mauriri, the Rattler needs a captain," said Isabelle bluntly. Her words drew his attention, as she knew they would. "We both know that David wouldn't want anyone at the helm of his ship but you. However, my money, my life is tied up in the ship. That makes me the owner until David comes back. I call the shots. I will pay you a fair salary and you will have as much freedom as you need as long as you remember you're working for me. Whether you like it or not we have to keep trading, keep making money."

There was no emotion showing on Mauriri's dark face. His eyes traveled the length of her. She stood still; her light eyes did not fall away from his. Even now he had to admit she was beautiful. That was the only impression of her that had stayed the same over the time he'd known her. In the beginning he'd thought she was dangerous as well as a thief. Over time he had come to appreciate her intelligence and her courage. But that didn't mean he wanted to work for her.

"I suppose Mauke is as good a place as any to start looking. I'll be ready to sail in the morning," he said as he jumped from the quay to the sandy beach. "What supplies have you already laid in?"

"I'll take care of the supplies. Spend the night with your family," she said coolly. "You may not see them for a while."

***

David's friends went to work. They created a flyer with a good likeness of David printed on it. Colin and Claire wrote every contact they knew. Claire sent stories to newspapers as far away as Sydney and New Guinea asking for help. Lavinia and Lianni visited family and friends on Tahiti and the nearby islands. Isabelle wrote her brother on Samoa and all of her many business contacts. She haunted the waterfront in Matavai and Papeetee, meeting every ship she could. Mauriri went to sea to trade and to stop at every island he passed. He bought good will with rolls of tobacco, the currency of the islands. Sometimes Isabelle went with him. She was always making deals, always on the alert. It was a bitter irony that they were making more money than they ever had. With it they bought more paper and ink, more tobacco.

It was a very efficient way of gathering information. More than a dozen wanted men were found on the islands and turned over to the authorities. But all information on one Captain David Grief stopped with the load of sandalwood from Manaue.

Lavinia continued to quiz every patron in the bar but after a few weeks, they could think of no one else to write or visit. She envied Mauriri and Isabelle being at sea, at least living with the possibility that the next island they stopped at would be the right one. There was nothing for her, Colin and others who cared about David on Tahiti to do but go back to the routines of their lives.

Nothing for them to do but pray. Little Tahee Lepua, kneeling beside her mother in church perhaps put it best. "Please dear God, send Uncle David home. I want to laugh again."

***

The one thing that everyone who knew David Grief would say about him was that he hated inactivity. Even as a child he would prefer a beating to being sent alone to his room. He had never known the boredom that he endured in that hot little hut. It had been more than a week since the fight with the Samoan. Each day was exactly the same. Some where a gong sounded at dawn. David would hear people moving about the compound. He would smell tea and rice cooking. The noise would subside and before long the scent of fresh cut sugar cane would drift in his direction.

Listening carefully he had discovered there was a period in the middle of the day when all activity stopped. Then it started up again somewhere in the distance until dark. Once it was dark David would feel a sharp tug of the chain connected to his leg manacle. The door to the hut, which he couldn't quite reach tethered as he was, would open. Two men would come in. One would be white, the other Chinese. The white man would hold a gun on David. The other man would unlock the manacle. David would then be prodded out side for a walk. It was quite a vigorous walk. He tried at this time to get some sense of the place but it was always full dark. When he was brought back to the hut there were fresh buckets of water and his dinner waiting for him. This routine did not vary except that it was always a different Chinese man who came with the white man.

There was nothing to do but listen to the life that went on outside of the hut. By doing so David concluded that the white men were from Central Europe and that there were at least four of them, perhaps five. Their voices were lower and slower than the Chinese voices. One was named Boris, another Ivan, of those two he was sure. As for the others, he had heard them repeatedly called something but he wasn't sure if they were proper names or not. Ivan was the one who came into the hut in the evening. David had tested this idea by calling the man by name during one of their walks. Ivan had paused briefly and then hit David solidly in the middle of the back. The blow sent David sprawling into the dust.

Reluctantly David gave up his plan of trying to make friends with Ivan.

By the end of the week of excruciating sameness David was almost eager for the return of the Devil. At least then he would hear his own language spoken. Finally the routine was broken. Ivan appeared in the morning to drag him out of the hut and towards the house.

David raised his hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun. He had grown use to the dim light of the hut. He saw that the laborers were once more gathered in a ragged half circle. On the porch of the house in a large plantation chair sat the Devil, the only name David had for his tormentor. Once again he wore a white linen suit, a wide brimmed hat and dark spectacles.

"Good morning, Captain Grief. As you see we have a new opponent for you to test your metal against."

David glanced at the man standing near him. He was of the same height and built as David although he appeared better fed and far fitter. He was dark, with lively black eyes and a quick if cold smile. He wore a leather vest over his bare chest, short canvas trousers and deck shoes. A sailor, but no one David knew. His weight was forward on the balls of his feet and his hands were already clenched into fists.

David choked back a sigh. His new opponent was clearly eager for their encounter. Looking back at the Devil, David drew himself up to his full height and squared his shoulders. His beard had grown in thick and black. His hair brushed his shoulders in lank clumps. "I've a proposition for you," he said loudly.

"Indeed?" A smile flickered across the man's shaded face. "And you believe that you are in a position to make propositions?"

"I do. You may want me dead but you want the pleasure of watching me fight for my life."

The Devil said something rapidly to the other white men. They all laughed. David recognized the language he spoke as German but it was not the language he'd heard the others speak among themselves.

"Yes, captain, it is a great pleasure to watch you fight for your life," said the man conversationally.

We might as well be talking about the weather, thought David before he said, "I won't fight unless you answer my questions first."

"You will not fight?"

"No." David turned to look at the sailor standing near him. With a sharp nod he said, "He can pummel me to death but I won't fight unless you answer my questions."

Although he couldn't see the Devil's eyes David could feel his gaze assessing him. Finally the man spoke slowly. "Yes. I believe you are just that stubborn. So, what are these questions that are so important they are worth being beaten to death for?"

"What happened to my mate?"

"Your mate? I had no use for him. He was dropped into the sea. Whether or not his throat was cut first I have no idea."

David closed his eyes. Tah-Mey, you deserved so much better than to be caught in my wake of destruction. A prayer, David thought he'd forgotten long ago, went through his mind. "And my ship? Where is my ship?"

"Ah. I do not know." The man lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "What happens to a ship at sea without a crew?"

"You're saying you left her adrift?" David could not keep the surprise out of his voice. He had been comforting himself with visions of the Rattler anchored near by. He's lying, David told himself but he knew that wasn't true.

"I had no need of another ship. I do not like sails. They put one too much at the mercy of nature. And now, Captain, if you are ready to proceed, we have kept our guest waiting long enough."

