They got the signal fire going, Lyon using his breechcloth to fan it into smoke swirls.
The Seawitch came into view.
They watched in silence as a boat was lowered over the side of the ship.
"Time to dress," Lyon said.
Diana nodded, mute. She was looking at his breechcloth beside the fire. It was stained with blood, her blood. She quickly tossed it into the fire, then turned to fetch her gown.
Rafael lowered his spyglass, a wicked smile on his lips. His timing was horrible, he thought, and wondered if Lyon would burn his ears. He frowned at his body's reaction to seeing them clasped together, Diana's long, slender legs wrapped around Lyon, her glorious hair streaming down her arched back.
They looked none the worse for wear from their ordeal. Ordeal, ha! It looked as if Lyon had succeeded very well.
"Can you see anything, Capt'n? Are they here on Calypso Island?"
"Yes," said Rafael, turning to Rollo. "They're here on Calypso. Our castaways look quite healthy. Lower the boat, Rollo, and let's get them aboard." When Rollo turned away to obey his command, he raised his spyglass again. He saw Diana toss something in a fire, saw her turn and follow a naked Lyon to their shelter.
"It feels most odd to be wearing all these clothes again," Diana said as she finished fastening the buttons on her gown. "And shoes! How dreadfully uncomfortable!"
They were alone in their cabin. Lyon grunted in agreement as he tugged on his boots.
"Fancy that," Diana continued. "We were on Calypso Island, just a mile from Reefer's Island. There are a few inhabitants there, descendants of pirates, so I've been told."
"As ferocious as the Carib Indians?"
"Ah, no. They've calmed down remarkably, indeed ---" There was a knock on the cabin door.
"Dinner in the captain's cabin," Neddie said through the door.
"We'll be right along," Lyonel said. He smiled at Diana. "You've missed a couple of buttons. Hold still." He wanted to pull the wretched gown off her and throw her on the bunk, but Rafael was waiting. "Later," he said.
"Later what?"
"You'll see, love."
She flushed and ducked her head. He obligingly kissed the nape of her neck.
"No cassava bread, I see," said Lyon when they were seated at Rafael's table.
"Diana took good care of you," Rafael said.
"She did indeed," said Lyon, his voice bland. He jumped when she kicked his shin beneath the table.
"I don't think I'll need to examine either of you," said Blick. "I have to admit that I was a bit worried when the two of you went overboard."
"I helped Lyon to shore," said Diana.
"She helped me more than you can imagine. Rafael, tell us about the attack. We couldn't see much in the storm."
Rafael thoughtfully chewed on a piece of bread. "The English are much better sailors than the French. We got one of them broadside, then slipped past the other two before they could figure out what had happened. Also, I gave dutiful thanks to heaven for that blessed storm."
Diana said, "I was very surprised. There haven't been many French war ships in the Caribbean in years, or so I thought."
"Perhaps they thought I was a special prize," Rafael said. "More wine, my dear?"
"Why?" Diana asked, tenacious. "What is in the hold of this ship?"
"Just furnishings, cloth and housewares for local planters. Incidentally, we'll reach Road Town tomorrow. Your father will be there to greet you, Diana. And you, Lyon."