seafire
by
sarah west leigh


Sarah Westleigh has enjoyed a varied life.  Working as a local
government officer in London, she qualified as a chartered quantity
surveyor.  She assisted her husband in his chartered accountancy
practice, at the same time managing an employment agency.  Moving to
Devon, she finally found time to write, publishing short stories and
articles, before discovering historical novels.

Recent titles by the same author:.

THE OUTRAGEOUS DOWAGER FELON'S FANCY ~

CHEVALIER'S PAWN

A LADY OF INDEPENDENT MEANS ESCAPE TO DESTINY ~

A MOST EXCEPTIONAL QUEST HERITAGE OF LOVE

LOYAL HEARTS

SET FREE MY HEART

THE INHERITED BRIDE

SEAFIRE

Sarah Westleigh

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CHAPTER ONE

MIRANDA gazed dolefully after His Majesty's' ship Othello as she heeled
with the wind, ploughing her way across a heaving Atlantic lit by the
red glow of the setting sun and diminishing in size with every moment
that passed.  Soon, despite her age, the damage she'd suffered and the
long tendrils of weed growing on her bottom to slow her down, only her
depleted pyramid of sails would be visible as she rose on the crest of
a wave.  Then they, too, would sink completely out of sight, taking
with them her last link with home, family and everything familiar.

The raised voice of the second lieutenant brought her attention back to
the great cabin of the American frigate Seafire, where the surviving
officers of the Othello were, like herself, confined.  ~

"Stop snivelling, Mr.  Welland!"  snapped Mr.  Piper.  "You are in no
worse case than the rest of us!  The Americans probably treat their
prisoners of war better than the French!"

Miranda rose from the cushions covering the locker beneath the ship's
stern lights and moved over to the youngest of the Othello's
midshipmen, a skinny lad of only twelve, making his first voyage.  His
eyes were fixed on the streaks of blood drying on his white duck
trousers and she felt sympathy rise up in her on a tide of
indignation.

"He is only a child!"  she protested to the grim-vis aged officer who
had spoken.

"As a young gentleman he is training to be a King's officer!  He must
learn never to show fear!  He should take his example from Mr. Keeper,"
retorted the lieutenant, indicating the other midshipman present, at
fourteen an insensitive boy and a bit of a bully, who smirked.

Miranda put her hand on Will's shoulder.  "The worst is over now," she
consoled him softly, ignoring the lieutenant's exasperated grunt of
"Women!"  "We have been fed.  The captain will not ill-treat us, I
think."

He 'had a hard face," the captain of the Seafire, cold, slate-grey eyes
and a square, uncompromising chin.  Despite the lines of experience
etched on his weathered face he looked young to be in command of a
frigate.

He had ignored them since sending them across in a ship's boat under
marine guard.  Apart from his servant, a tall, broad-shouldered black
man who had brought them their food, crouching to avoid the low beams
overhead, the scarlet-coated marine sentries at the door were the only
persons they had seen since being thrust into the cabin.

"But Tom Bright was killed," gulped Will, trying to stifle his sobs. "I
was standing right by him when he fell."  He sniffed before adding in a
barely audible voice, "Captain Blackmore and Mr.  Stannard are gone,
too."

Will had been carrying a message up from the lower gun deck to the
quarterdeck.  Otherwise he would have been below when disaster had
struck, when the heavy balls of the frigate's broadside had smashed
their way, one after another, through the back of the Othello and
along its length, to cause chaos on the two gun decks and to wreck the
quarterdeck.

Their own guns had scarcely been fired; only the two aimed astern had
caught the agile enemy in their sights.  Mr.  Piper, the second
lieutenant, the most senior officer left alive and therefore in
command, had surrendered almost immediately.

The American, she thought angrily, was an inferior warship.  The
Othello, with her two decks of guns, should have been able to defeat a
mere frigate.  But for that unlucky shot which had killed Captain
Blackmore, the arrogant Captain York--for that was the Seafire's
'captain's name--might now have been the one to be confined, aboard the
Othello.

The thoughts raced through her mind as she squeezed Will's shoulder. "I
know they are," she told him sadly, setting the frightening memories
firmly aside.  "So are a number of the seamen, and many others were
injured.  But we are at war, Will.  We must grow used to the idea of
death."

Who am I to talk?  she thought, stifling her own grief.  For Captain
Blackmore had been more than just the captain of the ship taking her
out to join her family in the West Indies, he had been her father's
particular friend, almost an uncle to her.  That was why it had been
arranged for her to sail with him in the supposed safety of a
seventy-four-gun warship.

And his first' lieutenant had been killed too.  Her breath choked 'in
her throat as she remembered Peter.  He had become the first object of
her heart the moment she had seen his handsome face beneath his bicorn
hat and noted the splendid figure he cut in his uniform.  A

sigh escaped her as she thought of what might have been, for she had
never admired any man so much.  During the days at sea as they had
sailed down towards the Canary Isles, where they had intended to pick
up the trade winds before crossing the Atlantic, her admiration had
grown.  He had sought her out whenever she appeared on deck while he
was there, had been attentive and charming when invited to dine at the
captain's table.  She had dreamed dreams-But what good to remember now,
when the man with whom she had fallen in love was dead?

It was the waiting getting on their nerves.  She shifted impatiently
and spoke sharply out of grief, anger and a lurking fear of the
future.

"You surrendered too soon,-Mr.  Piper," She accused.  "You lowered our
colours before we had once fired our own broadside!"

"Only the guns at the stern could be brought to bear!  What did you
want me to do?"  demanded the lieutenant grimly.  "He was racing down
wind to rake us from behind again with another broadside.  Should I
have fought on until the entire crew was dead?"  You too Miss Dawson,
make no mistake?

"Of course not, but Captain Blackmore-'

"Had failed to turn the ship in time to meet the first broadside and
had been killed!  What can you know about it, Miss Dawson?  A mast and
all its sails and rigging were strewn over the deck and trailing over
the side in a tangled mess.  The men couldn't cut away the wreckage in
time for me to turn the ship before the next broadside did for us."  A
plaintive, defensive note had entered his voice.  "What else could I
have done?"

"We could have--' began the third lieutenant difidently.  Despite his
weedy appearance the fire of frustrated enterprise blazed in Mr.
Gander's brown eyes.  ] would have fought on.

The sailing master, the warrant officer responsible navigating the ship
under the captain's orders, a sc trunk of a man with many years of
experience behi him, smiled in sympathy with the young lieutenar~
bitterness.  "We could have done many things," interrupted in his rich,
throaty voice, but in the end i still have been strike our colours or
be sunk with hands.  " He made a rueful face.  " Captain York js a fine
seaman and an inspired tactician,"~ he said, show~ reluctant admiration
for an enemy..  i

Miranda sighed.  "I suppose you are right, Mr.  Hask~ Down below it
seemed an age while we waited in vain for our guns to fire back."

"Our stern chasers did!?  snapped Mr.  Piper, s defensive.  " We had
been trying to escape him during the night watches, and failed.  With
the captain fall and the ship disabled, I had no choice.  "

He might be right, thought Miranda reluctantly.  h way he was right,
she did not know much about t sailing of a ship and less about fighting
one; [ knowledge was all hearsay.  He was only troubling argue with her
at all because of who her father was.  E all the same, after the
stories Papa and her brothers h told her, the surrender had seemed
precipitate.

She remembered the moment a youthful midshipm had almost fallen down
the ladder to inform the surge that the action was over Hearing him
report, she h climbed the ladders to the ruined quarterdeck, glad

escape the foetid atmosphere.  below.  The American captain was
already aboard taking possession of the ship, having introduced himself
as Captain Adam York of the US Navy's frigate Seafire.  Shortly after
this they had been rowed across to his warship.  For the rest of the
day they had sat about, wondering what was happening aboard the vessel
they had so recently been forced to surrender.  Now they were unlikely
ever to know, for the Othello had quite disappeared from sight.

Despite her best efforts she could not banish memories of the morning.
They were too close, too devastating to be easily thrust aside~ The
dull boom of a gun, the splash of a ball landing a couple of hundred
yards astern had confirmed an enemy ~ presence beyond doubt.  The
squeal of the bosun's pipes, the rat-tat-tat of the marine drummer's
tattoo, the stampeding feet had already warned Miranda of the imminence
of action.  A Rear Admiral's daughter, she knew the ropes.
Everything,

including herself,.  had to go below, allowing the whole deck to be
opened up so that all the great guns could be fired.  ~

She eyed the monsters which intruded even in' this smaller captain's
cabin.  This, too, had no doubt been taken apart earlier and put back
together again to accommodate the officer prisoners while the captain
oversaw the urgent repair of both vessels.  Despite being covered with
sailcloth the cannons still emitted a strong smell of gunpowder, an
unwelcome reminder of the devastation they had wrought aboard the
Othello.

She lifted her head to listen as, through the open skylight, she heard
the lookout's hail:

"Deck, there!  Othello has hoisted a signal!"

Her heart thumped.  So she was still visible from the masthead.  Not
quite gone yet.

"Mr.  Stirling, take a glass aloft and see what she says!  Bear a hand
there!"

Captain York's voice, resonant and clear, came from the quarterdeck
above their heads.

"Aye, aye, sir!  Telescope it is, sir!"

Soon the piping voice of the midshipmaa came floating down, his words
indistinguishable in the cabin.

"Return to deck, Mr.  Stirling."  Then, as a thump proved the speed
with which the midshipman had obeyed the order, "Acknowledge and make
the signal, " Goodbye and good luck.  "

With Will looking a little more determined and swallowing the last of
his tears, Miranda resumed her seat beneath the windows.  Dusk was
falling now; darkness would be upon them in no time at all.  What did
Captain York intend to do with them?

Most of the crew of the captured ship, including the surgeon and the
wounded, had been left aboard, under the guard of a detachment of
American marines.  Like the officers here, they.  would all end up as
prisoners of war in the United States of America.

A series of shouted orders on deck; the screech of the ropes through
pulleys, the heeling of the ship as the wind filled her sails told
Miranda that the part of the Seafire's rigging brought down by the one
shot from the Othello which had found its mark had now been repaired.

Once under way, her companions concluded that the Seafire was sailing
almost due south.

"Heading for the Canaries?"  wondered Mr.  Gander.

"They're Spanish," observed Mr.  Piper.  "Spain is Britain's ally now.
He wouldn't dare put in there."

"But the Americans are not at war with Spain," pointed out his junior
lieutenant.

Mr.  Piper shrugged.  Apart from taking out his frustrations on poor
Will Welland, he had little constructive to say.

The captain's servant, whose name, he had informed them with dignity,
was Daniel, came in to light the candles in the lanterns hanging from
the beams, putting a stop to speculation.  Immediately, the view
through the windows disappeared, lost in reflections.  Daniel pulled
heavy wine-coloured velvet hangings across and the cabin became a
strangely shaped, cosy room, all shadowy beams and curves.

The snapping to attention of the four marines guarding the door
heralded the long-awaited arrival of the ~aptain himself.

He strode in, his bent head bare, his cocked hat tucked under his arm,
and Miranda strongly suspected that' he had just shrugged into his
watch coat with its tarnished epaulettes and gold lace, for one of the
buttons remained unfastened.  But none of this, not the crouch he was
forced to assume, the streak of dirt marring his cheek nor the filthy
state of his hands, detracted from the aura of confident authority with
which he greeted his captives.  Or prevented the alarming fris son of
awareness his close proximity sent streaking through Miranda's
unawakened body.  Mortifying colour rose in her cheeks.  She
swallowed.

The Othello's officers rose.  Mr.  Gander, jumping up unwarily, knocked
his head on a beam and gave a yelp of pain before joining the others in
standing up as straight as the low headroom allowed and saluting, York
returned the salute and flung his hat across to land near Miranda, who
still sat, obstinately determined not to allow this man to frighten or
dominate her despite the curious, breathtaking effect his presence
seemed to have on her.  She owed him no deference apart from that.  due
to any gentleman she met.  She inclined her head.  He did no more than
glance at her and nod back.

"Please be seated, gentlemen," he invited--or commanded, it made little
difference--as he crossed to the big chair behind his desk; A lantern,
hanging above, threw light down to burnish his black hair and throw a
shadow from his clubbed queue--a pigtail looped up and tied with a
piece of black doth,

As he sat he placed a pierced and weighted strongbox on the mahogany
surface in front of him.  The key evident in the lock, doubtless found
on the dead captain's body~ left little doubt that the box had been
opened and the contents scrutinised.  Miranda, glancing at Mr.  Piper,
saw his pallor and the way he chewed at his bottom lip.  It looked as:
though he had failed to throw the weighted box overboard and thus
destroy the ship's papers before they could be taken by the enemy,

"So, Lieutenant.  You: were headed for Barbados, I see, to join the
squadron stationed there.  Your captain was to report to the admiral
commanding His Majesty's ships and vessels upon the Windward Islands
Station."  The lieutenant nodded.

"I shall wish to question you more later--'

"I know no more than what the orders say, Captain," interjected Mr.
Piper earnestly.

Captain York acknowledged the interruption with a nod.  "That I
understand.  And now you would doubtless like to know that the Othello
is headed for Annapolis.  She has been made seaworthy and your crew
will be well treated so long as they do not conspire to retake the
ship.  As for yourselves, gentlemen, I require your word, as honourable
officers and gentlemen, that you will not attempt to cause trouble
aboard the Seafire.  My crew is depleted but is still quite adequate to
right this ship or to defend it should it become necessary.  Do I have
your word?"

He looked along the rank of officers, one a mere child, another almost
old enough to be his grandfather, and one by one they gave their
word.

"Capital.  Your swords will be returned to you.  You will have the
freedom of the quarterdeck, of course, unless requested to remain
below.  No doubt, like myself, you would now like to retire to your
quarters and perhaps--' with a glance at Midshipman Welland's trousers
'--change your attire.  Since my first and fourth lieutenants have left
the ship their berths are vacant.  Your chest, Lieutenant, and that of
Mr.  Gander, has been brought across and placed there.  The carpenters
have erected another cabin for your sailing master.  My officers will
entertain you in the gunroom, gentlemen, where you may recover your
weapons."

A murmur of assent greeted these arrangements.  Captain York turned to
the two, midshipmen.  "I am putting your young gentlemen in with mine,
in the midshipmen's berth.  I have nowhere else to accommodate them."

As the boys shuffled their feet and Mr.  Piper nodded,

Captain York, for the first time, looked directly at Miranda.  "As for
you, young lady--'

"My name is Miranda Dawson.  Miss Dawson.  My father--'

"Is an admiral; I am fully aware of that fact, Miss Dawson, since
Captain Blackmore was to place himself under his orders."  He shot her
a distinctly unfriendly look.  "You are, miss, a confounded nuisance. I
do not like any female aboard my ship, let alone a green girl scarcely
out of the schoolroom."

Miranda scowled; she could not help herself.  She, was almost eighteen
and, despite her delicate looks, as strong as a horse.  If only she had
been born a boy!  Then, instead of cowering in the bowels of the ship,
she could have been on the quarterdeck with the officers, helping to
fight this arrogant creature~ fear forgotten in the exhilaration of
danger faced!  How 'she envied her brothers!

And how she wished her hair had not degenerated into a salty mop of
straw-coloured tangles, that the hem of her elderly gown had not become
sodden in the water sloshing about in the bottom of the boat which had
brought them across, and dried in streaks and creases.  And that she
had not caught it with her heel while climbing the side and torn a
great rent in the material.  Men had nothing so stupid as skirts and
petticoats to hamper them while they clambered about a ship!

Her fulminating blue gaze met and caught that of the captain.  The cold
grey eyes under the heavy dark brows narrowed, the impatience in them
changed to amusement and a smile curved his shapely mouth.  He was not
handsome, like Peter, Miranda decided, noting the

bony, flattened bridge of his nose and suppressing the stupid tremor
that shot through her again.

However," he went on more amiably, " I could not leave you aboard the
Othello; my first lieutenant will have quite enough on his hands
without coping with your presence aboard.  The Seafire is not a large
ship but Daniel has agreed to sling his hammock in a corner of my
storeroom so that you may use his sleeping place.  You will find the
chest you were using board the Othello in there.  Your other boxes have
been brought across and stowed below with my other stores.  Daniel
will, of course, allow you, access to them if necessary.  Luckily," he
enlarged, 'we are homeward bound and he managed to find room for
them."

"You are most kind,~ said Miranda, the irony in her voice not lost on
the object of it.

His face suddenly creased into a real grin.  All the lines which had
been showing up white against his sun-baked skin disappeared into the
furrows.  "Wait until you 'see your accommodation!  It is scarcely
luxurious.  You will, of course, 'be my guest."  He waved an expansive
arm.  "My cabin is at your disposal, except for those times when I need
to be private for my own purposes.  You will oblige me by allowing the
sentry to announce you before you enter.  My supper will be served in
half an hour' He gave a slight bow.  " I shall be honoured if you will
join me.  "

That captivating grin meant nothing.  He did not mean he would be
honoured at all.  He was treating her like a naughty schoolgirl!
Miranda composed her emotions, her mind and her features as she rose to
her feet.

"Perhaps Daniel will be kind enough to show me where my quarters are. I
regret--although no doubt it saves you a deal of trouble--that I have
no maid with me.  A girl was hired in Portsmouth but failed to turn up
before we sailed."

"As you say, another female would have been an added embarrassment.
However, her absence leaves you without a chaperon, Miss Dawson.  I
must ask you to be circumspect in your behaviour.  My men are excellent
seamen and normally well disciplined, but they are not saints."

"I can assure you, I know how to comport myself, sir," retorted Miranda
with frigid dignity.

"Daniel will show ~you all where to go," said the captain, springing to
his feet with sudden decision, impatient to be rid of his unwelcome
guests.  "Gentlemen, I wish you joy of your quarters.  Supper is, I
believe, about to be served in the gunroom."

By the light of a swinging lantern, Miranda saw the shallow wooden box
of a cot standing on its side along the wall of the tiny.  space, some
eight feet by five, in which the captain's servant normally slept.  The
cabin was squeezed in beyond the store, which housed a huge gun besides
sundry chests and boxes containing the captain's more~ immediate needs
which would be humped below out of the way during an action.  The cot,
supported in a netting, would be slung later, she supposed, from the
strong hooks screwed into the beam above.  In addition to her sea
chest, the compartment contained a stand supporting a canvas basin, a
small butt of water and a folding stool.  A mirror had been hung on one
of the battens framing the thin partitions, a thoughtful touch for
which she would like to thank someone.  Daniel, probably, since it had
been his cabin.