The sailor was a handy man with his fist. He was a quick aggressive fighter who clearly enjoyed the crack of his bare knuckles against David's jaw. Still David knew it was his own condition that was of more danger to him than the sailor was. A brisk walk and one meal a day was no way to stay in fighting trim. He had one chance to save himself from a thorough beating, a knock out punch. David danced backwards. The sailor followed him, peppering him with sharp jabs to the chest. Suddenly, David stepped forward, swinging his fist up into the other man's throat. Down he went with a groan. David stood over him, prepared to kick him if he showed signs of moving.

A disappointed moan went through the Chinese workers, although a few real gamblers whooped with joy. They were the ones who'd taken a chance on David.

There was the sound of a single pair of hands clapping. David looked around at the porch. The Devil, flanked by the other white men, was still sitting in the large chair. It was he who was clapping. "Well done, Grief, you live to fight another day."

A few minutes later David was back in the hut washing his bruised, bloody hands and sweaty face in the tepid water. And thinking about his ship.

What happens to a ship at sea without a crew? Nothing good, thought David. A storm might sink her, a strong wind might wreck her on a reef or she could get caught in a current and simply drift until she rotted. Beyond nature there were the salvagers who would strip her of everything of value.

He sank to the ground and closed his eyes. It was easier to think with his eyes closed. He could almost feel he was on the Rattler. He knew every inch of her, every fitting, every rope. He could imagine the slap of the sail and the creak of the timbers.

"Damn it!" cried David springing to his feet. "What kind of mad man let's a boat adrift?"

With impotent rage David stood in the middle of the hut and tried to gather his scattered thoughts. Without warning a memory came to him that took his breath away so that he had to sit down again. It was indistinct but he was sure it had happened. Once, early in their partnership, when he was still reeling from Jenny's betrayal, he had threatened Isabelle with desertion. He could hear his own voice, edged with drink, saying, "Maybe I'll sail away and leave you high and dry."

His breath caught in his throat. "No," he whispered. "You'd never think that, Isabelle. You'd never believe I would just leave without a word to anyone. It would be running away. I couldn't do that again. Not now. I'm not a boy anymore. You know I have no reason to leave, we're doing all right. Better than all right. God, Isabelle," he said as he shoved his hands through his greasy hair. "Please, you have to know I wouldn't do that to a partner."

For a long time he sat still on the rough ground. It was Isabelle who concerned him most because she would suffer the most. She would lose her investment in the boat and maybe even be libel for the rest of the payments. It would ruin her business she had worked so hard to establish. But that wasn't what bothered him really. She was his friend, his partner; he couldn't bare that she would think he had run out on her. What would that do to her, the woman who had so little faith in people as it was? What would it do to her to believe he could just leave her to twist in the wind?

There were others in Matavai whose good opinion he cared deeply for. Lavinia and Colin, such good friends. They had practically been a family over the past few years. Surely they wouldn't believe he could just sail away. They knew him better than that; they had to know him better than that.

And Mauriri, what would Mauriri believe?

Suddenly David sat up straighter. He knew what Mo would believe. That was clear; he would believe that some catastrophe had overcome the Rattler. Mo would never believe that he had left his partner to pay his debt. Their problems had been about David's misplaced priorities. It was that he had been too loyal to Jenny that had destroyed his friendship with Mo. He had gotten so involved in protecting Jenny, in proving to her and to himself that he would stand by her no matter what that he had lost sight of everything else. By doing so he had beggared himself and nearly lost the boat to the bank. Mo's had been so frustrated that he couldn't make David recognize the truth about Jenny that they had come to physical blows. But what David had done had not been for himself, it had been for Jenny. Mo had understood that distinction. Just as Mo's decision to end the partnership had as much to do with his own sense of responsibility to Lianni and the kids as it had had to do with his anger at David.

David smiled. There is no woman involved, except for Isabelle. No woman to have turn my head. Mo will tell her I wouldn't leave her like this. Thank God.

David stood up slowly. He was mindful of his new set of bruises. He turned his thoughts back to the Rattler and tried to think logically. There was a good chance he determined that an honest boat would come upon the Rattler. If the Devil had told the truth then she was left no more than a day's sail from Tahiti. She was well known in those waters. It was better than even money that she would be found by someone who knew her, who knew Mauriri. By now, the Rattler could be back in Tahiti.

But whether the ship was there or not, Mauriri would still be left with the mystery of what had happened to David. And he would have to find the answer, of that David was sure. It didn't have much to do with their friendship. It was simpler than that; it would be a mystery, a puzzle that Mauriri would have to solve. Mauriri was like that; he had to know the answers to things. That driving curiosity had given him the courage to go to France and England to study as little more than a boy. It was what had pushed him to help that mad man, McCoy and why he had been willing to help David break Isabelle out of prison.

"I've got a bad feeling, Mo, the Devil didn't leave you very many clues," said David softly. He blew his breath out over his teeth.

David closed his eyes and summoned an image of his old partner. "We should have made it up. If I don't make it back to Matavai you're going to regret we didn't make it up or at least talk it out. God knows of all things I should regret that I didn't swallow my bloody pride and tell you everything is what I regret the most. I should have told why I had to believe in Jenny. I should have trusted you more. For the life of me I don't know why I didn't."

***

Colin sat gripping the edges of the canoe while it was rowed out to the Rattler. He could see Mauriri on the ship, working on a sail. Having docked the night before, she was expected to leave by the next morning. When they came along side Colin called out, "Permission to come aboard?"

Mauriri appeared above him and reached down to him. He pulled Colin aboard in one easy gesture. "What are you doing out here?" he asked clearly surprised to see his friend.

"If Mohammed won't come to the mountain then the mountain must come to Mohammed."

"I suppose it has been a while since I've been in the church," said Mauriri sheepishly.

"I'm not so worried about you being missed at the church." Colin searched his friend's face. He saw lines of fatigue around Mauriri's mouth and his dark eyes.

Mauriri made no answer. He went back to his work mending a rent in a sail. Colin looked over the deck; it was cluttered with tools. "Is every all right?" he asked sitting down on the cushions on the roof of the cabin.

"It will be in a few hours. We ran into a storm a couple of days ago. Lighting hit the mast," answered Mauriri as he worked a long needle through the canvas. "I should be ready to leave in the morning."

"Did you have a good trip otherwise?"

"Isabelle did. We didn't learn anything useful about David but she made money."

Colin heard an angry edge in Mauriri's voice. It wasn't surprising; Isabelle had made it clear they had to keep making money. What she had made less clear was how David's disappearance had effected her. To Colin she seemed certainly to care about finding David but not completely focused on finding him. Claire and curiously enough Lavinia had told him he was wrong; that Isabelle was consumed with the search for David. Mauriri on the other hand seemed to be thinking of David at every moment. "Is she going back out with you?" asked Colin.

