The Race - Part 2

David found both Isabelle and Mauriri at Lavinia's. The prospect of the race had certainly brought the two of them closer. It was unexpected and a joy for David to witness. Perhaps it was a sign that David's little plan just might work.

Mauriri and Isabelle had never really been close. They both had sought different means to different ends. But both had their hearts in the right place and for some odd reason they both seemed to hold David in high esteem. That was something that still puzzled David. How could he befriend such polar opposites?

Isabelle spied him first. She nudged Mauriri on the arm and together they waved him over. As David garnered a chair, his two friends began speaking at once.

"Whatever you think is all right with both of us."

"We don't want to pressure you."

David shook his head. "Too late for that, but it's good to know you still have my best interests at heart."

They both sighed in relief. Mauriri shoved a glass beer at him that David accepted gratefully.

"Nice day outside," the islander noted a bit too obviously through the wide open windows.

"Absolutely," Isabelle agreed, bobbing her head vigorously. "Just the right amount of sun and wind. A beautiful day."

"Oh for pete's sake," growled David. "Just stop with the pleasantries. I've made my decision."

"You have?" declared Mauriri.

"Already?" Isabelle thought it would take longer than that.

"Uh-huh."

"Well, don't keep us in suspense!" declared Isabelle. "What is it?" Both she and Mauriri leaned forward expectantly.

David kept a straight face and enjoyed when both of his friends expressions fell just a bit in disappointment. Finally he told them.

"We race."

Isabelle practically leapt into his arms with a shout of glee as her arms encircled his neck.

Mauriri slapped him hard on the back. "That's the spirit!"

David just sighed and enjoyed the obvious excitement in his two friends. That alone eased his anxiety. "But," he stated as he extracted himself reluctantly from Isabelle' embrace, "there is a proviso."

Both friends regarded him.

"Isabelle is on board for the race." David kept his attention on Mauriri, trying to read how his partner would take such a request.

Isabelle's eyes widened as did Mauriri's. Both of them sat back, stunned.

"Why?" asked Isabelle. This wasn't what she had been after, not exactly. She had only been interested in getting David to race as a means of fanning away his own fears of self-doubt and to demonstrate her ability in procuring them viable business ventures from which they would profit. That David would ask her to come aboard for the duration of the race was completely unexpected. Her heart was hammering with delight but it still didn't squash her surprise at the turn of events.

"For my own reasons," David said. It served a multitude of reasons in his mind. Isabelle would be under his protection; Mauriri could see Isabelle as an indispensable business partner; and Titchmarsh would be furious. It was a chance for all of them to shine at what they do best, and the Devil couldn't touch them if they stood square against the wind as a unified front.

David stared at Mauriri, wondering his friend's thoughts on all this. The surprise was still etched there as he sat in his chair.

Mauriri studied David. He could not fathom what on earth David was thinking by this arrangement. But he was happy David had somehow found the strength to battle down his demons. If it was because Isabelle's presence could calm them, then who was he to question it. There was a spark of the old David glinting in his friend's eye. He nodded, "You call the shots on this one, partner."

"Good."

Isabelle's stare fluctuated between the two of them. "We'll win. I know it!" Her shining eyes settled on David. Her gratitude knew no bounds at this moment.

David smiled halfheartedly at her enthusiasm. He knew Isabelle's business status in the group would be won or lost on its outcome. It worried him a bit.

But instead he only remarked, "If nothing else, we'll make Titchmarsh eat every nasty word he has ever uttered."

"Here here!" his friends chorused. They all lifted their glasses to their new if only temporary partnership.

It didn't matter to Isabelle. She would be back on board the Rattler and she would be with David as she had been once before. She would show them that her judgment on this was sound. All it needed was a bit of resolve—check; a bit of teamwork—check; and a lot of luck—hmm, she would have to work on that. After all, she wasn't one to solely rely on fickle luck. No, not at all.

She grinned broadly at the two men at the table while her mind raced with probabilities. She had garnered an interesting tidbit of information from Henri Seraut and it was time to see if she could make it pay off for them.

****

David rowed out to the Malahini as she sat out in the bay. She had just come into Matavai yesterday and had promptly unloaded. Now they were in the midst of loading once again. Business was certainly booming for everyone it seemed.

He shouted out to the boat and a bearded face glanced quickly over the side.

"I'm here to see Jack McGonnigal. Is he aboard?"

The grizzled seaman nodded and assisted David up the ladder. "You'll find him at the stern."

Thanking the man, David weaved his way down the ship. The Malahini was larger than the Rattler and the bustle about her this morning only made him long to be heading out to the open sea again. Some of the crew were barely into their high teens. His memory immediately called back all the times he had hustled as a member of this ship's crew. It seemed like forever ago. Had he really ever been that young and fearless?

He spied Jack sanding down a rough patch of wood on the deck. The man's shirt was off and his tanned muscles were drenched in sweat. All his effort and concentration was thrown into the task. David had to call his name twice before the man realized someone was trying to attract his attention.

He muttered an apology and rose to his feet. "David, I didn't hear you?"

"You were busy," David noted. The man was breathing heavy as he reached for his shirt lying nearby to wipe the sweat from his eyes. David gestured to the activity on deck. "You heading out already?"

Jack nodded. "Mr. Seraut expects this shipment of copra to reach New Caledonia by next week. It's best we get a head start." Jack noted his friend's scowl. "Why? Something's come up?"

"Well I suppose you've heard the fuss about the Resolute." He jerked his head toward the dainty vessel out in the harbor.

Jack smirked at bit. "Who hasn't? Not even a turtle in his shell hasn't heard that bit of news."

"Well then, you've heard of the race as well. Titchmarsh is putting up the prize money."

Jack's smile faded quickly. "Yes, I've heard. Mr. Titchmarsh always has time for such frivolities. He meddles in things he has no right to be a part of."

David narrowed his eyes and eased a casual knee over the gunwale. "What say you to taking some of that prize money for ourselves?"

Confusion and suspicion vied for dominance on Jack's tanned face. "What are you talking about?"

"I've entered the Rattler." David was mildly surprised that Jack hadn't heard. He must be the only soul on Matavai who hadn't.

This announcement stunned Jack. "What? Why? Do you think you can beat her?" His eyes darted to the Resolute. "Merciful heaven! That would be a race."

"Then crew with me for it. I need all the best hands I can muster."

Jack balked and the joy swept clear from his face. "No. No, I couldn't. I have duties here. My thanks though."

"I need you, Jack. You know the Rattler's rigging better than anyone. I need men who won't hesitate and know just what she needs and when. That's you."

"I'm honored, David. Truly. But I can't. I have a responsibility to Henri Seraut. To Captain Lodge."

David sighed. He understood Jack's reasoning even if it was counter productive to his own needs. Jack was under probation with Henri Seraut and had only gotten this job at the behest of Lodge himself who carried some weight with merchantmen. But a part of him also knew that Jack was just avoiding issues that he wasn't ready to deal with. Like Claire. It was obvious to him that Jack was throwing himself into hard work in order to forget the misery he was in and the misery he had placed others in.

"I don't see you much in Matavai," he commented after a bit.

"I sleep on board the Malahini mostly now. It's easier that way."

David studied his friend. "And safer," he added perceptively.

Jack cast him a withering look and then shrugged. "I've learned not to tempt fate anymore."

"You can't hide forever, Jack."

The younger seaman rubbed the edge of his jaw as if it still ached. "But I can certainly steer clear of a bad situation. I've no great desire to meet up with folks."

"Folks like Isabelle and Claire."

"They're in their right to be mad. I may not know when to cover my head, but I don't go sticking out my chin either. It's best I just stay out of the way."

"You're thinking it will all pass over?"

"Or not."

"And then what?" David asked. "You'll leave Matavai?"

"Perhaps it would be for the best."

David shook his head. "That's rubbish, Jack. I thought you better than that."

"I disappoint a great deal. You'd think people would catch on eventually," he said bitterly.

"Not you. You've been through hell. I know what that feels like now." David regarded him with haunted eyes. He flashed for a moment on his own private torment. It rose up strong and fierce and David tried to force back into its box.