Although air could circulate from the companion hatchway just outside
her door through vents in the partitions, the cabin was stuffy.  During
the day a little light would reach her from the hatch, provided she
left the door open.  Otherwise the candle in the lantern must
suffice.

She had soap in her baggage and there was enough water in the-butt to
wash her hair, as well as herself.  Miranda set to, Half an hour was
not long but her hair was short and would soon dry.  Better damp than
filthy, she decided as she dug some soap from her chest and extracted
some clean garments to wear.

The basin, swayed with the easy motion of the ship and so did she.  She
dried her hair as best she could and disposed of the dirty water in a
wooden bucket provided for her convenience.  Daniel would know what to
do about her soiled linen.

A midshipman came to inform her that the captain's supper was about to
be served.  With a last glance in the mirror and tweak of her shining
golden curls, still slightly damp, Miranda doused the candle in the
lantern and emerged into the gangway by the companion ladders, which
went up to the quarterdeck and down to the officers' quarters in the
gunroom.  Facing her was the door to the captain's servant's pantry,
where Daniel could brew drinks for his master, produce limited snacks,
wash a few dishes and keep the silver clean.  Between ranged two doors
giving access to.  the captain's quarters, one to the store, the other
to his sleeping place.  Entry to the great cabin was through one or
other of these.  A solitary marine sat on guard between them.

At sight of her he jumped up, snapped to attention, head canted because
of the low headroom, and called, "Miss Dawsonl' loud enough to be heard
inside the great cabin, and pointed her towards the door to the
store.

A voice called for her to come in but it was not the captain is He was
still washing and changing, she guessed.  She squashed down a feeling
somewhere between relief and disappointment as she passed through the
storeroom.  Entering the cabin, she nodded at Daniel, who greeted her
with a wide smile and continued fussing about the table, arranging the
glasses and the wine decanter to his satisfaction and putting a final
shine on a creditable display of silver.  A wooden trough of hard
ship's biscuits, which passed for bread, stood in the centre of the
table.

"Thank you for leaving me your mirror, Daniel," Miranda said, unable to
keep a certain condescension from her tone.  She had never had dealings
with a black servant before, let alone one who was presumably a
slave.

A huge smile split the dark face.  "It's not mine, it's the cap'n's,
missie," he replied.  ~"You'll need to thank him."

"Really?"  Miranda could scarcely conceal her astonishment.  "I will."
Dismissing the question of the mirror, she sought to satisfy her
curiosity about the servant himself.  It did not occur to her that it
might be rude to ask, so she came straight out with her question.  "Are
you a slave, Daniel?"

He shook his head, his smile still wide and white.  She was to discover
that it took a great deal to wipe that smile from Daniel's face.  "Ah
was given to Masser Adam when he was five, Miz Dawson.  Ah musta bin
some ten years older.  Ah belonged to him.  When he ran away to sea Ah
went with him and, so's Ah couldn't be dragged back to the plantation
in chains, he granted me my freedom.  We always managed to serve in the
same ship and when he was given a brig of his own he took me for his
servant again.  No, missie, Ahim no slave," he said proudly, his face
now grave.  "Ah serve the cap'n'cause Ah love him."

"He ran away?"  Now her curiosity spun off in another direction.  "How
old was he then?"

"Twelve, missie.  Too young to go off alone by my reckoning.  He needed
me to look after him."

"And that is what you've been doing ever since, I collect," said
Miranda with growing respect.  Apart from a certain drawl, the man
spoke almost as well as his master, certainly better than most of the
seamen.  She was beginning to realise that the last thing he deserved
was her condescension.  "Thank you for answering me, Daniel.  Pray tell
me, are you able to arrange laundry to be done?"

"Ah'll put it with the cap'n's, missie.  Done on a Monday.  But--' he
looked a little embarrassed and eyes rolled '--you'll understand we
can't have your.  er ... petticoats hanging about the rigging to
dry."

"Perhaps," said Miranda helpfully, 'someone could rig me a line in the
cabin?  "

"Ah'll ask the bosun to see to it, missie."

"Supper ready, then, Daniel?"  demanded Captain

York, emerging from his sleeping place looking scrubbed, shaven and
much more tidy than he had earlier.  He had donned a clean fill led
shirt, pristine white against his dark blue uniform trousers, but had
not bothered to put on his jacket or even his waistcoat.  She did not
blame him; it was hot and stuffy in the cabin.  His stock looked as
though it might choke him and his only adornment was the grey silk bow
on his queue.

"Ah, there you are, Zack," He greeted a newcomer as the marine sentry
snapped to attention and cried, "Lieutenant West, sir!"

"Cook's getting impatient, Cap'n," murmured Daniel.  "He says the
meat'll be ruined if you don't hurry."

"It'll be tough anyway," grimaced Adam York?  "That last sheep he
killed was stringy and old as the hills.  Never mind; those.  we
brought aboard at Casablanca look younger.  Tell him he can send it up
straight away."

As Daniel sent word to the cook, the captain turned to Miranda.  Having
so far ignored her, he now made up for his neglect.  With the utmost
courtesy, he-bowed over her hand.

Stifling her surprise at this belated show of manners, Miranda dropped
him a small curtsy.  "Thank you for thinking to provide me with a
mirror, Captain."

"My sisters declare they cannot manage without at least six," he
observed, appraising her slowly from head to toe, taking in the low
neckline and high waist of her graceful blue gown.  "You seem to have
managed extraordinarily well with one small one," he decided, his
examination over.  "You find your quarters adequate?"

Small flags of embarrassed annoyance appeared on

Miranda's cheeks as his gaze travelled over her.  She had considered
the gown most becoming when it had been made for her, part of her
school-leaving outfit, and his scrutiny confirmed her in her opinion,
but how ill-mannered of him to examine her in such a way!  He must have
noticed how much the material needed the attention of an iron, but
beggars could not be choosers and it was all his fault anyway.

"Barely, sir," she answered him, 'but they will suffice.  I cannot
expect to enjoy' luxury aboard an enemy man-of-war.  "

"I am glad you appreciate the fact.  Allow me to introduce my acting
first lieutenant, Mr.  Zachary West.  Mr.  West is taking supper with
us?  He indicated their dress.  " You will appreciate that I am.  not
treating this as a formal occasion.  "

"Cap'n Adam needed moral support,?  grinned Zack, in his turn bowing
over her hand;

Shorter than his captain and stockily built, Zachary West none the less
had need to mind the beams of the deck above.  His round face reminded
her of, a pug dog's, though it was not so squashed.  In fact it, "Was a
good-humoured, audacious face which rather appealed to Miranda.  He was
clearly on excellent t~ms with his captain.  He had called him Adam,
though for form's sake he had prefixed his rank.

"You will pay for that," murmured Adam with a sour smile~ "I ask you,
how often do I dine alone?  One or two of my officers always join me;
today is no exception.  You, my friend, are in danger of never being
invited to eat at this table again?

"Do not say so!  What a desperate punishment!  To have to exist on the
gunroom fare entirely!  And all because I dared to speak the truth!  He
is afraid of women," he whispered in a loud aside to Miranda.

She blinked.  Surely he had gone too far!

He had.  "But not of little girlM Enough, Zack; I can take a joke with
the best, but you abuse my tolerance."

The reproof was the more effective because Adam's tone, although
holding irritation and a measure of embarrassment, had become coolly
distant where before it had been warm.  This was how he maintained
discipline, then.  Mr.  West could be in no doubt as to who ruled
aboard this warship.

"My apologies," said Zack stiffly.

"Here comes the mutton!"  Adam's tone was back to normal and he sounded
glad of the interruption as an excuse to restore a more relaxed
atmosphere.  ~"We do not normally eat so well at supper," he explained
to Miranda as he seated her at the table, a slight flush showing under
his brown skin, 'but dinner scarcely amounted to a meal at all today.
And being so lately out of Casablanca we are well supplied with fresh
victuals.  "

Miranda concentrated all her attention on the pot-roasted mutton being
put on the plate before her with helpings of various vegetables, afraid
that if she did not she would dissolve into shaming tears.  Because now
the tension had subsided she realised that he had 'referred to her as a
little girl!  How dared he belittle her so, when she had been forced to
endure a long, extra year at the Academy waiting for suitable transport
to take her out to Barbados?  Most girls were wed and probably the
mother of a child at her age.  It served him right if the lieutenant's
gibe had embarrassed him!  But if there were only a fragment of truth
in the accusation--she eyed him balefully from beneath her golden
lashes--she would delight in showing him how much of a woman she was!

As they ate, the men talked easily together, their difference
forgotten.  They covered a variety of subjects but never once touched
upon the events of the morning or the business of running the ship.
Miranda listened, afraid to offer a remark in case she made a fool of
herself and the captain heaped more scorn upon her head.  The men
discussed the fish and birds and other creatures they had seen, the
islan~ds they had visited and mentioned their families with wistful
affection.

Adam, it seemed, went home sometimes between commissions, but his
father's attitude had softened very little since he had cast Adam off
for running away.

"He does deign to speak to me now," he said with a wry grimace, 'but at
heart' he still regards me as a disobedient child.  The atmosphere
between us is not.  easy.  I visit for my mother's sake, and I like to
see my brother and sisters and their families.  " Mr.  West, she
discovered, had a wife and a baby girl in Philadelphia~

"He.  hasn't seen little Catherine yet," Adam said, addressing her
directly for the first time: "The mail caught up with us and he
discovered he was a father when we were in Casablanca disposing of our
prizes."  He grinned, a buccaneering grin which caused Miranda's
stomach to lurch.  She blushed and quickly looked away as he went on,
"Every member of the Seafire's crew will be rich when we reach
Annapolis."

"If that agent can be relied upon to transfer the money," remarked
Zack.

"I've dealt with him before," said Adam confidently.  "He is an honest
man.  At least, more honest than most.  You'll be able to set your
family up in fine style, Zack."

"You must be rolling in wealth by now," observed Zack with a wry grin.
"That's why all we Seafires follow you so eagerly, of course--we know
we can rely on you to take more prizes than any other captain!  What
will you do with your share?  Invest it?"

"That is what I usually do, yes."

"My father invests in our Funds," ventured Miranda, emboldened by being
so directly addressed.  "When he retires he intends to purchase a small
estate."

"Of course, he takes a percentage of all the prize money won by the
captains under his command.  Barbados used to be a rich statior~, did
it not?  But now the Spanish are your allies..."  Adam shrugged.  "But
I wonder he is happy in a shore commission."

Miranda bridled anew at the censure she detected in his tone.  "He
served as a sea-officer for many years," she said tautly.  He was
knighted for his valour during the battle of Trafalgar but
unfortunately he lost a leg in a minor action later.  "

"A brave man!  How he must dislike being posted ashore!"

Miranda smiled gratefully at Lieutenant West.  She might secretly
criticise some aspects of the admiral's treatment of his family but she
was fond of her father and proud of him.  "He would rather be at sea,
but he has an important job to do at Carlisle Bay and he does have a
flagship anchored there, so he is not absolutely tied to the beach.
Mama likes it in the West Indies despite the heat and the risk of
fever.  I was looking forward to joining them.  "

"I fear," said Captain York repressively, 'that it may be some time
before you achieve your Object.  I cannot see an early end to this war
between our two countries.  "

"We do not talk politics at table," Zack reminded him with a wry
glance.

"You have the right of it, Zack," agreed Adam readily, 'but the
occasion is somewhat peculiar and I had forgot.  Will you take a glass
of wine with me, Miss Dawson?  "

The ugly moment passed.  He had made a gesture of peace.  She did not
wish to drink wine with him but it would have~ been churlish as well as
bad manners to refuse.  They had to rub along together for an
indefinite period.  It normally took a month to cross the Ariantie,
although it had been done faster in ideal conditions.  So after Daniel
had refilled both their glasses she lifted hers in silent response to
his similar salute and drank of the quite splendid Rioja.

Miranda wanted to discuss the war.  Obviously the table was not the
place to do so.  She would have to seek a more suitable opportunity. He
must be made to see how much she resented America's declaration of war
on her country when it was locked in mortal combat with that fiend
Napoleon.  It had been a real stab in the back from a former colon~.

She could almost forget that Mr.  West was an enemy, but the captain
had made it impossible for her to regard him as anything else.  Which
was just as well since his proximity had such a peculiar effect upon
her nerves.

CHAPTER TWO

ONCE the cloth had been drawn Miranda rose from the table as she had
been taught, leaving the two men to enjoy their port and to talk
without her inhibiting presence.

She had nowhere to go but to her tiny cabin unless she went on deck.
She glanced uncertainly at the companion ladder.  She had not been
introduced to any of the Seafire's other officers and she was doubtful
of her reception were she to venture up to the quarterdeck alone.

So she turned into her sleeping place, only to find that her cot had
been slung in her absence, leaving no room for her to do much else but
slide in and lie down.  Whoever had done it had lit the lantern and
left a spare candle, with under and flint in case of need.  On deck
there would be stars to see and perhaps a glimpse of the new moon.  Was
it only last evening she had stood at the rail of the Othello with
Peter Stannard to watch it rise?

Tears pricked her lids and she brushed at them angrily.  She must not
repine over the past but make the most of the present and plan for the
day when she was free again.

She prodded the well-stuffed mattress in the cot experimentally.  The
bed felt as though it would be comfortable enough, swinging with the
motion of the ship, and was provided with more than enough covers
considering the warmth of the night.  The wooden sides would hold her
in should the ship pitch and roll in a storm and, like the one she had
been using in the Othello, its main drawback would be the difficulty of
getting in and out.  Her chest would have to double as a footstool.

But she did not feel tired; rather, she felt disturbed, restless.  She
had been shut up below all day and needed to breathe fresh air before
she could hope to sleep.

With sudden determination, she opened her chest and took' out her
cloak.  It was of a. dark colour and intended to keep her warm in less
balmy climes, but she could scarcely go up on the deck of a warship
without covering a gown intended for an evening.  function in some
genteel drawing-room!

She flung the cloak about her shoulders, oR hex cabin and began to
climb the companion ladder~ !  Daniel was occupied in his pantry and
the marine sentry roused from a doze, ignored her once he had seen she~
was not bound for the great cabin.  Her soft, made no noise and offered
no hindrance gress.  With her dress and cloak bunched up in/~:~hand she
ran up the ladder almost as nimbly as a mid~ilaman might.  It was,
after all, little different from climbifii~!  into the hayloft of the
empty stables at home and, unlil~ this one, that ladder did not have a
rope handrail to cling to.

Silent as her approach had been, the officer on watch spotted her the
instant her fair head appeared above the hatchway.  He walked across to
assist her to deck.

"Good evening, Miss Dawson," he murmured, saluting.  "Lieutenant
Windsor, at your service.  Is there something I can do for you?"

So he knew who she was.  She supposed everyone aboard did by now.  His
shadowy form in the darkness seemed only slightly taller than her own
five feet three.  He must be one of the few men aboard who could walk
across the great cabin without ducking--even her hair brushed the
beams.

The sliver of moon was behind a high cloud at that moment and she could
see little of Mr.  Windsor's face in the starlight, just a rather long
white blur punctuated by darker shadows emerging from under his cocked
hat.  His voice sounded young, full of self-confidence.  She smiled,
hoping that his eyes, adjusted to the dark, would be able to detect her
amiable response.

"With your permission, Lieutenant, I should like to walk for a while. I
feel in need of exercise and fresh air before I can sleep,"

"Of course, Miss Dawson."  He made a gesture with his hand.  "If you
would care to pace the starboard--that is," he added hastily, 'the
right-hand side of the deck you will not be in the captain's way should
he come up," " Very well," murmured Miranda.

The bottom sails had been furled for the night.  T~hose left to catchy
the brisk wind and drive the ship forward were far above her head, two
on each of the three masts, leaving the entire length of the decks open
to her view: the gangways along each side leading to the foredeck, the
dark hole in the middle where part of the main gun deck below was open
to the sky.  Vague shapes in the shadows at the lower level she knew to
be the ship's boats, hoisted aboard and lashed down until they were
needed again.  Few of the crew were to be seen, apart from the men at
the wheel and the lookouts--six shadows posted along the sides
constantly scanning the darkness for any hazard.  The men of the watch
would be huddled in dark corners trying to catch some sleep.  A cry
from a lookout or a shift in the wind and they would-appear from
nowhere to swarm over the decks and up the masts to do whatever was
necessary, as she knew from her time aboard the Othello.

But for the moment everything was quiet.  She walked the length of the
quarterdeck, from the forward rail, just behind the main mast, to the
stern, to and fro, passing a lookout each time, his shadowy figure
barely discernible as he scanned the horizon--that almost invisible
line which divided a midnight-blUe sky studded with stars from the
sla~e-grey sea.  She wondered what he was thinking as he stood there,
whistling softy to keep himself alert.  Of home?  Or of the captain who
held his life, and the life of every man--andworman-on board, in his
hands?  Who could jump on the lookout for making an unseemly noise but,
she knew4nstinctively, would not.  Or the lieutenant would long ago
have ordered~ the man to keep quiet.

Enjoying the breeze, the starlit night, the slender arc of the moon,
now fully visible, the creak and groan of timbers and rigging, the
chuckle of water under the hull, Miranda found it difficult to believe
the events of the day.

To think that she had ended it as a prisoner of war!  But .  was she?
Captain York had implied as much, but surely America did not make war
on women?  No, once they reached the United States she would be free to
make her way to join her family in Barbados.

With this comforting thought in mind, Miranda leant on the aftermost
rail--the taffrail, wasn't it called?  -to watch the wake creaming away
behind, with green phosphorescence causing it to shine in the dark,
making it look almost as though the sea was alight.  No wonder sailors
called it seafire, it was a spectacular sight and this frigate had been
named after the phenomenon.

He was an intriguing man, Captain York.  Was he truly afraid of women?
Mr.  West must have been teasing him but the captain had not been slow
to register his displeasure.  No, he could not be.  Not a man as
self-assured as the captain!  Why, you had only to look at him to know
that if he gave an order the men would race to carry it out, and
because they wanted to please him, not because they were afraid of
being punished.  The ship had a happy air about it, borne out by Zack
West's easy relationship with his captain until he overstepped an
invisible mark and became over-familiar, something which no commander
could tolerate.  Yet there was no sign of lack of
discipline--discipline could not be slack or the Seafire could never
have achieved the victory of the morning.  He had that necessary
quality of true leadership--the knack of keeping his men on a loose
rein which could be tightened when necessary.