"No, not this trip," answered Mauriri. The relief in his voice was easy to hear. "She says there are people here she needs to contact."

"Are the two of you not getting on together?" asked Colin tentatively. Isabelle was not who he had come out to the boat to talk about but he hoped giving Mauriri an opportunity to express his feelings might ease what ever tension there was between him and Isabelle.

"We do okay," said Mauriri with a shrug. He looked out at the sea. "I have trouble remembering that it is her boat. She's David's partner and all I am is her captain. She doesn't know enough about sailing or this part of the world to captain the boat; although I wouldn't put trying past her. When David and I were sailing together, I was the supercargo, the one making the deals, talking to the chiefs. I guess that it is hard for me to let her do what was my job. She's paying me, you know. Doesn't seem right to take money for the chance to look for David but she pointed out that my family has to eat. Trust Isabelle to think of the bank account."

"I take it you don't care for taking orders from her."

"Not much." Mauriri's dark eyes turned to Colin as he said earnestly, "It isn't just that she is a woman. I don't understand how she thinks. With David, if he hadn't had his head turned by some woman, I knew what he was going to do, we didn't have to talk it out we just understood each other. But Isabelle, she's a mystery to me."

"That's not terribly surprising, you and David worked together for years," said Colin with a smile. "I don't understand how she thinks either, Isabelle is a very unique person, woman or not."

They sat for a few minutes in silence. Colin took out his handkerchief and wiped his face. It was late in the afternoon. The air was heavy and still even out on the water. There was a storm building out to east. He could see thunderheads gathering. Mauriri continued with his work. He seemed oblivious to the heat or the storm.

"Mauriri," said Colin as he refolded his handkerchief and put it into his trouser pocket. "Must you go back out tomorrow?

Mauriri looked up from his work with narrowed eyes. "Lianni sent you."

"In a way," conceded Colin with a nod. "You know, your children have barely seen you in weeks. They miss you. Lianni is worried about you."

"I know." Mauriri put the sail aside and stood up. He went to the side of the boat and stared towards his house on the shore. He could see his children playing in the sand. "But I'm not going to find David sitting at home. He is still out there somewhere, Colin. I know that he is. I have to keep searching. You know that if the situation were reversed David wouldn't stop looking for me. No matter how much I'd let him down."

"I don't doubt that for a moment," said Colin gravely. "However, David wouldn't want you to ignore your family. Every one of us misses David, including your children. But they miss you more; after all you're their father. They're frightened with good reason."

"I will make this up to them once we find him."

Colin didn't want to voice the thought in his head. It wasn't that he was superstitious. Whether or not he pointed out that Mauriri couldn't go on looking forever without any clues wouldn't make a difference in whether or not David was alive. Still he hated that he'd had the thought. "Mauriri, would a few days make any real difference?"

"You're telling me to give up."

"No--"

Mauriri turned suddenly, tall and board shouldered he loomed over Colin. He said vehemently, "David didn't give up when you were adrift in that life boat!"

Colin winced but didn't response. It wasn't a fair comparison. David had disappeared well over a month ago. If he had been left without provisions in an open boat there was no hope of finding him alive. In Colin's case the difference between his surviving and dying had been a matter of hours.

"I'm sorry," said Mauriri. He let his body sag, his energy draining away. He was chagrined; Colin did not deserve that from him.

"I know," said Colin solemnly. His kindly fair face was creased with concern. "You can't keep going like this. I know that you must feel that I'm prying but as your friend I have to do what I can to help you."

"Then let me get back to work."

"No," said Colin with a shake of his head. He stood and approached Mauriri slowly. "You won't talk to Lavinia or Lianni, you're worrying them to death. Do you really think that David would want you damaging your marriage, your friendships like this?"

"You're exaggerating, Colin," answered Mauriri coldly, "No damage has been done to my marriage."

"How would you know? You were in port last night but you slept, if you slept, on the boat."

"That's none of your--"

"Business? Oh, but it is. Do you think my business is only to teach little children English prayers and to bury the dead? Well, you're wrong, the lives of my friends are my business. Lianni loves you. She knows that you are in pain but you've shut her out. She can't help you and that hurts her horribly."

Mauriri glared down at him. Mauriri was a large, solid strong man. Much, thought Colin suddenly, like Tahiti's volcanic mountains. At his heart was a pool of hot emotions. If Colin pushed him too far those emotions were likely to erupt.

"You and David were estranged for many reasons. There was plenty of fault to go around although David would freely admit he was more to blame than you were. This didn't happen because you weren't on the boat with him, because you dissolved the partnership."

"How can you know that?" asked Mauriri, there was raw pain in his voice. "How can you know that if I had been on this boat where I belonged that David wouldn't have disappeared?"

"Logic," said Colin firmly. He stood solidly in front of Mauriri and spoke slowly. "Someone went to a lot of trouble to kidnap David. I don't know why. But if they wanted him that badly they would have gotten him even if they had to blow your head off to get to him."

Mauriri stared slack jawed at Colin. It was the single most violent statement he had ever heard Colin make. Recovering himself a little he sat down on the gunwale and started to speak quietly.

"I thought I could teach him a lesson. He was always so single minded about something he wanted. Anything David believed in he expected me to believe in too. He always went with his heart or his gut. He wouldn't accept that he could be fooled. Being his partner was all or nothing, I was either for him or against him. There was no room for my own concerns, my own gut feelings."

"There was something about Jenny, something that made him blind where she was concerned but he wouldn't tell me what it was. He expected me to follow his lead, to not care that he was putting my family at risk but he wouldn't tell me what was driving him into disaster. I couldn't take it anymore, Colin."

"Of course you couldn't," said Colin reasonably. "Your best friend was determined to follow Jenny straight to hell. Of course you couldn't go along and watch."

"Isabelle could." Mauriri walked back to his work. He picked up the sail and pointedly turned his back on his friend.

Colin sat down again on the cabin roof. He took his glasses off and began to polish them on the tail of his cotton shirt. The action did little to clean the smudges off of the lenses but it did give him time to think. It wasn't exactly jealousy he heard in Mauriri's voice, more a sort of resentful admiration. Isabelle by sticking by David had been able to do what Mauriri couldn't do; she had protected him from himself. At least that was what Colin had pieced together from what little information Isabelle and David had shared. "Do you know what really happened the day Jenny Duval was killed?" he asked cautiously.

"Not exactly but--" Mauriri broke off what he was going to say. He stared fixedly at his work.

