“Jack,” said Gilles, clapping a friendly hand on the sailor’s shoulder. “Did all the cargo get unloaded to Henri’s satisfaction?”

Jack turned around slowly before he spoke, “I suppose so, sir. The boat is empty. It is good to see you looking so well, Miss Devon.”

“Thank you, Mr. McGonnigal.”

She could not return the compliment. Jack looked awful; he was shaggy and dirty. Standing next to Gilles, who wore a crisp white cotton shirt, cavalry jodhpurs and black ridding boots, Jack looked like a tramp. Claire knew that the thought was unjust. Since the Malahini had docked the day before Gilles had slept in his own bed and bathed in one of the few genuine bathrooms on the island. Jack had grabbed a few hours sleep on the deck of the Malahini while he supervised the unloading of the cargo.

“I hope you are well yourself,” she said with a polite nod.

“Yes, thank you, miss,” he responded, returning the nod. Then he looked away from Claire and raised the small glass in his hand to his mouth.

“Will you have a drink with us, Jack?” asked Gilles, gesturing towards the table which Isabelle and David were standing, engaged in serious conversation.

Jack shook his head. “No thank you, sir.”

“At least have another drink on me. Lavinia,” called Gilles to Lavinia who was at the other end of the bar. “Please pour Jack another one and put it on my bill.”

As he led Claire to the table he told her, “That was the fastest I’ve ever made the trip to Auckland. When we got there I went to my brothers’ school to let them know every thing was basically all right here. When I got back to the docks Jack had everything on board and we sailed with the tide. I didn’t even have time to go for a decent meal in port.”

Gilles stopped. Worry like a cloud darkened his handsome face. He said, “Claire, do you mind that I asked Jack to have a drink with us?”

“Of course not,” responded Claire quickly. With an effort she resisted the urge to look back at Jack. “Why should I mind?”

“No reason, I suppose.” Gilles’s face relaxed into a smile. He wasn’t exactly sure of the facts where Claire and Cannibal Jack were concerned. He knew that Claire had come out to Tahiti after corresponding with Jack. He had been told many things about their relationship; ranging from that Claire had hardly spoken to him after discovering what a bare-faced liar he was, to that they had had a torrid love affair. He doubted that they had no matter what the gossips said about them

Gilles considered his step-mother, Lavinia, and Claire herself to be the most reliable in regards to what had really passed between the two of them. From what they said he’d gathered that Claire and Jack had been friends, perhaps very good friends and that they had had a serious falling out.

Gilles didn’t trouble himself with how he would feel about Claire if she and Jack had been lovers; he felt quite sure that they hadn’t been. He himself had had a number of liaisons of varying degrees of seriousness. With a smile he remembered the enthusiastic lovemaking of a certain red-headed barmaid in the little pub in Oxford. That there was a double standard about such things was something he accepted without a thought. Claire was wonderful, just exactly the girl he needed in his life. He was prepared to behave himself like a gentleman and do his level best to make her happy.

He was pleased to see that Claire was sensible about the past. If the future played out as Gilles expected then occasionally her path and Jack’s would cross; Jack was a very useful fellow to have on the ship; Gilles wouldn’t want to have to get rid of him because of some grudge Claire held against him.

Isabelle had watched the interchange between Claire and Jack with curiosity. Claire had been telling the truth. Jack treated her with an almost old-fashion formalness. Someone unfamiliar with their history would think they didn’t know each other. But Isabelle was familiar with them. She noticed that Claire’s cheeks had grown pink and her free hand was clutching at the fabric of her riding britches. Isabelle noticed as well that Jack didn’t look at Claire. It angered Isabelle that he was indifferent to Claire after he had broken her heart.

Standing beside Isabelle, watching their friends, David felt a grudging admiration for Jack. It had to take a lot of self-control to be so polite under the circumstances.

When Gilles and Claire neared the table David slid a brotherly arm around Claire’s shoulders and hugged her to him saying, “It is good to see you out. Did you have a nice ride?”

“Yes, thank you,” she answered as she sank into a chair Gilles pulled out for her. “Isabelle has found this delightful horse I’m calling Fleet. I shall be sorry to see him go when she finds sale for him.”

Isabelle glanced up at Gilles who was standing behind Claire. He gave her a conspirator’s wink. Claire missed the exchange. David noticed it and made a metal note to ask Isabelle what secrets she and Gilles Bradford were sharing.

As he sat down next to Isabelle, David said, “You must be glad to be back at work. I take it the paper will have actual news in it this week.”

David remembered his own convalescence after his partners had rescued him from captivity. He had been bored and frustrated, desperate to be back on the Rattler; desperate to be doing anything but laying about waiting for his body to heal.

“I hope so,” responded Claire with a wide smile. “I am very glad to be back at work. Although I owe Mrs. Russell a great debt of gratitude; while I was ill she managed to keep up my printing contracts and put out pages of personal advertisements. I was so concern that the Messenger wouldn’t be there when people really needed it to know what had happened here in Matavai. It is just like me to be incapacitated when a really important news event takes place.”

Isabelle grimaced. She hated to hear that note of self-deprivation in Claire’s voice. “Which is why instead of resting as your doctor told you to, you spent hours writing a news story those first couple of days,” she said sharply.

“It was important,” insisted Claire, her normally mild brown eyes bright with passion. “Mrs. Russell could direct the boys in putting the paper out but she has never written a newspaper article. There had to be something in the paper about the storm. You know I couldn’t have written the story without you and so many others bringing me the stories about what happened during the storm. Not that I did any actually writing. I dictated everything to Mrs. Bradford. She was very patient.”

“And very pleased to be of use to you,” said Gilles as he waved to get the barmaid’s attention.

It occurred to Isabelle then that although the article had been long and detailed about the experiences of Matavai’s citizens during and after the storm, Claire had not mentioned herself.

“I was just thankful that I got something in the paper about the storm while it was still news. I felt so useless just lying there while all the rest of you were working so hard to put the town back together. At least since that edition Mrs. Russell has been able put out several issues with the personal advertisements; it isn’t much but at least people are getting some information.” Claire pulled her long hair back from her face and tied it loosely with her ribbon. She said, “By the way, David, did you meet an American after the storm? An older man?”

“I know who you’re talking about. I think his name was Howard, John Howard. Mo told me about him,” answered David. Under the table he slid his large hand down the length of Isabelle’s thigh.

Claire nodded. “Yes, that’s him. He preformed something of a miracle on my printing press. It is working like new.”

“That’s not the real miracle,” said Gilles, looking mischievous. He leaned forward across the table. “He’s courting Mrs. Russell.”

“What?”

“Isabelle, what a look you have on your face,” giggled Claire. “Mrs. Russell isn’t all that ancient.”

“I know but she is so proper,” responded Isabelle with an almost comical grimace. Under the table she entwined her booted leg with David’s. She was sorry she hadn’t taken the time to change her footwear; sandals would make the game a lot more fun.

“Gilles is exaggerating. Mr. Howard has shared a few meals with us and I believe he and Mrs. Russell have taken several walks on the beach. Sadly it is to be a short romance as he is bound for Australia on the streamer on Friday.”

“Better than no romance at all,” said David as he ran his finger gently along Isabelle’s inner thigh.

Gilles then asked about how various friends were recovering from the storm. They talked about the reconstruction efforts in the little town as more patrons drifted into the bar. Lavinia walked around with a long taper and lit the lamps.

David sipped his drink and looked out towards the bay. The sun was completely down and he could barely make out a man walking along the shore. Softly he said, “Now there is a cautionary vision.”

Isabelle turned to him with a puzzled expression in her green eyes. “What?”

He gestured towards the beach with his glass. “Do you see poor Colin stumbling along there? He’s been doing an honest day’s work and he is so exhausted he will fall asleep into his dinner.”

“The caution being?”

“Avoid hard work –it is bad for your health,” he said with a wide grin.

Isabelle continued to watch Colin as he made his way towards the bar. He was moving very slowly. There was a heavy canvas sack hanging from his shoulder. Isabelle surmised it held his carpentry tools.

While she was watching Colin Jack passed behind her. With a nod of thanks to both Gilles and David he made his way down the temporary steps that had replaced the seaside porch the storm had destroyed.

Jack met Colin just outside the pool of light cast by the lamps of the taproom. The two men spoke together for several minutes. The sound of their laughter drifted back on the night air to Isabelle.

She glanced at Claire who was talking with David. If she had heard the laughter Claire gave no indication. Isabelle took that as a good sign. Claire really was moving on; no longer was she constantly on the alert about Jack.

Looking again at the two men Isabelle saw them part company, Colin slapping Jack lightly on the arm. He was still smiling as he struggled up the rough excuse for stairs that he’d fashioned out of the ruins of the porch.

What joke, thought Isabelle, could Cannibal Jack and the Reverend Mr. Trent share with such genuine amusement?

But then Colin wasn’t really the Reverend Mr. Trent anymore. Isabelle did not consider herself a particularly good judge of character probably because in her youth she had not known any particularly good characters. She knew a handsome face could influence her and any man who seemed capable of a bold scheme could get her attention. Her first impression of Colin had been to dismiss him as a self-righteous do-gooder. He had been useful early on as a way to get to David but otherwise Isabelle had had no use for him and his Bible thumping.

She had been wrong. Colin was not self-righteous. He was a thoughtful, decent man who followed his conscious and his heart.

Colin stopped behind David’s chair and said softly, “I understand that you have some ideas about replacing the Titchmarsh’s porch steps.”