The sound of muted voices behind made her turn.  Even after so slight
an acquaintance, she knew that the tall shadow conferring with the
short lieutenant could be none other than Captain York.  Miranda's
senses sharpened.  Why had he come on deck?  Did he know she was here?
Was he about to chide her for leaving her cabin?

The captain's final words were spoken more loudly as he turned away.
"Very well.  Carry on, Mr.  Windsor," he said, very formally.  The
lieutenant said something else, rather quickly.  Captain York, halted
in his stride, looked her way and then said, "Thanks, Abe," before
changing direction and heading towards her.

Miranda straightened, nerves taut.  Was he-about to deliver a verbal
broadside?  A strange excitement overtook her as he approached.  She
would welcome an exchange of fire with the captain!  A fitting end to
an eventful day!

However, he merely inclined his head before saying, "You desired to
take the air, I believe, Miss Dawson.  Will you join me on the larboard
side of the deck?"

The windward side, his exclusive territory.  A captain was entitled to
privacy--the only man aboard who was.  No one, except an officer on
duty Witha need, would dare to intrude on the windward side without
invitation when the captain was there.

Miranda did not know whether to feel flattered or not, but she was not
about to argue.  It would be more comfortable to walk on the high, dry
side of the frigate.

"Thank you, Captain," she murmured, accompanying him past one of the
two guns pointing astern.  There were guns at intervals along each side
of the deck too, all tightly lashed down and covered to keep the salt
spray off them.  There was little chance of forgetting that this was a
warship.

Or that Captain York commanded an enemy naval vessel.

"I normally try to walk at least two miles every day," Adam explained
as they began to pace the deck together, 'which means about seventy-six
lengths of the deck twice a day.  And this is one of the times when I
most enjoy doing it.  "

"I'm sorry to have intruded, Captain."

"Not at all, Miss Dawson.  I gather you feared being unable to
sleep?"

"I felt the need for some fresh air."  And, she added silently, time to
think, to sort out my emotions.

As they passed the lookout on that side of the quarterdeck the captain
paused.  "All well, Roper?"

"Aye, sir," said the man, knuckling his forehead.  "Not a glimpse of a
sail, friend or foe, sir."

"Perhaps it's just as well, eh?  We've had enough excitement for one
day!"

"Aye, sir," returned the man with a grin.  "But she were a fine prize,
sir!"

"And you'll get your share of the prize money.  Keep your eyes open."

It was smooth" assured, the popular captain at ease with his crew while
maintaining a necessary distance, But Miranda had questions to ask
which should ruffle him and the answers would either make it easier or
harder for her to sleep.

"Must I consider myself a prisoner Of war?"  she demanded abruptly.

He hesitated a moment before replying.  Perhaps she had managed to
surprise h)m.

"Your position is unusual, Miss Dawson," he finally pronounced.  "You
were taken from an enemy man-of-war and so, technically, yes, you are
my prisoner.  But on the other hand you are a female and I have never
heard of females being held as prisoners of war.  So your position is
also ambiguous.  I shall leave it to my admiral to decide once we reach
America.  "

"I am certain he will not wish to detain me!  I shall be able to take
immediate passage to Barbados'."

"In what kind of ship, Miss Dawson?  None sail from America to
British-held territory."

"Then I must travel via a neutral country.  Really, Captain, you are
presenting quite unnecessary problems!"

"Do you have enough money with you to cover the cost of the fare?"

Even in the shadows of the quarterdeck he saw her face drop.  Why was
he being so obstructive?  wondered Adam to himself.  It would be easy
enough to reassure the child that if all else failed he would pay her
passage to Barbados.  But he did not want to; he wanted her to believe
that she would have to remain in America.  where he could see her
whenever he was ashore?

Damn it all, she was English, England was the enemy he was commissioned
to fight, and he had only met her today!  A Chit out of the schoolroom!
Of what possible interest could she be to him?  Yet how different she
was from his sisters, from all the other simpering, insipid misses he
met when he spent any time at home--or anywhere else on land for that
matter--apart from the whores, who exhibited quite opposite traits. She
looked no different, appeared so fragile, yet had shown no trace of
fear, had challenged his intentions towards her, had put up a spirited
defence of her father.  An admiral, he reminded himself grimly.  No
wonder she was sure of herself!  An enemy admiral's daughter had little
to fear from his naval authorities, although they might attempt to use
her as a bargaining counter.  He would have to treat her like precious.
porcelain, for if anything happened to her he would be held liable. His
masters might consider her a valuable hostage rather than a prisoner of
war.  Safe delivery of Miss Miranda Dawson might secure his own future
in the service He cut his thoughts off sharply.  He needed to use no
child to help further his career!  ~Had he not already become a full
captain, in command of one of the USA's latest frigates?  Some officers
remained lieutenants all their lives!  Had he not had enormous luck in
capturing enemy prizes, making him a rich man in his own right, and no
longer dependent upon his father for succour should he be forced to
leave the service?

He watched Miranda's chin come up, saw the blaze of defiance in her
blue eyes.  Yes, he could see the expression, though the colour came
from memory, for although they happened to be walking within the glow
cast by a candle illuminating the compass, and the sliver of moon had
long ago emerged from behind the bank of cloud, the light was not
strong enough for him to determine the hue.

"Then I shall work to earn the money!"  Miranda declared.

Adam could not help the chuckle which rose from him at her defiant
words.  What a spirited creature she was!  They turned to retrace their
steps and he could feel the anger emanating from her, the way she
almost stamped her feet as she walked.  He allowed the silence to
stretch.  At last, "How do you propose to do that?"  he enquired
mildly.  "I can think of only one easy way..."

They were almost at the taffrail and she came to a sudden, incredulous
halt.  "How dare you?"  she snapped.  "You ... you abominable creature!
How dare you suggest that I--'

"I suggested no such thing," retorted Adam, all innocence.  "I merely
remarked--'

"I know what you~ said You have no need to repeat your insulting
remark!  I could do many things--I could become ananny, or a companion,
or ... or..."

"Has your invention run out?"  enquired Adam kindly.  "You could, I
suppose, find work in a laundry, or a shop, or even in a tavern... Have
you ever done a day's work in your life, Miss Dawson?"

Miranda sought the support of the rail.  She found she was trembling.
With anger, not with fear or .  or anything else.  Her hand shook as
she brushed a tendril of hair from her face.  Short as it was, it could
still reach an eye if the wind whipped it forward and sideways.  And as
she straightened up again she bounced off the rail and stamped her foot
to let the odious creature know that she had lost her temper with
him.

"I have just come from an academy where I was sent to learn the manners
of a young lady, Captain.  You are tempting me to forget all I have
learned and to treat you with the contempt you deserve!  If my brothers
annoy me I slap their faces and pull their hair!"

"How very interesting," murmured Adam.  "Would you like to try it with
me, Miss Dawson?"

Miranda was tempted, but prudence forced her to reject the invitation.
She imagined she would end up in some undignified position--possibly
across the captain's knees being spanked, since he was determined to
treat her as a child.

"No," she returned with dignity.  "I have no wish to waste the money my
father paid for my e~!ucation.  We have not always been rich, Captain,
and, yes, I have often worked hard, though not for money, I helped my
mother in the house and garden in the days before we could afford
enough servants.  A captain's pay is not generous and my father had no
private source of income."

"No prize money?"  wondered Adam, one dark brow raised.

Miranda took the enquiry as a criticism, "Any luxuries we' enjoyed,
including our house and extensive gardens, came from prize money, but
he was never stationed where prizes abounded, Blockade duty is both
tedious and unrewarding.  But the battle of Trafalgar changed his
fortunes, And now, posted to the Windward Station, his frigates are
taking plenty of prizes.  Both French and American," she added with a
touch of malice~

"Huzzah for him: So you can do housework and tend a garden.  You will
not find either employment lucrative, Miss Dawson."

"My dear Captaifi," she~ said with as much condescension in her tone as
she could muster, 'do not allow my predicament to concern you.  I shall
find work and save for my passage, even if it takes me years.  But long
before that I trust this unnecessary war between our countries will
end.  My father will be able to remit my fare and I shall be able to
sail direct to Barbados.  "

to stretch.  At last, "How do you propose to do that?"  he enquired
mildly.  "I can think of only one easy way..."

They were almost at the taffrail and she came to a sudden, incredulous
halt.  "How dare you?"  she snapped.  "You ... you abominable creature!
How dare you suggest that

"I suggested no such thing," retorted Adam, all innocence.  "I merely
remarked-'

"I know what you' said You have no need to repeat your insulting
remark!  I could do many things--I could become a nanny, or a
companion, or ... or..."

"Has your invention run out?"  enquired Adam kindly.  "You could, I
suppose, find work in a laundry, or a shop, or even in a tavern... Have
you ever done a day's work in your life, Miss Dawson?"

Miranda sought the support of the rail.  She found she was trembling.
With anger, not with fear or .  or anything else.  Her hand shook as
she brushed a tendril of hair from her face.  Short as it was, it could
still reach an eye if the wind whipped it forward and sideways.  And as
she straightened up again she bounced off the rail and stamped her foot
to let the odious creature know that she had lost her temper with
him.

"I have just come from an academy where I was sent to learn the manners
of a young lady, Captain.  You are tempting me to forget all I have
learned and to treat you with the contempt you deserve!  If my brothers
annoy me I slap their faces and pull their hair!"

"How very interesting," murmured Adam.  "Would you like to try it with
me, Miss Dawson?"

Miranda was tempted, but prudence forced her to reject the invitation.
She imagined she would end up in some undignified position--possibly
across the captain's knees being spanked, since he was determined to
treat her as a child.

"No," she returned with dignity.  "I have no wish to waste the money my
father paid for my e~ducation.  We have not always been rich, Captain,
and, yes, I have often worked hard, though not for money.  I helped my
mother in the house and garden in the days before we could afford
enough servants.  A captain's pay is not generous and my father had no
private source of income."

"No prize money?"  wondered Adam~ one dark brow raised.

Miranda took the enquiry as a criticism.  "Any luxuries we' enjoyed,
including our house and extensive gardens~ came from prize money, but
he was never stationed where prizes abounded, Blockade duty is both
tedious and unrewarding.  But the battle of Trafalgar changed his
fortunes.  And now, posted to the Windward Station, his frigates are
taking plenty of prizes.  Both French and American," she added with a
touch of malice,

"Huzzah for him: So you can do housework and tend a garden.  You will
not find either employment lucrative, Miss Dawson."

"My dear Captaih," she said with as much condescension in her tone as
she could muster, 'do not allow my predicament to concern you.  I shall
find work and save for my passage, even if it takes me years~ But long
before that I trust this unnecessary war between our countries will
end.  My father will be able to remit my fare and I shall be able to
sail direct to Barbados.  "

"If he is still there," murmured Adam, some powerful force impelling
him to keep up his baiting of her.  From self-defence he was determined
to continue to treat her as an infant, but he could no longer delude
himself.  She was not.  She had hidden her womanly charms beneath that
cloak, but he could not forget they were there.  He had been all too
conscious of them during supper.

He was not afraid of women, as Zack had accused--he had been in love
once long ago and had had several liaisons since--but he had learned to
be cautious in his dealings with the female sex, Generally speaking, he
avoided young ladies like, the plague, and must have given Zack and
others the wrong impression.  But if he dallied with one of the few
marriageable females who did not bore him to tears he might so easily
find himself leg-shackled.  A naval officer had, in his opinion, no
business to marry, leaving wife and children, if any, to manage on
their own while he was away, perhaps for years on end, Look at Zack!  A
father who had not only missed the period of his wife's pregnancy but
also those first, magical months of his daughter's life.  At least, he
had always imagined that they must be magical, He was certain they
would be for him.

He hadn't thought about marriage for years.  And now, because an
unusual chit of a girl possessed of both beauty and spirit had been
foisted upon him, he found himself brooding on the only aspect of naval
service which could possibly bother him.  He had long ago' considered
himself wed to the navy.  The sea was a harsh mistress but one he loved
above all others.  Damnation take Miss Miranda Dawson!  He'd been
without a woman for too long!  What quirk of fate had made him

,"~A RA H W I~b I LIalDH ,.}~/

decide to take the Othello, against the odds?  Not fate, he admitted
grimly, but sheer arrogance.  To prove himself able.

"I shall join my family, wherever it is!"  declared Miranda, bringing
his thoughts back to her with a jolt.

Adam relented.  "I admire your spirit, Miss Dawson, and have no doubt
you will succeed," he admitted.

"Are you sailing for the Canary Isles?"  demanded Miranda, since an
idea had suddenly occurred to her.

The black brows descended in a frown.  "I do not think I can confide
that information."

Miranda's voice held scathing contempt.  "Why?  Whom could I possibly
inform?"

"There could be circumstances ... but what would it matter?  Yes, I am
headed for the Canaries, where I hope to replenish my water and wood
before embarking on the Atlantic crossing."

Miranda stopped.  "But they are Spanish!"  He halted beside her.  "So
they are."

"And Spain is now an ally of England!"

"But not a very willing one.  Their common enemy is Napoleon.  America
is not at war with Spain.  There are plenty of places where an American
ship may still put in to find the supplies it needs.  I had hoped to
put into Madeira--'

"That is Portuguese!"

"True, but the natives are not averse to selling their delicious wine
to an American!  Chasing the Othello took me too far south.  I shall
have to content myself with a further supply of Spanish wine.  But I
prefer Madeira to sherry."

"Well," said Miranda, quashing any irrelevant discussion on the merits
of Wine, 'you could put me ashore on one of the islands.  I'm sure I
could find a King's ship or a merchantman willing to take me on from
there.  "

"A merchantman?  Er ... the fare?"  murmured Adam.

"The navy would arrange it," declared Miranda with more confidence than
she felt.

"So they might," admitted Adam, if doubtfully.  "But I am afraid I
could not risk abandoning you on one of the Canary Isles, even if I
thought it within my remit.  I have to answer to my admiral.  In any
case, we shall be calling at one of the smaller, more remote islands
where you might experience some difficulty in contacting any naval
personnel, and I shall feel happier about your safety if you remain
aboard the Sea.  fire."

"Of course it is within your remit!"  snapped Miranda, latching onto
the circumstance which made her fume.  ~ She felt quite capable of
looking after herself and making her way either to the West Indies or
England from there, but the power of decision Captain York now
exercised over her life was another matter altogether.  She hated it.
And him because he possessed it.

The last sliver of the new moon had disappeared as it set, leaving the
deck in velvety, starlit darkness.  Miranda looked up into Captain
York's face, trying to assess his response to her fierce declaration.
He appeared to be eyeing her with amusement.

"Of course it is!"  she repeated angrily.  "Why, you can even put
prisoners of war ashore on enemy territory--'

"But only with the written agreement of an enemy officer that they
shall not take part in the war again until an equal number of American
prisoners have been

exchanged.  And I think we are agreed that your exact status is not at
all clear, Miss Dawson.  I must, I fear, err on the side of caution.  I
am not an entirely free agent, you must realise.  "

"Your admiral!"  sneered Miranda.

Adam sighed, tired of trying to explain to a child who refused lo
understand.  "My admiral," he agreed.  "He has the power to have me
brought before a court martial and dismissed from the service.  I am
not willing to risk such an eventuality."

Miranda seethed.  "I perceive that you are not afraid to take your ship
into action, sir, to risk your own life, that of every man aboard, as
well as the ship itself!  Yet you will not risk--'

"A different matter altogether, miss!  I am paid to take the first
risks you mentioned and could be called to account if I failed in my
duty to do so!  But I am not paid to pander to the whims of adolescent
females who can think of nothing but themselves and their own
desires?

Miranda's hand lifted without any other thought than to wipe the sneer
off the face hanging above her in the darkness.  But it had risen no
further than her shoulder before her wrist was grasped by what felt
like an iron band.

"Oh, no, you don't, you little termagant," muttered Adam wrathfully
and, still holding her wrist, pulled her towards him.

Miranda saw the kiss coming and compressed her lips into a tight line.
His were hard, punishing, bruising the tender flesh that had never felt
the touch of a strange man's mouth before.  Yet his closeness had a
curious effect upon her, making her short of breath so that when he
released her she stood before him, chest heaving, fighting to regain
control.

"Your first kiss?"  enquired Adam, his anger abe ting and being
replaced by a wry regret that he had so far forgotten himself as to
treat the chit so.  But at least it should prove to her that Zack's
opinion was wrong--that he did not fear women.  Her lips, despite being
pressed together against his marauding mouth, had tasted sweet.  He
could wish he had taken them under different circumstances.

But he had no business taking them at all!  He considered himself a
gentleman and gentlemen did not make free with their kisses when in the
company of respectable young ladies.  And, whatever else she was or was
not, Miss Miranda Dawson was a respectable young lady.  He should
apologise.

"How dare you, sir?"  9ried Miranda, forestalling any apology he might
have offered.  Had it been so obvious to him that she had never been
kissed before?  "You forget yourself," she stormed on, rubbing her
wrist, certain that by morning it would show a bruise, ignoring a
slight, place tory gesture he began to make.  "I am in your charge; you
warned me against your men, but it seems to me I had best beware of
their captain!"

Adam revoked his resolve to apologise, She had spirit, this child; most
of the young ladies of his acquaintance, admittedly not numerous, would
have swooned at being kissed in the way he had kissed Miranda.

"Perhaps you should, Miss Dawson.  Beware of provoking me, I mean.  I
can scarcely order you to be flogged at the gratings.  What better
punishment can I devise for you?"

"You mean--'

"I mean I shall delight in kissing you every time you cross me, Miss
Dawson.  So be warned.  The more you dislike it, the better I shall be
pleased.  I suggest you go below while I complete my evening mile.  I
shall expect to see you at breakfast, which will be served at one bell
in the forenoon watch.  That is, at half past eight."

"Thank you," said Miranda tightly.  "I do not need to listen for bells.
I have a watch with me."

"Capital.  Until the morning, then, Miss Dawson."

He bowed, turned, dismissing her, and resumed his pacing of the deck.
Miranda stood for just a moment watching the upright figure stride
away.  Then, with an inarticulate choke, she turned and made for the
hatch.

"Give you a good night, Miss Dawson," offered Lieutenant Windsor,
saluting as she passed.

"And you a trouble-free watch, Lieutenant," retorted Miranda, hoping he
would not detect the tremble in her voice.

Not until she reached her cabin below did she give way to the storm of
tears she had been holding back ever since that dreadful creature had
threatened his punishment for any disobedience.