"You don't believe David's story about shooting her himself. I don't either. I think it is far more likely that Isabelle and Jenny had some sort of confrontation. I've given a lot of thought to the mystery of Jenny Duval."

"Have you gotten any answers?" asked Mauriri with a sidelong glance.

"Yes," answered Colin with a nod. "I saw Jenny just as she presented herself. She behaved kindly and I thought that she was kind. She seemed desperate and frightened. I told David to search his heart to be sure that he would stand by her in her need. Because I believe her to be a helpless victim of horrible men I helped her set David up."

"Don't go blaming yourself for that," said Mauriri as he used his knife to cut the heavy thread with which he mended the sail.

"I don't actually. If I tend to see people as better than they are, it is important part of my calling. But it did put me at a disadvantage this time. A disadvantage Isabelle was not at. She could meet Jenny on equal terms. Isabelle could see her for what she was because she knew it was possible for a beautiful young woman to commit cold blooded murder over and over."

"I knew she was evil," Mauriri said darkly, "I just couldn't get David to listen to me."

"You were far more perceptive than I was. I wasn't very well, I don't know exactly what happened but as I understand it, Isabelle didn't try to get David to listen. She just refused to be left behind."

"She was a better friend to him than I was."

"Stop it, Mauriri!" said Colin sharply. "You sound just like David. People make mistakes. They run out of patience, with their families, with their friends, with themselves. David wouldn't listen and you got frustrated. Once he understood just who Jenny was and what she had done to him, to a great many people David realized your gut feelings were right. He was putting everything at risk for a woman who didn't really exist. Mauriri, you were right to protect your family. That was your responsibility."

Mauriri looked up at Colin. His eyes were darkly shadowed. "And was it Isabelle's to protect David?"

"It was, if she chose to take it on. After all was it yours or David's responsibility to break her out of prison?"

A ghost of a smile appeared on Mauriri's face. "That's what I miss. Those harebrained adventures only David could pull off." He paused and put his knife back in its sheath. "I should have made it up; just like every one wanted me to, but my pride got in the way. I wanted him to accept what a mess he had made of everything."

"He did accept it," said Colin softly. For months he had chided himself for not doing more to reconcile David and Mauriri. But there hadn't been anything for him to do as long as Mauriri held on to his anger and wouldn't listen. How tragic that it had taken David's disappearance to demand Mauriri's attention. "His exact words were "I made a horrible mistake."

Mauriri sat quietly for several minutes. "I keep thinking of what he must be feeling. What if he's alone somewhere? David hates being alone, you know. I use to think it was because he needed an audience to tell him how clever he is but it's more than that. He needs the give and take of conversation to think things through. He'd go mad with no one to talk to. If he was taken off the ship drugged then he may not even know what happened to the Rattler. This ship is his home, it would kill him to think she was sunk. What if he thinks we're not looking for him? What if he thinks I don't care enough to look for him? A year ago I'd know that David would hold on no matter how he was treated because he'd know that I'd find him. But now, after everything that has happened, after I walked away from our partnership, our friendship, how can I believe he'll have that sort of faith?"

Colin bit his lip and said slowly, "I suppose that is my cue to say something ministerial. I'll try my best. God is with David. I believe that. I believe every time I pray, Lavinia or Claire prays, your children pray that God uses those prayers to bolster David. Also it is fundamental to my understanding of God to believe that He is everywhere, in cathedrals and in prisons. As for David and faith, well, David's faith isn't exactly the prayer book variety. But he draws that amazing energy, that exceptional skill for survival from somewhere and for me, that source must be God. A little while ago you said that you knew David would search for you until he found you if this were reversed in spite of everything that has happened between you. I think that David has that same faith in you. That he knows you are searching for him."

"I want to believe everything that you are saying, Colin. But how long can he hold on."

Colin grimaced. "That I can't answer. There are too many factors I don't know."

"Exactly. I can't think of any reason for any one to kidnap him except for revenge--for what I don't know. Eventually they'll kill him. There is a time limit on all of this, even if I don't know what it is. That's why I can't stop, Colin, until I find him."

"For heaven's sake, man, I'm not asking you to stop looking. David is my friend as well. You aren't the only one who cares about David. No more than Isabelle is. We are all desperately afraid that we have lost our friend, that we have failed him. This isn't a competition to see who cares the most. Don't you think that I wish I could actively search as you are doing? But I can't. What I can do is try to help you keep some sort of balance. I'm not in anyway suggesting that you should stop looking for David. All I'm asking is that you take a look at that storm on the horizon and choose to spend the night on shore in your comfortably dry house with your wife and children. Just as David would want you to."

Mauriri glanced to the east. He shook his head hard and laugh softly, "Well, that would show good sense. I'd say we've got about ten minutes to get the hatches battened down and into shore."

Silently Colin said a prayer of thankfulness.

***

The storm cleared the air. The next day dawned bright and clear with a pleasant breeze off the ocean. Lavinia, carrying a basket covered with a napkin, made her way along the main street of the little town. She stopped briefly to talk with Lt. Morlias. He said that he was carefully checking all official communications with the various outposts of the French government spread through the islands of French Polynesia. She thanked him for the help he was providing, as she walked away she thought about how stunned David would be to hear that Morlais with whom he had carried on a running battle was so concerned about him.

She went through the arched doorway to Isabelle's stables. She spoke for a few minutes with Paiku, the young man who helped Isabelle run the stables. He told her that Isabelle was in her rooms above. Lavinia knew she was stalling for time. Claire was worried about Isabelle and Lavinia had promised Claire she would get Isabelle to sit still long enough to eat a decent meal. But she had never had any luck getting Isabelle to do something she didn't want to do. She didn't know anyone who had except David.

With determination she climbed the stairs. Once in the office, Lavinia put the heavy basket on a chair and started to unload it. She spread a white cloth over Isabelle's desk

"What are you doing?" asked Isabelle, as she came out of her bedroom pulling a long sleeved man's shirt on over her cotton lace camisole.

"Fixing your lunch. Sit down," said Lavinia, putting a plate and a napkin onto the cloth.

"I don't have time," said Isabelle dismissively as she buttoned the shirt. "The steamer will be in from Sydney."

"Claire is meeting the steamer just as she does every Wednesday. If there is any news you will be the first to hear of it. You need to sit down and eat," declared Lavinia as she put a piece of grilled fish on the plate. She turned to looked Isabelle squarely in the eyes. "It won't do you any good to argue with me, you aren't leaving here until you eat."

Isabelle sat in a chair and pulled on her long black cotton sock. "Who made you my mother?" she asked, glaring through her hair at Lavinia.

"No one. I'm your friend. And I'd think after being around here for well over a year now you would have realized that this is my part."