Jack's own misery waned suddenly as he noticed the drawn look on David's face. He knew that expression; knew why it was there. He had seen that same expression stare back at him every day in a piece of cut glass tacked onto a wooden beam in his ramshackle hut. He could never forget the abominations he had performed when shipwrecked because it echoed in his face every time he looked into the mirror. The body can heal but the soul and the memory seemed permanently imprinted with the horror of the past. It's a hard thing to claw free from.

He didn't know what to say to David. It was obvious the man was still in pain over his abduction. Jack had heard what Mauriri had seen in that hut where he was chained. It had sickened him. This Devil that had held David had tortured him, and the sailor was trying hard to forget what had happened. But he wouldn't be able to. And worse, Jack had no easy solution for David. He wasn't even sure if he was the person to help him. As a friend, Jack always seemed to botch up everything. The responsibility of helping David get through this ordeal was just too heavy for him to bear right now. Surely Mauriri could help him better instead.

David grew uncomfortable in the silence. "You're not leaving Matavai, Jack. Not over this." His voice was stern, almost angry. "That's a coward's way."

Jack almost admitted to being one, but realized in one brief moment of clarity that it would not go over well with David. Not right now.  "Perhaps not," he said instead. "I'll stick around for a while longer. I won't betray Captain Lodge. It's good work and it keeps me busy, enough to forget that craving of rum that rises from time to time."

David relaxed a bit and took Jack by the shoulder. "That's good to hear. My offer still stands, you know. About the rum."

Jack nodded. "You're a good friend, David. Better than I deserve right now. Trust me, if ever the craving gets that bad, you'll be the first to know."

David chuckled and rose to his feet. "I wish you would change your mind about crewing with me for the race, but I understand prior obligations. I'll sorely miss your sure hand at the rigging, but maybe it's for the best. Isabelle will be on board too. It certainly wouldn't go well if the Isabelle started pummeling you during a critical moment."

Jack almost smiled. "No, you'd lose the race for sure. I'll be rooting for you though. I'd love to see Titchmarsh squirm a bit."

"It seems to be the main reason for the Rattler to be in the race. Petty bunch, aren't we?" He smirked.

"Sounds like a good reason to me. Good luck to you."

David took Jack's outstretched hand. "And to you. Fair sailing and a good run." He walked back toward the dingy.

"David?" Jack called out hesitatingly.

The seaman turned around. "Yeah?"

"If you ever...I mean if you need to ..." Jack fumbled for words. He wanted to tell David that if the man wanted to talk about what happened to him, he'd be all right with that. But he faltered at the end.  Instead, he just said, "If you ever need help with anything, just let me know."

"Except for the race," David said with a grin.

"Yes, except for that. Anything else though." Jack felt terrible.

"I'll hold you to that," David assured him with a wave. Then he departed over the side of the Malahini and was gone.

Jack felt like he had run the entire length of the island and back. He was emotionally drained. He sank onto the gunwale and leaned forward on his knees. A good friend he was not. David needed help; that was plain. And Jack had failed again as a friend. What good was he? At this rate, he might well alienate everyone on the island. Except for David, he supposed. Nothing ever seemed to rattle that man. He wouldn't leave a friend's side no matter what; he saw the good in everyone.

Jack didn't deserve a friend like him.

He lifted his head and saw David rowing back to shore. He would find a way to help David overcome what happened to him, if he could. It was the right thing to do. He owed David quite a lot.

Somehow he'd find a way. That he swore.

****

David and Mauriri were squaring away the rest of the ship, preparing for the race. It was only three days away. Supplies were being stored below decks, just enough food and water to last through the race. Most of it dried to reduce weight and give the ship all the extra advantage they could eek out.

A bellow of a greeting came up from over the side and soon Captain Jim Lodge was on deck, followed by Isabelle.

"What brings you here, Jim?" David greeted his old captain with a warm handshake. "A word of warning for us?"

Lodge chuckled. "Actually I'm here to make sure you win."

Now it was David's turn to laugh. "That's a fairly tall order."

"Not at all," returned his old captain. "It takes brains and a little know how." Mauriri approached and greeted the former captain of the Malahini.  "Mauriri, it's good to see you on board the Rattler again."

"It feels good be here. What's this about us winning?"

"Isabelle discovered a little secret of mine and enlisted my help." He grinned at her while he spoke. "I didn't think you two gents would mind some pointers."

"Absolutely not!" Mauriri told him, though the astonishment hadn't left his face. Isabelle continued to surprise him. The woman was always thinking. Frightening prospect really.

"You know we would never turn your advice down," David assured him, his mind wondering what it was that Isabelle had discovered about Lodge. David had known him for years and Isabelle had only known the captain for a few months.

"Good. I have just the thing to help keep the Rattler in front of her competition."

"What? You have a miracle in your pocket? Angel's wings perhaps," David laughed.

"Just as good." He nodded toward the small skiff that had brought him over. "I've brought you a sail. An American sail."

"What's the difference?" David asked, watching as Tah-mey and some of his crew brought the heavy canvas on board.

Lodge grinned, pleased that he could once again impart his knowledge onto the best crewman he had ever had. "British sails, most of them like the ones on the Resolute, are made of hand-woven flax and flown loose-footed—attached to the boom only at each end—they spill much of the wind from their bottom edges as they belly out, and they're so porous that you can feel a breeze on the lee side of the sailcloth. During races crewmen continually douse them to make the cloth shrink and reduce its porosity, thereby making the sails more efficient, but still some of the wind manages to leak through and they lose time."

"That's what we use," noted Mauriri, though never had he heard of dousing sails. That was something he was going to file away in his memory for when the Rattler needed extra speed fleeing from pirates or smugglers.

"Not after today," declared Lodge, patting the cloth of the sail that the crewman had brought over and laid out on the deck. There was a crowd around them.

"It feels different," said Isabelle, fingering it gently.

"Yes," said Lodge. "This sail is made of tightly machine-spun cotton duck and will be laced all along the booms, making it taut, nonporous and as flat as a drumhead. So little it will hardly bulge in the wind." David stared in amazement at the gift. "Where did you get such a thing?"

"It was an order and I'm delivering it to a merchant in Australia next month. But I see no reason why you can't borrow it to kick the stuffing out of this race. Titchmarsh has caused me some lost cargo as well. I'd love to see that man taken down a few pegs.  Besides, there's only one ship that will give the Resolute a good run regardless."

David knew Lodge meant the Rattler. "But you don't think she'll win."

"She could but she'll need just a touch more of luck."

"How do you know so much about racing, Jim?" asked Mauriri. The old captain had more tricks up his sleeves than David sometimes.

"Let's just say that I dabbled once or twice in some interesting business ventures."

"You raced?" David exclaimed.

"Just a time or two as Isabelle discovered in the records."

"Did you win?" asked Mauriri. He thought it an important point.

"A time or two."    

"What else can you tell us," David eagerly wanted to know. He was about to pick the man's brain clean. He grinned at Isabelle. She had done well, bringing an expert on board.

"What do you know of square sails?"

"Nothing beyond what you taught me when I was crew."

"Well, here's a final secret. When you use a square sail, attached to a yard and hoisted on the foremast it will help speed the vessel along even when the wind is astern."

"Meaning we can catch the wind when some of the other vessels can't," Isabelle said.

"Exactly."

"The Resolute doesn't use them," noted David, gazing out in the harbor.

"No, she doesn't." Lodge's grin was wide and he was pleased everyone was being very observant and open about this lesson. It seems you can still teach an old crewman new skills.

David was staring up at his own ship. "The Rattler will need a few modifications to accommodate them."

"Easily done though if we rig it between there and there." He pointed near the front.

The Rattler's raked masts were set slightly forward of the usual mast position for a schooner, permitting her to carry a larger mainsail.

"It's possible," mused David.

"If we rearrange things a little," thought Mauriri.

David brought a wide grin to bear on his old captain. "We just might have a chance."

"Then let's get to it!" Lodge ordered.

****

The morning of the race was filled with blue sky and fast moving clouds. The wind blew gustily and sent the racing fleet of over thirty ships out of the bay at a quick pace. They all veered for the starting point. There was a low fog bank protected by the island's large bay and the ships disappeared into it without hesitation.

The Rattler moved well, taking little water over her bow and driving ahead with none of the pitching to be expected from a 100-foot schooner on the open ocean. But she did roll somewhat as the ocean's sweeping swells moved under her hull, and the motion shortly began to get to Isabelle.

