One of the hands rowed them across to the huts on the beach and pointed out the path through the trees that led to the stream. ‘Looks as though it will be a gentle slope until then,’ Nathan said, swinging the bulky satchel over his shoulder. ‘Then it will be a stiffer climb to the headland. Can you manage?’
Clemence nodded, following at his heels. Already, just being clear of the ship, she was feeling better. She looked back, catching a glimpse of it through the trees as it rode at anchor: black, waiting, sinister. Down in the deepest, darkest part men were huddled in abject misery, dying perhaps. She felt so helpless.
‘Forget the ship for a while.’ Nathan was looking back over his shoulder.
Clemence nodded and ran to catch up; until she could think of something positive to do, it was futile to keep worrying at the problem. They walked in single file, silent, for perhaps half an hour until the sound of falling water drew them to the stream. It fell over a waterfall into a deep pool that, in turn, drained through the trees, over the cliff and into the pool they had seen on the beach.
It was a magic place, sunlight filtering through the leaves, the cool water cupped in a ring of rocks, the foaming lace of the waterfall. They stood looking at it, side by side, then Nathan said, ‘You could swim when we come back down. It is safe up here, not like the beach pool.’
It made Clemence feel better just thinking about it. ‘I could?’
‘I’d stand guard.’ Nathan turned away and began to strike off up a steeper path.
Goodness, he’s fit, Clemence thought, aware that she was puffing as she climbed in the wake of his long stride. Weeks of enforced inaction inside, hardly any food, the immobility of grief, had taken their toll on someone used to walking and riding every day.
Nathan stopped and waited for her as the forest gave way to the bare slopes above. ‘Here.’ He held out his hand and Clemence put hers into it. ‘I used to be able to walk for miles,’ she lamented, allowing herself to be towed up a steep bit. ‘And I rode every day. And only a few years ago I was climbing trees and playing in the cane fields and now I’m panting over one little hill.’
‘Not so little. Look.’ Nathan released her hand as he gestured and she realised they had climbed to the top of Lizard Island. The sea spread out in front of them, islets dotted like spilled beads on crushed blue velvet. The frigate had come up with the damaged merchantman and even without the telescope Clemence could see the activity as sailors from the warship helped the crew with the rigging.
‘They’ll be safely on their way soon,’ she commented, pointing. ‘And they’ll tell the frigate which way we went as well.’
‘They won’t find us, not unless we signal,’ Nathan broke off, looking thoughtful. ‘Fire would do it, but there’s no point up here, that wouldn’t pinpoint anything and I presume you’d have a fixed objection to setting the Sea Scorpion on fire.’
‘With the holds full of trapped men? Yes, I would!’ She sat down on a smooth boulder and regarded him. ‘Would you really betray McTiernan and the crew?’
‘For the bounty on their heads? Yes. I could do with the money.’ Nathan had the glass to his eye, scanning not just the sea, but sweeping round to the larger island behind them and the wooded slopes falling away from their viewpoint.
‘That seems…’
‘Risky?’ He lowered the glass and studied her face. Clemence knew she was frowning.
‘Well, yes, that of course, McTiernan would have your liver. But you signed up with them.’
‘Honour amongst thieves? You think I should be loyal to that crew of murderous vagabonds?’
‘I know it sounds wrong.’ She struggled with it some more. ‘It is just that two wrongs don’t make a right.’
‘So loyalty is an absolute virtue and, having joined the pirates, I must remain one? My shipmates, right or wrong?’ Nathan rested one hip on a rock in front of her. ‘You are a severe moralist, Clem.’
‘Oh, no, never that!’ Clemence protested. ‘I don’t want to judge.’
‘But you are judging me?’
‘Yes,’ she conceded miserably confused. ‘I know I am.’ She hated the moral ambiguity, his moral ambiguity. Why couldn’t he be a hero, purer than pure? How could she be trembling on the brink of falling in love with a man like him?
Chapter Eight
‘So, you can’t trust a pirate turncoat?’ Nathan enquired.
‘I shouldn’t. But I do about some things.’ She scuffed the gritty soil under her toe. ‘I trust you not to betray me, even when I do foolish things.’
‘Yes, you can rely on me for that. But you couldn’t trust me not to kiss you,’ he pointed out.
‘I wanted you to,’ she said baldly, still staring at her toes. ‘Both times. And you stopped at a kiss. Thank goodness,’ she added hastily.
‘You are a virgin, Clemence,’ he said, his voice harsh. ‘I am—I was—a gentleman. I told you, I do not seduce virgins.’
‘No. Of course not.’ When she dared to look up again, Nathan was on his feet, using the rock as a rest while he made notes. ‘Can I help?’