How could she bear to be kissed by him in such a way again7

But somehow, in her dreams, he kissed her quite differently.  And she
actually enjoyed it.

CHAPTER THREE

MIRANDA woke at dawn, disturbed by the sound of knocking and scraping
as the deck above her head received its daily rubbing with holystones.
It seemed that the American Navy was as devoted to maintaining its
ships in scrubbed and polished condition as the British, she thought
resignedly, abandoning further thought of sleep.  At least, Captain
York was.

Captain York!  She tossed restlessly in her cot, her face burning with
embarrassment, thoroughly disgusted with herself as memory returned.
How Could she have dreamed of the creature and imagined herself
enjoying being held in his arms and kissed?  She was nothing to Captain
York but a nuisance he wished to punish and he meant no more to her
than a hated enemy with whom she was forced to consort; but her
unconscious mind had taken no account of these hard facts.  For some
reason it had turned her impotent submission to his assault into a
ridiculous desire to sample more of his kisses!

Oh, Peter!  she wailed to herself, turning her burning face into her
pillow.  Why did you have to die?  You would never have treated me so!
You never shamed me by seeking to kiss me!  And I loved you so much!

She tried to recall the features of the man her romantic heart had
found so attractive.  He had been handsome--even-featured with a noble
brow--and had looked so manly in his naval uniform.  The white breeches
and silk stockings--so much more elegant than the trousers worn by
Captain York!  --beneath the uniform frock coat, with the recently
introduced epaulette on his right shoulder, had become his excellent
figure, and wearing his cocked hat he had looked every inch an admiral
in the making.  She had felt so proud that he had even noticed her! How
well he had executed his duties under Captain Blackmore.  But, she had
to admit, without possessing that extra something so apparent in
Captain York.

Captain York never needed to raise his voice in anger; his men vied
with each other to obey his slightest command.  He exuded confidence,
his authority was instinctive, as was his seamanship--that inherent
knowledge and use of wind, tide' and current to get the best
performance out of his ship--which had been immediately recognised by
the Othello's master, that elderly and experienced man of the sea.

She lay there for a while coming to terms with the fact that Peter
Stannard was dead.  He had been charming, attentive, and so much more
agreeable than Captain York.  How she hated the American for killing
her dreams.  She had nothing to sustain her now, except the distant
prospect of joining her.  family in the West Indies.

With the noise of the ship coming alive all about her, and fully awake,
she knew it was no use lying in bed feeling sorry for herself.  She
could cope.  She must.  She must look upon the actual crossing of the
ocean aboard the frigate as an adventure.  She had never done anything
half as exciting in her life before, and here she had

no quasi-paternal figure like Captain Blackmore to criticise her every
action.  She had no intention of misbehaving, of course--the social
etiquette instilled in her at the hated Academy had been well learned
if resented--and she would most certainly keep her promise to Captain
York.  But, at home, she had been wont to borrow a pair of her
brother's breeches and pull long socks up to her knees in order to jump
ditches and climb fences and trees.  She could do with them now:
clambering about the ship would be so much easier.  She became very
thoughtful.

Determined to make the most of whatever lay ahead, she sat up, stilling
the swing of the cot by putting a hand on the partition, and gingerly
extricated herself from its clutches, deciding as she did so to fill in
the time before breakfast by ~taking another turn about the deck.  She
had always enjoyed fresh air and exercise.  And if Captain York was
there she would keep strictly to the lee side of the ship and ignore
him.

So she rose, relit her lantern, washed in cold water and put on a fresh
day dress of patterned muslin in shades of brown, cream and green.  It
was of a darker hue than she usually wore, but would not show the dirt
should she brush against any of the tarred ropes or other hazards
littering the deck.  And it did become her, she decided as she peered
into the mirror in the flickering light.  Not that there was anyone
aboard the Seafire that she wished to impress.  Far from wishing to
entice Captain York with her feminine charms, she was now desperate to
avoid another kiss.

Soon after she emerged on deck the sunrise came in spectacular fashion,
lighting the eastern horizon with golden splendour, while to the west
the sky Was still black.  Gradually the light spread to encompass the
entire heaving ocean, or at least that part of it she could see.  The
lookouts were already aloft rather than' posted about the sides and so
able to Jsee for miles in every direction, but so far they had not
reported any kind of sighting.  The Seafire seemed to have the ocean to
herself.

There was no sign of Captain York, for which Miranda gave sincere
thanks.  The longer she could put off facing him again, the better she
would be able to cope, because the acute memory of that disastrous kiss
must fade.  Zack West was on watch and had greeted her in friendly
fashion as she had appeared from below.  Now he came forward to join
her at the forward rail of the quarterdeck, where she stood drinking in
the sight of the sky 'and the sea, watching the men going about their
work, Cleaning, polishing and mending, eyeing the bright paint of the
boats stacked on the main deck below and the row of guns on each side
lashed down behind closed ports.  These things would constitute the
boundaries of her vision for many days to come.

"A splendid sun)-ise,~ Zack remarked with a smile.

"I had never realised how beautiful it could be until I came to sea,"
admitted Miranda.  "Before embarking on the Othello I had seldom been
up in time to see one at all, let alone one as wonderful as thist'

Zack chuckled.  "Being at sea has turned you into an early riser?"

"There seems little choice!"  Miranda grimaced ruefully.  "The men make
such a noise holy stoning the decks!  And they start before first
light!"

Zack leaned companionably on the rail beside her, his grin teasing.

"When you've been at sea a while you'll learn to sleep through it," he
asserted.  "We have to, or we'd never get any rest between watches. The
normal sounds of a working ship become a soothing lullaby, an assurance
that all is well.  Silence would wake the captain or me in an
instant!"

"I can forget the chuckle of the water--'.  she waved a hand upwards
'--the slat ting of the sails, the creaks and groans of the timber;
they seem natural.  It is the men clumping and scraping about overhead
I cannot, as yet, ignore!"

"There should be no slat ting Zack, brought to realise a fault in the
trim of the sails, snapped an order and men rushed to haul on various
ropes until all shivering in the canvas had been eliminated and the
sails were taut as drums, drawing strongly again.  " A slight shift in
the wind," he explained once his attention returned to her.

"Yes," agreed Miranda, whose thoughts, while this had been going on,
had turned to her fate in America.  If only she could be certain that
she would not be held as a prisoner, or used as a bargaining counter to
secure the release of some important enemy,

"Do you think I shall be treated as a prisoner of war once we reach
America?"  she asked Zack.

He eyed her quizdcally.  "What does the captain say?"

"He doesn't seem to know.  Says it depends upon his admiral."

"And so it does, I suppose.  But you'd be given parole.  You could go
and stay with my wife," Zack added on sudden impulse.  "She would
welcome your company, I'm sure."

Miranda turned to him, her face glowing.  "Could I?  Really?  How kind
you are, Mr.  West!"

"Mr.  West is supposed to be on watch," came an acerbic voice from
behind.  "What kind of watch are you keeping, Mr.  West, when your
captain can come on deck without your noticing?  And your tardy
sail-trimming did not go unremarked.  As for ~you, Miss Dawson, I will
thank you not to distract my officers from their duties."

Miranda could feel Zack stiffen beside her and glimpsed the frown
between his eyes as he shot his captain a startled glance.  He was not
used to being spoken to thus.  Nothing he had done deserved such a
set-doWn and she suspected that, normally, a mild reproof would have
been all he would have received for that momentary lapse of
concentration.  But for some reason Captain York was in a foul mood and
had put her in a cleft stick.  If she defended herself, said she had
not sought the lieutenant's company, things would look worse for him.
And he had been friendly--more, kind, offering her the hospitality of
his home while she must remain in America.  She would have to take the
blame, although rousing Captain York's further wrath did not appeal, If
provoked he would punish her.  An obscure fris son of almost
pleasurable anticipation ran through her at the thought, which she
immediately denied.

"I am sorry, Captain," she said stiffly.  "I came on deck to watch the
sunrise.  Mr.  West was kind enough to be civil to me.  I will now take
my morning exercise."

Saying which, she moved as far away from his side of the deck as
possible with all the dignity she could

DU

muster.  She walked to the stern and stood at the taffrail, gazing
abstractedly at their wake, taking deep breaths to calm her nerves.
Then she turned and, taking care not to trip over any of the numerous
obstructions littering her path, began a steady pacing of the sloping
deck.  How many lengths had he said?  Seventy-six to the mile, she
remembered.  How did he count them?  Perhaps he knew how long it took
him.  She, she decided, would walk until the watch changed, half an
hour before breakfast, for which She was already ravenous.  Then she
would go below, freshen her face and wait in the great cabin for the
meal to be served.  After all, he had said she could use his cabin.

Captain York stalked his side of the deck while she paced hers.  The
daylight grew stronger, the sun began to radiate its heat.  Lost in her
thoughts, Miranda was startled to hear eight bells strike from the
belfry--the signal for another bout of wild activity and much
twittering of bosun's pipes as the watch changed.  It seemed to be the
cue for the Othello's officers to emerge on deck to take the air too.
But the bells had reminded her that in half an hour she would be able
to satisfy her hunger so, having greeted them, she made for the
companion ladder, passing Zack,:still engaged in handing over the watch
to another officer.  With her foot on the top step she was ~halted by
Captain York's voice hailing her.

"Miss Dawson!"

She stopped and turned, her stomach clenching.  What had she done
now?

He approached with long, easy strides.  He did not smile, but she was
relieved to discover that his voice held no anger or censure as he
said, "My hens are lay well at present.  If you would care for eggs for
breakfast, please inform Daniel.  He will see them cooked to your
liking."

Astonished at his change of front, Miranda nodd, "Thank you, Captain. I
should enjoy a boiled egg abe anything."

At least, she thought as she descended the ladder, t meal would not be
eaten in hostile silence.  He wot never apologise for his ill-humour,
of course, but s felt cheered that it seemed to have passed.  Perhaps s
would continue to escape punishment for aggravati him and not be called
upon to endure another of lowering, mortifying kisses.

Mortifying, unwelcome, yet strangely disturbing!  S really could not
understand why a hard, angry kiss from that man--an enemy--should cause
her a to omen disquiet other than the sort occasioned had he slapp her
face.  Then she would have been furious, resentf suffering from hurt
pride.  She was angry, of course, how dared he treat her with such
disrespect?  But, lithe crossing of the Atlantic, that kiss had taken
on the aspect of a challenge, an experience she could say our
retrospect.  She did not, she declared vehemently herself, like Adam
York, but it had been her.  first ki and had made her realise that,
should she meet a man she could truly love and respect, she would enjoy
it advances.  Something she had not been tOO sure before.  She had
longed, against all the lessons she h. had dinned into her, for Peter
to ignore convention a~ kiss her, but of course, unlike Captain York,
he had been too much of a gentleman to do more than touch,

her fingers with his mouth.  Which had had no more effect upon her than
her brothers' occasional gestures of affection.  Yet even Captain
York's courteous salute before supper the previous evening had set her
nerves quivering.  She could not understand why the touch of a man she
loathed could affect her in such a way when that of the man she had
loved had left her unaffected.  It must, she decided, be because she
was in York's power and she hated him for it.

Yet when he entered the great cabin later, smiled at her and greeted
the two young midshipmen invited to join him in his repast with formal
yet warm hospitality, putting the anxious youngsters at ease with a few
well-chosen words, she could not find it in her to dislike him
entirely.  The young gentlemen, clearly in awe of the occasion,.
relaxed perceptibly as, having been helped to fried salt pork and beans
and told to help themselves to bread--in the form of ship's biscuit she
began to chat easily with the lads, asking them questions about their
progress with seamanship and navigation, encouraging them to express
themselves freely but warning them that he would be inspecting their
diaries--supposed to contain a record of everything that happened
aboard the ship--later in the day.  ~

He could not be all bad, she recognised.  From what her brothers had
told her, such understanding from a captain was rare.  The inquisitions
they had been subjected to ~by their captains had left them stammering
and unsure.

She had no need to speak as the meal progressed, for the captain's
questions and the youngsters' answers kept the conversation flowing. As
soon as they had

finished eating the midshipmen rose to leave, bowing formally to her as
they did so.

"I trust you were not bored, Miss Dawson," said Captain York after they
had disappeared.  "I invite the midshipmen to take breakfast with me in
turn; it is my duty to see that they learn their lessons well and to
prepare them to take the lieutenant's examination in due course.  I
find eating relaxes them, makes them more ready to talk freely."

"I was not in the least bored, Captain; in fact I found the
conversation most interesting.  They certainly seemed well informed,
even if they did need correcting from time to time.  You are to be
congratulated."

"As are you, Miss Dawson.  You have settled into your enforced sojourn
with us with the minimum of fuss."

Miranda flushed.  She had not expected any word of appreciation or
praise from him.  But even as he finished speaking the smile faded from
his lips and he turned away, as though impatient to relieve himself of
her company.  Nevertheless, she decided to go ahead and say something
she had been rehearsing ever since she had come below.

"I am sorry if my speaking with Mr.  West was wrong, sir.  I did not
think a few words could do harm, since we had met socially over supper
last evening."

He swung back to face her, the expression on his face difficult to
read.  He might almost have been feeling guilty, but that impression
was fleeting.  He was.  in fact, annoyed, though whether at her apology
or her actions she could not tell.

Then, as he spoke again, the reason became all too plain.

"For many reasons I have always disliked the idea of having a woman,
any woman, aboard any ship I command, Miss Dawson.  Firstly, a warship
is not a comfortable place for a lady to find herself, as you have
discovered, and my hospitality must necessarily be lacking.  But, more
importantly to me, any female is a disturbing influence among the men,
who lack feminine society for long months together while at sea.  The
officers are easily distracted from their duty, even Mr.  West, as I
had occasion to observe.  Such a distraction could cause disaster if a
sudden change in the wind went unnoticed or the ship drifted off
course.  The officer of the watch needs to be constantly on the alert.
Any slackness on his part could prove lethal."

Miranda swallowed.  "I know that, Captain.  I just did not think.  It
will not happen again."

He relaxed, and suddenly a rather mischievous grin lit his countenance.
His grey eyes lightened with humour.

"I shall rely ut~on that, Miss Dawson.  I do not wish to have to punish
~you again for provoking me."

Miranda's face flamed.  So much for her apology!  He thought that kiss
a joke, did he?  Just as she was beginning to like the man a little, he
had to remind her of it and the threat that had come after.  And why
didn't he want to have to kiss her again?  Hadn't he enjoyed it?

Too confused and mortified to make a coherent answer, Miranda contented
herself with an unladylike snort as she flounced out of the cabin.

She was alone with Adam York for no more than a moment or two as the
frigate sailed slowly south.  She began to wonder whether he was
avoiding such an eventuality.  Officers joined him for each meal, his
clerk spent most of the day working at the desk in the great cabin,
completing the mass of records they were obliged to keep, and Daniel
was constantly on hand.  He had to be in and around the cabin in order
to keep it and Adam's clothes spotless and be ready to carry out his
master's smallest wish.  So there was always someone else present.  The
arrangement meant that she became acquainted with members of the
gunroom, including Captain York's master, Tom Crocker, a much younger
but experienced navigator with whom Mr.  Haskett of the Othello soon
became friendly.

"York will not go far wrong with Crocker aboard," Mr.  Haskett confided
to Miranda as they paced the deck together one afternoon.  "And Tom
says the captain is no mean navigator himself."

"So we should fetch the Canaries and then cross the Atlantic without
going too far astray.  Some consolation, I suppose," muttered Miranda
rebelliously.  Hard as she tried, she could not help resenting her
position, and because of it she was not enjoying the warm weather and
excellent sailing conditions as much as she might.

"Are you afeared, child?"  murmured Mr.  Haskett.  "You've no need to
be as long as I'm around."

"I am not fearful, just annoyed," declared Miranda.  "I had not
expected to be confined aboard an enemy warship!"

Most of the time she felt as out of place aboard the frigate as she
must have looked in her long skirts.  They made her an obvious target
for the seamen's curiosity and added to Captain York's impatience at
having a woman not only aboard his man-of-war but invading his personal
privacy.  All her original intention of showing him just how much of a
woman she was had died a violent death when he had kissed her.  So she
decided she might as well follow up on the idea she had conceived
earlier.

Some of the officers from the Othello were promenading on the deck with
her.  Young Will Welland seemed to have made friends with the $eafire's
good-natured midshipmen and was busy talking, laughing and helping a
couple of them in their duties on the foredeck.

"I'm learning a lot," he'd confided to her.  "They're treating me with
great goodwill.  If only the fellows and officers aboard the Othello
had been like those here!  I like it on this ship."

Miranda had been pleased for him, He had needed the friendship of his
shipmates and understanding of his superiors to give him confidence. He
seemed to have found it on the Sea]ire.  That he was helping to. sail
an enemy ship did not seem to trouble him and, truth to tell, under the
present circumstances it did not trouble her, either.  She was glad to
seethe boy happy.

A subdued Tony Keeper, on the other hand, seemed determined to seek the
protection of his senior officers on the quarterdeck.  He was sporting
a badly damaged eye.

"How did you get that?"  Miranda asked him sympathetically as an
opening.  She did not normally indulge in conversation with a young
gentleman whose nature she found rather unpleasant, but she wanted an
excuse to talk to him.

Mr.  Keeper coloured up--the first time Miranda had ever seen such a
sign of embarrassment from him.  At the same time his lips pouted
truculently.  "I fell over and hit my eye on a belaying pin," he
muttered.

"Oh, how unfortunate," murmured Miranda, who did not believe him.  Word
was that, caught victim ising Will, he had been taught a lesson by the
American midshipmen.  "Could you help me, do you think?  Being aboard a
ship, I should like to dress in an appropriate manner, and you are not
far above my size.  Could you let me borrow a spare uniform?  Trousers
would be so much more convenient for climbing up pitching and rolling
ladders and threading my way amongst all the gear littering the
decks."

The midshipman gaped at her as though she were mad.  "Dress as a boy,
you mean?"  he asked, aghast.

"Yes.  At home I was used to wearing my brothers' clothes sometimes
when I wanted to be free of my skirts.  Mama did not object, she added
hurriedly, seeing the disbelief written on the boy's face.  She did not
add that this had been before her parents had decided that their tomboy
daughter should be turned into a young lady.

"I could not possibly do such a thing!"  declared Mr.  Keeper
virtuously.  "You would be ruined, Miss Dawson.  And I should be
blamed!"