David’s response was to throw back his head and laugh leaving the rest of them at the table to exchange perplexed glances. While he struggled to explain his earlier conversation with Lavinia; she approached Colin.

Isabelle watched as the exhaustion and even the laughter left Colin’s face to be replaced with a gentle smile. Lavinia kissed her husband’s sunburned cheek and pulled the heavy bag from his shoulder.

“Sit down,” she urged. “I’ll bring you a beer.”

Behind his smudged spectacles Colin’s blue eyes looked around the busy room. He shook his head as he said, “No. I’ll just go to the house and wash up a bit. Then I’ll come back and tend the bar.”

“Were you thinking about fixing dinner in there sometime, Colin,” asked David, looking up at him hopefully.

Lavinia turned her dark eyes on him and said severely, “David, he has already done more than a day’s work.”

“Yes,” conceded David, glancing again at Colin, “but a man’s got to eat.”

Lavinia pressed her full lips together and said, “I’ll bring you a plate of chicken curry from the kitchen. Anyone else?”

“It won’t be as good as Colin’s” responded David with a dramatic sigh. “But thank you, I would like a plate.”

“I’ll have a plate as well, Lavinia,” said Gilles with a smile. He looked at his companions saying, “Claire? Isabelle? Would you like something to eat? My treat.”

“Yes, thank you, Gilles,” said Isabelle immediately.

David ran a tab with Lavinia. Very occasionally, normally after a big win at the poker table, he would settle the bill. Isabelle always paid immediately. Being a business woman herself she understood how cash starved the bar often was. She wanted to do what she could to help Lavinia’s bottom line. Gilles Bradford could easily afford to pay for her dinner. His generosity was one of the nicest things about Gilles.

Lavinia looked at Claire. She’d been watching her since she’d come in. Lavinia noticed how slowly she moved and the dark circles under her normally lively brown eyes. “Claire, there is some of that fish soup you like and bread.”

“Oh,” breathed Claire, glancing up at Lavinia. “Thank you, Lavinia. That, that would be very nice.”

Lavinia nodded.

Just like a queen bestowing a favor on a poor subject, reflected Isabelle, knowing the notion was prompted by the cornet of black hair wound around Lavinia’s regal head. Still it was enhanced by the coolness of Lavinia’s voice as she made the offer and the slight nervousness of Claire’s response.

Colin smiled as he watched his wife walk towards the kitchen. That was a step forward, he thought. At least Claire should realize that Lavinia cares enough about her to ensure that she got a decent meal.

Gilles’s voice broke in on his ruminations.

“By the way, Colin, have you found someone to sponsor the boy, ah, what’s his name, you know Philippe’s boy.”

David snagged a chair by reaching out his long arm. With a scraping sound he pulled it across the floor to the table. Colin nodding his thanks sat down with obvious relief.

Looking at Gilles, he said, “Mehevi. Not for certain. I’ve written several friends in England. I’m sure that someone will respond eventually. In the past I’ve asked for help from the congregations that sponsored me. But-” Colin broke off with an exaggerated shrug.

“I’ll say something to Mother and,” Gilles turned Claire. “We should say something to Mrs. Russell as well.”

Claire nodded. “Yes, she has many friends among the higher ups in the church. I know she would love to be of help. When the Dean, her husband, was alive they sponsored several students.”

“It would be grand if you would ask them, Gilles. He is a bright boy. I would like for him to have every chance to use his gifts.”

“Then Gilles will be sure,” said Claire emphasizing the word sure, “to discuss Mehevi’s future with Mrs. Bradford and I will speak to Mrs. Russell.”

“Yes, my sweet,” responded Gilles with a low laugh as he patted Claire hand. “I know you will be sure that I remember to do so. You know, I was surprised that Philippe let the boy come back with you.”

Isabelle noticed that David and Colin exchanged glances. David had told her what had happened on Tikia . She suspected that he had left out a lot of the details. She did know that he thought the island was being used as a way station for illegal goods.

With a strange smile playing on his full lips, David answered, “We, a, persuaded him that the boy would have more opportunities off the island.”

“Persuaded,” repeated Gilles. His dark eyes were bright with curiosity. “I see. You aren’t a whole lot more forth coming about that trip than Jack.”

“What did Jack have to say?” asked David quickly.

“Oh, you know Jack, he never says much about anything. He did say something like it wasn’t the best night’s sleep he ever had.”

Colin laughed lowly and murmured, “A master of understatement is our Jack.”

“It certainly wasn’t the best night’s sleep I’ve ever had. Simply put we found van Gulik a,” David looked questioningly at Colin who responded by saying,

“A Macbeth of a host.”

“He what-tried to kill you?” cried Claire. She immediately understood the reference to the Shakespearean play in which the host kills a guest.

“Good Lord,” exclaimed Gilles. “Well, he is a bit senile but he has never tried to kill us. What happened exactly?”

“He fed us a good dinner, played a game of chess with Colin, provided hammocks for the night and then set his drunken men on us.,” said David. He was making an effort to keep his voice friendly; he didn’t want Gilles to feel he was being accused of something.

Although he believed that Seraut could have something to do with whatever illegal activity was taking place on Tikia. He didn’t think Gilles was involved. David was sure that Gilles would be very forthcoming with anything he knew about van Gulik and what was going on on Tikia. The problem was that Gilles wasn’t likely to know much.

“We ran for our lives to the leeward side of the island and were fortunate enough to find our way down the mountain and back to the Rattler,” said David, carefully omitting the details of how they made their way down the mountain. No one but the four of them, Colin, Jack, Mauriri and himself knew about the heavy block and tackle they’d found on the island’s leeward side. David wanted that piece of information kept quiet.

Gilles’s handsome, boyish face was creased by a frown. He looked across the table and made a half-hearted attempt at a joke. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have beaten him at chess, Colin.”

“I didn’t. And did I tired,” responded Colin quickly. “He may be senile but he has enough of his wits about him to play a good game of chess.”

“You really have never had any trouble there, Gilles?” asked David. He sat back in his chair regarding the younger man with serious dark eyes.

“No, never,” answered Gilles with a shake of his head. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment before he spoke again. “But it might be because of some shared history. I knew van Gulik when I was a boy, quite a little boy. He was a member of my grandfather’s crew in those days. The first time we stopped on Tikia was so that Henri could meet van Gulik. You see as his father returned to France and married there Henri never met our grandfather. He is rather interested in stories about Granpere so I took him to see old van Gulik. I think it is entirely possible that the old man thinks Henri is Granpere. I only knew Granpere as a very old man but even I can see resemblance.”

“Doesn’t Henri mind being taking for his own grandfather?” asked Isabelle. A vague memory crossed her mind. Hadn’t Henri once spoken of tales his father told him of Tahiti and his grandfather as being the stuff of his childhood dreams?

“I don’t think so,” said Gilles slowly. He had not given the matter any thought before. “He certainly doesn’t do anything to dissuade the old man. That is when van Gulik calls him captain he answers. It is all harmless. No one is deceiving the old man but his own memory.”

David took another sip from his glass before he said, “Jack said you have stopped at Tikia fairly frequently the last few months.”

“He told me he is not getting off the boat the next time we stop,” responded Gilles with a laugh.

“I wouldn’t have thought van Gulik would have that much business for you. He does have his own boat, doesn’t he?” continued David. He was anxious to keep Gilles talking about van Gulik as long as he could.

Gilles nodded. “Yes, to ship copra but it isn’t big enough to haul the logs. I suppose we won’t stop so often once they have finished harvesting the timber. It has been a good deal for us.”

“And for van Gulik?” asked Colin.

“Oh, yes, I think so. We are paying him a fair price at least I think it is a fair price. Henri worked out the details.” Gilles looked at Claire and added sheepishly, “I suppose I could ask to see the books.”

Isabelle hid a smile behind her glass. Claire never complained about Gilles. She said and Isabelle believed that she was absolutely sincere, that Gilles was one of the most agreeable men she had ever known. She used the word in the old sense of being good company, kind, entertaining and possessing all the looked for virtues of trustworthiness. It was also descriptive of Gilles who by nature simply wanted to get along every one he met. In fact the only conflict Isabelle had ever heard of Gilles engaging in was to demand an apology of Mr. Titchmarsh when Titchmarsh had publicly insulted Claire.

Claire did occasionally express to Isabelle her astonishment that Gilles could have so little interest in the details of his business. It amused Isabelle that the hedonistic Gilles had taken Claire’s gently expressed concerns to heart.

“Do you have much to do with Philippe when you’re on Tikia?” David asked Gilles.

“Not so much. Henri deals with him, of course, about the timber. We never stay more than over night. Mostly we just listen to the old man tell stories. I hope he is exaggerating. I mean I do know that there was no law in the old days but I’d hate to think my grandfather was as blood thirsty as van Gulik’s stories make him sound.”

One of the barmaids appeared beside with the table with a heavily laden tray. Colin stood and passed out the plates of food. Hungry, they ate in a companionable silence. When they were finished Colin gathered the plates and excused himself.

A little while later Isabelle noticed him behind the bar. His hair now free of wood shaving was still damp and he wore a clean shirt. Watching him and Lavinia worked together was like watching a couple performing a complicated dance. There was an odd sort of grace in how they moved in the narrow space behind the bar, almost silent in the noisy room but always conscious of the other.