Moving through the thick fog bank, with the swash of the sea and the creak of the masts echoing back at them sounded eerie to her. Thankfully, the fog blew away before a sudden strong breeze, and the ship surged ahead again into a clear sky. For the first time, it began to pitch, so much that her bowsprit was dipping below the waves.

"Ugh," moaned Isabelle, feeling every roll of the boat in her tetchy stomach. She had been up all night, mired in anticipation. "Why couldn't this have been a calm sea?"

"Because then there wouldn't be any race without the wind, Isabelle." David eyed his ships sails, keeping a close watch on their direction so he could orient his ship to use the wind to his best advantage. The wind buffeted his hair and shirt and they billowed as bright and full as his ship's sails. He wore his lucky red one to Isabelle's delight.

He also kept a close eye on the new rigging. It wasn't that he doubted Captain Lodge, but this was a new thing for him. He could feel the difference in the Rattler in the way she moved. He wasn't sure if he would be fast enough to read these differences to use to his advantage in the race.

A schooner with its fore and aft sails, can point up better and sail faster close to the wind than square-rigged vessel can; but when a vessel is running before the wind nothing draws like a square sail. David shouted an order for it to be raised and it bellied out before the wind; the men hauled the braces taut, and all sails were set like a board.

The little vessel sprang forward. David's heart leapt with it. His vessel was handling beautifully and seemed eager to try her new wings in the hard wind.

Mauriri cast back a pleased grin at David and Isabelle. He too thought the Rattler was adjusting admirably to her new rigging.

"She's running well," he shouted to them.

"Lodge is a miracle worker," David announced.

"Which is why I brought him in. Consulting the experts is the best way to get ahead," Isabelle pointed out.

Mauriri was beginning to see why David wanted Isabelle back on the team and not just for the race.  Her keen mind for business and knowing how to get the most out of any situation was a remarkable feat. But there was too much uncertainty in her motives and scruples. After all, they were mainly racing to get back at Titchmarsh. It was not a reason to race, was it? That was a great deal of what the old David used to do. But Mauriri had to admit David was thriving at this challenge despite his earlier protests. She did seem to know what was good for David, but he was still worried about bringing her back as a partner.

The wind abruptly hauled forward of the beam and the square sail thundered and flapped. Rousing out of his reverie, Mauriri shouted for it to be lowered in disappointment. He distributed the men about the deck aft of the foremast for proper balance, and they crouched in readiness to jump to their stations. There was no idle conversation about the chuckle of the water alongside and the creak of the rings on the mast so great was everyone's concentration.

It was almost a full hour before the wind picked up again, one of tense waiting and extreme agitation for the fickleness of the weather. Finally a few smiles of satisfaction were exchanged, however, as the Rattler pointed up so well that she passed some of the yachts to windward. Within a quarter of an hour she had moved through most of the fleet and had only three yachts ahead of her.

Then David frowned as he felt his ship suddenly slow. The breeze showed signs of dying. Then, as the vanguard was passing Bradford House, the little cutter Volante, which the Rattler had just passed, caught a gust in her huge jib and, being lighter and more responsive to the wind, surged ahead of the entire fleet. Isabelle could just make out Captain Mele's tall frame at her wheel.

The breeze did not die, however, it picked up, much to David's relief. Mauriri let out a shout of jubilation as he watched the Rattler's big sails grew taut again, and the little vessel put her shoulder down and go to work. With the water now rushing along her lee bulwark, she overtook the leaders one by one.

To the onlookers crowding the pier near the eastern extremity of the island, the Rattler's performance was nothing less than spectacular. Lavinia grasped at Colin's arm as he stood beside her.

"Look at them go," she exclaimed.

"It's marvelous," he murmured in amazement.

Lodge was near beside himself with pride at the rail. The thrill of the race filling his heart like in the days of his past. The Rattler was performing as well as he had ever hoped. David's sure hand at the helm; Mauriri's sharp eyes to oversee the rigging and crew; while Isabelle kept track of where the other boats were in conjunction to their ship, made for a winning combination. He idly wondered if he should have placed more money in the pool.

Colin had rented a horse-drawn cart to take them to the next vantage point and they all piled in. Lavinia had packed a huge lunch with Lianni. This was their first boat race and they were both thrilled beyond measure, seeing especially that all their friends were manning the Rattler. They only had to root for one that way.

The reverend collected the reins and drove them at a slow steady pace. Going across the island would certainly put them well ahead of the boats. Afterwards, they would all retire back to Matavai Bay and wait in the darkness to see who would cross the finish line first. Lodge told them that with the fickleness of the winds, the race could last anywhere from seven to ten hours. It truly would be a test of endurance.

****

While the other yachts rose and dipped in the gathering whitecaps, tossing spray halfway up their masts, the Rattler seemed to cut straight through the waves.

And three and a half hours from the start, as the boats neared the western tip of the island and were about to enter the open channel, the Rattler moved up past the big leaders and then inched past the spirited little Volante. David jauntily saluted Captain Mele as they passed who only stared at the quick little Rattler with astonishment. With the breeze freshening and a chop building up from the channel, the Rattler moved steadily ahead of most of the fleet.

But there were four vessels still ahead of them, including the Resolute. David wasn't so sure that they could catch them. They had used all of their tricks and still it wasn't enough. He could hear the rigging creak and moan as the wind pulled the ropes tightly against the mast and the cloth of the sails. He could feel his ship straining beneath the wood of the helm beneath his palm and the tremble of the deck under his feet. She was giving all she had. How could he ask her to give more so that she broke apart under the strain? Not for a simple boat race? A life and death venture maybe, but not this.

So when the wind slacked off again, David didn't give the order to draw back the sails but nor did he urge his men or his ship to do more. Mauriri didn't either. And when his friend glanced back at him with a somber face, he knew Mauriri thought the same thing. The race was lost.

Isabelle though didn't understand. "Should we raise the square sail or something? We're slowing down!"

"I know, Isabelle," David said.

"We can't catch them now." Mauriri was staring up at the sky. There was only a modest wind filling the sheets at present.

"We can't just give up." Her gray eyes turned on David, full of loss and desperation.

"It's not exactly up to us," Mauriri told her gently. Isabelle sometimes liked to believe that sheer willpower could change a situation. He admired her tenaciousness and sought to ease her down gently.

It was at this point four of the leading skippers made a costly mistake.

Off the eastern point of the island was a landmark called the Motu, marking a tall tower of rock, practically an island in itself, jutting up from the reefs, indicating the shoal areas between it and the shore of the main island. Four of the yachtsmen, following local custom, tacked off to go out around the Motu, including the Resolute.

As David steered to follow suit, even though he knew there was little they could do to catch up, Isabelle ran up to him and stayed his hand. "David, wait!"

Confused, David studied the water, searching for something dangerous that perhaps Isabelle had spied, but he saw nothing.

"What's the matter?" Mauriri asked, coming back to them from the bow.

Isabelle was staring intently ahead of them, at the ships making their way around the Motu.

David shrugged at Mauriri. "Isabelle noticed something." He turned to her. "Do you see something? Should I veer off?"

"No," she stated. "But don't follow them." She was pointing after the four lead boats.

"Why not?"

"The rules call out the Motu as a marker. We have to go around," pointed out Mauriri.

"But they don't specifically say on which side we all have to stay." She had that gleam in her eye, which made Mauriri nervous. "Didn't you say that you know this area well? Do you know where the deep water is on the other side of the Motu?"

"Yes, but..."

Isabelle pulled out a pamphlet from her jacket. "This says nothing about which side of the Motu marker we're supposed to take, only that the course itself is ‘around Matavai.'"

Before the start of the race, each boat had been issued instruction cards indicating the course and rules of the race. A program of the race had also been printed, for participants and spectators alike. While the program stated that the Motu was a landmark, the instruction cards did not include such a specific direction; they simply mentioned the Motu as one of the marks, without indicating on which side the vessel should leave the rocky tower.

There was, of course, the danger of running aground on one of the shoals between the Motu and the shore. But Mauriri, acting as pilot, knew where the deeper water was located. If they could take the Rattler inside the mark on a shortcut that saved at least two miles, they could have the advantage over the other participants.

David regarded Mauriri, a deep frown crossing his features. "What do you think?"

"I suppose the question is, do we want to win the race or not?" was Mauriri's response.

David was a bit surprised. "Of course I want to win. Do you?" he asked the native man cautiously. In truth he didn't know the answer.

