After Father had identified himself to us, Charles called back to the boat, "When you board, Captain, come up here. I have clothing for you."

"That is very kind of you, Sir."

"Are there other officers among you?"

"Three, Sir."

"Bring them with you. I have many choices of dress."

Charles released me from the embrace, turned me around to face him and placed a light kiss on my forehead. "See, now? Never give up hope."

I nodded, still shuddering with sobs as I laid my head on his chest and tried to compose myself. He cradled the back of my head in one of his huge hands, the other stroking my back, and when I had calmed a bit, I asked, "Shall I go below and fetch some of your shirts and breeches?"

"No, you remain here and watch him approach; I shall fetch them."

I sniffled and nodded. "And a face towel, that I might be more presentable for him."

"I think he will not care a whit in what state you are." Charles chuckled. "Even in the guise of a boy."

"Oh, dear! Will he recognise me?"

"Of course he will, once you tell him."

"Yes, daft of me. My mind has gone silly from excitement." I pulled away from Charles and turned again to the rail to watch Father, who had remained standing in the boat's bow, his hands on the shoulders of those seated beside him.

His body was deep brown and gaunt, his ribs well-defined, and his belly almost a cavity below them. Oh, dear God! He appears near starved to death. Worse than the beggars in the streets.

Plaits of unkempt hair hung down from his head and across his chest beyond his buttons, and his scraggly beard reached lower, portions of it blown askew in the breeze. Had he not identified himself, I would not have recognised him.

I scanned the others in the boats, seeing similar emaciation in many. "How could they be expected to work in such a state?"

Charles did not reply, and when I turned, I watched his head disappear down the hatch. I returned my attention to the boats and to Father, lifting the glass to examine his face. His bushy eyebrows, the crook in his nose. I sighed, recalling his telling the tale of how it had been broken.

I examined his shoulders, chest and arms, looking for scars and other signs of injury. Then his midriff, grimacing at how small it was and how his hip bones protruded. I continued down his legs, seeing knees like big knobs on slender sticks.

Then back up to his face again, I wondered why I had skipped his nethers. More of Mother's prohibitions? Likely.

Why should I not? In reality, only more body parts.

I scanned the telescope back down and examined. Like so many of the others I have seen. Why would this be thought wrong?

The boat had now drawn sufficiently close that, when I returned the glass to his face, I could see the crinkles around his eyes from his smile. He was talking with those near him in his familiar animated fashion. The pirates had not taken his spirit.

I watched his face with fascination, seeing the liveliness which always accompanied his tales. My mind drifted now, as it often had then, to the vivid images his words painted.

I startled at a hand on my shoulder, then Charles' quiet voice calmed me. "You seem somewhere else."

"Reminiscences about Father's tales."

"You shall hear many more. The boat is nearly alongside."

"Oh!" I leaned over the rail and looked forward. "What shall I tell him about us?"

"The truth."

I nodded. "Yes, of course. My fuddled mind again."

"Fuddled?"

"I think from the brandy in which the willow bark is steeped. Ruth had said to take a sip with each piece, but I had not done, so I took several sips to catch up. So fiery in my throat."

"When was that?"

I pointed beyond the bow. "Out there after the shooting. While I was below when you spoke with the rescued. It seems now to be having its effect."

The clatter alongside and the voices below announced the arrival of a boat, and I rushed to the forward rail to watch. Charles moved to my side, wrapped an arm around my waist and said, "Of custom, the most senior are the last to embark a boat and the first to disembark, so I would expect your father to lead the way up the ladder."

Not a minute later, Father appeared above the gunwale and stepped through the gate, then he turned to assist others onto Zeelandia's deck. I thrilled at the sight, not only of him aboard, but of his concern for the others.

When members of our crew had begun to assist, Charles called, "Captain Cavendish, up here, if you please."

Father awaited one more, then he led three across the deck to the steps and up. I rushed to meet him and wrapped him in an embrace, and in a trembling voice, I said, "Father."

"Chris!" He stiffened and pushed me away.

"No, Father. It is I, Camille."

"Camille? Oh, my dear, sweet Camille." He wrapped me in his arms and swayed.