Their meal finished Gilles suggested a game of darts to David. The dart board was new. Gilles had brought it back from his last trip to China and given it to Lavinia. He told her that in dockside bars the world over darts were a staple. Lavinia had not known where to put it. The bar was often crowded and she didn’t want to give up any table space.

That was before the storm took off the roof and knocked down a wall. Now there was more than enough room as the bar extended onto the beach. The board had been attached to the wall. Torches were lit and stuck in the sand nearby. It took a great deal of skill to actually hit the board let alone the bull’s eye in the flickering light. That did not cut down on the enthusiasm of the sailors for playing. It was so popular that Colin and Lavinia were seriously considering rebuilding with space for playing darts as the center piece.

They rearranged their chairs so that Claire and Isabelle had a good view of the players. While they were doing so several of the bar regulars shyly approached Claire and asked after her health. Claire had been popular if clumsy barmaid. It pleased Isabelle that these rough men would show tenderness towards her friend. Claire accepted their best wishes with blushes and sweet smiles.

The contest drew much attention. In all other contests of physical skills Gilles would find his small size a considerable disadvantage when challenging David, although as a footballer he was far more accomplished. At darts they were very well matched.

At various ports around the South Seas David had spent as many hours playing darts as he had playing poker.

Gilles had been sent to England for several years to finish his education at a minor Oxford college. No one including his father who was paying his way expected him to achieve a first class degree. He was there to acquire a bit of European polish. He had been causal about his attendance at lectures. He did enjoy those on history and music. He had gone to many concerts, plays and garden parties. But the bulk of his time had been spent in a cozy pub a short walk from his rooms playing darts with his friends.

After their first game which Gilles won, teams were organized and small, friendly wagers were made. There was a lot of laughter and mock insults were exchanged. David and Gilles, the captains of the completing teams, were in their element.

Claire sat back in her chair and watched the proceedings with a smile. She inclined her head towards Isabelle and said, “When I see them like this they seem so much alike.”

“Who?” asked Isabelle, looking around the room for some pair that would have prompted the comment.

“David and Gilles,” responded Claire serenely as her gaze returned to the game.

Isabelle blinked at her in surprise. Claire was generally so astute in her observations but this time she had missed the mark completely. Gilles Bradford had none of David’s air of command. He certainly wasn’t the one who one would look to automatically to take charge in a crisis. David might be reluctant to take responsibility but once he had it thrust upon him he was brilliant in a crisis.

Frowning Isabelle turned her attention to the two men examining the dart board. Well, yes, she did see a superficial resemblance between them. Gilles was sort of a pocket version of David; small, dark and very handsome. And it was true that they were both capable of having a very good time and of inviting others to do so as well. But Gilles was a dilettante. He played at trading leaving all the difficult bits to his partner Seraut. Where as David was a hard working sailor who loved captaining his ship and left all the stuff he didn’t like doing to her and Mauriri, his partners.

“What’s wrong?” asked Claire, peering at Isabelle’s face.

“Nothing. Why?”

“You’re scowling rather dreadfully.”

“Just thinking about how much I have to do before I leave tomorrow,” said Isabelle quickly.

Alright, so they were a little alike. One difference between them was money. Gilles had plenty of it and David never managed to hold on to his even when he was making good money. They did have similar backgrounds in a way. From what little she had been able to piece together David had been brought up on a large cattle station in Queensland. She didn’t think his family was as wealthy as the Bradfords but how was she to know; he had told her almost nothing about his past. One thing that was very different was that David had had the good sense to quarrel with his father unlike Gilles who appeared to be very content in his father’s shadow. There then they weren’t really much a like at all.

Isabelle stood suddenly and walked towards the players. She demanded a place on Gilles’s team.

As she took her place at the throwing line she looked again at the two men. They both smiled back at her and offered friendly if slightly questionable advice. At that moment they were very much alike.

Well, she asked herself as she took a firmer grip on the dart, what did it matter if David was nearly as irresponsible in nature as Gilles? She wasn’t some vicar’s daughter out to snag a good marriage prospect.

The dart game went on for hours. As more beer was consumed the throws became wilder and the advice even less helpful.

Isabelle was standing on the side encouraging a teammate when David walked up behind her. He stood close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath on her neck. He touched her only by pressing his thumbs against her palms but it was more than enough to make Isabelle understand the old saying “weak at the knees.”

“Coming out to the ship later?” he crooned into her ear.

Isabelle started to nod her head and insist that they make it sooner rather than later. Then she remembered waking up uncomfortably on the edge of the bunk. She shook her head.

“No?” David’s surprise and disappointment made his voice sharp.

Isabelle grinned. “I think I’ll settle down for the night in my big, soft bed.”

“Ah. Won’t you be lonely in that big bed?”

“I sincerely doubt it,” she responded as she tried not to giggle.

Lavinia carried a tray of beer mugs into the midst of the players. Gilles smiled brightly at her and grabbed a mug.

“Claire is asleep,” said Lavinia reproachfully.

Isabelle jerked her head around to look at Claire. She was sitting in a chair against what was left of the destroyed wall. She was slumped against the wall; her face nearly hidden by the fall of her long, light hair. She was indeed asleep.

Isabelle realized she had forgotten all about Claire once she’d joined the dart players.

“Damn,” said Gilles softly. He looked shamefaced. He nodded at Lavinia like a child who had been reprimanded by a teacher. “I really did intend to watch over her tonight.”

“Indeed,” said Lavinia as she walked away with her now empty tray.

“I should have taken her home hours ago,” said Gilles as he approached Claire. He knelt beside the chair and gently pushed her hair from her face. “Claire, dear.”

Claire blinked her eyes and lifted her head. “Oh, sorry. I must have nodded off.”

Isabelle winced. She’d known that Claire was tired but not so tired she would fall asleep amid the noisy bar. “I’ll go saddle Fleet and she can ride up to the house.”

“Isabelle, there is no need. I’m perfectly capable of walking home.”

“Perhaps that would be best,” said Gilles, looking at Isabelle.

“But,” insisted Claire, coming quickly to her feet, “I’m alright. I just took a little nap.”

“It will only take a few minutes to get Fleet.”

“You’re not listening to me,” cried Claire, barely resisting the urge to stamp her foot with frustration. She shot David a look of desperation.

David found it rather amusing to watch Isabelle being so maternal. But his sympathies were with Claire. He could easily remember how exasperating it was to have everyone hovering about offering him help during his convalescence.

“I suggest,” he said loudly which caused Isabelle and Gilles to turn towards him. “I suggest that we all walk as far as the stables. If Claire is feeling tired then she can take the horse the rest of the way.”

“Thank you, David. That is an excellent suggestion,” said Claire as she started walking towards the door. She waved at Colin who was behind the bar. An expression of disappointment crossed her face as she looked around the crowded, poorly lit room but did not see Lavinia. Claire didn’t know and no one would think to tell her that Lavinia had been the one who noticed her asleep among the revelers in the bar. It had been her cross and silent friend who had been looking over her.

David, Isabelle and Gilles followed her out the door to the street.

Once outside Claire set a fast pace. Gilles and Isabelle trotted after her. They said they had gotten her point and she could now slow down. David walked behind laughing and feeling a sort of brotherly pride in Claire; and hoping that she didn’t pay a price in the morning for her independence. He remembered a certain football game he’d played in while still less than well. It had been fun to be playing with his mates again. The next morning he had barely been able to move.

When they got to the stables Claire declared that she was perfectly capable of walking the rest of the way to the little house she shared with Mrs. Russell. She hugged Isabelle and wished her a safe journey. Claire and Gilles walked away leaving Isabelle staring after them with a worried expression.

“I should have taken her home right after our ride,” she said quietly. Her hands were balled into fits and she was chewing on her lip.

“Why?” asked David, leaning against the post the held up the archway into the stable yard.

“Because I knew she was tired.”

“Claire knew she was tired,” said David mildly. “She chose to spend the evening out with friends.”

“She fell asleep.”

“Perhaps she was bored. Not everyone finds darts a riveting spectator’s sport.”

Isabelle glared at him.

“Let the girl breathe, Isabelle,” said David as he straightened up. He walked towards her. “She isn’t stupid. She isn’t going to push herself too hard.”

“No,” Isabelle responded thoughtfully. She cast her glance at David and said, “It is true that she has a lot more sense than you do.”

With that Isabelle turned on her heel and walked into the stable yard. David followed behind shaking his head and thinking that once more Isabelle had gotten the last word.

After Isabelle had looked in on the horses and checked the latches on the stalls they climbed the steep steps to her rooms. She didn’t light the lamp when she got to the top of the stairs; she knew the layout of her office. Instead she paused and fitted her heel into the notch of the bootjack. Having removed her boots she walked around the room in her stocking feet.

“Do you want a drink? I’ve a bottle of scotch.”

“No,” he answered. He was moving very carefully in the dark room. Isabelle was not neat. She’d left the boots where they laid. He knew there could easily be a saddle, a tangle of harness or a stack of books on the floor to trip him up.

In the poor light the horn of Isabelle’s phonograph looked like a gigantic, night blooming flower. The illusion was enhanced by the scent of jasmine wafting through the open window. Isabelle crossed the room to the shelf on which the phonograph sat. She placed a disc on the player and turned the crank.

The notes of a waltz flowed from the horn.

They met in the center of the room. Isabelle lifted her arms to him. David forgot about the things they might fall over as he swept her into his arms and, perfectly matched, they waltzed around the dark room.

As the song wound down Isabelle sighed, “Oh, I wish it could wind itself and play on and on.”