"No, you would not.  And as for my being ruined, who is to know, once I
am on land again and among strangers?  Please, Tony.~ She gave him her
most bewitching smile.  He was younger than she and so she felt at
liberty to address him in this familiar way.  "You would be doing me
the greatest service."

He wavered.  A calculating look entered his good eye.  The other was
black and half-closed.  "I could not lend my clothes to you, Miss
Dawson.  But if I had some I had grown out of and decided to sell--'

"And I bought them!"  cried Miranda.  "You could scarcely deny me that
right!"

A smug expression of satisfaction settled on Mr.  Keeper's heavy
features.  He was quite a big lad for fifteen, two or three inches
taller than Miranda, having grown apace during the last six months.
"I'd be right glad to receive payment for theme' he admitted.  " I owe
a bit of money.  "

Miranda raised her brows.  "Gambling?"

He nodded.  "One has to join in, you know.  And I've had a run of bad
luck."

"What with damaging your eye and all, I collect that you have."

Keeper shrugged, assuming indifference.  "My luck will change.  I shall
come about.  But the money for my things will be useful."  He inspected
her figure boldly.  "The trousers should be about right and the jacket
ought to fit, though the buttons might be a bit tight across the
chest," he observed, grinning, eyeing her well-developed figure with
adolescent relish.

"I can easily alter them," said Miranda quickly, wanting to set the
impudent lad down but unable to do so under the circumstances.  "I
shall need a couple of shirts and a hat and some stockings, too.  I
don't know about shoes, though," she mused, eyeing his large feet.

"You could buy a pair of shoes from the purser," he suggested.  "He'd
be sure to have some your size, he fits the boys out."

Miranda did not relish having to approach the purser, though he had the
unusual reputation of being honest.  "How much do you want for the
clothes?"  she enquired, mentally reviewing her scanty stock of
money.

He named a sum which made her wince.  "I cannot possibly afford so
much!"  she protested.  "I could buy new for that, and yours are
secondhand!"

"But you're not in a position to buy new, are you?"  said Keeper with a
barely concealed sneer.

"If I can buy shoes from the purser, I could buy other things."

"But not a British midshipman's.  uniform," he pointed out.

"I could make do with trousers and a shirt if necessary!  But--' she
moderated her sharp tone '--I'd rather wear a full British uniform."
The clothes available from the purser would be American navy issue. She
simply could not appear dressed in the style adopted by an enemy
country.  She thought quickly and offered a sum which was less than she
could afford and thought reasonable and a long way below Keeper's
demand.  A short haggle ensued.  In the end they came to an agreement
which suited them both.  Miranda would have very little ready money
left, but she could always sell the clothes again when she had done
with them.

"I'll go and fetch them now if you like," offered Keeper.

"Bring them to my cabin.  You know where it is.  And I'll have the
money ready."  He nodded and made for the hatch leading to the
midshipmen's berthl obviously eager to secure the cash to ease his
penurious plight.

Knowing he would be called to his dinner in a few moments, Miranda
waited anxiously for him to appear, The captain ate at a later hour so
she would have time to change and surprise him.  But while she waited
she decided not to do so.  She would try the things on after dinner,
make any necessary alterations and appear dressed in her young
gentleman's clothes on the morrow.

Her nerves quivered as she imagined Captain York's reaction.  She hoped
he would not think her improper dress worthy of severe reprimand.

But he would never kiss her while she was garbed as a boy.  Would

His astonished expression as she walked in to breakfast the following
morning instantly gave way to one of distinct disapproval.  He did not
even greet her other than to demand, "What on earth has possessed you
to dress as a midshipman, Miss Dawson?"

With some difficulty," Miranda maintained her outward calm.  She had
known he would not approve and had therefore not risked meeting 'him on
deck earlier but had spent the time down on the lower deck rummaging in
he~ largest trunk to find the pair of nankeen half-boots stowed in the
bottom, A pair of new shoes from the purser would probably be
uncomfortable but she could wear her boots all day and all night too,
if necessary.

She had expected his challenge and was braced to meet it, yet her
stomach did an additional flip as she retorted, "To avoid disturbing
the sensibilities of yourself and your crew, Captain.  And also," she
added defiantly, 'to make moving about this warship easier.  How would
you like to have to climb ladders trailing a skirt?  "

Adam ignored her question for the moment.  "And exactly how, Miss
Dawson, do you hope a change of costume will assist in rendering the
presence of a female aboard the Seafire less disturbing?"

"Whys' said Miranda with exaggerated innocence, 'you are so used to
seeing young lads caper about the decks displaying lively high spirits
that if I look like one of them no one will notice me."

Adam treated her to a disparaging scrutiny.  "You truly think no one
will notice the difference?"  he enquired harshly.  "I do not believe
either of the young gentlemen due to share the table with us this
morning will be bursting out of their jackets in quite the same manner
as you are.  They may have grown in other ways, but they will not have
developed ... er..."  Even in his anger he retained enough delicacy to
avoid mention of her breasts, so he sought another phrase to cover the
matter.  "In the same places," he substituted stiffly.

Miranda coloured in confusion.  The uniform fitted her well enough
elsewhere, except, perhaps, for a certain tightness round her bottom;
but even shifting the buttons on the jacket had not prevented the
strain they were under from showing.  Being generally so slender, she
had always been glad of her well-endowed figure until this moment.  Not
that her breasts were huge by any means--she would have been
embarrassed if

they were--but at least they were there, unlike those of some of the
more unfortunate girls at the Academy.

To add to her discomfort, she found the coat far too warm and could not
prevent herself from running a finger round her neck to ease the
choking effect of her stock.  But even the captain was wearing his
jacket in anticipation of the arrival of two of the young gentlemen, so
she could not discard hers.

"I am aware, Captain," she managed at last, 'that my figure is a
different shape from that of Mr.  Keeper's, but I think it
ungentlemanly of you to mention the fact.  "

"Indeed, Miss Dawson,: I am distressed to hear your opinion," he said
with pointed sarcasm.  "But you force me to inform you that I find your
behaviour unladylike."

"In that case, neither of us should be troubled by the other?  snapped
Miranda, but as the two visiting midshipmen arrived at that moment she
was compelled to assume a more equable stance and to greet them with a
show of composure.

Neither could hide their grins at her appearance.  "You look better in
that garb than that oaf Tony Keeper," chuckled the elder of the two.

"You will oblige me by minding your manners, Mr.  Light foot," rasped
the captain, and the lad subsided, his face scarlet.

But the boys' reaction forced Miranda to realise that far from becoming
inconspicuous she was likely to suffer enhanced interest from both
officers and hands.  This served to make her even more determined not
to abandon the freedom of movement her new outfit afforded her.  The
diversion caused by her new appearance was likely to be of short
duration--they would soon become used to seeing her thus garbed and
forget to stare.  Then she would indeed blend into the background.  She
would change into a dress for dinner, but that was as far as she would
go to placate Captain York.

The meal progressed in a stilted manner, none of them being quite at
ease and the captain remaining unusually silent.

Once the young men had left, he discarded his coat and eased his neck
cloth

"I could order you to change back into women's clothes, Miss Dawson,"
he observed, 'but I will nok I can understand your desire for freedom
of movement.  But please remember that some members of my crew may find
your attire provocative.  You will do well to remain as inconspicuous
as possible, at least until the men grow used to the sight of you so
dressed.  "

"I am willing to promise you that, Captain."  How she wished she had
the courage to remove her coat, but the shirt beneath would reveal even
more of her womanly contours, damp as it undoubtedly was.  "I have no
wish to attract unwelcome attention."

This was said in a barbed tone which informed the captain that his
attention would be as unwelcome as anyone else's.  His grey eyes
sparked with sudden amusement at her defiant stance but before he could
answer her a hail from the lookout, heard clearly through the open
skylight, made him cock his head to listen.

"Deck, there!  Sail on the larboard bow!"

As Daniel cleared away the last of the breakfast dishes Adam, his eyes
bright, subsided in his chair in an

attitude of languid boredom which would not have been out of place in
a London drawing-room.

Miranda was puzzled as to how he could remain so calm.  "I wonder what
kind of a ship it is?"  she ventured, curiosity overcoming her
reluctance to make any friendly overture.  "If you will excuse me, I
shall go up on deck and find out."

"Stay here," murmured Adam, a warning note in his voice.  "Someone will
come to inform me within a few moments.  Then I shall go up to see for
myself and you are welcome to accompany me.  But I must not show
impatience and they probably do not know as yet."

This last assertion was borne out by the continuing dialogue on deck.
Apparently only the very top of the sails was visible, making
identification of the strange vessel difficult.

Before long the marine sentry announced the arrival of a midshipman.

"Mr.  West's compliments, sir.  and the lookout has seen a sail on the
larboard bow," panted the boy.

"My compliments to Mr.  West.  I will join him at once."  As the
midshipman disappeared Adam rose to his feet and reached for his
jacket.  Unless circumstances were unusual he never appeared on deck
without it, or his hat, which Daniel handed to him as he ducked towards
the door.  Miranda put her cap on, glad she wore her hair short, though
she would have to see about getting it cut soon, and followed Captain
York up the companion ladder.  Without the encumbrance of a skirt she
really was able to run up it like a midshipman.

All the same,.  before she had properly reached the deck Adam had
grabbed a telescope and was swarming up the main mast to join the
lookout, perched as high as he could go.

After a tense five minutes Adam came down.

"Set full sail, Mr.  West," he ordered.  "We need to overtake before I
can be certain, but I think it might be a British frigate.  If it is,
we shall give chase."

Zack's face creased into a wide smile.  "Another prize?"

Adam's answering grin held all the anticipation and daring of the
adventurer he was.  "With luck, Zack," he agreed.

A buzz went round the deck, then passed through the frigate.  Every
e~ye brightened, the seamen executed their tasks with renewed
enthusiasm.

Only Miranda and the small group of Othellos taking the air on deck
were not so enlivened by the prospect of a chase.

"Although," said Mr.  Pipe~:, brightening, 'the tables may be turned.
If it is a British ship and it prevails--'

"We shall be freed," completed Mr.  Gander eagerly.  Mr.  Haskett,
eyeing the purposeful activity on deck, the Seafire's sailing master
conferring with his superior officers, failed to look as hopeful as the
others at these comforting words.

"In a one-to-one encounter," he observed morosely, 'the more heavily
gunned American frigate is usually victorious.  "

"But the Shannon captured the Chesapeake," protested Mr.  Gander.

"That's true enough, sir," agreed the master, 'and that victory has
done something to raise British morale, but the navy is still reeling
under that unexpected series of reverses.  We're used to winning
battles, not losing' em I wish I knew who was captaining that frigate.
"

"Wait until we know her name," said Mr.  Piper.  "I can remember a
great part of the Navy List."

While the officers discussed the prospects, Miranda wondered why she
had such mixed feelings over what Mr.  Piper and Mr.  Gander still
considered the likelihood of imminent rescue, even though the British
frigate was undoubtedly attempting to outrun the American.

CHAPTER FOUR

A CHASE!  Another chase, to be exact, although, having been aboard the
hare on the previous occasion, Miranda had been only dimly aware of
what was going on.  Now she was on the hunter's quarterdeck and Adam
York's nose was twitching every bit as eagerly as that of a hound.

A scurry of activity soon had every possible sail hoisted.  The extra
pressure of wind canted the deck to an uncomfortable angle beneath her
feet, The wash chuckled beneath the Seafire's hull, she seemed almost
to skim the water despite the pitch and roll, held in suspensiop above
it by the enormous pyramid of canvas, itself held aloft by creaking
spars and taut, singing ropes.

It was exhilarating sailing under that cloud of sails but that of
itself could not account for the predatory excitement which had seized
every member of the crew.  They scented action, a prize to be taken and
before long they were confirmed in their expectation, Adam went aloft
again to perch perilously high up that wildly swinging mast and
confirmed the lookout's opinion.  The other vessel was definitely a
British frigate.  And thus far in this war, as the Othellos had just
been lamenting, the Americans had so often emerged the victors.

Miranda could not imagine Adam York losing the

battle if he could catch his prey.  His record was too formidable.  He
had spent the last months successfully harrying the supply ships taking
much needed equipment and ammunition to the British army in the
Peninsula, and had crowned his achievements by joining battle with the
Othello and overcoming her.

The British frigate was still far ahead but the captain and the master
kept taking sightings.  As the hours sped by their expressions became
positively exultant.  Even Miranda, without the aid of an instrument,
could see that they were overhauling the other vessel, and fast.

"Pass the word to the cooks to put the fires out immediately dinner is
done," Adam told Abe Windsor.  "Call me if anything changes."

Mr.  Windsor repeated the order to a midshipman, who slid down the
sloping deck to reach a ladder and disappeared, scrambling to deliver~
the captain's message.

Miranda had kept well 'out of the way until then but nothing much
seemed to be happening, in fact Adam was preparing to go 'below.  She
waylaid him by the mizzen mast.

"Excuse me, Captain, but are you expecting to go into action?"  she
asked.

"I hope so!  If we can overhaul that fellow before nightfall, I shall
certainly bring him to action.  If we do not, he will escape, for he
has now laid a course for Tenerife and will find shelter among the
Canaries long before daybreak."

"Oh.  We are that near the islands?"

"We made good progress yesterday, considering the poor wind.  I had
planned to lay off Herro tomorrow to
take on supplies, and weigh anchor again before
night fall.  But if we capture this fellow I shall have to change my
plans."  He suddenly lifted a dark eyebrow.  "Are yot enjoying the
chase?"

Miranda frowned and looked down at her incongruous yellow half-boots.
"The sailing, yes," she admit.  ted, her fingers gripped hard around a
stay.  "But yot cannot expect me to welcome the thought of anothel
battle, especially one in which one of my own country'.,

ships will be engaged.  I wish you would not attack it.  " " You need
know nothing of the fighting, my dear.  " That, thought Miranda,
looking up into his eyes with anger in hers, was no term of endearment
but one of condescension.

"No?"  she enquired sarcastically.  "Shall I become suddenly deaf to
gunfire, to the death and destruction the cries of the wounded?  They
bring them dowr~ screaming, you know.  But that is not what worries me.
Being a sailor's daughter, I am not squeamish; I know what service in
the navy entails.  What concerns me i~ the knowledge that you are about
to attack a British vessel and there is nothing I can do to prevent
it."

"Indeed there is not, Miss Dawson."  He had climbed on his high ropes
and looked down his nose at her as they stood swaying by the mast, he
with his arms crossed, she still hanging on.  "I am glad you appreciate
the fact.  I must confine the prisoners of war once we go to quarters.
By the time we go into action they must be locked up in their cabins.
You--'

Miranda gripped her stay with both hands as the shil~ ploughed into a
trough and rose like a corkscrew to the following crest.  Adam snapped
an order to Tom

Crocker, his master, to have the helmsmen mind their business.

"Please do not confine me below!"  Miranda hated pleading with him,
especially when he peered at her over that flat bridged nose of his. "I
cannot bear the idea of being shut up below again, not knowing what is
going on, imagining the worst."  To her mind that was far more
threatening than the actual sight of battle.  "If you will allow me to
remain here," she went on, "I give you my word I will do nothing to
hinder you.  But you cannot imagine what torture it is, not being able
to see what is happening."

Adam shook his head, but his expression had softened.  "I can, you
know.  But you would be safer below.  And I doubt you would have the
stomach for what you might be called upon to witness."

"I repeat, I am an admiral's daughter, no squeamish miss who faints at
the sight of blood!  My greatest regret is that I was not born a
boy!"

She thought his lips twitched.  "You are making a fair imitation of a
young gentleman at the moment, if I may say so.  But you are not a boy,
Miss Dawson, and even boys can be frightened by their first sight of
battle.  Young William Welland, for example.  He will make a fine
officer one day, given the chance to overcome his natural distress at
the sight of his best friend being cut down at his side."

"And if he is not bullied and scared out of his wits?  " Precisely. Why
else do you think I had that pair brought aboard?  It took little
understanding on my part to ~see that he needed encouragement and
Keeper

needed some sharp discipline.  I believe both are receiving what they
need aboard my ship.  "

Miranda simply looked at him, her blue eyes wide.  "How could you
tell...?"

Adam shrugged.  "It was fairly staring me in the face.  They would both
have been ruined had nothing been done."

"You would do that much for enemy midshipmen?"

"For young gentlemen who are also human beings, like the rest of us,
Miss Dawson."

Miranda swallowed.  This Captain York was a different creature from the
one who treated her so severely--yet not all the time, she had to
admit.  He had often shown her a surprising degree of understanding.
"Will does seem much happier," she whispered.  "I tried--'

He smiled.  "I know you: did And now, if you will excuse me..."  )

With his foot on the top rung he made a sketchy bow.  Miranda
disengaged one hand and touched his blue-clad arm, detaining him a
moment longer.

"Will must not assist your officers when you go into action.  He should
~not help them at all, really; he could be charged with traitorous
behaviour, brought before a court martial, even hung!  But it gives him
great pleasure to be appreciated, and does no real harm.  Just so long
as Mr.  Piper and the others do not report his behaviour."

"I asked his lieutenants permission.  Mr.  Piper was glad to be rid of
the unhappy lad.  He gave limited consent for him to go and amuse
himself."

"I see.  But in action--'

"I am fully aware of that, Miss Dawson."  His tone was warm.  "If you
wish to remain on deck you may," Adam went on, 'as long as you keep
well out of the way.  Welland and Keeper will be confined with the
other officers, but separated.  "

"Put Will with Mr.  Haskett," suggested Miranda.  "He needs the
reassurance of an older man."

"Very well--an excellent idea."

Miranda smiled her thanks and watched him clatter down the ladder with
a strange yearning in her heart.  Adam York was a fine man, but an
enemy.  Not that most soldiers or sailors actually hated those on the
other side they were ordered to kill.  That was one of the ironies of
war.  In peacetime they would all probably be friends.  In the same
way, r~he thought that she and the captain might have been friends had
they met under different circumstances and not been on opposing
sides.

The chase was nearing its culmination when it came time for the captain
to sit down to his dinner.  Miranda abandoned her intention to change
into a gown.  The seamen, having eaten earlier, had already been beaten
to quarters.  With the men stationed for action and the deck largely
cleared, she followed Adam below.  They consumed a hurried meal under
Daniel's watchful eye and conversation was minimal.  Before he had
swallowed his last mouthful Adam was on his-feet.

"Finish the meal at your leisure," he told Miranda as he shrugged into
his coat, buckled on the sword Daniel handed him and made for the door~
Miranda did not linger for more than the moment it took to finish her
wine and then followed him to the deck, hearing the sounds of
partitions being raised and the guns being uncovered as she did so.