"What part?" asked Isabelle crossly. She didn't have time for word games. "What are you talking about?"

"David and Mauriri go off and rescue shady characters, Claire gathers information, Colin tries to teach us our better natures and I feed people. I bind up their wounds, I give a bed to the weary and I feed the hungry. Not as exciting as fighting outlaws but useful in its way. So sit down at the desk and eat before you have to put yet another hole in that belt to hold your jodhpurs up."

Reluctantly Isabelle did as she was told. The mashed taro was sweetened with coconut milk. It was solid food, comforting to eat. She could feel Lavinia's eyes on her. "Thank you. It's good," she mumbled.

Lavinia looked around the room. It was an odd shape, almost a hexagon. The large desk dominated it and there were several chairs. Between the windows that over looked the street was glass-fronted bookcase. Inside it were a number of masks and carvings Isabelle had picked up in her travels around the islands. On top of the bookcase was the phonograph with a pink horn shaped like a giant flower.

"Are we?"

Lavinia turned to face Isabelle. She found her watching her with a puzzled expression in her gray eyes. "Are we what?"

"Friends. You and I."

"Don't you think that we are?"

Isabelle shrugged. Her dark sun streaked hair was loose and full over her shoulders. "I'd never thought about it. I haven't had a lot of women friends. Women need to know so much about each other to be friends."

Lavinia chuckled softly, "Then I suppose over the past few months I've learned a lot about you because I don't know what we are if we aren't friends."

Isabelle smiled and shook her head. She speared another piece of fish. "Speaking of friends, how did Mauriri and David get to be partners in the first place?"

Lavinia's pretty face lit with a smile. She sat down in a chair facing Isabelle and started to talk. "Six years ago, no, it is close to seven now a sailor walked into the tavern and ordered a drink. He was a handsome young white man, big, lots of energy, not really different from hundreds of other sailors. But I knew right away that this man was going to play a part in my life."

"How romantic," said Isabelle sourly. She stared down at her plate. She was determined to avoid looking at Lavinia.

"You knew the same thing the moment you saw him," Lavinia said gently. She truly had learned a great deal about Isabelle over the past year. She'd learned that her brash, grasping and sometimes ruthless behavior covered a generous and very possible vulnerable heart.

"Well, maybe," responded Isabelle with her impish grin. "He was trading insults with Morlias who had me in chains. Anyone who didn't get on with Morlias might be of help to me."

"How practical. Anyway, David had had the Rattler less than three months. And he came close to losing her before the night was over."

"What?" Isabelle was startled. She laid her fork down and started paying more attention.

"He got into a card game with Mauriri and some others. By our standards it was a big game. They played for hours. David was sure of his hand but he was out of money and being a stranger didn't know anyone to ask to borrow from. So he put up the boat."

"How big was the pot?" asked Isabelle. She knew David was reckless but that he would gamble the boat astonished her.

"I don't know, not worth the boat, that's for certain. Mauriri folded. David was furious. But he slept it off and the next morning he looked Mauriri up and thanked him for saving him from his own recklessness. Mauriri was impressed with that. Most men would have sailed away without another word. After that they started working together."

Isabelle returned her attention to her food. She asked off handedly, "What about you and David? How did that come about?"

"Naturally. My Godmother was dying. I was overwhelmed with running the bar and taking care of her. I was relying on Mauriri and Lianni. David was there. He told me I could handle what ever happened. He pulled out the books; that was what frightened me the most being able to keep track of all the supplies and the suppliers. He showed me that I was already doing it, all the notes and figures were in my handwriting. When I was sad he would take me on the Rattler and tell me we would sail away from my troubles and do nothing but make love in the sun shine." For a moment a contented smile curved Lavinia's pretty mouth.

Isabelle watched her dark face grow even lovelier. She hated being jealous but Isabelle had to admit, if only to herself, that she was jealous of Lavinia's memories of her time with David. Isabelle had memories too, lots of squabbles and a few brief kisses. Kisses that had left her hungry, aching for more. "But you never did. Sail away from your troubles, I mean."

"No," Lavinia shook her head, her thick braid swung against her back. "I never needed to. Not even with David. I knew that my troubles were a part of my life and I love my life here in my home. So not even with David have I been tempted to sail away."

"He did that for me too," said Isabelle reluctantly. She was not of a confiding nature and she had certainly never expected to be talking to Lavinia about her feelings for David. But she wanted to talk about David; she wanted to hear Lavinia who knew him so well talk about him.

"Did what?" asked Lavinia with an open inviting smile. Maybe forcing Isabelle to be still and have a real meal was working, thought Lavinia. Both Lavinia and Claire believed that what Isabelle really needed to do was talk, to at least have an opportunity to express her feelings.

"Convinced me that I had what it took to stay here and make a go of it. I was so afraid of what that old chief was going to do to me if we didn't find his people that the blackbirders took. I had a weak moment and actually admitted to David that I didn't think I had what it took to be a trader in the South Seas. He said I did. He said I had a fine right hook, something that would serve me well here."

"I'm sure that's not the only talent David saw in you." Lavinia watched Isabelle finishing her lunch. She had to admit that what she felt for the other woman was fondness. In the beginning she'd wanted to dislike her. After all what woman would want to like a woman who was so openly interested in taking her man. "Why didn't you make a play for David after he and I were finished?"

Isabelle put her fork down and turned her thoughtful gray eyes on Lavinia. "What makes you think I didn't?"

Lavinia raised her eyebrow.

Isabelle sighed. "It wasn't going to work. You were right, I wanted too. I was ready to swoop in. But he wasn't interested. I tried a few times in small ways. He always put me off."

"David wasn't interested in you?" Lavinia's skepticism flowed through her voice. She stared hard at Isabelle's slender but very feminine figure. Lavinia knew David, not interested in Isabelle? Impossible.

"Not in the least."

"You can't expect me to believe that. You were the only woman I was ever jealous of even though I knew he had been with other women. You were the only one he was secretive about," said Lavinia still looking Isabelle squarely in the eye.

Isabelle shrugged her slender shoulders. "Sorry but your womanly intuition failed you because there was never any reason to be jealous of me. David told me he subscribed to the theory that opposites attract. He and I are too much alike."

Lavinia considered this piece of information for several minutes. She thought of the times that she had watch Isabelle and David together. They were in many way very much alike. They were both restless and easily bored with the everyday events of life that Lavinia herself took such pleasure in. They were both daring and they had loved to laugh, to pretend that life was all one big joke. And they were both far more complex people than they appeared to be. She knew David well enough to realize how much of him she didn't know. She was learning the same thing about Isabelle. There was some reason they had not become lovers, she couldn't guess what it was, but it wasn't a lack of attraction. She resumed their conversation by saying, "I use to believe in opposites attracting, that there was something so exciting about being with a man I didn't really understand. A man who constantly surprised me."

