I sat by the windows of the great cabin, chewing on a piece of willow bark and pondering what Charles had said – strong and healthy. Would they have considered Father strong and healthy? What do they do with those not ... Oh, God!

I always saw Father as strong, but that was from admiring eyes. How would the pirates have seen him?

And after two and a half years, would they still consider him sufficiently strong to keep? I choked on this. The fate of the honest and good in the hands of the evil. Is the work done worth the cost of feeding?

How horrid a thought. But, these are horrid men.

I needed a distraction from this, so I busied myself with dusting the bulkhead panelling and buffing the wax there, concentrating on the variety of patterns in the wood, as I had done to relieve my boredom during my first weeks aboard. Parallel lines, waves, swirls, ripples, lozenges within lozenges. In my mind, I formed images of from where in the tree the pieces would have been cut.

This worked for a long while, then my thoughts returned to Father. What chance is there? I shook my head and refocused on the wood grain, finishing the starboard side. I had just begun on the other side when Charles rushed into the cabin and wrapped me in his arms.

"Good news, Camille. There is hope."

My heart sped. "Truly? For Father?"

"There is hope. Good hope."

He pointed to the steps. "We must get underway and sail onto the anchor while we still have light." He took my hand and led me. "Come, I will tell you up top between issuing orders."

On the quarterdeck again, quiet orders from Charles became loud barked commands from Master, and the jibs and mizzen sail soon filled with the brisk late-afternoon breeze, drawing Zeelandia forward. As we gained way, Charles said to me, "The six naked from the water had been slaves. All the clothed ones are pirates."

I grimaced. "Stripped naked to distinguish them?"

"Yes. They have now been given clothes by some of the crew."

Charles paused and ordered the helmsman to steer on the left edge of the island, then he resumed, "I spoke with them at length, but none knew anything about Venturer, or Adventurer's. I did; however, learn about the encampment."

He paused again, this time to acknowledge that both longboats were well in tow, then he continued, "The pirates had become short-handed in a recent skirmish, and they had begun using slaves aboard to work the sails. Those left ashore are chained, just as they are at night, and there are no guards. We will have an uncontested landing."

"Do you trust this information? Having no guards seems unusual."

"I questioned this myself. The island is very small, not five miles end to end, and but for them, uninhabited. The chains are to prevent having to hunt down and kill any who leave the encampment."

"Oh, God! How horrid!" I shuddered at the idea. "How many are there?"

"Their counts varied from one to the other, ranging from a ninety-five to a hundred ten. Then one stated that now, with those lost in the two ships, they are even less certain, but maybe seventy or eighty left, and then all agreed."

"Did you ask if there are older men? Those with grey hair?"

"I did. There are several."

I blew out a deep breath. "Oh, thank the Lord!"

"This is why I had said there is hope."

Relieved, my thoughts turned to the others, and I asked, "What about the two injured?"

"Both are pirates." Charles shrugged. "Had they not been, they would have been abandoned by their captors." He pointed forward. "I must prepare to anchor."

I watched as he spoke with Mister Cogswell, who then called forward. Soon, men appeared on the foredeck and in the foremast chains. Then out in the heads, beyond where the crew do their pissing and sharning, men unlashed the anchor and let it swing free beneath the sprit.

A while later, as Zeelandia sailed at a shallow angle to the strand, the sea bottom showing through the clear water, Charles ordered the sheets let fly and the soundings called.

Shouts came from the chains on each side, "Six, six." Half a minute later, "Five and three, five." Then another half-minute, "Five, four and three."

At this last call, Charles ordered the anchor let go, and we continued slowly forward toward the hulks as the rode rattled up through the hawse and around the capstan, from where new calls came, "One" Half a minute later, "Two." And near another minute, "Three."

"Cleat at four, Bosun," Charles called.

"Aye, Sir. At four cables."

A minute later, the clatter from forward stopped, and Zeelandia began a slow swing to starboard. Halfway around, when she shuddered and lurched, Charles called, "Chains. Report."

A few moments later, a reply came, "Four and two, the starboard." This was soon followed by "Four and one the port, Sir."

Charles called in a loud voice, "Very well done, all. Here, earlier with the rescue and before that with the shooting. Very well done."

A cheer arose from forward, and he called "Hoy! Hoy!" to quell it. When silence returned, he said, "The pirates have captives ashore here, and they have been held as slaves. We are told there are no guards, but to be safe, I had ordered the swivel guns charged, loaded with grape, primed and manned." He swung his arm from stem to stern to indicate them.

"The captives are shackled and chained, and the keys went down with the ships. The boat's crews will take ashore hammers, chisels, anvils, marlinspikes, and whatever else Bosun thinks might break or cut them free."

A murmur arose from the port rail, and Charles followed the many pointing fingers. "There, you can now see some of them at the edge of the canvas." Charles raised his voice and called, "Hoy, Cookery Mate, eighty extra suppers. Big ones as if dinners."

"Aye, Sir? And another firkin of ale?"

"Two more, please."

While Zeelandia settled to her anchor, the boats were lined forward. Bundles were lowered into them, the tools, I assumed, and within a few minutes, the men on the sweeps pulled away toward the strand to the sounds of rhythmic chants.

Charles pulled me close to his side in a gentle one-arm hug, then he called again for the crew's attention. "While we are gathered here, I have more to tell you. The larger of the two ships sunk was Venturer, captured and renamed. Some of you will remember her from our three-ship raid of the haven on Hispaniola's north coast two and some years ago."

There were several nodding heads among the group, and Charles continued, "I had met her captain, Christopher Cavendish." He paused and lifted my hand. "This is his daughter, Lady Camille, now my betrothed, and –"

He was cut off by loud and boisterous huzzahs and other cheers, and calls of "I knew it," and "As I suspected," and the like.

I listened for grumbling and other sounds of discontent, but I heard none.

When the hubbub quieted, Charles continued, "As you have seen, she has brought nothing but great luck to Zeelandia, and you are to respect her as you respect me."

Excited chatter spread through the assembled crew, and Charles spoke above it. "Because of our delay, we would reach Port Royal in the dark, were we to sail tonight. We shall remain at anchor here until the morrow's noon."

He paused and pointed toward the strand. "There, you hear that banging and ringing? That is the sound of prisoners being set free. They have been stripped of their clothes, as you might have seen with some we rescued. If any of you have spare breeches or shirts, give them and I will buy you new in Port Royal."

"Strip the pirates, Sir," someone called from near the mizzenmast. "There's twelve sets. Treat them like they did to the captured ones."

Loud cheering erupted, most appearing to agree, and as it quieted, a soft voice behind us asked, "Sir, if I may?"

Charles turned his head and replied, "Yes, what is it, lad?"

"Sorry to disturb, Sir. The sandglass has run, and I must strike the bell."

"Please, ring. And then ring and ring and ring and ring. Then ring some more. Let us all celebrate."