Miranda tucked herself in amongst the rigging and

'73

watched Adam as he stood, taut as a bowstring, every sense concentrated
on the task in hand, issuing orders in clear tones, changing the course
slightly, trimming the sails to gain maximum advantage from the
vagaries of the wind.

"Discharge half our water," he suddenly snapped.  Water, precious
drinking water, spewed out of the scuttles as men worked the pumps.  It
was a legitimate ploy to enable the frigate to move faster, but what a
risk!  thought Miranda, her mouth parched with anxiety.

Supposing he could not fill those barrels again?

But the Seafire began to pick up speed.

A smile lifted the corners of Adam's mouth.  In the prevailing light
airs their speed was good.  "That captain knows how to sail his ship
but he'll not escape us now.  Anotherhalf-hour and he'll be within
range of our bow chasers.  Then we'll see if we can take some of the
wind from his sails!"

The two great guns, one on each side of the bow, were run out and ready
to be fired, their crews crouched down beside them waiting for the
order, while behind them a ship's boy, known as a powder monkey when
the ship was in action, squatted in the middle of the deck by piles of
balls, waiting to be sent scurrying down to the powder room for more
charges, It had been one of those guns, remembered Miranda, which had
woken her from her sleep aboard the Othello,

The British frigate was still far ahead when it opened fire on its
pursuer.  The Seafire'~ seamen were all crouched about their guns, the
marines at their stations.  The entire crew watched the splash of the
shots hitting the water half a mile ahead and gave a jeering cheer.

"Practising his aim and range," commented Mr.  West with a grin. "Shall
we respond?"

"Not yet."  A frown formed between Adam's intent eyes.  "I wonder. They
are approaching Lanzarote.  They may hope that the sound of gunfire
will bring a friend to their aid."  He raised his voice to reach the
men perched high in the rigging.  "Lookouts, there!  Keep a sharp watch
for other sails!"

The whole scene was etched on Adam's inner vision as he assessed the
possibilities, his mind almost unconsciously computing the set of the
sea, the wind, the course and a dozen other factors which must govern
his actions.  So many lives depended on his getting it right.  In
another half-hour, if he could not come up with the enemy and bring him
to action, he would be forced to give up the chase, wear away and chart
a course for Herro.  Having discharged half his water, he now had no
choice but to put in to replenish it.

By the time they brought the enemy within range of their long guns the
splendid red ball of the sun was dipping below the horizon, its
reflection turning the blue of sky and sea into shades Of crimson and
gold and adding warm tones to the pyramid of sails billowing above
them.  Adam gave the order to fire.  He would not abandon the chase
without' aiming a few shots at the enemy.  A lucky shot might cripple
her.

A shout came from a lookout, a thin sound penetrating the comparative
silence between the roar and thunder of the two bow guns.

"Deck, there!  She's going about, sir!  Coming straight back at us!"
Adam already knew.  His glass had been glued to his eye for most of the
past hours.  He assessed the other's course once it was settled and
then ordered a slight adjustment to his own.  He could not allow the
enemy to cross his bows.  But excitement rose in him, that enhanced
awareness and exhilaration which came in the face of danger.  Quite
clearly, while he had hoped for reinforcements which had not come, the
British captain did not want to be accused of cowardice- a hanging
matter in any navy-and so was preparing to engage.

Adam had no wish to disengage.  The trusting anticipation on his men's
faces told him that they expected him to fight and to win.

The lower sails must be taken in, leaving the frigate in fighting trim.
As he turned from watching his top men swarm down the rigging after
carrying out his order, he became aware of the slender figure of a
midshipman standing silently behind him.  A midshipman in British
uniform.  Miranda!  He swore silently to himself as his body reacted
automatically to the sight of her.  He had forgotten the girl's
presence in his absorption with the chase.  She had not, of course,
being Miranda Dawson, gone below with the enemy officers.  i He, in a
soft moment, had told her she could remain on deck.  But with action
imminent he knew he would have to send her down.  It would be far too
dangerous for her on the exposed quarterdeck,

He spoke to her quietly.  "Miss Dawson, I think it is time for you to
leave the deck,"

"But you promised--'

"I know, but I cannot take the risk of your being injured, even killed,
during the action.  The gap between us and the enemy is narrowing fast?
A ball hissed overhead, punching a hole through one of the topsails.
"As you can see, his shots are already damaging our rigging.  Before
long we shall be exchanging broadsides.  This is no place for you."

"But I do not wish to go below?

Adam made his voice stern.  "Nevertheless, Miss Dawson, you will obey
my order!  Mr.  Stirling," he addressed one of his midshipmen, 'be so
good as to escort Miss Dawson down to the gunroom.  I will not condemn
you to the lowest deck but you really must go below," he added, firmly
but kindly.

Miranda opened her mouth to argue and then closed it again.  Adam had
turned away, had already forgotten her in the press of more urgent
duties.

"This way, Miss Dawson," piped James Stirling nervously: He was about
the same age as Will and, like the British midshipman, with whom he had
become friendly, his voice had not yet broken.  To him she must be a
strange, incongruous figure in her borrowed uniform, she thought
wryly.

She followed obediently, taking a last glance along the length of the
frigate.  With the great lower sails furled she could see all the men
at their stations, the marines in the tops ready to fire down on the
enemy officers, even glimpse the.  British frigate approaching over the
bow.  She descended to the gunroom without further protest.  A marine
stood on guard at the door, a swivel gun set up to cover the room.  It
could scatter small shot at a great rate, a much more effective
deterrent than a single musket.  Adam was taking no chances.

In the narrow, ill-lit, ill-ventilated space between the tiny cubicles
lining either side stood a long table, leaving just enough room for
crouching movement on either side.  The headroom here was even lower
than in the great cabin and the bottom of the mizzen-mast passed like a
column through the end nearest her.  She settled into a chair and
propped her chin in her hands.

"Thank you, Mr.  Stirling.  I shall be quite safe here, I'm sure;'

"I'll get back on deck, then.  The captain might want me again," said
Mr.  Stirling, and scampered off, eager to be near his idol.

"Miss Dawson?  The call came from behind the locked door of Mr. Piper's
cabin.  " Miss Dawson, are you there?  "

Miranda sighed.  She did not wish to enter into conversation with Piper
or any other of the officers, Not at the moment.  Her emotions were far
too mixed.  "What is it, Mr.  Piper?"

"What is going on?  Is there to be an engagement?"

"So it seems.  That is why I have been sent down to safety."  She did
not want the marine to imagine he had to keep her under guard too.

"Do you know the name of the British' frigateS

Adam had read the name through his glass.  There could be no harm in
passing on the information.  "The Osprey."

"Ah]' There was a moment's silence while Piper thought.  " Captain
Godfrey, I believe.  "

"Do you know him, sir?"  asked Mr.  Gander.  The partitions were canvas
and conversation between the prisoners was quite possible.

"Not personally.  But you served under him once, didn't you, Master?"

"Aye, sir.  A fine officer.  He'll give a good account of himself."

"So we have a chance!"

"I would hope so, Mr.  Piper."

Their conversation had been punctuated by the boom of the chasing guns
and now a crashing sound above brought Miranda's head up and raised a
faint but penetrating squealing and bleating from the pigs in their sty
and the sheep in their pen under the foredeck.  The commotion propelled
her to her feet.  "I refuse to remain down here where I cannot see what
is happening.  I'm going up again."

She smiled at the marine, who frowned uneasily but came smartly to the
salute as she passed.  She had gambled that he would not stop her.  The
marines knew she enjoyed a privileged position aboard the warship.

Passing through the main deck, she saw that Abe Windsor was there, with
a couple of midshipmen, ready to supervise the firing of the
broadsides.  The crash she had heard -appeared to have been caused by
one of the cannons coming off its truck.  Sweating, heaving men were
struggling to get it back into position while the officers and gun
captain cursed them for carelessness.

"The captain requires a full broadside, you lubbers!"  roared Mr.
Windsor in a voice Miranda had never heard him use before.

Leaving them to it, she climbed the next ladder and poked her head out
of the hatch.  All the officers were fully occupied.  No one, except
the nearest powder monkey, noticed her as she crept across the deck and
crouched by his side.  She put a finger to her lips and the child, who
could not have been more than seven,

grinned.  Miranda felt the urge to take him in her arms and protect
him.  It seemed almost criminal to her that such young boys should be
taken on board a warship at all, let alone made to carry the dangerous
charges up from the powder room and wait about on the exposed deck.
But, like the drummer boys in the army, the officers thought nothing of
placing children in grave danger.  Even Adam.  It had always been so.
Men took it for granted.

She squatted with the boys, her eyes fixed on Adam as he stood fighting
his ship, directing its course, ordering his guns to fire as the vessel
turned and they could be brought to bear.  Broadside answered
broadside; fountains of water rose into the air as the balls fell short
or landed ahead or behind.  An occasional thud below or crack overhead
told her that not all the British balls had missed their mark.  Cheers
went up when a gun crew saw their shot, hit the enemy.  The thunder
rang in her ears, making her deaf.

As the ships drew nearer to each other the short-range guns on the
quarterdeck opened fire.  The powder monkeys ran down for more charges
and staggered back again carrying the pipes containing the bags of
gunpowder carefully, so as not to drop them,

Soon musket fire rained down on the deck from British marines lodged in
their tops.  Adam stood like a rock, unconcerned by the balls whining
past his head as he fought his ship.  Zack gave a cry and clapped a
hand over his upper arm.  She saw Adam urge him to leave the deck, but
Zack shook his head as a seaman tightened a bandage about the wound to
staunch the flow of blood.

Miranda flinched as she felt the heat of a musket ball rush past her
face to bury itself in the deck behind.  As her friend the powder
monkey trotted across to his gun, an enemy cannonball passed over her
head to career across the deck, missing everyone until it killed a
marine and ruined the hammocks beyond him.  The child crumpled. Miranda
leapt up and rushed to his side.

"Pass me the charges," roared the gun captain, and such was his urgency
that Miranda picked up the wooden pipe containing the charges and
finished the journey the boy had begun.  When she returned to him she
found him quite unconscious.  ~

The shot had not hit him but a large splinter--well, a ragged chunk of
wood, really--torn from some timber it had damaged lay beside him.  A
bruise and gash on his temple indicated where it had struck,

Miranda bit her bottom lip' at the sight of the carnage.  Adam had been
right--this was no place for a woman.  Already several seamen lay about
the quarterdeck either dead or nursing a wound, There would be more
casualties on the main deck.  and yet .  and yet she would not have
missed the experience, would not have been anywhere else.  She still
wished she were a boy; she would surely have been less squeamish if she
were, and the excitement of the battle had fired her up, made her want
to be part of it.

But on whose side?  she asked h[rself guiltily as she gathered the
child into her arms and staggered towards the hatch.  Something strange
was happening to her loyalties.

"Someone assist with that boy," yelled Adam, and then gave a smothered
curse as Miranda turned her face towards him.  "Take him below to the
surgeon and stay there?  he grated before the exigencies of the battle
made him forget her again.

A seaman obligingly helped her down the ladders, perhaps glad to escape
the heat of battle on the deck.  She descended to the main deck, where
more chaos reigned, although the guns were being loaded, run out and
fired with undiminished efficiency, and went on past the gunroom to
arrive at the head of the ladder leading down to the lowest deck, where
the doctor was busy attending to those wounded who had already been
brought below.  She gagged on the stink coming up from below and turned
back to the gunroom, dismissing the seaman, who immediately returned to
his duties.

Miranda, with the boy in her arms, passed the sentry at the door of the
gunroom and laid the child on the table.  He needed something beneath
his head so she removed her jacket and folded it as a pillow.

She found a bottle of brandy in a rack and brought it out just as a
crash made her jump and the ship lurched.  She clasped the bottle to
her bosom while she tore off her stock, looking at the marine
enquiringly,

"One of the masts gone, miss," he opined calmly.

"I told you Captain Godfrey would give a good account of himself!"
called Gander jubilantly.

Miranda quickly dampened the linen and dabbed at the contusion on the
boy's forehead.  Then she poured a little of the spirit on a clean
patch and pressed it to his lips.  He sighed and his tongue sought the
moisture.  He swallowed, but did not open his eyes.  At least he was
not dead.

"See he comes to no harm," she said to the marine.  "I want to go up on
deck again."

"You'd best stay here, miss."

She shook her head.  "I may be able to help some of the other
wounded."

She simply could not remain below not knowing what had happened, if
Adam was dead, wounded or still alive and well.  Her concern took her
by surprise.  As did the realisation that she could not bear for him to
lose this fight.

Where was her patriotism?  Her father would surely be thoroughly
ashamed of ~her!  Adam York was fighting on the side of the enemy.  How
could she possibly want him to win?

Guiltily, she told herself that she didn't, really; it was just that
she wanted him to come through unscathed.

She poked her head out of the hatch into the dusky light and her eyes
sought the tall figure of the frigate's commander, standing close to
the huge double wheel, not far from the hatch.  His hat had gone. Stray
strands of black hair had escaped his queue and one side of his face
was covered in blood.  Her heart began to pound with anxiety. But he
was still on his feet and his voice came firm and decisive as he
ordered men forward to deal with the tangled mass of rigging brought
down with part of the foremast.

She shivered, aware that although she missed the warmth of her jacket,
feeling cold was not the cause of it but rather the shambles that met
her eyes on the quarterdeck.  And then a cry went up from those who
could see.

"The Osprey is disengaging, sir," came Zack West's voice, which sounded
horribly weak and hoarse.

"Her captain does not relish the thought of a night action, I collect.
Very well.  We are in better case than he.  We will give chase.  Mr.
Crocker, make what sail you can; we will attempt to overhaul him, but
we must do so quickly.  It is not yet completely dark, we should be
able to keep him in sight.  Mr.  Stirling, pass the word to Mr. Windsor
to have the guns reloaded and primed and ask him to repair to the
quarterdeck.  The men may stand down for the moment, but they must rest
by their guns if not required to assist in clearing and repairing the
damage.  You remain to supervise them.  Mr.  Merrick--' to his senior
midshipman '--be so good as to organise the removal of the dead and
wounded.  And now you must use the lull to go below and have your arm
attended to, Mr.  West.  Mr.  Windsor will take your place here."

Zack, who looked deathly pale in what little light was left, nodded. He
had the hand of his injured arm tucked between the buttons of his coat.
 "Very well.  I must confess it is confoundedly painful."

"You should have seen the surgeon ~before!"

"Not while the ship was in danger, sir!"  protested Zack.  "But
now.,"

He turned for the companion ladder and Miranda quickly stepped out on
the deck to make way for him.  He gave her a tired, uncomprehending nod
as he passed.  I don't believe he recognised me, she thought, feeling a
stab of anxiety, for she had grown fond of Zachary West in the short
time she had known him.  But although unsteady on his feet he passed
one-handedly down the ladder without help, seemingly in control of
himself.

The other officers went about their duties, and as, in response to the
master's orders, the huge lower sails on main and mizzen masts billowed
out in the wind,

Miranda padded to Adam's side.

"Did neither side win?"

"You here?"  demanded Adam in exasperation.  Damnation!  He did not
need the distraction of her presence just now.  But he answered her
question.  " " No, the Osprey has not struck yet, but we gave your
compatriots a pounding.  The next engagement should decide the issue.
"

"When?"

"As soon as we can overtake ~ her.  Excuse me, but I must go forward
and supervise the cutting away of the wreck of the' foremast Its drag
is hindering us."

"Let me attend to your wound first."

He brushed her, aside.  "It is nothing-a mere scratch.  The people will
sleep by their guns tonight, but we will use this respite to serve
supper; it is some time since anyone has eaten.  It will be cold, for I
cannot allow the galley fires to be relit.  Your cabin will be
reinstated within minutes; you may wish to use its facilities.  After
you have eaten I suggest you retire there and get what sleep you
can."

She could not hide her anxiety.  "Are you certain you are all right,
Captain?"

He gazed at her down his nose again, denying the pleasure her concern
gave him.  "Stop fussing, woman.  And for God's sake do as you are bid
for once."

"Aye, aye, sir," riposted Miranda, giving him a smart salute.

Adam's face relaxed into a reluctant grin.  "Get aloJ with you, you
little baggage.  I have much to do befo I may rest."

CHAPTER FIVE

MIRANDA clambered down to the gunroom, where she found that the boy,
Billy Crow, had recovered consciousness and been carried to his hammock
by a kindly seaman.  The prisoners of war had been released by the
marine guard and Piper demanded to know the outcome of the action.
Miranda gave a brief account and then left the more senior officers to
chew it over amongst themselves while the stewards prepared a meal for
them.  While Tony Keeper made for the midshipmen's berth, Will left
with her to go in search of his friend James Stirling.

"Was he hurt?"  he asked her apprehensively.

"No," she reassured him.  "He escaped unscathed.  But he's on the gun
deck busy supervising the clearing up of the damage there, Will."

"I can help," said Will cheerfully, and darted off up the ladder.

After an action or a drill it took the men only minutes to replace the
partitions, which were hinged up and bolted to the beams, and by the
time she sought her own cabin her cot had already been slung, though
her possessions were still stowed below, for the ship remained largely
cleared for action.  Daniel, who had been cap raining one of the gun
crews, had already set the table in the stripped down great cabin and
was busy in his pantry.  Miranda wondered at the speed and efficiency
of the limited restoration operation.  ] practice made perfect and many
hands made light we as she had always been taught, and despite deple
numbers, there remained some two hundred tired experienced hands to set
the captain's quarters at fe partially to rights so that he could use
it while the.  lasted.

She washed her face and hands, brushed the dirt off~ her recovered
coat, combed 'her unruly hair a replaced the midshipman's cap to hide
the mess it v in.  When Daniel came to tell her that a meal had be
served, she was calm and tidy,

She walked into the great cabin to find Adam air el there.

He had changed his shirt and was without his waistcoat, which, Miranda
had noticed on deck, was liberE stained with blood.  His own and
others, she suspect, But, seeing him rise courteously to greet her, she
v comforted that he appeared quite oblivious to wound.

Someone--Daniel, no doubt-had attended to injury, for a band of linen
held a wad in place to st the bleeding.  From what she had seen
earlier, he wot be left with a scar running into his hairline.  The tel
she felt at seeing him greet her with a cheerful sin must have shown in
her response.

"As you can see," he said, sweeping her a bow, "I ~ still in one piece.
So, essentially, is Zack, although stopped a musket ball."