"You sound like you have changed your mind," said Isabelle as she bit into a lacy piece of coconut bread.

"Maybe, or maybe I just want something different now. I like to be understood. I believe I would take comfort in knowing that the person I'm with wants at least most of what I want in life. That they can understand why I do what I do. I want," Lavinia said with her head cocked to the side, thinking. "I want to be with someone with whom I can communicate with just a glance or a touch."

"You and David were together for years. Surely you could do that."

Lavinia heard the jealousy in Isabelle's voice. She was careful to hide the small smile it brought to her lips. You can't hide your feelings for him from me. "About some things, yes. But not about the important things. It became exhausting to constantly have to explain myself."

Isabelle closed her eyes as if she were pain. That was what she missed the most: times when she and David were in trouble when all she had to do was look at him to know what he was planning. It seemed to Isabelle that she had spent her life in trouble alone. She'd had partners before but she'd always had to explain herself to them. With David, even when they were fighting, she wasn't alone. "So you think true love is being able to communicate without words," said Isabelle gruffly.

Lavinia shook her dark head. "True love. Now there is an interesting concept."

"Don't you believe in it?" asked Isabelle in some surprise.

"Truthfully? I don't know," Lavinia looked down at her hands thoughtfully. The faces of lovers came to her mind, David, Claude, others. Each one of them had for a time made her feel special. But in the end even David who she had been with the longest couldn't offer her the shared life she craved. "I think I did as a girl. Tahitian folk stories are full of tales of passion and devotion. But the notion that there could be one man who would fill all the empty spaces in my heart. I think I've had too much experience to believe in that."

"Is that what you tell Claire?"

"No."

"Good. I know I tease her a lot about her romantic notions but I hope she can hold on to them for a while longer. Still I'm surprised to find you a cynic about love. You've always seemed--"

"Open to it? I am. Not as hopeful as I use to be but I still want to believe it is possible to find someone who at least makes the effort to fill those spaces." Lavinia stood and started to put the dishes back into the basket. "I've realized there are many ways of loving some one and of being loved. Sometimes the best way is to let them go. It isn't an easy thing to do but often it is for the best. Do you remember Tuhura?"

"Of course," said Isabelle. She ate the last bite of her fish. "It broke poor Colin's heart when she left."

"Yes, it very nearly did. But Tuhura was homesick, she knew she wouldn't be happy here in his world and she wouldn't ask him to leave his work."

"Of course she wouldn't have been happy. None of the whites in the church would have accepted her, including that almighty Bishop. All that talk about Christian love doesn't include ignoring skin color."

"No," said Lavinia in a voice carefully devoid of feeling. "But Tuhura's people wouldn't have been happy if she had chosen to stay in the white man's life. Colin loved her. To him the only logical conclusion to that was marriage. She was wise enough to realize they wouldn't have been happy in the end. He's heard from her recently. She's married and expecting a child. I think he is very happy for her."

"I wouldn't be, not if I really loved someone. I'd want them to be just as lonely as I was." Isabelle's face grew slightly red as she realized she'd spoken aloud. She went on brashly, "Of course, I make it a practice of not falling in love. Would you be happy for David?"

"Right now I just want to see David alive and well. I wasn't in the least happy for him when he was with Jenny, but I would like to believe that was because I felt there was something false about her. I suppose it would depend on how I felt about the woman apart from David. I just pray I get the chance to find out." She finished putting the dishes away.

Isabelle stood and folded the tablecloth for her. When she spoke she didn't look at Lavinia. "Is he alive?"

"Yes," answered Lavinia quickly.

"How can you be so sure? It has been over two months and there is no trace of him. All of you say we are going to find him, you all have so much faith."

"You don't believe that we're going to find him?"

Isabelle started to scratch furiously at a mosquito bite on her hand. "That's heresy isn't it? If I can say something like that it means I don't deserve to find him. People die, the wrong people die. People who are loved and needed, they die just like everyone else."

"Yes, they do."

"Then why do you believe so strongly that we'll find him? I want to believe it, convince me."

"I don't know why. I just do." Lavinia saw Isabelle collapse into herself even though she hadn't moved. She searched her heart for the right words, words that not so much convinced Isabelle that David was alive as would tell her Lavinia understood why believing it was so hard for her. "I can't hand you my faith anymore than I could exchange it for a Christian faith when it would have been very prudent to have done so."

"No, of course you can't. Look, I didn't mean all that. I know we'll find him, we just have to keep looking." Isabelle went to the top of the stairs and picked up her riding boots. She brought them back to her chair and pulled them on.

"Isabelle, it is not a weakness to sometimes lose hope. You're right, it has been a very long time. All of us have had our moments of doubt."

"There just isn't any thing to do but go on looking until we find him," said Isabelle soberly.

Lavinia thought of her conversations with Claire about Isabelle. "I don't know how to offer her any comfort" Claire had lamented. Lavinia understood what Claire meant. She had the sense that she had just failed Isabelle in some fundamental way.

"Do you believe in anything, Isabelle?" she asked thoughtfully.

Isabelle sat very still. Her dark lashed gray eyes dominated her thin face. "I didn't use too. I always told myself that I was smart to realize there was no pattern, no just rewards. Good people died just like bad people. You were a happy little girl, weren't you?"

"Yes," nodded Lavinia vigorously. The question seemed to come from no where. She wondered why Isabelle asked. "Even after my mother died, my grandmother, my godmother, the rest of my family loved me."

"I was a happy little girl. My father was no good but he had a wonderful laugh, my mother was weak but she sang like an angel. And William." Isabelle smiled and shook her head slightly. "William was a dreamer and a storyteller. He created this beautiful world for me to live in. And then he went away and my parents died; I was only one who could create a beautiful world for me to live in. So I tried to anyway I could. Most of the time my life was good if a little shady but my luck failed. I ended up in that prison. Giving the locket to Colin to give to David was my last hope; it was a gamble. There was no really good reason for him to come for me unless he believed I knew where the coins were hidden. Just at the point I was sure I would die I heard a familiar voice and looked into David's eyes. I thought he came for the coins but he came for me. He believed me when I told him I was innocent of Marcel's murder."

With tears in her eyes, Lavinia watched Isabelle. She was suddenly aware that Isabelle was really not much older than Claire was. She sat bent forward, her slender hands hanging together between her knees, her long hair a curtain that hid her face.

"David," said Isabelle looking up at Lavinia, "believed in me. I suppose I've learned to believe in him."

Lavinia didn't know how to make the connection for Isabelle between her faith in David and in some power that would lead them to him. But she did pray to that power that she believed in. Please, please, let us find him. Let him come back and learn how deeply she loves him. It would be such a waste for him not to know he is loved so much.