But Mauriri's broad grin was the telling answer.

"Titchmarsh will contest it, you know that," David told him, but his own grin was breaking through. "We'll be disqualified."

"Let him," Isabelle laughed. "I just want to give him a heart attack when we cross the line first."

Her laugh was infectious. It swept through the ship. No one had much love for Titchmarsh and his arrogant ways.

"Let's do it," shouted David. He ordered the sails pulled taut and swung the vessel in toward the island and the shoals.

Mauriri ran for the bow of the boat to steer David on the correct bath. Sparrow and Teh-mey stood by with sounding rigs.

By the time the other more cautious yachts had rounded the outside of the Motu, the Rattler was far ahead of the nearest one. And some of the trailing yachts had caught up with the leaders by following the Rattler on the same shortcut.

The crew of the Rattler cheered. The tension that had been plaguing David was suddenly eased. It was good for the morale this venture. He had never seen the men so relaxed. This was enjoyable for them even though it was hard work.

"At least we won't be the only ones disqualified," Isabelle remarked lightly looking at the boats that had trailed after them on the inside of the Motu. The valiant little Arrow was dogging them at every step. The captain obviously trusted David and Mauriri implicitly.

****

"Can you see them?" Lianni asked breathlessly. She had all but run up the hill to the cliff side vantage point. The carriage that had deposited Lavinia, Colin, Lodge and herself was waiting patiently as Colin helped Lavinia with the basket tied behind the seats. There were already a small gathering of onlookers and one politely turned and nodded. "They've just come around the horn."

"Who's in front?" she demanded, then smiled quickly as she realized she sounded just a tad too brusque. To her relief it was a friend that called back, whose voice was rich with exhilaration.

"I swear I only see the Rattler's sails. She must be leagues ahead of the rest," shouted back Claire who was at the top of the hill, sitting with a crowd of people. She waved excitedly at Mauriri's wife.

Lianni let out a very undignified whoop of joy as Lodge raced up to her. "They're in front! They're in front!"

"Who's second?" was Lodge's quick reply though his face beamed with pleasure. But he knew how fickle the winds could be.

"No one!" declared Lianni. "They're going to win! Isn't it wonderful!"

Lavinia and Colin joined them, lugging the basket and a nice wool blanket. They had overheard the joyous clamor. "Do you really think they'll win?" the reverend asked Lodge.

"It's still too early to tell, but she's giving a good show of herself. They should be proud. I bet Captain Fallon is beside himself. He probably thought this would be an easy win."

"Oh, I can think of someone else who's beside himself," Lavinia commented quietly and inclined her regal head toward another group of figures standing in the crowd atop the hill on the far end.

The Titchmarshs had planted themselves at the best vantage point with a large table complete with a lace tablecloth and fine china. Around the table sat Gilles Bradford, Henri Seraut and also Mrs. Russell and Claire. Claire's attention was drawn to Lavinia as she approached. She lifted a hesitant hand in greeting and was pleased in some way when the entire group returned it, Lavinia included.

Seraut and Bradford stood and acknowledge the newcomers with formal courtesy. However, Mr. Titchmarsh was scowling, his prized telescope trained on the far cliff face while he waited with pensive breath for another ship to round the bend. But the minutes were ticking by and not another sail showed forth.

"It's utterly ridiculous. I heard that the Resolute was unbeatable. What is Captain Fallon playing at here?"

Mrs. Titchmarsh was also frowning but more at the approaching Lavinia and Lianni. But then her attention returned to her husband. "Perhaps he is playing a game, dear. Sort of letting the horse have a bit of rope before it chokes itself."

Mr. Titchmarsh grunted. "I suppose Fallon is that good a sailor. But it seems foolhardy. Better to put these upstarts in their place quickly. Let them dog your heels instead. Breaks the morale."

"You should have joined Captain Fallon's crew, dear. He could have used your wise council. Don't you agree, Mrs. Russell?"

"Indeed," announced Mr. Titchmarsh for himself.

"I suppose if he were knowledgeable about such things," responded Mrs. Russell politely, "than Captain Fallon would welcome any assistance."

"Especially now," added Claire honestly, which only earned her glares from some of the gathered individuals.  Except for Gilles who beamed at her and then leaned toward her.

"I would gather that Captain Fallon is greatly relieved at such an oversight."

Claire hid a chuckle behind a white-gloved hand and tried hard not to allow it to blossom into a full-fledged laugh.

"Mauriri and Grief are doing an incredible job. They have a very good chance of winning it."

"Oh, do you think so?" She cheered for David, Mauriri and Isabelle. How exciting it must be to stand on the deck of the ship as it raced. Claire envied Isabelle immensely. She would have to do a story about it.

"Absolutely," Gilles remarked. "I only wish I could have joined them."

Mr. Titchmarsh cast the two of them a disparaging look. He was sitting right here; he could hear them. What gall, he thought. "I think you give them too much credit."

Gilles regarded the older man. "I would think that you'd be pleased to have a local man win the race. It's good for business."

"Yes, but why did it have to be Grief and his friend. That kind of business I could do without."

Mrs. Titchmarsh lifted a hand at Colin, keeping her expression especially guarded. "Reverend, do come and join us at our table. There's room for one more."

Colin found it difficult to force a polite smile. The woman was clearly off her mark if she thought he'd abandon the people he just arrived with to sit with the likes of her. Sometimes the woman's blatant prejudice was almost unbearable. He must have looked like he was going to say something inappropriate because Lavinia's hand briefly brushed his arm. When he glanced at her she had only a warm smile for him.

Drawing a deep sigh, he shook his head at Mrs. Titchmarsh. "Thank you, Mrs. Titchmarsh. However, I worked hard on this wonderful picnic meal. I simply must have some. Do feel free to come try some yourself though." His hand waved toward the basket on top of the blanket Lavinia was arranging on the ground. He smiled at Claire hoping she would at least come to join them. He was pleased at her wide smile but he also didn't miss the slight touch of Mrs. Russell at her elbow. With a quick glance to her matriarch, Claire's smile faded and she shook her head at Colin apologetically.

Mrs. Titchmarsh simply snorted but with a great deal of effort kept the smile rigid on her face. "No thank you, Reverend. But suit yourself. Though I dare say the view is much better here."

"I doubt it," muttered Lodge, eyeing Mrs. Titchmarsh's large frame. With his broad back obscuring their view, his hands outlined very generous portion of the woman's build.

"Jim," hissed Lavinia.

"I'm sorry, but that woman is annoying."

"No argument from me," responded Colin as he sat down amongst them.

Lavinia just shook her head. "She's no different than a hundred other people on this island."

"That's the problem," Colin muttered. "She's a leader in the community and she sets a poor example."

"Only by some people's standards," Lavinia pointed out.

"My word, why do you of all people stand up for that woman?" asked Lianni. She knew full well how Titchmarsh had treated Lavinia and Isabelle. It was wrong.

"It will take a good deal more than your preaching, Colin; your indignation, Lianni; and your hand puppets, Jim, to change the likes of her." She gave a subtle shrug of her shoulders in resignation.

"But perhaps all of those together will help her see the error of her ways," noted Colin. "I believe that even the oldest of dogs can be taught new tricks." He winked at Lavinia and bobbed his head toward the Titchmarshs while Lodge made a little dog puppet out of his hands.

The four of them all fell into peals of laughter.

"Dare I speculate that the joke is at my host's expense?" asked Gilles Bradford who had just sauntered over.  His dark eyes were sparkling with mischief as he leaned over Lavinia's hand.

His answer was a wide smile on each of their faces.  "I'm surprised you aren't racing, Gilles," said Lavinia.

Gilles shrugged his slender shoulders clad in a bright white shirt.  "I couldn't talk my father into sponsoring a boat and Henri wasn't willing to risk the money against both the Resolute and the Rattler.  But there are other ways to making a race exciting that are somewhat less strenuous."

"Who did you risk your money on?" asked Lodge curious as to just how much of a gambler the young man was.

"The Rattler, of course," responded Gilles with a puzzled look.

"Local pride?" queried Colin.

"There is that and the fact that should she win the gain will be far greater. Thank you, Lianni," Gilles said as he accepted a skewer of cold grilled shrimp.

"Longer odds," said Lodge his attention still on the point where the next boat would come into view.