“There are electric ones now aren’t there?” said David as he deftly undid the buttons of her shirt. “They don’t need to be cranked.”

“True,” agreed Isabelle. She pulled his shirttail from his trousers and placed her hands flat against the hard muscles of his stomach. “Though I wouldn’t want to take bets on when Tahiti will have electricity. And you would still have to interrupt the dance to change the disc.”

“Ah, well,” murmured David as he pushed her plain cotton shirt from her shoulders. “Someday the phonograph will do that for itself as well. In fact someday it may well be possible to have music playing continuously where ever you go.”

Isabelle giggled at the outrageous notion and at the soft tickle of David’s calloused fingertip tracing the line of her collarbone.

David stepped back for a moment to admire her. She stood in her stocking feet wearing her jodhpurs and a lacy, beribboned, camisole. The garment was absurdly feminine. And it seemed all the more so in contrast to her work-a-day clothes.

Were David the sort of man who thought in metaphors he might has seen the soft femininity hidden under the rough clothing as a metaphor for Isabelle’s personality. On the surface she was all schemes and business, a South Seas Trader, woman or not. But underneath Isabelle was very much a woman.

David did not think in metaphors. At the moment he wasn’t thinking at all. He transfixed by the tantalizing glimpse the lacy edge gave of Isabelle full breasts.

“In the mean time we will just have to make our own music.” The thought was sentimental and sweet but it was voice in a low growl. David carefully undid the hooks and eyes that held the camisole together in front.

Isabelle shivered as he cupped her breasts and rubbed the nipples with his thumbs.

He leaned down to kiss her; mouth open and hungry. She met him halfway, snaking her arms around his neck and twisting her fingers in his dark hair. She pressed her naked breasts against his bare chest and reveled in the response she provoked in him.

Isabelle broke off the kiss and wiggled out of his embrace. David struggled to hold on to her but she was too quick. She danced away; there was laughter and something else in her light eyes.

David stood in the middle of the room. He shrugged his shoulders out of his shirt and let it fall to the floor. After kicking off his deck shoes he darted towards her.

Isabelle ran, laughing, into her bedroom. He followed. He caught her around the waist and pulled her against him. Isabelle tugged at the buckle of his belt.

Discarding the rest of their clothing they kissed, nipped and stroked each other until they fell together onto the bed. Rolling and wiggling they made use of every inch of the big soft bed; until sweaty and exhausted David rolled off of her mumbling, “I knew you’d be as addictive as opium.”

Isabelle smiled. She turned on her side and pressed her back against David. Like a cat curled up on a sunny window sill she fell asleep. Her last conscious thought being –responsibility was a highly overrated quality in a man.

***

Once she had decided to go with them on the voyage Isabelle was impatient to be off. The prospect of seeing her brother was a welcomed one. Any time that the Rattler had business on Samoa she went with them to see William, his wife and little boy

She still hadn’t quite gotten use to the idea of having family. For most of her life she’d believed that William had been lost at sea when she was a little girl. The truth was he was lost in the French Foreign Legion.

It was late afternoon when they cleared the headland and made for open sea. Isabelle stood at mid-ship and looked back towards Matavai. As was always the case setting sail had been a complicated operation that required all of Isabelle’s attention.

The Rattlers’s mate Tah-mey had been with David and Isabelle during the big storm. Without his help managing the bilge pumps the boat would have been swamped. When they got back to Matavai Tah-mey got word that his village had taken a battering. His parents were safe but their home had been destroyed.

David had told him his place on the boat was secure but he wouldn’t expect him back until his parents had a snug new hut.

That left them with only the old sailor Sparrow as crew which meant that even if they had a quiet journey Isabelle would be exhausted by the time they reached Samoa. . Their operation was too small to pay someone to do what she could do. Isabelle always took part in the work of sailing when she was on the Rattler. She took her turn at the watch and in calm seas at the helm. It filled her with exhilaration to run up a sail and see the wind fill it. In the time she had been a partner in the Rattler she’d learned a lot about sailing.

Without Tah-mey her watch would be longer and there would be more sails to raise and lower, more heavy ropes to coil and drag about the ship. Isabelle was strong and accustomed to hard work but as David had pointed out more than once there simply wasn’t enough of her to a haul the anchor twice her weight out of the sea.

Sparrow walked towards her whistling tunelessly. His long, thick, gray hair was bound by a scrap of leather.

It struck Isabelle as a bit of a surprise that she knew nothing about Sparrow after all this time as a partner in the Rattler. She knew Tah-may well and considered him a good friend. Working with him she had learned about his village and his family. She knew that his mother had a girl picked out for him to marry.

But as for Sparrow she didn’t even know his nationality. He always spoke English but not with an accent that she recognized. Maybe he was American. There seemed to be an awful lot of odd ways to pronounce the English language in America.

“It is good to see the captain looking so much like himself, isn’t it, miss?” said the old man as he passed her on the deck.

“Indeed,” said Isabelle as she looked back at David at the helm.

He stood with his feet apart and his hands firmly grasping the wheel. His red shirt was billowed with the wind. His thick, dark hair was blown back from his wide forehead. When he saw her looking at him his white teeth flashed in his most winning smile. David was in his element back at sea in command of his boat.

He looked happy and healthy and very satisfied. In fact Sparrow was right. David looked more like the man he had been when she first met him than he had in well over a year.

Isabelle climbed up on the roof of the cabin and sat where she could watch David. She let her mind drift back to the first moment she’d seen him. It was surprising that she could remember it so clearly given that she was in shackles at the time. But then it was impossible not to notice a man that tall and handsome. David had made a joke at Lt. Morlais expense. Isabelle had thought he’d done it as much to amuse her as to embarrass Morlais.

In spite of the warm wind and the hot sun, a shiver went through Isabelle as she thought about the wretched cell Morlais put her into. By that time she had already been convicted of murder and she’d been terrified. She knew that being innocent was not going to save her from death in prison from either overwork or disease. To save herself she would have grasped at any straw.

From the moment he walked up to the bars of her cell Isabelle realized that her luck had changed. Here was a man not quite as clever as he thought he was but clever enough to be of great help to her. It was a long and complicated path they had tread to get where they were now – partners, in several senses of the word.

When she had first met him David had been a moderately successful trader who was respected and well liked in Matavai. He had the Rattler; in Mauriri he had a partner he trusted with his very life; and he was always sure of his welcome in Lavinia’s bed. And then Lavinia broke off the relationship because of David inability to commit to her, Mauriri walked away from the partnership because David’s obsession with Jenny had almost lost them the boat.

Would have lost them the boat if I hadn’t have stepped in, thought Isabelle, letting her glance rise to the Rattler’s white mainsail billowed against the blue sky.

Jenny should have been the worst of it but then he was kidnapped by that shadowy figure he called the Devil. By the time they’d found him David was little more than a skeleton; nearly broken in body and spirit. Healing had taken all the months since.

But now, thought Isabelle, looking back towards the helm, he is himself again. No wonder he looks so good. He has reclaim his place in Matavai, the business is going well, Mauriri is back, the ship’s payments are up to date and now it is—

Isabelle frowned and chewed on her lip. The thought had to be finished. Now it was her bed he was sure of a welcome in. Well, so it was.

And it took him damn long enough to get there! She thought as she slid off the cabin roof to the deck.

Reaching from handhold to handhold along the cabin wall she walked quickly to the stern. The deck was slippery with spray and tilted to starboard.

David watched her progress. She wore her normal costume of loose trousers rolled up to her knees and a camisole. Over the camisole she had his long sleeved shirt to protect her from the sun. Her hair was cover with a bright red kerchief and her feet were bare. All she needed was a cutlass in her teeth and she would look just like a pirate in an old story. The thought made him grin.

Isabelle slipped beneath his arm and took hold of the wheel.

David pulled the kerchief from her hair. He would help her comb out the tangles the wind would tie in it later. Then he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her thick hair.

***

By the afternoon of the second day out of Matavai David had discovered that his beloved ship had a serious deficiency. There was no privacy. The Rattler was a working ship. There were no staterooms. The main cabin had two bunks for David and Mauriri, a desk and a clutter of other essentials. There was a long narrow locker built into one end of the cabin. David thought its original purpose had been to secure important cargo. Since it was just big enough for a bunk and a footlocker Isabelle used it as a cabin. It was claustrophobically small but it did allow her the suggestion of privacy. Of course most of the time she kept the door opened so she could breath. In bad weather the crew strung hammocks up in the cabin to sleep. In good weather they all chose to sleep on the deck.

Even with only the four of them aboard David was finding it impossible to get Isabelle alone for any length of time. David had entertained many ladies on the Rattler over the years; when the boat had been in port and crew ashore.

He didn’t mind that Sparrow and Mauriri’s suspicion that the relationship between Isabelle and him had change was confirmed by seeing him nuzzling her neck while she was at the wheel. He could steal quick kisses when the two of them passed in the cabin but he needed uninterrupted privacy for what he really wanted.

Isabelle seemed to find his mounting frustration amusing. He didn’t care to contemplate how much enjoyment Mauriri was getting out of watching him.

Finally David suggested to Isabelle that they go down into the hold and inspect the hull; after all the ship had taken a beating during the storm and this was her first serious voyage since then. It was an idea born out of frustration as much as a practical concern for the ship.