Isabelle crossed the room to where her phonograph sat on top of the bookcase. She carefully set one of the fragile shellac discs onto the turntable, turned the crank, and set the needle into the groove. The old convict ballad THE BLACK VELVET BAND played softly. Just for a moment Isabelle swayed with the music, remembering how it felt to be waltzing in David's arms. She remember too another waltz that had ending in a kiss.

Lavinia closed her eyes. She let herself remember Isabelle's birthday party and how happy they had been all together. She was determined to believe they would be again all together.

"Pardon?"

There was a man standing at the top of the stairs. His voice broke in on the memories of both women. He was dressed neatly in a crisp linen suit. He held a hat in his hands leaving his nearly bald-head bare. His skin was unusually pale even for a European in the tropics.

"Mademoiselle Reed?"

Isabelle walked to the doorway. "Qui?"

The man nodded formally and politely in Lavinia's direction. Then spent several minutes arranging the rent of horses and a wagon with Isabelle. They spoke in French, a language Lavinia could easily follow but she had no interest in their transaction. Instead she watched Isabelle wrap her business-like manner around her almost as if it were a cloak. All of the vulnerability and fear she had been displaying only a few minutes before completely concealed.

***

"Tell me, Grief, why did you end your relationship with Miss Temotu?"

"What do you know about Lavinia?" asked David. It was painful to talk with his split upper lip. Blood filled his mouth with a metallic taste. Today's opponent was slow but powerful. David had gotten the worst of it.

He was back in the hut. He wanted to collapse to ground but pride kept him on his feet. He was tired of looking up at this man.

"Only that she is beautiful and completely self possessed. She has an air of serenity about her, doesn't she? In her company a man would be completely as ease. She is the sort of woman that would never be without one's favorite port or cigars. Still she hates the French for what they have done to her people. Do you suppose that hatred is deep enough that she would work actively against them?"

David didn't answer; his dark eyes were full of hate for the man in the linen suit. This was far worse than losing to the fighters he brought. At least in a fight David could do something to defend himself. But the Devil talking about Lavinia, speculating about her, filled David with an impotent rage. There was nothing he could do to protect her.

"Perhaps not. She seems such an orderly, straightforward person. She is clearly not meant for anything underhanded no matter how it paid. Miss Temotu is a woman who would always hold to her principles no matter what they cost her. No, Miss Reed is definitely the woman for my purposes. Her phonograph is quite an impressive machine. One doesn't often see such modern amenities in a place like Matavai Bay. I'll see you again soon, Grief."

The remark about the phonograph brought David's head up with a snap. So he has been in Matavai. His threat to them is real, thought David. He couldn't know about the phonograph if he hadn't been there. Damn him.

David leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. He thought about Lavinia. He could see her, wrapped in a red silk sarong, her dark skin glowing. All that long thick black hair for a man to get lost in. Beautiful, serene Lavinia, who loved him just enough to let him go.

At least the Devil is a good judge of character, thought David. He's right that Lavinia would never join an underground group against the French. Her resistance was out in the open just as it had been against the nuns in the school she had been forced to attend. She wouldn't work for someone else. Her loyalty was to her own people. No other power could purchase it.

But Isabelle. Isabelle was vulnerable to a man like that. Her loyalty wasn't to principles or to France or Britain. Hell, David wasn't even sure if she considered herself English because she was born in London or French because she was raised in France. She probably didn't consider herself anything at all. Isabelle Reed, citizen of the world. The thought brought a crooked smile to his lips.

She didn't have principles. No, thought David, that isn't fair. She does have principles but they are simple, not developed within the framework of society. Her first principle is to survive. Her second to protect those she cares about. He smiled as he remembered a story she'd told him about her childhood. She'd stolen a fish and risked a beating for a sick friend. She was loyal to her friends. She would fight to the death to protect Claire; in fact she had come very close to doing just that. And me, she is loyal to me, thought David. He could still see her dripping wet holding the heavy gun straight out in front of her.

The Devil could hurt Isabelle. His smooth way would captivate her. He could start with a simple deal, something just slightly outside of the law. So many of the traders sailed close to the edge of legality. David had done so himself on occasion. The Devil would show her how she could make money and before she knew it she would be in too deep. She was clever and perceptive but she was reckless and the security that money meant was an irresistible lure for her.

If only I could be sure that Mauriri was looking out for her. But how can I even hope that. If the Rattler is lost then they have nothing in common. She'll be running the horse business and looking for opportunities. Opportunities the Devil would be only too happy to provide.

"Damn it!" He pulled with all his strength on the chain that held him fast. "Isabelle, you have friends. Don't forget that. Please, God, teach her to trust her friends. Don't let her make my mistakes."

***

Jack McGonnigal stood in the doorway of the office Claire used for her little newspaper. Silently he watched her giving instructions to the native boy who helped her with the press. Her long honey colored hair was tuck up under a cotton scarf, a heavy apron covered her dress. There was a streak of ink across her cheek. She noticed him then and turned with a smile. Jack felt his heart turn over.

"Hello," she said walking swiftly towards him with her hand extended. "You're back early."

He took her hand and held it briefly. "We're not really back. We've Hong Kong goods for Fakariva but Captain wanted news of David so we put in here for water. Not that far out of our way."

Claire's face creased with sadness. "There isn't much news, I'm afraid."

Jack grimaced. "I just stopped to say hello. I've got to get back to the ship."

"May I walk that way with you?" She took off her apron and pulled the scarf from her hair. Her hair tumbled down over her shoulders. "I've something I want to say to you."

They walk slowly down to the beach and then towards the quay. Both were silent, their hands held behind their backs. It was late afternoon, the breeze had freshen off the ocean. It lifted strands of Claire's hair.

"Lavinia talked like she hadn't given up hope yet," said Jack to break the silence.

"Oh, no, she would never give up hope. Neither will Mauriri. He goes about this search with such dogged determination. I don't believe he has spent more than three days running in port since they brought the Rattler back and that's nearly two months ago now. But they have nothing to go on, not really. There has been many reports of white men but they always turn out to be someone else."

"I saw Isabelle briefly. She looked um--"

"As if she is being consumed from within?" asked Claire, her brown eyes filled with tears but she didn't let them spill over. "I'm so worried about her. Lavinia and I have done everything we can to get her to eat, to rest. But she just keeps moving." Claire sighed with frustration. She swatted angrily at large fly.

"What?" asked Jack. He stopped walking and carefully touched her arm to draw her attention. "What is that upsets you so about her."