"Yes, but the real payoff will be the look on Titchmarsh's face if the Rattler manages to hold her lead."

Lavinia smiled at Gilles.  There was of course no real risk involved for him.  Still she was pleased he had put his faith and his money on the Rattler.  She glanced at the group around the table.  The smile on Claire's face looked a bit strained. "Gilles?" she said with a nod towards those around the distant table.

Gilles glanced over his shoulder.  "Ah, yes.  Well, I wish you all a good day.  Do come have a look at the Malahini while you're in port, Captain," he said as he walked away.  

Lavinia noticed that he paused for a moment and whispered something in Claire's ear that made her smile more genuine. "Another sail!" came the cry.

The four of them stood up and trained their gaze seaward. Lodge produced his telescope. "It's the Arrow!"

There was a round of disgusted groans from the other end of the crowd.

"Impossible!" shouted Titchmarsh.

"Oh my! The Resolute is three sails behind the Rattler!" squealed Lianni. "Oh they are going to win!"

"Possibly," admitted Lodge. "But there is more to winning a boat race than being out in front."

"Like what?"

"Like having luck on your side."  

****

That luck changed once again. The breeze began to die, and a few of the lighter boats started to come up on the Rattler. Off the curve of shoreline north of the Motu, a strong tide flowed in toward the beach. The Rattler was caught in it, with barely enough breeze to keep from being swept onshore. Mauriri was now at the wheel, giving David a break while they had a chance.

"Damn it," Mauriri cursed and spun the wheel to steer her back into safer water. The Rattler struggled against the pull of the tidal flow. Her limbs trembled with the strain as Mauriri worked her free. They had taken the chance by cutting closer to shore in order to shave some distance, but the winds were not favoring them and slowed just at the wrong time, enabling the tide to grasp them.

Isabelle was at the bow watching the sails critically not watching what the crew was doing.

There was a cracking, splintering sound, and the jib boom curled back over the bowsprit. Isabelle knew what it meant. She raced forward in a desperate panic. She'd be damn if they would lose this race, not over this. They veered starboard as the rigging dipped into the water and pulled the bow about. The deck shifted beneath her feet as a cursing Mauriri turned the Rattler into the wind while the men scrambled out onto the bowsprit.

Shouts echoed after as the men struggled to make right the damage. A loose rope, snapped by the weight flailed around and walloped Isabelle's head. She fell to her knees but was up again quickly, more annoyed than hurt.

Isabelle flung herself over the bow, reaching desperately for the flapping rigging. Maybe it could be salvaged. Tah-mey too struggled to pull the damaged pieces back on the ship. The men retrieved what they could, while Isabelle came dangerously close to falling in.

Suddenly David was there beside her, a hand at the crazy woman's waist. The sail was still attached and ballooning in the water, acting still like a sail except as a deterrent in this case as the ship was dragged in a crazy arc from the force. He firmly grabbed hold of Isabelle before the woman was dragged in after it.

"Let it go!" he shouted. "Let it go!"

"It's not lost! We can fix it!" Isabelle argued determinedly.

"It's not worth it! Cut the rigging!" David shouted at the rest of the crew, his arms tight around Isabelle as he hauled her back.

At David's orders, Tah-mey jettisoned the jib boom. David and Isabelle tumbled back onto the deck just as the Rattler righted herself. Mauriri quickly brought her back on course and out into deeper water away from the treacherous tidal flow, still in the lead, but by a smaller margin.

Mauriri shouted from the stern, "Are you all right?"

David nodded. Isabelle had a rivulet of blood dripping from a gash on her scalp from where the loose rigging had struck her. It wasn't deep and the woman didn't even seem to notice it, so irate she was with the situation.

"We lost the square sail," she snarled, slapping the wooden deck furiously.

"Well, it's better than losing you, Isabelle," David told with her as he helped her to her feet. His heart still hadn't stopped its panicked pounding. Good God, he had almost lost her! Had the broken rigging been the work of the Devil? Had the man been able to get on board again and play havoc with his ship? With the people he loved? His mind raced with doubts until he felt a hand on his cheek.

"David, I'm fine." Isabelle turned his face toward her. "Look at me."

He covered up his fear and tried to give her a stern look. "What would Claire say about your recklessness?" he whispered harshly in an attempt to redirect her thinking.

"She'd be very cross," she admitted.

"Exactly." David took her firmly by the arm. "Come on. Let's get that cut taken of. Down into the hold with you, you crazy, gutsy crewman." His eyes shined a bit with pride as he realized that Isabelle had become so much a part of this ship, against her wishes even, that she would risk so much to save the ship.

She smiled triumphantly as she strode past the crew who all smiled at her, proud that she had risked life and limb to make sure they stayed out in front. Isabelle felt near to bursting. She really had become a respected part of the crew.

David stopped Tah-mey as the sailor went past and ordered quietly, "Check the rigging. I want to know why it broke."

The man nodded.

Down in the hold, David just shook his head at her. "You shouldn't have taken the chance, Isabelle." His heart had finally begun to slow. For a moment there, he thought the jib was going to take her down to the bottom with it.

"You want to win, don't you?"

"Not at that price. Never at that price." He stared at her with a face that Isabelle rarely saw and still to this day couldn't understand. Why should he care so much? Surely if he did, he wouldn't have cast her partnership aside the way he did.

"I really thought I could save it," she replied quietly.

"Is it that important to you that we win?" He dabbed at her cut with water, being careful in his prodding so he wouldn't hurt her.

"No. But I want to see you...." She broke off and winced slightly as he pressed hard for a moment. "Never mind," she finally said.

"See me what? Why is this about me?"

She laughed almost bitterly. "It's always about you, David. You idiot."

That took him completely by surprise. His hand dropped the cloth down to his side. He was completely stumped by her statement.

"I want to see you happy!" she admitted softly.

"By throwing yourself over the side?" he asked full of incredulity.

"No," she retorted sharply. "That was a miscalculation. I didn't realize the sail would soak up seawater so fast. I – I just didn't want to fail you this time. I didn't want to lose face since I'm the one who came up with this crazy venture. I wouldn't be much of a business woman if that happened, would I? You wouldn't think much of me."

David paused, letting that bit of information wash over him. Now things began to make sense. He placed a clean bandage over the wound and told her to hold it there as he wound another strip around her dark hair.

"This wasn't just your idea," he reminded her quietly. His guilt was back full force.

"Yes, it was."

"Mauriri was just as adamant about it."

"But at my insistence. I'm the one that wouldn't let it go."

"Why was that?"

Isabelle shrugged. "Partly because of Titchmarsh's involvement, I suppose."

"And the other part?" he asked as he tied off the end of the bandage. His hand pulled hers down from holding the dressing. He didn't let go of it. Their fingers squeezed together as if drawing strength from the other's presence.

"Like I said," Isabelle whispered, "I wanted to see you happy."

"I am happy. Are you?"

She forced a little laugh. "Me? Of course, I'm happy. Why wouldn't I be happy? I used you and now I'm finished with you." Her eyes didn't leave his. They kept boring their way into her. Her breath was coming a tad too rapid.

"I never meant –," he began.

She leaped off the cot. "Of course, you didn't," she responded brusquely. The truth was too close to coming out. "I know that. And I'm glad I was able to help. That's what I'm here for. Good Samaritan and all that. That's me."

David smiled a bit at that. "You are. You really are."

"Well, let's hope Titchmarsh doesn't feel the same way. I want to make him squirm like a worm on a hook. Come on," she said, pulling his arm so he followed her back up on deck. "We have a race to win."

When they emerged Mauriri was desperately trying to keep hold of the lead, which was far too slight now. The Rattler was moving more like her old self without the new rigging but without the sail's extra canvas it would affect her speed that they need now more than ever.

David sought out Tah-mey, anxious to know if his fears were justified. Perhaps it had been a bad decision about entering the race and bringing Isabelle on board.

Tah-mey noticed his captain's arrival on deck and came over immediately. He quickly explained that the boom itself was not at fault; it had easily withstood the light pressure of the wind. But Sparrow and the crew, using a windlass to pull the jib sheet taut, had cranked it too tight. "It was destined to fail after that. Just bad luck. No more."

David nodded, desperate to believe his loyal crewman. It had all the appearances of just an accident, a miscalculation. Lately, he had his doubts about such things, but Tah-mey seemed to be content with that answer. But he would be even more on his guard now. It seemed foolish, since only his usual, long-standing crew was with him. He had hired no one new. So maybe this was only foolishness.