***

David went down the ladder into the hold first. Isabelle was only halfway down when he pulled her off the ladder and into an embrace. He kissed her deeply; Isabelle responded by running her hands up into his hair. David’s hands roamed under her shirt; he pressed her against his chest. Isabelle let her head fall back and David trailed kisses down her throat. Breathless David raised his head to look at her.

“You’ve an odd expression on your face,” he said as he ran the tip of his index finger along her jaw line. “What are you thinking about?”

Raising one dark eyebrow Isabelle answered, “I was wondering if you’d remembered the brandy.”

Isabelle was startled by how disappointed she was to see puzzlement on David’s handsome face. It was evident that he didn’t know what she was talking about. To cover her disappointment she stood on her toes and kissed him.

David suddenly drew back; laughing. “How could I have forgot that this is the first place I kissed you. Or should I say you kissed me. I came down here to negotiate a simple business deal.”

“Sure you did.”

“It was you who decided to use sex as a negotiating tactic.”

“I didn’t have a lot else to work with being in chains. It got your attention, didn’t it?”

“It did indeed,” he said as his finger traced the shape of her wide mouth. “You know Mo always thought we done the deed. He gave me quite a stern lecture about it.”

Isabelle rolled her eyes. “There were at least six men shackled down here with us. I’m not modest, God knows, but I don’t care for an audience even if all I’m doing is seducing a sea captain.”

“Is that all you were doing?” he asked. His tone was light as if he were joking but his eyes were serious.

It was a question she’d asked herself often since. It had certainly started out that way. As she saw it David’s lust had definitely been her best chance at freedom. But that kiss, well, a kiss like that could almost make a girl forget about being headed for prison.

“Absolutely.

“Well, there is no audience now,” said David as he kissed her with all the urgency he felt. He pulled at her clothes determined to make the best use their few minutes of privacy.

Isabelle responded in kind. Her slender hands slid down his chest into the waistband of his trousers.

It was quick, intense and satisfying in the way such love-making can only be when one knows that soon there would be more time.

As she put her clothing to rights Isabelle looked at David and asked, “Was Mauriri put out with you because he thought you’d allowed me to seduce you and it would lead to trouble; or was he worried about Lavinia?.”

David’s face creased into a broad, teeth flashing grin. “It did lead to trouble in spite of the fact that you didn’t manage to seduce me.”

“Didn’t I?’ she asked as she let her gaze travel over his still half naked body.

To his extreme annoyance David blushed.

He understood that she was saying that what was between them all started with that first kiss, perhaps even before that.

David had known many women over the years. Although he did like to play the hero and nothing was more enticing to him than a lovely woman in trouble; he was drawn to clever, beautiful, independent women. In spite of being in chains Isabelle had not been helpless. She’d had air of mystery about her and danger. Mauriri and Lavinia had had every reason to believe that he would gleefully succumb to Isabelle’s efforts at seduction.

It was not in David’s nature to spend much time examining his own actions and the reasons behind them. He knew that he had resisted Isabelle’s advances out of a sense of self-preservation. Exactly what he was trying to preserve himself from he wasn’t positive.

In an effort to cover his discomfort he picked up the conversation. “I think it was about Lavinia. He didn’t want to see her hurt. I think he knew that, well, –” he broke off frowning.

“What?” she demanded. Isabelle was curious how much he would say.

“Just that she wasn’t happy anymore with how loose our relationship was,” David said, glancing at her. He had the uneasy feeling that he had opened a discussion about their, his and Isabelle’s relationship. He knew it was a discussion that they would have to have someday.

“You know I am just a little curious about something,” said Isabelle slowly.

Warily David asked, “What’s that?”

“That night that Colin introduced Lavinia as his wife,” she began, noting the flash of relief in his eyes. “You seemed very happy and not at all surprised. I was shocked. I think even Mauriri and Lianni were stunned. But you acted as if you had planned the whole thing.”

His wide grin crinkled the corners of his eyes. “No, I can’t say I planned it but I think I can take credit for nudging them in the right direction.”

“So you really were as happy about it as you seemed?”

“I was,” he said nodding. “In fact I can honestly say that only once before have I been that happy about a marriage.”

Isabelle’s quick mind jumped to an appalling idea. She fully expected him to say it was his own marriage and to admit to having a wife and family tucked away somewhere on the Queensland coast. The knowledge that he would not make such an admission with a grin on his face did not stop her from feeling a bit concerned.

When it appeared that David was going to say nothing more, Isabelle snapped, “Well, whose?”

Buttoning his shirt he looked down at her with surprise at her sharpness.

“When I was a boy my sister married a really good chap,” he said with a far off look in his green eyes. “Sadly he’s dead now but for a while they were happy. I know Meghan wouldn’t trade those few short years for anything. And she has her girls to reminder her of him.”

“You have a sister named Meghan?” Isabelle seized on the piece of personal information like a hungry cat on a mouse.

“Yeah,” he said as he started to climb the ladder to the deck.

“And nieces?” asked Isabelle quickly.

“That’s right. Two of them.”

Then he disappeared through the hatch leaving Isabelle to wonder how she had managed to miss her opportunity to obtain more personal information about David once again.

***

The harbor at Apia, Western Samoa was always busy. Sitting as it did in the middle of the trading routes Apia had been a major port for as long as anyone could remember. There were ships of all sizes and shapes in the harbor; everything from a German man of war to a Chinese junk

The Rattler dropped anchor just outside the entrance to the harbor. Isabelle was impatient. She knew that they were expected to wait for a local official to give them permission to enter. After that they would have to wait for the canoes that would pull the Rattler pass the headland to her assigned mooring.

Isabelle leaned her elbows on the gunwales and stared at the town beyond the expanse of blue-green water. It sat on a narrow costal plain in the shadow of a mountain. It frustrated her to be so close to her brother’s family and be forced to wait on official permission before she could see them.

Mauriri had used the time to put the boat to rights. Winding a rope around his meaty fist to his elbow he walked up behind Isabelle. His dark glance swept over her taking in her neat white blouse with its high collar and long sleeves made from lace. She wore a tan, ankle length skirt with black piping along the hem. On her feet were highly polished black boots and on her head a wide brimmed straw hat. Her thick hair had been smoothed into a roll at the nap of her neck.

He narrowed his eyes thoughtful. There was nothing remarkable about the outfit. Mauriri had seen many western women dressed in similar ways. In fact it was a far more practical than many he’d seen, there was no trailing train on the skirt or yards of netting wrapped around the hat.

And yet-ah, he had it. He knew why she looked so unfamiliar to him. Her wild hair had been tamed. With her hair nearly hidden by the hat Isabelle looked quite conventional. Mauriri couldn’t help but wonder why Isabelle would go to the effort to appear conventional.

“You look very nice.”

“Thank you,” she responded with a smile; her attention still concentrated on the shore.

Had Mauriri asked her why she had dressed her hair so severely and worn the high necked –long sleeved blouse she would not have had a ready answer.

Isabelle glanced up at her tall partner and said, “How long do you think we will have to wait?”

“Not long. There he is.” Mauriri pointed out a small boat moving towards them. They could hear the put-put of its motor. “I’ll get David.”

There was no need to get David. He was coming up on deck as they spoke. He carried a thin leather portfolio secured by narrow straps with salt encrusted buckles.

Isabelle turned towards him when she heard his footsteps. She noticed that he did a double take when he saw her.

David hadn’t seen Isabelle in the last hour; not since they had bought the ship to a halt and lowered the sails. At that point Isabelle had been barefoot wearing drawstring trousers rolled up to her knees and her not so clean white camisole. Her hair had been a wild tangle around her head.

“You look a,” David paused to search for a word. He could say that she looked beautiful but then she always looked beautiful whether dressed for a party or up to her neck in a swamp. “You look ready to do business.”

Isabelle rewarded him with a wide smile.

David was pleased that he had found the right word.

Western Samoa was a protectorate of Germany. Not too many years before the islands that made up Samoa were being argued over by Germany, Great Britain and the United States of America. A treaty had been agreed upon that gave the eastern islands to the United States and the western to Germany. Despite a long history of influence on Samoa particularly by their missionaries Great Britain lost out. Their disappointment was nothing compared to the Samoans who believed very strongly they did not need the dubious protection of any western power.

The official who climbed out of the motor boat and on to the deck of the Rattler was owlish looking young man. He wore a white linen suit and a pith helmet. His face was red from the sun and the heat; sweat ran from his blond hair just visible beneath the helmet. The lenses of his round, tortoise-shell rimmed spectacles were foggy. He stood very erect with his feet together and gave Isabelle a small bow. He asked for the captain in thickly accented English.

David stepped forward. There was an awkward exchange of pleasantries. Then the young man asked for the ship’s papers. David undid the buckles on the portfolio with some difficulty and handed the papers within to the official.

A slight frown on his face, the young man studied the Rattler’s papers. .

The frown on David’s face was not slight.

Mauriri, grinning, moved between David and the young man. He knew from experience they would obtain permission to enter the harbor more quickly if he dealt with the official.

David walked on towards Isabelle muttering, “Bloody Germans.”

Isabelle hid a smile behind her hand. She knew if they were in Papeete he would be cursing the French and in Auckland the English. And, although she had never been there, she was sure if they went to San Francisco David would have a few choice words for the Americans.

Harbor masters and ship captains were natural enemies. David had even less patience than most for paper work. It was one of many of the details of trading that David left to his partners.

As she watched the young man carefully read each of the papers Isabelle let her thoughts drift back to the first months of her partnership in the Rattler during which David and Mauriri had been estranged.