"Is it bad?  Where is he?"  asked Miranda anxiously Adam moved to seat
her at the table.

"Bad enough.  Being so stubborn cost him a quantity of blood and he is
still down in the sick bay.  The ball had lodged in his upper arm.
Thank God it was spent.  Once the doctor has dug it out I will have him
returned to his cabin.  Unless the wound mortifies he should make a
good recovery."

"I pray so.  How happy his wife will be when he returns home?  Miranda
shuddered delicately, unaware of how the contrast of her ladylike
reaction with her boy's uniform affected her companion.  " I could not
weather a visit to the sick bay, Adam, but will you mind if I visit him
once he is back in his cabin?  "

Adam regarded her with a touch of censure, she thought, not knowing how
difficult he was finding it to retain his composure in the face of a
sudden stab of illogical jealousy.  His confused emotions only served
to fuel his anger.  "Of course not," he answered her question, though
not with the enthusiasm she might have: expected.  Then he went on, his
voice brusque, "Having carried the boy down, most females would have
remained in the sick bay in order to' assist.  You, I collect,
preferred to face the dangers of the quarterdeck."

"Most women?"  queried Miranda bridling at his tone.  "I think not,
Captain.  Most women would faint.  Some would no doubt go down to that
hell-hole to do what they could for the injured, but I am not made of
such intrepid stuff.  I may not faint at the sight of blood, but would
most certainly succumb to the yap ours were I forced to breathe that
foul air.  The stench is overwhelming.  How the sick and injured can be
expected to recover under such conditions I fail to comprehend."

"It is," said Adam, grimly defensive, 'the best we can do under the
circumstances.  Yet," he went on, pursui his theme, " I wonder at your
fortitude on deck.  And t atmosphere was thick with gunfire smoke.  "

"It was different," said Miranda simply, quite unable to explain
exactly how.

But Adam's smile flashed out.  "I know how diffen it is.  I myself see
that place as a hell-hole and view I surgeon's knife with horror. Above
everything, I fear being subjected to his ministrations.  By the way,
how Billy Crow?"

"Recovering well, as far as I am aware.  He is anotl~ I must visit
soon."

Adam nodded.  "I'm glad to hear he was not ba hurt.  Have some wine."

"Thank you."  Her heart warmed again.  Adam kn~ the child's name and
showed concern for even t smallest of his ship's boys.

"And do eat your supper.  The sooner you are in b the better.  We are
overhauling the enemy fast and expect to resume the action soon.  She
is making for t Canaries again, so we must attack quickly or not at ~
The moon will give light enough for the gunners to ] her in their
sights."

"And us in hers."

"Unfortunately, that is so," agreed Adam dril Miranda's stomach
clenched at the prospect of anotl~ action and yet, as she eyed the cold
pork on her pla she discovered that despite everything she was hung As
she cut into it she remarked, "The pigs on board a a great blessing,
but I'm sure the berth deck would be more pleasant place for the seamen
and marines wit out their being quartered so near!"

Adam shrugged.  "They grow used to the farmyard aroma!"

"You are fortunate here, but otherwise the entire ship's crew must get
used to it--even the officers--for the odour wafts throughout the
vessel!  And so does the noise!  The squealing of the pigs, the
bleating of the sheep and the clucking of hens in their coops!  Not to
mention the goat!"

"Would you have me and my officers live entirely on salted beef and
pork except for any fish we can catch as we sail?  The goat gives milk
for your tea and coffee and takes up less room than a cow, you'll
allow!"

Miranda found she could laugh.  "Papa says some captains carry cows
too, on the larger ships of the line!"

Adam answered her laugh with a smile.  "I do not doubt it.  Every ship,
naval or merchant, must carry livestock if the officers and passengers
are to eat fresh meat."

"The ordinary seamen have to make do, do they not?"

"The livestock is paid for out of the officers' own pockets.  The men
do not have the means, and even if they did there would not be room
enough to ship enough animals to feed them all.  They do have fresh
meat and vegetables whenever we touch land and the purser can purchase
them ashore."

Miranda nodded.  He had not said that most of the fresh food for the
seamen was paid for out of his own pocket, but she knew it was so.
"Papa used to buy vegetables and fruit for his men, but could not
afford meat," she observed.

"He sounds like a captain who cared for the welfare of his men," said
Adam, though his glance was a little sceptical.

"He did his best," Miranda defended him.  Her only quarrel with her
father concerned his long absences from home, and he couldn't help
them.

"Did he flog?"

Miranda frowned, made uncomfortable by the question.  He had always
spoken so casually about the punishments he meted out, as though
flogging a man were of little moment.  Yet she could not blame her
father for obeying King's Regulations.  "Not unnecessarily," she said
reluetamly.  "Only when discipline demanded it."

"Naturally," Adam read; her reaction to his question as an admission
that she did not fully agree with her father's interpretation of
discipline.  He drank some more wine while he studied her flushed face.
"What is he like?  Has he been a good father?"

Miranda pushed a piece of fat pork around her plate.  "How could he
be," she demanded at last, 'since he was so seldom at home?  Every now
and again an exciting stranger came to visit us--at least, that's how
it seemed to us children.  Even the boys.  After Trafalgar he became a
hero.  My brothers both followed him into the navy and so would I have
done had I been a. boy.  "

"Did you really want to?~ Adam sounded surprised.

Miranda nodded vigorously.  "It didn't seem fair that I couldn't!  How
I longed to be a boy!"

Adam's wickedly challenging smile made her blush anew.

"And now?"

"Now I'm not so sure," she admitted.

His smile broadened.  "What changed your mind?"  Miranda met the
challenge in his eyes as she told a half-truth.  "Falling in love with
Lieutenant Peter Stannard of the Othello.  He was killed at Captain
Blackmore's side."

Truth to tell it had been Adam's kiss which had finally woken her
feminine instincts, but her admiration for the young lieutenant and
Peter's attentions had begun the process.

Adam'S eyes narrowed.  He had not expected that answer.  "I'm sorry,
but your grief will pass, You're young, You'll find someone else."

"Thank you, I'm glad you think so," muttered Miranda ungraciously.  She
took a gulp of her wine, realising that she hadn't thought about Peter
Stannard for quite a while.

Adam decided not to pursue that subject.  He hadn't realised she was
recovering from the death of someone special.  So she'd been in love,
had she?  What had Stannard been like?  Tamping down something
suspiciously like a stab of jealousy, he reverted to what he thought a
safer subject but one in which he was particularly interested.  "You
said once that life was not easy at home with your father away so much.
Were you terribly unhappy?"

"Oh, no, not at all.  Mama missed him, of course, and had to shoulder
all the day-to-day worries of making ends meet.  Neither of them had a
private income, you see.  But I was happy enough.  I had lots of
freedom."

"You ran wild, you mean," he teased.

Miranda grinned.  "I did rather.  That was why I was sent to the
Academy."

"A wise move on your parents' part, no doubt.  E you know, you have
just confirmed me in my belief that it is wrong for a sea-officer to
wed. He is bound to to leave his family to fend for itself for much of
the time."

Miranda's eyes widened.  "Is that why you have wed?"

"Partly."

He paused while Daniel cleared the table, drew t cloth and placed the
decanter in front of him.  I offered her a glass of port.  She refused,
saying preferred to finish the wine she had so far only sipped,

As Adam filled his glass Miranda twirled hers on I oak tabletop,
considering the clarity and colour' of claret before raising the glass
to her lips.  Adam Y could not be allowed to evade her question like
that The moment Daniel had left the cabin she challeng him.

"What do you mean, " partly"?"  she demanded.  Adam pushed his chair
back to the limit of tethering ropes and stretched his long legs.  He
raised ~s glass and tasted the tawny liquid.  "I've only ever ra one
female I wanted to marry.  She promised to wait f me but while I was
away at sea she ran off with a ri landlubber.  I've never considered
marriage a possibil since."

The words sounded bald; his despair at the time n{ seemed ridiculous.
He'd thought he'd never recov from the disappointment.  He had, but the
experien had taught him a hard lesson he would never forget.

"Then she didn't love you," said Miranda calmly.  were better off
without her.  "

He stared at her from beneath drawn brows.  "More wine?"

Miranda shook her head.  Adam had withdrawn; he hadn't liked her remark
any more than she'd appreciated his words of supposed comfort.  They
sat in silence for a while, both lost in their own thoughts.  Yet the
silence was not strained.

"Did you lose many mens the ship much damaged?"  Miranda asked
eventually, reverting to matters of the moment.

Adam stirred.  "Seven dead, including a midshipman; three more are
likely to join them, and some dozen or so received less severe wounds.
That number includes Zack."

Miranda winced and replaced her glass on the table.  She did not want
Adam to see her hand shaking.  "So many?"

Adam leant forward to place his glass on the table.  "Fewer than I
feared," he told her.  "As for the ship, she is damaged, but can easily
be repaired.  She is sailing well enough, though not as fast as I might
like.  I suspect the enemy is badly holed below the waterline and may
not be able to reach the safety of Lanzarote before having to abandon
ship."

"So the Ospreys are likely to have suffered more casualties than the

"It would appear likely,"

"And yet, as soon as you can, you will finish off a foundering ship."

Miranda could not prevent her tone implying censure.  Adam gazed at
her, his eyes wide, amazed that she should blame him.

"The captain can still defend himself--he has t guns.  And he has the
option to strike, when the resc~ of his crew would be assured.  I wish
he would.  Regretably, a prize is of no value if it sinks."

Oh, dear, thought Miranda, hearing the stiff of fen in his voice, we
are at odds again.  But how can it I otherwise when we belong to
warring nations?  How c~ I help but feel for the men aboard the Osprey,
wh,~ one of them might be my brother?

She had no idea in which ship either of her brothe was serving at the
present, both had been transferred while in~ foreign waters and
communications we notoriously slow.  The last news from Barbados had to
her that Dick, still a midshipman,~was cruising somewhere in the China
Seas aboard a ship of the line but t name had been mentioned.  Probably
for strateg reasons.

Seeing that Miranda was not about to respond, Ada drank more port,
eyeing her over his glass with afrow "Being from a naval family, you
should know that there

can be no sentiment in battle.  One fights to win.  " " But always
honourably, for a noble purpose?  Adam's chair scraped on the deck as
he leapt to k feet.  "Do you impugn my honour, ma'am?  Question n
purpose?"

"You seem extremely interested in prize money retorted Miranda with
spirit, regretting the hurtf words which had escaped her lips but not
about ~ retract them.  " I have never heard my father put if
acquisition of wealth above the need for humanity a~ honour!  "

"And neither, madam, do I!  Do you think me a pirate

a man who preys on any ship of any nation as long as it brings him
profit?  No, Miss Dawson.  I fight for my country, as does your father
for his.  The Osprey is an enemy vessel.  If I have to sink her, I
will.  But I am certain that her officers and men would prefer that I'
did not?

"Oh, why did your country declare war on mMe in the first place?"
wailed Miranda, deeply sorry to have caused a new flare of.  antagonism
between them.  "First you collude with France, then stab us in the
back!  You gained your independence--'

"For which we had to fight, I would remind you!  We have no reason to
love our British cousins!  Especially as they do not consider anyone
born before the Declaration of Independence in 1776 to be an American
citizen.  Any American sailor with more than eight and thirty years
behind him fears being pressed from our merchant and naval vessels to
serve in your Royal Navy.  He is still considered by your government to
be a British citizen!  Who gave you the right to stop and search every
vessel on the high seas, of whatever nation, in order to impress
members of its crew?"

"But our ships are searching for deserters!  They must be recovered."

"True deserters and mutineers, maybe.  But even so it is an
unwarrantable liberty to stop and search the ships of nations with
which you are not at war."

"And you had designs on Canada," said Miranda, abandoning that argument
for a grievance of her own.  "You are tying up part of our army when
every man is needed to fight Napoleon in the Peninsula!"

"Many people in America see France as an ally, a

97.

fellow republic, a land free of the whims of debauched royalty--'

"But suffering first under the tyranny of the Terror and now under the
ambitions of a man who has declared himself Emperor and aims to conquer
the world!"

"And in addition," said Adam forcefully, brushing aside her
interjection, 'your country imposed a blockade against all trade with
Europe!  Our manufacturers and merchants resented that.  You were
ruining them, and the country too.  It was they who pressed the
government to declare war!  "

"Our trade is suffering as well," admitted Miranda, remembering
rumblings of trouble--high income tax, rising prices and shortages--at
home.  "But do you not see we have nothing against the French people,
any more than we have against the Americans?  It is Napoleon and his
ambitions we must oppose if we wish to remain free.  And your
intervention has made conquering his armies so much more difficult."
She drew a breath and then came out with an argument she had often
heard voiced in England and aboard the Othello.  "It suited Napoleon
for your country to declare war on us.  He waited until you did to
invade Russia!  I'll wager his diplomats and spies had a hand in
shaping your policy!"

Adam grinned, a wolfish grin which angered Miranda.  "It has stretched
your navy, has it not?  You can scarcely raise a squadron to blockade
our ports?

Miranda jumped to her feet.  "The French fleet is the one we must keep
in port!  Your fleet is almost nonexistent apart from small vessels?

"We do have a few successful frigates," Adam reminded her drily.  His
initial temper had cooled.  The chit could raise a convincing,
stimulating argument when provoked.

"And both your nations issue numerous lice rices--letters of marque--to
privateer captains which allow them to attack our shipping.  They do
your dirty work for you, capturing our merchant ships and their
cargoes, not to mention attacking our whalers and stealing the blubber
and whalebone and all the other valuable parts of the fish the men
worked so hard to obtain!"

"Oh, I had a go at the whalers,?  admitted Adam smugly.  " Filthy,
smelly things.  The merchant ships supplying your army in the Iberian
Peninsula made far more agreeable targets.  "

"Some of the supply vessels are American, trading under licence!"
snapped back Miranda.  "Your government bends the rules easily enough
when there is profit in it!  Did you attack those?"

"No.  So some supplies must be getting through to your precious army in
Spain!  And the Russiaus--or perhaps, rather, the Russian winter--have
defeated Napoleon's grand army, which he cheerfully abandoned, as he
did the one in Egypt.  I don't know what you are complaining about."

"Oh!"  cried Miranda, reduced once more to stamping her foot.  "It is
no use talking to you!  You are an abominable creature!"

With which, she retreated to the privacy- of her cabin, where tears of
frustration and anger could be allowed to fall.

She removed her jacket but otherwise remained fully dressed as she
climbed miserably into her cot.  She no longer enjoyed quarrelling with
Adam York, although perhaps it was best that they did not become too
amiable together.  She would never sleep, she thought, stifling her
inclination to sob into her pillow.  Yet the next thing she knew was
the feel of a hand shaking her shoulder.

"You must get up, missie.  The cap'n has ordered the deck cleared
again," came Daniel's soft Southern voice.

Reluctantly, Miranda left the cot and as she did so the memory of the
battle returned.

"What time is it?"  she asked.

"Four bells--' He caught himself up.  " Two o'clock in the morning,
missie.  "

Miranda groaned.  "The call would have to come in the middle of the
graveyard watch," she grumbled.  No one on board seemed to realise that
she knew a great deal of nautical language and did not need to have
things explained to her.  But Daniel, like everyone else, was only
trying to be helpful.  "Have we caught up already?"

"Almost, missie."  He already had her cot unslung; another sailor took
it away and Daniel reached up to bolt the bottom of the partition to
the beams overhead, revealing the gun of which he was captain, with its
crew already preparing to run it out.  "But that isn't all.  It's not a
dark night and we can distinguish a couple of strange sail approaching
from the northeast."

Miranda's stomach began to churn.  She wished she had not eaten so much
pork.  Were they more English enemies, or French warships coming to the
American's assistance?  There was only one way to find out.  Ask.

"Whose are they?"  she enquired apprehensively.

Daniel turned from his gun as she hovered anxiously at the foot of the
companion ladder.  "British.  They hoisted recognition signal lanterns
and the frigate replied."

"So we are outnumbered.  What will happen?"

"Normally the cap'n would manoeuvre and use his speed to escape, but
with the foremast badly damaged ... I don't know, missie."

Of course he didn't; it had been a stupid question.  Only Adam knew
what he would do.  He was nowhere to be seen.  He must have been roused
long before her.  She wished they hadn't parted so at odds.  They might
never have the chance to talk again.

The intermittent thunder of guns from the bows had already told her the
ship was firing on the damaged Osprey.  She began to climb the ladder
to the quarterdeck.

He was preparing to right the others; that was obvious.  The strange
sail were still some distance away, vague, pale shadows in the
darkness, but bearing down fast from windward, not directly ~behind but
off t~o the left on a converging course.  The frigate they were chasing
was ahead and slightly to the right.  Even if he gave up that chase he
would never outrun the other two.  If he did not, the Seafire would
swiftly be caught between all three British ships.  As he had already
pointed out, the Osprey still had most of her.  guns and to prove the
point was firing behind her as she ran.

Wherever the two new warships had come from, they left no doubt as to
their hostile intentions.  A-ball splashed into the sea astern,
followed by a distant boom.  Soon the booms wove into a continuous
thunder and shots fell all round the Seafire, but so far not one had
found its target.

Adam stood by the mizzen-mast, a night glass to his eye.  Miranda had
looked through one once.  The image was upside down and it took
practice to work out what it was showing.

"Their gun crews are not well exercised," he remarked to no one in
particular as he turned towards the master.  "Mr.  Crocker, prepare to
change course when I give the word."  There followed a string of
instructions which Miranda only dimly understood, but some of the men
left their guns and ran to their sail stations, ready to haul on
various ropes.

The two large warships had caught up to within half a mile and a couple
of shots had found their mark on the Seafire's hull.

Their own stern guns had begun to reply when Adam cried, "Now!"

The great wheel spun, the sails bellied as the yards were hauled round
to a different angle to the wind and to her astonishment the frigate
heeled, turned, and headed for the gap between her two chasing enemies.
"Mr.  Windsor, the stern chasers to target the Osprey if you please,
and a broadside from both larboard and starboard batteries on the
others as they bear!"

Midshipmen ran to pass the order to the deck below.  So he would fire
at both ships but they would batter him from both sides.  Miranda did
not want to contemplate the result.  She crouched down quite near to
where he was standing, wedging herself in among the rigging of the
mast.  He exuded an air of confidence which was infused into all his
men.  She caught the infection and waited quietly for what the next few
moments would bring.