The winds around the island were predictable only in their unpredictability. In the open channel south of the island there was less wind than there had been in the sheltered strait. The Rattler kept moving west along the south shore, but the going was slow, and baffling currents kept taking her off course making David brusque and irritated.

But Isabelle saw she was not the only vessel to suffer, however, nor the one to suffer most. Her stomach twisted as an errant current carried the Arrow onto a rock ledge east of the island's Shark Bay. Another cutter, Alarm, started to her rescue and almost followed her aground. Isabelle thought it incredibly brave of Captain Sippet to try and assist, risking yet another collision and disaster to his vessel. She sent a silent prayer their way.

Two other yachts, Assateague and Volante, tacking close to shore, collided; Volante, the early leader and one of the fastest in the fleet, lost her entire jib boom and, along with Alarm and Arrow, now hopelessly behind the rest of the field, had to retire from the race.

"Are they all right?" David shouted.

Isabelle used the spyglass to determine the fate of their competitors. To her relief, everyone appeared to be safe. Other ships that weren't in the race but had been trailing after them were maneuvering to help the stranded racers.

"They're okay," she assured her partners. "Help is on the way."

It had been a close call. Currents were erratic and could catch the unsuspected. Without the wind to carry them free, boats were at its mercy as easily as a swimmer. The light wind and demanding sea was affecting most of the racers and it cleared the field as swiftly as a hand swiping across a chessboard.

By now only the yacht Resolute was giving the Rattler any competition. A few others were in sight, but far astern of her. It would come down to the two of them forestalling any other disasters.

David relieved Mauriri at the wheel as the Rattler glided past Mui's Point. At the southern tip of the island, she altered her course to northwest and loosened her sheets for a quartering breeze had begun to look promising. The entire crew held their breath and watched the sails as they gradually filled and caught the passing air stream. The wind held, and the Rattler swept up the island's southwest coast, reopening the gap between her and the other vessels, in particular the Resolute.

Isabelle could see the crew of that ship working furiously to catch the same wind and hopefully use it to their better advantage. She had full faith in David and Mauriri to make the Rattler fly like the spirited ship she was. For the first time, Isabelle was beginning to sense the ship's full power. To any layman, she was but a piece of floating driftwood, but David and Mauriri could make such a trifle dance and soar like a bird on the wing. Without the added terror of pirates, she was actually relaxed and could finally take note of the beauty that shone in this ship. No wonder the men loved her so. And Isabelle was beginning to feel that same elation and pride in being a part of this ship and not just a mere passenger. It broke her heart to realize that this was her final voyage on board the beautiful ship, at least as a member of its crew.

The Rattler rounded the tiny lighthouse marking the tip of the island and was now on the last leg back to Matavai Bay. The crew cheered as the bow of their vessel continued to plow ahead. Her sail framed against the shimmering blue water was a sight to behold.

But then the wind began to die, fading into a fickle breeze that fluctuated in direction and scatted cat's paws across the surface of the sea.

"Damn it!" shouted Mauriri. His hand slammed down on the gunwale and he cast a terse face back to David. Fate's teasing hand was beginning to get annoying.

David blew out his breath, desperately considering their options. The wind was dying for all of them. It was now a matter of who could capture more of it than the other competitors. The smaller vessels would require less than the larger vessels. The Rattler was heavier than the Resolute but she had the better sails thanks to Lodge.

Mauriri called out orders to Tah-mey and the crew. "Goosewing the foresail and the mainsail!" He looked back at Isabelle who was puzzled by such an order. He explained. "If we get one out to port and the other to starboard, it will present the largest possible surface area to the wind, regardless of how slight it is, every little bit counts now."

David nodded his approval and spun the helm to angle the vessel's bow where the sails could work the best. The men made short work of Mauriri's order and soon her sails were arranged to catch what wind she could. The Rattler had taken seven and a half hours to cover the forty-one miles to the Hoe Lighthouse. Now, the shifting wind and against an ebbing tide, she took three hours to complete the last twelve miles of the course, drifting along with her wings spread wide to the faint following wind.

Astern of her one vessel came stubbornly on. The Resolute had gone outside the Motu, but continued her dogged pursuit. Captain Fallon was not giving up. Isabelle could hear the man shouting at his crew as he tried to find a way to eek more speed from his ship and catch the vessel that taunted him throughout this race.

Somehow he must have picked up a shift of wind for the vessel began to draw closer. Isabelle shouted at David and Mauriri, pointing behind them, but there was little they could do. It was sheer luck that Fallon had discovered a salvation. At Shark Bay the Resolute had been all of eight miles astern. But as David and the rest of The Rattler's crew anxiously watched, Resolute steadily closed the gap.

"She's going to catch us," remarked Isabelle solemnly, her hand pulling the annoying bandage from her head. It hung limp in her fingers. She wasn't angry. Even coming in second to a ship and a captain like James Fallon was a remarkable feat. She was just disappointed that Titchmarsh wouldn't get his just deserts at her hands. Above all she wanted to take that race money from his dirty little hands.

There was no answering statement from David. He saw the inevitable as well. Mauriri moved forward to stand with the crew. Silence settled on the Rattler as each man sent a silent prayer to sea gods, saints, and sailors' angels. Perhaps one of them would look their way and guide them to victory. The passage of time crawled to a halt and David and the rest were lost in that netherworld that only knew two ships, two crews and two dreams.

Dusk settled over the island, darkening the green filled cliffs and obscuring the finish line. Only Resolute's outline loomed larger and larger behind them like a great avenging bird, her spread wings red against the setting sun lying on the horizon in the west. But she was still some distance astern at 8:37 pm when the men aboard the Rattler saw a kaleidoscope of light in the sky just ahead of them, followed by the crackle and burst of fireworks, signaling that the Rattler had crossed the finish line.

At first there was stunned silence, men looking at each other in puzzlement, disbelieving what they were seeing. But then the crew went wild. Enthusiastic shouts and dancing on the deck ensued. Mauriri grabbed Sparrow in an exuberant embrace much to the old man's surprise.

Isabelle let out a scream of victory and leapt into David's arms. "We won! We won!"

David was laughing, his grip on the wheel lost in the flurry of excitement that was Isabelle Reed. He spun her around in joyful glee. He had never seen her so happy. They had done it, by hook or by crook or by simple miracle.

"That we did!" he laughed. She turned her face toward him. It was filled with rapt joy. She had never looked more beautiful. In a quick second of thought, his head dipped down and captured her lips in a deep kiss. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders a little tighter, lost in the moment. His lips kept moving over hers, pulling and consuming. It felt like she was drowning in him. Her breath was gone and she couldn't draw another.

Then he slowly pulled back, their faces flushed, their eyes both wide and wondering.

"W-what was that?" Isabelle asked once she got her breath back.

"That was me be daring and unafraid," he told her, the barest of smiles quirking the corner of his mouth.

"Oh," she said quietly. Then her tingling lips broadened into a pleased smile.

The glare from the fireworks made the deck of the little vessel sparkle, casting them in a shimmering glow. Mauriri brought over bottles of port and a box of glasses and proceeded to distribute them out to the men. Isabelle and David separated a tad reluctantly, but not before the islander took note of it with mild curiosity.

"My God, we did it!" Mauriri exclaimed. He laid a wondering hand on the Rattler's sails. "Remarkable. Like an angel's flight."

"It's as close to flying as you can get," David said.

"That's what it was like. Flying," Isabelle agreed, her gaze catching David's.

He smiled. "Thanks to you and Lodge. Without his new wings, he'd have never beaten them."

"And we kept them intact too," Isabelle noted. She exhaled a sigh of relief.

Mauriri's laughter faded a bit. He hadn't even thought about that. Good thing too. He was too stressed just by the race to even realize it. But then he grinned. "Luck loves us," he declared.

"About damn time too," David said. It felt good to be a winner for a change. Things were definitely feeling like old times. Of course, now they had to go be disqualified, but in the meantime it felt like victory.

****

The taphouse was packed. It seemed that everyone on the island was jammed inside its borders. But even that couldn't account for the multitudes. Obviously the news had traveled beyond their little island and people had come from many miles around to watch the spectacle.