David had been a wreck. Jenny had mesmerized him. His obsession with her had tarnished his reputation as a reliable trader. It had destroyed his relationship with Mauriri. When Isabelle stepped in to make good the late payment of the Rattler David had been morose. She took some pride in the fact that she had kicked him in to shape almost literally.

She had never worked so hard as in those first months. It wasn’t just the physical labor of crewing on a schooner; there had been all the details and the paperwork. The sort of things that Isabelle had yet to learn about and David had little talent for teaching.

In those days it would have been Isabelle dealing with the officious young man. And although she had considerable skill as a negotiator she had found that harbor masters did not like dealing with women on general principles.

Perhaps, thought Isabelle, Mauriri had developed his patience for dealing with such details by being partners with David for so long. He certainly was good at it despite the fact that the young man’s English was poor and Mauriri’s German almost non-existent.

Mauriri was a head taller than the young man. Because of the thick edge of the pith helmet the German had to tip back his head to see Mauriri’s face. It made a comical sight.

Shaded by the wide brim of her hat Isabelle’s pretty face was graced by a wide, unladylike grin. This three-way partnership might be a bit unlikely but it did work.

She glanced back towards the town and was cheered to see several heavy canoes being paddled towards them. She might actually see William before midnight. Once the young man had satisfied himself that their papers were in order the canoes would pull them into the harbor. It was too crowded to take a ship the Rattler’s size into under sail.

***

The young boys of Apia had a thriving business. They would spend their days on the outer most reaches of the reef watching for approaching ships. When they spotted one they would run back to the town and announced its arrival and be rewarded with a small payment. It was thanks to their industriousness that William Reed was on the dock by the time the Rattler had reached her mooring.

The flaming shade of his hair made him easy for Isabelle to pick out as they neared the dock. She pulled the hat from her head and waved it

David chuckled to see her so excited. He looked at William Reed standing on the dock, his own hat waving franticly at Isabelle. To David he still resembled nothing so much as a scarecrow; tall, gangling with fly away light red hair.

Leaving Sparrow on board to guard the ship, the rest of them climbed into the long boat. Mauriri rowed them ashore. David teased Isabelle that if she didn’t sit still she would swamp the boat.

William was waiting for them when they reached the beach. Isabelle would have jumped from the boat but at the last second remembered her skirt. She waited until David and Mauriri had pulled the longboat above the water line before she got out.

“My dearest girl,” exclaimed William as he engulfed Isabelle in his arms. “What a wonderful surprise! We had heard of a horrible storm hitting Tahiti and I have been anxiously awaiting word of you. It is so wonderful to see for myself that you are all right.”

He set Isabelle back on her feet and wrapped one arm around her waist to hold her close to him while he extended his hand to David.

“Good to see you, Grief, Lepau.” He said shaking hands with both men. “I hope your family is well.”

“Yes, thank you, Reed,” responded Mauriri. “There was a lot damage done but my family and friends were lucky.”

“Alia is anxious to hear all the news of Matavai. She started cooking the moment we heard the Rattler had been sighted. She will never forgive me if I don’t bring you home immediately for a meal.”

Keeping Isabelle within the circle of his arm William set a good pace in the direction of the town. David and Mauriri followed behind.

William’s business was on the busy main street. The front section resembled general stores the world over. It was frame structure with wide casement windows that opened to let the breeze blow through. Inside selves and cabinets overflowed with household goods. There were stacks of china plates, bolts of calico, lines of oil lamps and coffee grinders. On the floor were kegs of nails, boxes of wax candles, coils of rope and rows of chamber pots; on the wall hung hoes, shovels and all manner of implements. Alia Reed stood behind the tall counter holding her son.

She greeted them warmly. She passed the little boy to his father so that she could hug Isabelle and kiss each of the men on the cheek. Then she started peppering Mauriri with questions. They carried on a rapid conversation in Tahitian, English and some French. The others recognized the names of various people in Matavai.

Isabelle looked at her nephew. He had been just a year old when she had last seen him. That had been about six months before. He had changed a great deal.

Edward Malietao Reed, called Eddie, like many children of mixed heritage was exceptionally beautiful. His skin was the color of honey. Curly like his mother’s his hair was not so dark as hers. Eddie had a skinny arm around his father’s neck. He was staring intensely at Isabelle with wide dark eyes like his mother’s.

Isabelle was fond of Mauriri’s children, Tahnee and Tevaki; except for them she had little experience of children. It surprised her that she wanted very much to reach for the little boy and hold him. She wondered if she looked carefully whether she might find some resemblance to her long dead parents in the little fellow’s face.

At first Isabelle couldn’t identify what she was feeling, why her mouth was dry and she had to clutch her hands together to keep them still. Then she realized that she was nervous.

The little boy scrutinizing her was family. She wanted desperately for him to like her. And she didn’t have the faintest idea how to appeal to him.

“This is Aunt Isabelle, Eddie,” said William, nodding his head towards his sister. “I’ve told you stories about Isabelle.”

Eddie stuck his thumb in his mouth and continued staring.

“Hello, Eddie,” said Isabelle with a weak smile.

The boy pulled his thumb out of his mouth with an audible pop. He pointed towards Isabelle and said, “Hat!”

“Yes!” exclaimed Isabelle. She pulled the wide-brimmed straw hat from her head and offered it to the child. “It is a hat. Would you like the hat?”

“Well done, my boy,” said William proudly. “He is learning words so quickly now. Everyday he has dozens more.”

Eddie took his arm from around his father’s neck. He leaned towards Isabelle and took the hat with both hands. She leaned forward to make it easier for him. With great care he slowly raised it and put it on his father’s head.

This action drew even his mother’s attention. All of the adults laughed.

Eddie frowned. He pulled the hat from his father’s head and demanded to be put down. Once on the floor Eddie toddled away dragging his prize behind him.

“I’m sorry, my dear,” said William to Isabelle, “I’ll get your hat before he does it any damage.”

Isabelle put her arm through her brother’s and said quickly, “Oh, let him play with it. It is only a hat and he is clearly enjoying it more than I was.”

“Ah, but you so looked so grand in it,” said William as he pushed a loose strand of her curly hair behind her ear. “Do you remember how you loved to dress up in Mother’s clothes when you were a child? If I close my eyes I can still see you all wrapped up in that red shawl with the long fringes.”

“And the hat with the droopy feather that hung down and tickled my nose,” giggled Isabelle.

David had been leaning against the countering watching Isabelle, William and the child. Damn she was beautiful. Her light eyes were shining as she looked up at her brother. David grinned as he thought about Isabelle playing dress up as a little girl. It pleased him that she had at least a few happy memories of her childhood.

“You know,” continued William with a far away look in his eyes, “we all thought you would become an actress. You were so dramatic sashaying around in that shawl.”

“My dear,” said Alia, looking at her husband. “We are being so rude; standing around asking questions without even offering them a drink of water. We must feed them. Come, come, follow Eddie,” she said to the others.

William closed up the shop for the early afternoon time when everyone in town would go home for lunch and a long nap. Except for the German officials who were new to their postings and found such behavior slothful (an attitude that never lasted more than one dry season) the town of Apia like most tropical towns closed down for several hours in the afternoon.

Alia led their guests through the back of the shop and into the yard. Directly behind the shop was a large pavilion roofed with thatch. Inside it were hogsheads, crates and the shadowy shapes of plows and other farming implements.

David eyed it speculatively as he walked past. He exchanged a thoughtful look with Mauriri.

Across the yard, in a grove of palm trees was a white washed house with a wide, deep veranda. The house was simple in design; with one large room and three smaller ones. The kitchen was detached. Eddie could be seen disappearing into the house still dragging Isabelle’s hat.

Lunch was served on the veranda over looking the garden. The round table was covered with a white cloth and set with china and silver flatware. There was a bowl of flowers in the center.

An adolescence girl was introduced as Alia’s niece. She helped Alia pass platters heaped with chicken cooked in coconut milk with taro leaves, steamed mud crabs and mounds of sticky rice. There were bowls of baked bananas, sweet potatoes and colorful fresh, ripe fruit.

William walked down to the rushing stream that formed the back boundary of the yard. He pulled a loosely woven bag from the water. It contained bottles of beer. He brought then to the table; drops of water beaded on the brown glass

Eddie sat at the table between his mother and Isabelle. Her hat was now on his head. It sat at a rakish angle, half covering one dark eye.

Once they were all seated Alia asked Mauriri to offer thanks. He bowed his dark head and said a prayer thanking God for their safe journey and the bounty of the table. Listening to him reminded David and Isabelle that their partner had a sort double life –South Seas trader and deacon of Matavai’s small mission church.

David forked a piece of chicken into his mouth and regarded William Reed thoughtfully. Still lanky with fly-away red hair William did make David think of the scarecrows his mother once set in her garden. But he had changed greatly from the dirty, hunted man David had first met.

William had started his business using the savings he’d put aside during his long years in the French Foreign Legion. When David had first seen the store it had been no more than a crowded thatched roofed structure near the harbor.

It was quite achievement, thought David as he glanced at the beautifully appointed table, to have parlayed that small beginning into the large store and pleasant house in such a short time. A knack for business seemed to be something the Reed siblings shared.

“While I would like to think,” said William slowly, looking at Isabelle, “that you missed us and decided to come and see us. I suspect you have other reasons for coming to Samoa at this time; something to do with the hurricane perhaps.”

