"Come," Lyon said as she was slipping her bare feet into her slippers.
They raced down the companionway, up the steps, and through the hatch to the deck. They were met by Rafael. He said very
calmly, "There are two French men-of-war about three hundred yards from our starboard. They've spotted us, blast this full moon. I don't want you two aboard when the fighting starts. You could be killed; worse, if they take us, you would be captured. See the island off our port?" He pointed to the small lump of land whose outline they could see clearly in the moonlight. "'Tis not more than a quarter of a mile. I trust both of you are swimmers. I want you to dive over now and swim to the island. Once this is over I will return for you. Diana, Lyon, my luck to you both. Come along now."
They followed him in a silent daze to the bow of the ship.
"Good luck, Rafael," Diana said, eased her legs over the rail, and gracefully dived into the water.
"Take care," Lyon said, clasped Rafael's hand, and followed Diana over the side.
The water was a shock, but a moment later, it felt warm. Diana saw Lyon's head break the surface, called out to him, then began to swim in firm, controlled strokes toward the island.
Lyon realized quickly enough that he wasn't as good a swimmer as Diana, but he was strong and he kept pace with her. Just as they reached the surf, they heard the loud booming sound of cannons.
"Oh, no," Diana said softly, turning about to look out to sea. "Lyon, do you believe Rafael will save the Seawitch?"
"If any man can, he will. Come. Let's get to shore."
They both collapsed on the sand just beyond the surf line, each of them breathing hard. There were more cannon blasts and gunfire and they saw water billowing upward in the distance around the Seawitch.
"If Rafael is smart, he'll cut loose and run."
"If they haven't already surrounded him," Diana said. "There have been so few French ships in this area. I don't understand this. Why are they here?"
"I have this feeling that Rafael isn't your average merchant captain," Lyon said. "There is a mystery surrounding that man and his voyage to St. Thomas."
Suddenly, the immediate fear over, Diana turned to look at Lyon. His hair was plastered against his head, his clothes clinging to his body. She watched him pull off his boots.
"It would appear," she said slowly, "that my virtue was saved by the French."
He looked over at her, wriggling his toes in the sand. "Let us say that you are still a half-virgin, at least for the present."
She could feel him inside of her, pressing, and she jerked at the vivid image. She sat down on the sand and lowered her head between her knees.
"I hope we are on one of your paradise islands and not the barren sort. Do you happen to know where we are? Which island?"
"No, at least not yet. Perhaps in the morning I will recognize something."
Lyon got to his feet and looked around. "I suppose we should do something. Make a shelter." Suddenly a raindrop hit his nose. "Rain," he said blankly. "Bloody hell!"
The moon was suddenly obscured. Diana raised her face and felt the rain begin to clean away the saltwater. "I hope it storms hard. It just might save Rafael and the Seawitch. Yes, shelter."
They walked away from the water, then Lyon paused, reality hitting. "I haven't the foggiest notion of how to survive on an island."
The rain was coming down in sheets now.
Diana said, "First of all, go down the beach a bit, take off your clothes and wash off. Your clothes too, else they'll feel miserable and stiff when they are dry."
He nodded and walked away from her. Diana waited until he had turned a bend around the beach, then stripped off her clothes. She washed her hair and her body in the warm, pulsing rain. Like Lyon's tongue and mouth and fingers and hisStop it, you silly fool! She grabbed up her clothes and rinsed them out. She hated to put on the wet chemise and gown, but there was no chance she would parade about in front of Lyon without a stitch on. She was picking up her sodden slippers when he returned.
"Now what?"
"It's too dark to gather palm fronds for a shelter. Let's try to find some thick foliage to protect us from the worst of it for the rest of the night. We need to sleep."
"Perhaps there are people on this island."
"Perhaps," she agreed. She wouldn't tell him yet, but if there were no fresh water on the island, they would be in a sorry condition indeed, and in a very short time.