And by God, they had given them all a spectacle to remember, thought Isabelle. The three of them entered side by side, all wearing grins big enough to burst.

Miraculously the crowd parted to let them enter Lavinia's where the winner's cup and cash would be awarded. The crowds closed in around them as they approached. Wild cheering from the locals echoed around the walls.

Then suddenly Mr. Titchmarsh was before them. His face was red and flushed. Isabelle had never seen him angrier. It did her heart a world of good to know that she had played a part in this. A sense of self-satisfaction enveloped her. What more could she ask for? Despite what would happen in the next few minutes, they all knew this would be a day that they would all talk about for years to come.

"Mr. Titchmarsh," David called out to his former employer. "What a wonderful sight to greet us after our win." His smirk was wide and condescending.  

"You...You....You c-cheated!" Titchmarsh finally got out through his puffed cheeks. "False win! Disqualified!"

"Says who?" demanded Isabelle. "On what grounds? We crossed the finish line first!"

"The Motu! You fouled on the Motu!" Titchmarsh stepped forward and pointed an accusing finger at the trio, though he centered on Isabelle since she was more in his direct line of sight.

Mauriri put a shoulder in front of Titchmarsh and made the man pull up short, though his finger still wagged threateningly. "There was no foul there. The rules state--," he began. "You were supposed to go outside the Motu!" Titchmarsh interrupted. "You sailed on the wrong side. And worse you dragged good captains along with you on your ludicrous and ill-advised journey. You corrupted them all."

"Corrupted? That's a strong term to be throwing around," remarked David.

"You people are criminals!" Titchmarsh stared openly at Isabelle.

"Mr. Titchmarsh," spoke a voice from the crowd. "Perhaps you might let another voice weigh in on this matter."

James Fallon emerged from the crowd with his first mate, followed by the captains of the Alarm and the Volante.

"Ah, a voice of reason," announced Titchmarsh. He leaned in toward David and the others. "Now you will see how you are regarded in the professional world. Captain Fallon will put you in your rightful place."

Isabelle and Mauriri followed David's show of silence on Titchmarsh's threats. Fallon's opinion was the one that David valued. If the judgment came from him, regardless of the outcome, then David would bow to it, but never to Titchmarsh's pomposity.

David shook the hands of Captain Sippet and Captain Mele. "Glad to see you're both all right. How do the ships' fair?"

Mele nodded. "Better than she has a right too. She will be ready to sail within a month's time."

"Meanwhile, enjoy paradise, eh," remarked Mauriri.

"Sounds like a wise proposition."

Captain Sippet slapped Mauriri and David on the back. "Clever blokes you two."

"It was Isabelle Reed who gave us the edge at the Motu."

"Amazing. Brilliant move."

Fallon shook his head at the trio of seaman. "Never in my life have I seen such boldness in a race."

"Audacity!" shouted Titchmarsh. "Exactly what I meant."

Fallon frowned at Titchmarsh. "Exactly the opposite, my good man. For the first time, I felt challenged out there. Never have I worked so hard or brainstormed so much while racing. Grief here, and his crew, tested me at every turn. They deserve this win."

"What? I must protest!" Titchmarsh's cheeks were so puffed out they looked fit to bursting at any moment. Disbelief marked him well. He had thought Captain Fallon of all people would be on his side. "They cheated!"

"We did not," protested Isabelle. "There was no specific instructions on the exact route we had to take." She held the printed race instructions in her hand. "Where does it state we had to go outside the Motu?"

"It goes without saying! It's customary!" Titchmarsh declared, knowing that he himself had written up those instructions.

"Customary? There's never been a race in Matavai. We're setting the standard," Isabelle declared.

Mauriri regarded Isabelle's tenacity on this matter with a great deal of satisfaction. No wonder she was a remarkable businesswoman. She fought with the passion of a lioness and the intelligence of a spirited mare.

Fallon took the instructions from Isabelle's hand and scrutinized it carefully. "There is no specific mention of the exact route any of us were to take, Mr. Titchmarsh. I'm afraid I have to declare that they have broken no rule, since the rule did not exist." He smiled at Isabelle as he handed back the pamphlet. "Well played, Miss Reed. Well played indeed."

Mauriri stared at Fallon. "You mean we won?"

Fallon nodded. "Yes. I concede."

David and Mauriri clasped each other's shoulder in disbelief. "We won!" they shouted.

Isabelle merely stood smugly in front of them, her arms crossed as she confronted her sworn enemy.

"This is an outrage!" coughed Titchmarsh, flabbergasted that he had lost his argument.

"Where's our prize money?" demanded Isabelle.

David laughed and put his arm around Isabelle. "God, I love your one track mind."

The bar was going wild with exuberant celebration. Soon they were all swept up by the enthusiastic emotion filling the bar and the numerous congratulators. There was hardly any time to consider more than realizing that they had just beat one of the most distinguished racers in history.

Lodge and the others pushed their way through the throng. David's old captain slapped him so hard on the back he actually stumbled forward.

"You did it! By God, you did it!" Lodge yelled boisterously.

David turned around, rotating his shoulder. "We couldn't have done it without you."

Mauriri swept up his wife in an embrace. "We won! Can you believe it?"

"Absolutely! I knew you could," she told him, showering his face with kisses.

"She was cheering for you all the way," Lavinia informed him.

"And you weren't?" he grinned at her.

"Of course I was. You just couldn't hear me over Lianni."

He kissed his wife soundly, riding on cloud nine. It was just sinking in that they had bested some of the best sailors in the world.

David was still letting it all sink in. It didn't seem quite real to him yet.  

Lavinia crossed over to him and planted a kiss on his cheek. "It was a fine race." He hugged her briefly before she went back to stand beside Colin.

"Smashing job, David," remarked the reverend. "Terribly exciting. I can't believe how much praying I did while just watching it."

"It really was something to see," Lavinia agreed.

"Thank you," David said, noting for the first time the constant proximity of his two friends. They never seemed to be far from each other these days. It was a surprise and yet it felt comfortable and right.

 "Well, Titchmarsh is fit to be tied." Isabelle slipped into their group. She was beaming and held up a wad of cash and the now infamous Titchmarsh Cup, a small pewter vessel. Isabelle clutched it like it was the Holy Grail itself.  

"Congratulations," Lavinia said. The race had been a bold move and Isabelle's gamble had paid off. Lavinia had to admit to a bit of satisfaction as well. Titchmarsh deserved to be taken down a few pegs. 

Isabelle dolled out the cash equally to Mauriri and David. "Fair split and there's more than enough to cover any repairs and adjustments."

Mauriri laughed and immediately handed over the winnings to Lianni. "And enough to buy my wife a new dress."

David grinned at Isabelle. "Way to go, partner!"

Her expression as she turned to him was enormous and bright. He swore he could see tears of abject delight in her eyes. It was wonderful to see and terrible all at once.

"What did you call me?" she whispered.

David immediately balked. "Well, you know. I mean for the race."

Immediately, her glow faded. "Oh right, of course." She called back a bit of her smile. "Absolutely." Uncomfortable suddenly, she shrugged. "I need a drink. You need one? I'll get us a round." She shoved the winning trophy into his hand and disappeared abruptly into the crowd.

David felt sick. If it were up to him, right here and right now, he would fix this matter once and for all. But it wasn't just up to him. He turned to the one other person whose opinion mattered.

"Mo, I need to talk to you."

****

 David and Mauriri stepped out onto the balcony, accepting the congratulations as they went with just the most cursory of acknowledgements. Finally they found space at the rail near the edge of the deck.

"What is it, David?"

"I've been thinking."

"Uh-oh."

David frowned though a part of him was grateful Mauriri was in such good spirits. "This money is great and all and it means we won't be behind on the payment this month."

"By all of two weeks! We would have caught up on the next run. That's always been the way. That's nothing new with the way we do business."

"Not when Isabelle ran things. We were never behind. Well, maybe only once."

Mauriri understood now what was eating at David. He sighed. His friend wasn't about to let this matter go. Whatever was eating at him, fear, doubt, even love had its hand in this. There was so much that was wrong with this imminent proposition, but no logic would sway David. When he looked at Isabelle he saw only a friend and a savior. But Mauriri still had ill feelings about some of the methods Isabelle used to get where she was today. He didn't want that for the Rattler. He wanted the books kept clean. He wanted to keep his name clean for the sake of his family. But David's health and well-being was worth more than an argument about it. Such a thing wouldn't be good for either of them. Maybe there was a way to compromise.