“Of course I missed all of you. And,” Isabelle paused and gave her brother her most charming smile, “we do have a proposal for you.”

“A proposal? This sounds interesting,” William sat back in his chair and looked at each of the partners.

It was Mauriri who responded. He put down his fork and wiped his mouth with a napkin. The deliberateness of his actions added weight to his words.

“It was a really bad storm. There was a lot of damage. A lot of houses were destroyed and a lot of ordinary household goods were lost. My people will rebuild in the traditional way using whatever comes to hand. The colonials on the other hand will-”

“Want a lot of what is in my warehouse,” finished William.

David could have sworn that he saw a light appear in William’s eyes. A light he had seen in Isabelle’s eyes. Greed it seemed ran in the family.

Well, perhaps, he thought, that’s too harsh. Maybe it is just an eye for a good deal that runs in the family.

What ever it was William was definitely interested. He leaned forward and started asking for specifics.

David let his partners work out the details. It was kind of amusing listening to Isabelle argue price and percentages with her brother. Despite the differences in their coloring they did look a great deal alike as they leaned over the table to have a serious discussion.

David remembered suddenly that he did have a special interest in what they took back to Matavai.

“Be sure we take what Colin will need to replace the roof on the bar. And don’t,” he said sharply, “figure it into the profits.”

Briefly a frown wrinkled Isabelle’s smooth forehead. She wanted to fill the Rattler with saleable goods and get the best price that she could for them. Seraut hadn’t wasted space on the Malahini doing favors for friends. But then Seraut didn’t really have friends. Her forehead cleared. She did have friends, which experience had taught her was better than big profits.

“The bar?” exclaimed Alia. She had been tempting her son with balls of rice and not paying attention to the discussion. She turned to David with worry clouding her dark eyes. “The bar lost its roof? Mauriri said that Lavinia was all right.”

“She is,” said David calmly. “She and Colin were in the church with Mo’s family and a lot of other people during the storm. The bar was badly damage. It was a lucky thing they didn’t try to ride out the storm there.”

Alia’s pretty face creased with concern.. She spoke slowly, “I can’t imagine Lavinia’s life without the bar. It has always been part of her life. She must be so unhappy, so rootless. What is she doing?”

“Well, we were able to fix a makeshift roof out of old sails. The bar is doing business but she is anxious to get things back to normal.”

“Oh, I’m sure that she is. I miss Lavinia; I mean to write her more often. She is a better correspondent than I am. She is happy with her husband,”

Although Samoan, Alia had spent a number of years on Tahiti; she and Lavinia were old school friends. David had a feeling that Alia knew more about his relationship with Lavinia than he did. He suspected that she was asking him if, not telling him that, Lavinia was happy with Colin and how he, David, felt about it. Women he’d noticed seemed to think an awful lot about how a man would feel about his former lover marrying his friend.

“I believe she is extremely happy with Colin,” said David sincerely. “And as soon as the bar gets up and running properly she will be as happy as she has ever been in her life. I know that Colin married you and William but I don’t suppose you had a chance to get to know him yourself.”

“No,” she responded with a shake of her dark head. “I liked him. It isn’t every minister that would allow a Polynesian priestess to be part of a wedding service in the church. I appreciated his willingness. Indeed I think he may have enjoyed it.”

David laughed. “Oh, I’m sure that he did. Colin is fascinated by all things Polynesian.”

“Lavinia often speaks of his kindness and his wisdom and that he is a hard worker. You know she use to talk about him in her letters but not in a romantic way. I knew they were good friends but it surprised me when she wrote last Christmas that they had married.” Alia cocked her head and looked up at David. “Were you surprised?”

“No. Not at all.”

Alia was struck by how pleased David looked; his smile was so broad it crinkled the corners of his fine eyes. Alia would talk to Isabelle later about their friends in Matavai. It wasn’t that she wanted to gossip. She was just interested and David clearly saw no need to say anymore.

“IZZZZY!” shouted Eddie suddenly.

The adult conversation broke off. They all turned to him. He graced them with a wide four tooth smile. Then he pointed at his aunt and said again, “Izzy.”

“Yes,” cried Isabelle with a smile even broader than his. “I’m Izzy”

Eddie nodded. He pulled the hat from his head and offered it to Isabelle.

She shook her head and said, “You keep it.”

The little boy nodded again solemnly. He put the hat back on his head and picked up a sticky handful of rice. He held it out to Isabelle.

With a glance up at the other adults Isabelle took the rice and ate it.

This action sealed their friendship.

***

Once the meal was concluded Eddie escorted Isabelle to a large hammock tied between two palm trees. The two of them climbed in and settled down for a nap – well eventfully they would nap. First Eddie would want the name of every bush, flower and tree in the garden.

He’d point at a bush and say his favorite word. “What?” Then he would peer up through his thick dark lashes at Isabelle.

Alia set a pot of coffee and three cups on the table. She and her niece disappeared into the house to do the dishes and settle down for the quiet, hot time of the day. On the veranda the men pushed their chairs back from the table and poured themselves cups of the hot, fragrant coffee.

David walked to the edge of the veranda and leaned against one of the supporting post. He looked at Isabelle and the child lying in the gently swaying hammock. It was a pretty picture.

“You seem to be doing really well here, William,” said Mauriri as he stretched his long legs out in front of him.

“Yes,” responded the big man with a wide smile. He let his gaze drift lazily around the yard. “Although I am completely undeserving, I am the most fortunate of men. I could never have imagined a life like this during all the years of sweating in the dessert and slogging through swamps with a rifle over my shoulder. Alia is a miracle in my life. So unexpected. So completely wonderful. And the boy, well, you know.” He said gesturing towards Mauriri.

Mauriri nodded. “Yeah, it is amazing how a parent feels about his children. I can remember my father saying nothing was more important to him than me and my sister. I don’t think I believed him until Tahnee was born.”

“It is what I want for Isabelle,” said William gravely.

David turned around so quickly that his coffee sloshed over the rim of his cup. “For Isabelle?” he asked sharply.

“Oh, yes, I want her to have a home and her family around her.” William looked at his son and his sister in the hammock as he went on, “Finding her again may be the most unexpected miracle of all. When I couldn’t find her all those years ago I was sure that she was dead. I was, well, the only word for it grief-stricken. I joined the legion as much to escape my sense of lost as for any desire for adventure. I gave up too quickly. She was such a bright little thing; so resourceful. The problems that would frighten other children – make them burst into tears – would only spurn Isabelle to use her wonderful imagination to solve them. I should have known that Isabelle would find a way to survive even by herself. I should have kept looking until I found her. I could have saved her so much sadness, so much fear.”

David blinked at him. Isabelle had seemed many things to David but never particularly sad and certainly never, ever fearful in nature.

“There are many opportunities here for Isabelle. I’m hoping that I can convince to move here and live with us.”

“Isabelle is pretty established on Tahiti,” said David quickly. He sent a puzzled almost worried glance at his partner. “She has found lots of opportunities there. “

“Oh, yes, she has done remarkably well and believe me I appreciate all the help you have been to her,” said William sincerely. He rubbed his large hand over his long chin before he went on thoughtfully. “It is just that it is difficult for her to escape the shadow of the trouble she was in when she first arrived on Tahiti. If she came here she could have a fresh start. The town is growing. There are many clever and successful men who have business interests here. It would give her a chance to find someone to love and care for her.”

“Isabelle is pretty good at taking care of herself,” said Mauriri between sips of coffee. He was watching the play of emotions on his partner’s face.

William nodded. “But it is only because she has had no choice. As long as she has to run a business and take care of herself she will never have a proper home and children.”

“Children!” repeated David softly. He cleared his throat before he went on, “I, a, I never thought Isabelle was very maternal. I don’t know that she wants children.”

“All women want children and a safe home,” said William comfortably. Then he sat up straighter in his chair and said seriously, “I feel that it was my fault she never had a chance at a comfortable, safe life. I loved my father. He had such charm and warmth. He was basically dishonest it is true but he never meant any real harm. The thing is that I knew how irresponsible he was. My poor mother had to scrimp and scrape her whole too short life. If I had stayed with them, taken charge and supported them, well, then Mother might have lived longer. As for Isabelle she could have gotten some proper schooling and when she was old enough marry someone who would have cherished her. But I was young and selfish. I wanted adventure and I wanted to get away from the trouble that always followed my father. And when I returned both my parents were dead and Isabelle had disappeared. I thought I would never see her again. Now that I’ve found her again I feel I must do everything I can to protect her, to make up for the past.”

“That’s admirable I’m sure, William, but Isabelle has built a good life for herself on Tahiti.”

“Oh, I know she has worked hard on Tahiti. And that she has good friends,” responded William with a gracious smile. “But friends are not family. Having lived so long without it I can say with certainly that there is nothing like family.”

Ignoring David’s almost comically imploring face, Mauriri nodded. “I agree with you. I want my children to have great opportunities but I hope they can find them on Tahiti close to us”

“Recently two of Alia’s brothers have come to work to me. Alia is so pleased to have them and their families close to us. With luck I will someday be able to make them partners. I want to be able to offer my sister similar opportunities.”

“Yeah, but, a,” said David anxiously, “we have a family of sorts, don’t we? Colin and Lavinia, Isabelle, the kids and Lianni, you and me, we’re all family aren’t we? Why even if Claire marries Bradford she’ll still be part of our little family.”

“Certainly of ours,” agreed Mauriri as he nodded thoughtfully. “”Lianni loves her dearly. And I have to say, William, I can’t see Isabelle leaving Claire behind. They are much closer than a lot of sisters I know.”