"Oh," Claire drew a deep breath. "I don't know how to explain what I feel about Isabelle. Sometimes its seems that Mauriri doesn't believe she is truly looking for David. She can be so business like. Mauriri seems to think there is something unseemly about making a profit while they are searching. It is true she is so practical, every voyage must be about trading as well as David. But if you look at her, really look you can see the desperation in her eyes. All of this action, all of these deals, they are all a way for her to keep a step ahead of despair. Colin keeps reminding us that God does hear our prayers, that there is always hope but I don't think Isabelle has much faith in hope. She has known so much loss in her life. So she keeps up this frantic pace of activity to protect herself."

"She is lucky to have you looking out for her," he said as they started walking again. "And you? How are you, Claire?"

"Me? I'm all right. It is different for me. I'm very fond of David. I do miss him. It is hard to explain but even for someone who is only his friend he provided so much gaiety." Claire stopped walking. Her shoes had filled with sand. Awkwardly she tried to balance on one foot to take the shoe off the other one. Her long skirt got in the way. Jack reached out and steadied her. His hand on her bare arm felt warm and strong. "Thank you."

"I can carry them for you," he said reaching the other hand out for her shoes.

Claire had finally taken Lavinia's advice when the tropical summer brought day after humid day of 95 degree temperatures; she no longer wore lisle stocking. Handing Jack her shoes, she realized that she was barefoot in front of him. In the world in which she had been brought up, to be so was highly improper, but then in the world she had been brought up in even summer temperatures were rarely above 90 degrees.

"David is a good man, good captain and a good friend," said Jack his blue eyes serious. "I'm glad I had the chance to realize he is my friend. It may still come out all right in the end. If David is alive Mauriri will find him. Some friendships are like that, in spite of all the anger and disappointment between them this past half year Mauriri will keep searching. What was it you wanted to tell me? Something you need my help with?"

"Not exactly. The thing is, Jack, I thought," Claire paused. The words seemed to be stuck in her throat. She knew what she wanted to say but now that he was waiting to listen to her, she couldn't get them out.

Jack's blue eyes narrowed. "You thought what?"

Claire shook her head slightly and tried again. "When I saw Captain Lodge that night I knew something was terribly wrong. I thought something had happened to you."

Jack waited. He wanted to ask if she would have cared if something had happened to him but it didn't seem the right question. So he waited, watching her pretty young face.

Claire stopped walking. She took a breath and said, "I'm terribly sorry about David." Claire pushed a strand of hair out of her face. She frowned. "But it isn't what I want to talk about just now. Jack, I've been thinking."

"About what?" He cocked his head and looked into her eyes. He smiled hoping it would encourage her to say what was on her mind.

"That night. I thought that I had lost you and I suddenly realized what that would mean to me."

"To you?"

"I'm not saying this well at all," she said pressing her hand against her eyes. She took a deep breath and tried again. "Jack, I have so much to thank you for."

"What do you mean?" He laughed mirthlessly. "I did nothing but tell you pretty lies that lured you away from your home."

"No." She shook her head. "You gave me hope, courage. Your words helped me to see beyond the little world I lived in. Not a bad world in any way but a world I never quite fit into. I know now that it was your dreams you wrote to me about. Nothing here has been as I expected it to be."

"Least of all me." He looked away. It embarrassed him to remember how he had exaggerated his place in the world. He had written her about a house, a ship and an education, none of which existed, outside of his imagination.

"Yes, that's true. But it doesn't matter any more. I was foolish -"

"No, Claire." He looked back at her, shaking his head.

"I was. I held on to an image in my mind, in my heart, that no living man could live up to. An image created from my father, the heroes of my favorite books and your words. It has taken me such a long time to realize that was what I did." She looked out at the sea briefly and then back at him. "But I'm glad that I did because it is what got me here. I use to dream of being a reporter, a real reporter like Nellie Bly. Have you ever heard of her?"

"No." Jack was confused. He wasn't sure what it was she wanted to talk to him about.

"She's an American. She's written amazing stories, stories she has actually lived. And that was who I wanted to be. I knew I didn't have that sort of courage. But when I came here I discovered that there wasn't anyone to tell me I couldn't do the things I wanted to do. Because of your pretty lies I found a life for myself that I'm proud of. So I want to thank you." She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and tried to judge his expression. She knew she was taking the long way to what she really wanted to say. It had become so important to her that now she was afraid to ask him.

"You're welcome," said Jack slowly. It seemed that some response was expected from him. He hoped that was the right one.

"And I want to ask you if it is too late," she said suddenly.

"Too late?"

"To get to know each other."

Jack remembered the words from their first awkward meeting when she ran away shouting I don't want to know you. Could she really now be saying what he thought she was? "You mean to, um, keep company?"

"Jack!" Captain Lodge was calling from the quay. Jack glanced at him and then back at her.

"Oh, you need to go." She was relieved to see Lodge calling for him. In spite the hours she had thought about what she wanted to say to him, she had handled it badly and only succeeded in embarrassing both of them.

"Yea, Claire, I um," he stammered.

"It is all right, Jack, I've waited too long to learn what I needed I understand. I just thought after the social, when we dance-Never mind, Jack, I've made a fool of myself. Go to your ship." She started to turn away.

"Now hold on" he said catching her by the arm and forcing her to look at him. "Give a man a chance to catch his breath. You're suggesting that you and I could, could go back to the beginning and start over."

"Yes, in a way." She was trembling. "But clearly I've misunderstood and you need to go."

"I do need to go, can't keep the captain waiting, you know but I would, that is, are you serious about you and me getting to know one another?"

"Yes." She nodded. She felt awkward and exposed. She had been the one who refused to get to know him at the beginning. She hadn't been kind in her rejection. "I don't know that anything would come of it but I never gave it a chance. Everything was so confused. I just thought maybe you were still a little interested in me, that is, after the dance, I thought maybe."

A smile lit his face, then he looked over his shoulder at Lodge. "Claire, I have to go. But we can talk about this when I get back. I'll be back soon. I - you must know, that just these few minutes are precious to me. Oh, a, you'll want your shoes." He held them out to her.

She smiled hesitantly and reached for her shoes. Their fingers touched, Claire surprised herself by wanted to grab his hand tightly. "Would you like to kiss me goodbye," she asked shyly.

Jack's eyes stared into her, he felt held in her gaze. He put his hands on the sides of her face and leaned towards her. Claire slid her arms around the back of his neck and pressed her lips to his. They came apart slowly.

"I'd rather kiss you hello. And I will." He stepped away still looking in to her eyes. He came back and kissed her again, quick and hard. "I will." He turned and ran to his captain. Claire watched him with a growing smile. Then she turned towards her little office and started to whistle a waltz.

***

Continued in Part 3

They Comfort Me       Part 1       Part 2       Part 3      

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