"She's got a head for business, that's for sure," Mauriri commented carefully. "I'm glad to see she taught you some good business sense while she was around."

"She did. Maybe I didn't like working so hard, but she certainly arranged enough solid runs to keep us in the black."

"That's a first for us isn't it?" Mauriri smiled gently.

David regarded him and then laughed gently. "Yeah. It is."

"I guess it's hard to work without a safety net all of sudden."

"What do you mean by that?"

He clapped David on the shoulder and regarded him purposefully. "She can still be a business partner, David. If it means that much."

David was practically speechless. He hadn't expected to be so plain in his intentions or to win the argument so easily. "Really? I thought you'd be...I don't want to force this on you. We could try to manage like we did before."

Mauriri understood David better than he did himself and offered, "Maybe what we did before wasn't the best way. It's time to consider a better business solution."

David couldn't help his surprised expression, or his growing smile. "Do you mean that? You wouldn't mind?"

"Sounds like good sense to me," admitted the islander. "It can't hurt to try it for a bit."

And this way, he thought, maybe some stress would be off David as well as a little less guilt. And if Isabelle can keep the books and payments in line, he would be a fool to let such a thing slip away from them.

He looked upon it like a trial run. He'd keep careful watch on what she did and how. The minute he suspected anything amiss, he'd be sure to step in, regardless of David's own personal feelings on the matter. By then David would be well on his way to recovery.

David fumbled for Mauriri's hand and after shaking it, slapped his friend on the arm with a whoop of release. "Thank you, Mo! It means a lot!"

"Maybe you should tell her."

"Absolutely!" David craned his neck around looking for the raven-haired woman but he couldn't spot her in the sea of people.

Mauriri stopped Lavinia as she passed by with a tray of frothy mugs. "Have you seen Isabelle?"

Lavinia jerked her head toward the door. "She left a few minutes ago. Not sure why with all the excitement here."

"Thanks," both men chorused as they scrambled out the door.

"Men," she muttered. "What did they do to annoy that woman this time?"

****

"She probably headed for the stables."

"Or maybe she went to see Claire," Mauriri countered. "Perhaps we should split up."

"No. This is something we should do together. She needs to know both of us are okay with it."

"She believed we weren't?"

David shrugged. "This is Isabelle we're talking about. It's always personal."

"Was it?" Mauriri asked hesitatingly, wondering why David bought her out of the partnership in the first place

David was quiet for a bit. "No. It wasn't meant to be. I just thought that things would be better if...if..." He struggled to explain it to his friend. "Everything of late felt wrong. Like I was capsizing without any hope of righting myself. I was only trying..."

"To get an even keel to your life. I know. Things haven't felt the same for me either."

David exhaled with the fresh air of freedom. It was important that Mauriri understand. He laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. "In my rush to try and fix things between us, I think I forgot about someone else."

"She'll understand." "I acted too hastily. I thought she'd be happy to be rid of me. But I was wrong."

"Who'd have thought that, huh?" Mauriri placed his own hand on David's other shoulder in a camaraderie show of support.

David cast a crooked smirk at Mauriri. "I should have known. Beyond her gripping about the boat, she had really come alive as if she had found her own niche suddenly, working with people she actually could trust. And then stupidly I cast her aside. God, how can she ever trust me again?"

"It's never too late, David. We're a shining example of that."

The relief in David's face was visible. "Let's hope Isabelle is as forgiving."

"You underestimate her, my friend. You above all others she constantly forgives."

"What?"

"Heaven help me, you are dense, David." He slapped his forehead in exaggerated disbelief. "You undermine her business deal that one time after dinner with the governor; you ignored her advances after you broke up with Lavinia; you yank the partnership out from under her and yet she still forgives you. What do you think it all means?"

"That I'm irresistible?" David jested coyly. It did sound a bit impossible to believe, but he prayed it was true.

"Not by a long shot, not to me. But obviously Isabelle sees something good in you. Poor soul."

With a grin, David nodded. "Thank heaven for that. Let's check the stables first."

****

It was quiet at the stables and for that Isabelle was grateful. All she could hear was the gentle rustle of hooves in the straw and soft whickers of greeting. She slipped into the colt's stall and greeted his mother with an easy brush of a hand over the velvety muzzle that nudged her pockets.

She pulled out some sugar cubes and let her have her fill, loving the rhythmic crunching as the mare greedily consumed them. The large brown eyes of the colt stared at Isabelle from beneath his mother's tail, warily watching her every move.

But he was too curious to remain in hiding for long. He shuffled toward her, tentatively reaching out to sniff what his mother was eating. Isabelle offered the sugary residue on her palms to the little muzzle and sure enough the small tongue reached out to enjoy the new treat. Isabelle reached out quietly with her other hand and brushed her hand down the silky coat. The little gentleman just stood there. It was another small victory for Isabelle.

You win one; you lose one.

She wasn't upset. Not really. Everything had worked exactly as she wanted, in some cases better than she expected. She had nothing to lament over. She was just being foolish. The hand had been played and it had been successful. In truth she hadn't expected anything to come of this venture, not for a while at least. The seed was planted and now all that was left was to see what germinated.

Except that David had thrown her off balance, as he usually does. Why did he have to use the term partner? It had been a simple blunder by David; he hadn't meant to hurt her on purpose. The pain on his face showed that. She tried to reassure him, and she had, but not to herself. So she was here with those that understood her and trusted her.

Maybe that wasn't entirely a fair statement. Lord knows, David had treated her in all fairness. He had let her participate in the race. No one else would have even considered it. No, she was being foolish. One last pat on the colt's neck and she would head back to the party. But the colt twisted his head out of her reach since she had no more sugar and darted back behind his mother. Stubborn little fellow. But she understood. It took a long time to build up true trust between friends.

Sighing, she exited the stall and bumped directly into the broad chest of David.

Rocking back, a tad startled, she exclaimed, "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same as you. I missed you at the celebration."

Suddenly she felt awkward. "I – um –  forgot, I had to check on the foal. This is the longest I've been away."

"What about the celebration? After all, this was your idea and your victory as well." He had the trophy in his hand and he handed it to her. "This is yours."

She shook her head and stepped away. "I was on my way back. We can head there now." She was suddenly wary. David's expression was far too odd.

Suddenly Mauriri was there as well and alarm bells began ringing all over inside Isabelle. She folded her arms defiantly. "Okay, what's going on?"

"She's quick," Mauriri pointed out with a wry grin.

"That she is. She'll out think the both of us, you know," David remarked over his shoulder to his friend.

"You'll find out how quick if you don't tell me what's going on," she pointed out irritably.

"You know how she works her horses," Mauriri tried again. He still wasn't a hundred percent sold on the idea, but there was no stopping David.

"Worse for us, I expect." Then David brightened. "But we'll be wealthy."

"What on earth are you both babbling about?"

David turned back to her. "We want you as a business manager."

Isabelle's ire faded and her facial muscles slackened in surprise. "What? Really?" Her eyes darted to both David and then Mauriri.

Mauriri nodded, knowing that his mistrust of her was something of note between them. He reassured her. "You've more than demonstrated your worth at it. We'd be fools if we didn't at least try it."

Isabelle's throat was constricting, the emotions she was experiencing too strong to turn easily aside. David was staring at her, expectantly. He held out the trophy to her.

"Please tell me you will," he said. He looked almost afraid she'd say no.

"Oh my God, yes!" She hugged him. "Yes, definitely!" The cup found its way into her hands. This time she didn't give it back.

"What a relief...partner." This time the words fell easily from his lips, no sense of reproach or guilt. It felt wonderful. It felt right.

Isabelle hugged Mauriri too. "Thank you. I won't disappoint you."

The brawny islander smiled down at her. "I hope not."

"This has been a very good day." Isabelle affirmed; it was a day full of victories.

"The best," agreed David. "So what are you going to do with your share of Titchmarsh's money?" He cocked an eyebrow at Isabelle.

"Well, I could put it towards a new rig and harness, but instead--," she looped her arms through her new partners and steered them out through the stable doors. "Instead, I think I'll start a bar tab. The drinks are on me, boys."

 David and Mauriri's cheers were heard almost all the way into town.

It was certainly a day for miracles.


The End

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