“Oh, don’t misunderstand me, chaps. It is only the unfortunate things that happened to her in the past that I want to see Isabelle leave behind not any of you. Tahiti isn’t all that far away. I’m sure you will all stay in touch. A clean fresh start is what she needs, what I owe her.”

“And a husband?” asked David with a note of challenge in his voice. “It sounds like you have someone all picked out for her.”

“No. Of course not,” answered William with a deep chuckle. “This isn’t the dark ages. I’m not trying to run her life. There are several men here with good businesses who Isabelle might find interesting. But I’m not trying to arrange a marriage for her. No, truly all I really want to do is give her a respite from how hard her life has been; how hard it still is.”

With a fierce frown darkening his handsome face David turned around to look again at Isabelle and the little boy in the hammock.

***

Eddie had finally named everything in the garden from the tallest palm to the small pebble to his satisfaction. He was now nestled against Isabelle, his dark head on her shoulder.

Isabelle had done many things in her life that few women had done. She’d trained horses and sailed boats. She’d been party to wild schemes and run her own business. She could fight, with her fists, with a gun; she’d killed in defense of herself and of others.

This was the first time she had ever felt the warm weight of a sleeping child on her shoulder.

Isabelle glanced towards the veranda. She couldn’t hear what they were talking about. She could tell from David’s stance that the men were deeply engaged in conversation. They were probably discussing the details of the deal. She felt she should get up and join them.

She trusted her brother to not take too great of an advantage of the situation. He would give them a fair if high price. They would make a good profit, especially if they made it back to Matavai before other boats arrived with building supplies. Well, they would if David didn’t plan to pass out their cargo for free.

She really should join them and make sure that Mauriri figured David’s generosity into the final deal.

Isabelle let her head rolled so that she was looking up. The palm fronds above her made a dark green pattern against the blue sky. The little boy wiggled closer to her. He mumbled in his sleep. Isabelle brushed her fingers lightly over his curly hair. She smiled and let her eyes close. She was lulled to sleep by the gentle swinging of the hammock and hum of the insects in the midday sun.

When the heat of the day abated William’s men came back to work. Isabelle and her partners spent the afternoon choosing their cargo. She let the men take it to the docks and supervise the loading of the Rattler while she spent more time with Eddie. They all had another meal together long after dark. William and Alia invited David and Mauriri to stay at the house. They thanked them but refused. They wanted to be on the Rattler particularly since she was loaded to the gunwales. Sparrow had liberty and was likely to be quite drunk by then.

David managed to get a few minutes alone with Isabelle. He kissed her deeply and told her he would miss her during the night.

She returned the kiss; then slowly turned back towards her brother’s house. As she walked through the fragrant tropical night she realized for the first time that neither she nor David had done anything that would give someone watching for it a hint that their relationship had changed.

Why was that she asked herself. She had no reason to keep secrets from William. He liked David. It surely wouldn’t bother William if she called David back and announced that they were sharing her room. But maybe not, not yet. Not while the change in their relationship was so new.

As she puzzled over this she heard her brother calling for her to come and share a bottle of wine.

They would stay up most of the time talking about their shared past. An experience they could have only with each other.

***

“William certainly doesn’t know Isabelle very well, does he?” declared David as he and Mauriri walked back to the longboat on the beach. “All that nonsense about proper home and children.”

“Are you sure that isn’t what she wants?” asked Mauriri. He knew full well he was playing Devil’s Advocate. He had noticed during the after lunch conversation with William that David was overreacting to what was being said. Mauriri found David’s reaction revealing and amusing. Just the look on his face when William said that all Isabelle needed was a fresh, clean start told Mauriri more about the state of his partners’ relationship than anything David had said since the storm.

“Isabelle?” said David sharply.

“Well,” said Mauriri with a shrug of his massive shoulders. “She is a woman.”

“I had noticed that,” snapped David. He was walking very quickly. “Not all women want the same things. Isabelle is smart and independent, more than capable of taking care of herself.”

Mauriri slowed his steps forcing David to stop and walk back to him.

“The same could be said of Lavinia,” said Mauriri thoughtfully. “And yet I have never seen her happier than she is with Colin. And I know that she is wishing for the blessing of children.”

David stood in front of Mauriri with his hands on his hips. “You are about to point out that it was William being willing and eager to marry Alia that broke-up Lavinia and me.”

“No.” Mauriri shook his head. “What broke you and Lavinia apart was wanting different things in your lives. It would have been worse if you had tried to commit and couldn’t. In the end it all worked out for the best. Lavinia is happy. So are you, right?”

“Right!” said David with an empathic nod. “And you are wrong if you think the same thing is going to break Isabelle and me apart. Isabelle is not Lavinia. Isabelle is not like anyone else. And she most certainly isn’t the heroine in a melodrama that William makes her out to be. Why the way he was talking you’d think she was the victim of evil men with waxed mustaches and had no more experience in life than Claire did when she stepped off the boat.”

Mauriri guffawed. “Instead of the most dishonest woman you’d ever met.”

“You know she didn’t mind in the least that I said that. All she cared about was how we were going to divide up the money,” said David with a chuckle. He could have cheerfully wrung Isabelle’s neck the day they finally found the French gold. By returning the gold they would clear her of the charge of murder but Isabelle was trying to convince them to let her disappear with it. “Of course she has developed some ethics since then. But that just proves my point, Mo, the man doesn’t know his sister if he is ignoring all the things she did in the past “

“Maybe,” said Mauriri slowly, “or maybe he just wants to think the best of her. After all would you like to think of your sister stealing even from the French government or seducing a boy like Packhurst to go after buried treasure? Or any of the hundreds of other highly questionable things she’s done over the years?”

“My sister wouldn’t. She’s a lady.” David grimaced as soon as the words left his mouth. “I don’t believe I said that. Thank God Isabelle didn’t hear me.”

“I’m not sure she would mind. Isabelle never seemed all that interested in being included with the ladies,” said Mauriri as he started walking again along the dusty road.

“Maybe not,” said David in a low voice. “But I wouldn’t want to take the chance and hurt her feelings.”

Mauriri was right that Isabelle would not want to be lumped in with the colonial “ladies” of Matavai. It was a group; particularly its leader the mean spirited Mrs. Titchmarsh, that Isabelle regularly made the objects of fun. But it was possible that the real meaning of the word lady meant something different to Isabelle as it did to David. That it had nothing to do with money or position or even heritage, that it was a measure of a woman’s character to be a real lady as it was of a man’s to be a genuine gentleman..

“You know,” said David slowly. “I used to judge Isabelle really harshly and I guess I may have been using Meghan as some sort of standard of behavior. Meghan is a little like Claire and a lot like Lianni; perfectly capable of taking care of herself and happy taking care of her family.”

His partner smiled and nodded as an acknowledgement of the compliment to his wife.

They walked together in companionable silence for a few minutes. They passed several waterfront bars but Mauriri judged David as not being in the mood for a noisy tavern. They were almost back to the long boat when David broke the silence.

“Colin pointed out to me a while back that growing up alone the way she did Isabelle didn’t have any choice but to do whatever she had to in order to survive. At the age when our mother was teaching Meghan to bake bread or make curtains Isabelle was on her own with nobody to care whether she lived or died.” He paused, drew a deep breath and blew it out over his teeth making a whistling sound. Then he went on. “I suppose I can understand why William would feel guilty and want to take care of her but it is too late now. She would never stand for it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Now what kind of a question is that?” David asked irritably. “Of course I’m sure. I know Isabelle. I know that all she wants is to make a good living trading. What in God’s name are you thinking?”

“Nothing really,” said Mauriri as he took hold of the bow of the long boat and pushed it towards the lapping waves. “It just struck me as curious she dressed up the way when we made port.”

“She always cleans up when we come ashore,” responding David, pushing along side his partner. “It is no different than you or I putting on a fresh shirt before we go to talk business.”

The wave caught the boat. They jump in. Mauriri sat down and maneuvered the oars into the oarlocks. He pulled hard on the oars and swung the longboat towards Rattler riding low in the water.

“I know but she was coming to see her brother,” Mauriri picked up the conversation. “Coming to stay with them at least overnight and so she was sure of a hot bath. Even so she –”

“She was just being polite,” snapped David. “You can’t blame her for wanting to show up looking like the beautiful woman she is rather than a grimy sailor.”

“No, you can’t blame her at all,” said Mauriri softly, grinning.

Mindful that their profits depended to a certain extent on how quickly they got the goods to Matavai the Rattler set sail the next day. Isabelle said a reluctant good-bye to William, Alia and Eddie. She promised that she would be back soon to stay for a while.

The winds were strong on the trip back. They made good time but it was hard work with just the four of them. Isabelle and David barely had time or energy to exchange a word until the last day when the wind dropped.

Isabelle was standing in the bow watching the horizon. David came up behind her, slide his arms around her waist and buried his face in her windblown hair.

“I suppose you were sorry to leave William’s family so quickly,” he said.

“Yes. I can’t believe how much Eddie had changed. And he will change so much before I see him again. Do you think he will remember me?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know much about children.”

“Neither do I. Oh, he is so adorable,” said Isabelle with a happy sigh. She let her weight fall back against David. She folded her hands over his. She was quiet for a long time.

David took a deep breath. “So what are you thinking about?” he asked warily.

“My big soft bed,” she said with a delighted giggle.