They brought chaos.  He must have been expecting it, for he began
issuing orders to change course before the last ball had found its
mark.

The helmsmen shouted as they spun the wheel.  "What is it?"  demanded
Adam.

"The ship is no longer under command, sir, the helm won't answer? cried
the master, himself desperately lending a hand to test the lack of
response to the wheel, " Mr.  Windsor, the rudder!  "

The lieutenant hurried to the stern to peer over the taffrail.

"NO wonder," he ~roared above all the noise and confusion, "The rudder
is smashed!"

Without a rudder the wind was blowing them round, back towards their
enemies.  Adam shouted an order and the sails began to shiver and flap.
The frigate lost speed.  Soon they would be wallowing helplessly in the
sea.  "Can it be repaired?"  he demanded.

"Certainly not quickly, sir."  Abe Windsor had come back to report.
"What is left of it is swinging uselessly with the movement of the sea,
so the linkage is broken, too.  We may need to ship a new one."

"Which we' ~do not carry," observed Tom Crocker unhappily.

Abe eyed the movements of the other ships warily.  "Their guns will be
brought to bear again in a moment, sir."

"I am aware, Mr.  Windsor."

Adam's grim visage shook Miranda to the core.  Their' situation must be
desperate.  Every man aboard relied upon the captain to extricate them
from this mess.  did she.  But, for the first time, her confidence in
America's ability to overcome all odds wavered.  The British might win.
 She would be rescued.

He shook his head in an uncharacteristically helpl, gesture.  "Given
time ... but we have no time.  Well, we've landed some lucky shots in
the past.  We cant always expect to escape being on the receiving end,"
observed grimly.  He straightened his back, standi with feet planted
apart as he swayed with the move me of the deck.  "We have a choice,
gentlemen: to pounded to a pulp, boarded by the crews of two fat ships
of the line who will outnumber us at least four one, or to strike.  I
cannot bring myself to conde~ every man aboard to injury or death.
Strike our colo~ if you please, Mr.  Stirling."

No one protested.  All knew that their situation ,a hopeless.  Already
a new, rolling broadside was demi death and destruction on the helpless
frigate.  The men watched in silence as the stars and stripes descended
the deck to become a heap of red, white and bl~ bunting, followed by
the battle lantern, which had be' hoisted to illuminate the flag
because it was dark.  Firing from the other ships ceased immediately.

Adam walked to the quarterdeck rail and address the faces peering up at
him from the darkness of t. deck below, a darkness relieved only by the
dim git emitted by a few horn-enclosed lanterns.

"You have conducted yourselves splendidly, my la~ We've had a lot of
luck on this commission, but it h run out.  I had no choice but to
strike.  Better to prisoners of war and live to enjoy the prize money
due to us when we are freed than dead, eh?  "

A murmuring greeted his words until a voice shouted, "Three cheers for
Mr.  York!  Hip, hip, huzzah!"  As the cheer echoed up from below it
was taken up by the men on the foredeck and quarterdeck.

Adam made a dismissive gesture, unused to being cheered in defeat, but
as he turned towards her Miranda could sense that he was moved by his
men's reaction.

What must she be feeling?  Adam wondered as he eyed the small, crouched
figure jammed in amongst the rigging.  No doubt she would rejoice at
the defeat of her country's enemy and at her release from his custody.
Be happy at the prospect of her imminent return to the bosom of her
countrymen, if not yet her family.  As for himself, he scarcely felt
any emotion at all.  This was his first experience of defeat and,
despite the people's cheers, it tasted bitter.  He had always known it
was possible, even probable, as was his death in action.  But somehow
he found it hard to believe that it had actually happened.

"A boat is putting off from the nearest ship, sir," reported Abe
Windsor, who had the night glass to his eye.

Pride made Adam square his shoulders and issue the necessary orders in
a firm voice.  "Prepare to receive the boarding party."  He looked
round.  Normal, glass-enclosed lanterns had been lit and seamen were
already tending their wounded comrades.  "Carry on with clearing the
decks.  We do not want them to find a complete shambles."

He stepped nearer to Miranda.

"Well, Miss Dawson, you have no more need to fear what may befall you
in the United States."

Miranda straightened stiffly, shivering despite the comparative warmth
of the night.  Her small face looked haggard rather than joyous.

"I am sorry, Captain," she whispered.  "I would not have had you forced
to surrender."

"But it must please you to see your countrymen victorious."

She shook her head~ "Not under these circumstances.  You stood no
chance against such overwhelming odds.  Oh, Adam!"  she exclaimed
violently, "How I wish you had not sighted the Osprey!  Chasing her has
resulted in this!"

She wanted to fling herself into his arms, to comfort and be comforted.
It was nonsense, of course, as was her overwhelming fear of never
seeing Adam York again.

"Without urgent dispatches to deliver I could scarcely have chosen to
ignore her presence," Adam pointed out.  "It was both my duty and my
pleasure to chase an enemy man-of-war.  My people expected it.  They
know the risks as well as I do, but have confidence in me to bring them
through to victory.  On this occasion I failed them."

She tried to answer the prickly pride in his voice.  "No, luck failed
you."  After a pause she asked, "Where did those other ships come
from?"

He shrugged.  "We shall no doubt discover."  He went on more gently,
"You must go below and change into a gown, Miranda.  You will not wish
to lose your reputation."

"I do not care if it is in shreds?  declared Miranda mutinously.  "
Besides, my gown is in my chest, which was taken below.  "

"Daniel will see that it is returned to you and ensure some privacy
while you change.  You really must, my dear.  The English are.  coming
to take possession.  What will the captain and Ms officers think if
they find you dressed in boy's clothes?  It would create a great
scandal which would spread throughout your navy.  The officers would
dine out on the story for years.  And I could be condemned for allowing
it."

"Very well," she agreed reluctantly, then asked, "Adam--shall we be
parted?"

He smiled.  Against his will he had grown fond of her.  It seemed that
she returned the compliment.  She had been the first to shed formality
and use his given name.  From the start he had been drawn to her, been
filled with desire, enemy or not.  Her removal from his Custody would
at least bring an end to temptation.  They had been brought together by
a war which was far from over yet and he had no time for dalliance.  "I
fear so, my dear.  But, after the war, I shall enquire after your safe
return to the bosom of your family."

Miranda caught her breath.  "Thank you.  I shall be glad to know that
you are safe and well."

Adam almost gave in to his instinct to take her in his arms when he
heard the wistful note in her voice.  Instead, he made his own brusque.
"And: now, Miss Dawson, please go below and change while I dispose of
my ships's papers.  And hurry.  The boat will be alongside within five
minutes."

The following half hour passed in something of a daze for Miranda.  She
watched, hiding her private distress, as the officers from His
Majesty's ship Victorious--the very name rubbing salt into the
Seafires' wounds--were received on board and Adam handed over his
sword.  As well as throwing his box of papers over the side he had
found a moment to don his dress uniform and, to her, looked more like
the victor than the vanquished.  Her heart bled for him.

The Othello's.  officers had been brought up on deck, cheerful and
bubbling over with high spirits.  She stood with them, the only one not
smiling.

The.  lieutenant from the Victorious was, naturally, surprised to find
a woman aboard the American frigate.  But explanations, he declared,
could come later.  Meanwhile she would be taken across to his ship with
the Othello's officers.

On her way to the entry port, where seamen were.  waiting to hand her
down into the boat, she paused beside Adam.

"Thank you, Captain, for your chivalrous treatment of me while I have
been aboard your vessel."  She held out her hand.

Adam took it and bowed over it as though they were in a drawing-room
rather than on a pitching deck.  "It has been a pleasure, Miss
Dawson."

Such commonplace words they both used, words which nowhere near
expressed the stormy relationship which had been the reality of her
time aboard his ship.  Yet, insidiously, against both their wills, they
had come to respect, even to like each other.

CHAPTER SIX

MIRANDA woke from a light doze and straightened up on Captain Ferris's
settee.  Dawn was already breaking as the Victorious's captain, short,
thick-set and balding, ushered in Adam and his officers, wearing their
swords, the midshipmen their dirks, so they must have given their
parole.  Zack was on his feet, looking wan, Daniel hovered at Adam's
shoulder.  So Captain York had been allowed to keep his servant with
him.

Apart from the furnishings, this cabin was identical to that of the
Othello since both ships were of the same class.  The headroom being
much higher, only Adam and Daniel were forced to mind the beams.  The
occasion reminded Miranda of that aboard the Seafire when Adam had
interviewed his prisoners.

This time he and his shipmates.  were the prisoners of war.  The
thought gave her no pleasure.

"You will not be with me long, gentlemen," began Captain Ferris
cheerfully.  "I shall make arrangements for your disposal at Las
Palmas, which we should fetch before sunset, even towing your damaged
frigate, Captain."

"You would leave us incarcerated on a Spanish island?"

"If I have no other choice.  It is no secret that both Victorious and
Argus are bound for the Cape and beyond.  I cannot transport American
prisoners of war 108

halfway round the world and back.  The Argus is taking off the crew of
the Osprey, which is sinking, so you achieved your victory there,
Captain.  Those men who are not required to make up my full complement
will be appointed to the other British men-of-war I expect to find at
anchor off Las Palmas or Santa Cruz de Tenerife.  No doubt all the
captains will be glad to sign on seamen to help remedy their chronic
shortage of people.  And a prize crew must be put into the Seafire.
Once the foremast has been repaired, a new rudder fitted and she is
seaworthy, Captain Godfrey will doubtless be glad to take her back to
Portsmouth to claim the prize money in which he will share.  As for
yourselves, one of the warships re victualling or refitting in the
Canaries may be able to transport you to Gibraltar or Portsmouth, where
there are facilities for dealing with you.  If not, you will have to
wait under guard until one who can drops her anchor.  "

"And Miss Dawson?"

Adam had not looked her way.  He stood tall and proud between two
beams, refusing to admit to others the feeling of defeat Miranda sensed
behind the stern mask of his face.  How had she come to know him so
well that she could read his despair in the set of his firm mouth, the
distant look in his normally keen, watchful eyes?

"Should there be a warship cruising to Barbados whose captain is
willing to transport her, I shall be glad to arrange for Admiral
Dawson's daughter to join him there," said Captain Ferris, 'though I
collect that most destined for the West Indies will be under orders to
make their best speed and will not choose to lose time with unnecessary
watering and woo ding Otherwise, I fear she will be obliged to return
to England and again await suitable passage.  But these arrangements
are no concern of yours, Captain.  "

Adam bowed.  "Except that I would not have her abandoned or distressed,
Captain."

"No, no, of course not--very chivalrous of you, I declare, but there is
no question of that.  Well, now, since your passage with me will be
short I am giving you and your officers the use of my dining place. You
have given me you?  parole, but nevertheless I fear I must confine you
for the moment under marine guard.  Do not attempt to.  leave the cabin
without my express permission..  Mid-morning, we will lay to for burial
services to be held.  No doubt you would wish to return briefly to the
Seafire to conduct your own ceremony, Captain."

Again Adam bowed.  "Your consideration is appreciated, Captain
Ferris."

"Meanwhile, gentlemen, if you would be kind enough to go through...?  I
will show Miss Dawson to my sleeping place, where she can be assured of
privacy in which to refresh herself."

The men turned to troop out, Adam urging the others before him.  While
watching them depart, Captain Ferris was reminded of
Daniel's~presence.

"Your servant may wait upon you, Captain; he may join mine in his
pantry.  Breakfast will be served at eight bells."  He raised his
voice, calling his servant, and Daniel, reluctantly, Miranda thought,
since his eyes followed Adam as he disappeared, went off with the small
man who saw to Captain Ferris's personal needs.

"Now, Miss Dawson!  I fear I am a tardy host!  you take a glass of
wine?  You must be in need refreshment."

"Thank you."  Miranda accepted the drink rather than appear ungrateful
and took a large gulp.  It did warm her and restore some of her
confidence.  But it could ~ lift her from her fit of the dismals.  Here
she was, back a restricting gown, and in all probability destined to
speedy return to Portsmouth.  She would have to begin her journey all
over again and without any prospect enjoying the freedom she had been
allowed by Capt York.  That must be why she felt so depressed.  After
whatever had passed between them aboard the frigz whatever fragile
friendship had been established,: and Adam York had nothing substantial
in comm~ just some kind of unwelcome, unacknowledged, ph3 cal thing.

She found this so difficult to understand, because s still loved Peter
Stannard.  "That must be why she felt low--because Peter was dead,
killed in an action Ad~ York had begun.  She wondered that she could ev
begin to imagine that she liked the Seafire's capta They were still
enemies.

The gown she wore was the most sombre at ~ command and so she kept it
on to join the ~iI company as the warships have to in the morning s and
the burial services were read.

The sail-makers had been busy sewing the dead in into their hammocks
with a couple of round shot their feet to make sure they sank.  The
crew stood uncovered while Captain Ferris's sonorous voice recited

'the words and, one by one, the bodies slid over the side from beneath
the union flag.

In the distance she thought she could hear the echo of Adam's voice
performing a similar ceremony on his old command, but using the
American flag to cover each corpse before it plunged into the depths.
How much returning to the Seafire for the burial of his men must wrench
at his emotions she could only imagine, for in the end they had died
for nothing.  Nothing?  They had sunk an enemy warship.

She met Adam again at dinner, taken in the early afternoon, when
Captain Ferris graciously entertained Adam and all his officers,
including the midshipmen, in his dining place.  Since they were already
in occupation he had little choice.  Midshipman Stirling found a moment
before they were seated to tell her where Will Welland and the other
ex-prisoners were.

"They're still aboard the Seafire," he informed her importantly,
'acting as members of the prize crew.  Mr.  York saw them there.  "

"Will should be all right, then."

"He would rather have come with us," said James.  "He wanted to remain
on the Seafire, but not under British command."

"But James, you would not want him to desert.  The punishment is
death."

"He knew he couldn't do it, but that didn't stop him from wanting
to."

That Will had felt at home, among friends, aboard Adam's command
Miranda already knew.  That he wished he could remain with Adam came as
no surprise.  But he could not, any more than she could.  Her sympathy
for Will held a strong element of fellow-feeling.

At the table, she found herself sitting at Captain "Ferris's right
hand, with Adam opposite, on his left.  They spent awkward moments
trying not to catch each other's eye.

Since he had studiously avoided looking at her ever since he had come
aboard the Victorious, Miranda had deduced that Adam no longer wished
to pursue their acquaintance.  Disappointed, mortification added
bitter-heSS to her embarrassment.  His previous courtesy, even amity,
must have come purely from a sense of duty.  Conversely, he must
imagine that now she was rescued she wished to forget her.  enforced
stay aboard his frigate, forget that they had in the end almost become
friends.  She had thanked him for his consideration and had meant it,
but perhaps he had thought her gratitude a mere matter of form, like
his kindness.

Of course, there had been that distressing time when he had punished
her and threatened to do so again if she did not conform to his wishes,
but nothing had come of that and subsequently their relationship had
eased.  She had been stupid enough to imagine that he was coming to
care for her a little, just as she was for him.  Now he was simply
ignoring her.  Well, she would not attempt to gain his attention, She
turned to Zachary West, sitting on her right attempting to eat with one
hand.

"Would you permit me to cut your meat for you?"  she asked.

He gave her a grateful smile.  "Thank you.  It's damned awkward without
the use of one's right arm."

"How is the wound?"

"Not throbbing too badly.  The surgeon cauterised it before stitching
it up."

Miranda inspected his face and eyes.  "I can see no sign of fever.  I
trust he did not bleed you--you lost quite enough blood."

Zack grimaced.  "No, he did not.  He's a good surgeon with advanced
ideas.  Not just a butcher, knows what he's doing.  He chose to remain
with his patients."

Miranda had already formed a favourable opinion of the man.  Despite
all the mayhem going on around he had found time to tend young Billy in
his hammock.

Of course, Captain Ferris, as host, was supposed to initiate any
conversation, and Adam glared across at Zack, who lifted a sardonic
eyebrow and relapsed into silence.  Since no one wished to talk about
anything but the recent action and their likely fate and Captain Ferris
studiously avoided both subjects, the meal was eaten largely in silence
except when an occasional discussion arose over the food or wine.  All
looked relieved when the ordeal was over.

Later, Miranda went up on deck.  The larger warship had apoop deck at
the stern, which stood above the far end of the quarterdeck, and,
looking up, she could see a lonely figure standing at the taffrail
gazing broodingly at the frigate towing behind.

Should she ignore him as he was ignoring her?  Miranda stood undecided
for a moment and then, making up her mind, mounted the ladder to join
him.  He must be feeling low.  That probably explained his mood.
Perhaps she could do something to cheer him, In any case she wanted to
know exactly why he was

ignoring her.  It might not be ladylike to thrust hers, upon him, but
in some matters Miranda was no lady.

"May I join you, sir?"  she greeted him, moving to t rail.  From the
height of the poop the frigate appear, even smaller than it did from
the stately two-decke: stern lights.  It looked far too small to
house-as ma: men as it did.

Adam turned, startled, her arrival on the poop taking him by surprise,
so lost had he been in his own though turning over plans to recover his
beloved Seafire, pl~ that had become more wild and improbable the me he
brooded.  Especially since he had given his par{ and therefore tied his
own hands.  But he had given knowing there would be no chance of escape
un~J present circumstances and he had not wished to cc demn himself and
all his officers to spending the next hours in irons.

The wind was blowing steadily from the north-ca catching the side of
their faces, but even so the fello, behind were having trouble keeping
the sails filled the towed ship yawed on the end of the line.  Only sml
sails had been set, hoisted to prevent the dead weight the disabled
frigate from slowing the Victorious undul That same wind now took
Miranda's curls and whippt them into a halo around her anxious, fragile
face.  I had noticed at dinner that she'd washed her hair.  I always
noted everything about her.

The devil!  Why did she have to come and disturb him with her
sweet-smelling, seductive presence?  He w quite certain in his own mind
that she must now he him in contempt, since he had struck his
colours--~ action she had made it very clear she despised when ~

Piper had done so--so he had avoided contact with her.  His loss was
painful enough to bear, without having to endure her scorn, however
unjustified.  But there was another ground, too.  Had she not
recognised that any sign of friendship between them might cause his
captors to doubt her loyalty.  "?  .

He took his eyes from her face and concentrated sternly on the massive
hawser, so large that no man could span it with his hands, as it grew
taut and slackened again between the two vessels.  "You should not be
here."

Hurt, Miranda drew slightly away.  "Why not?  Am I to ignore you as you
are ignoring me?"

"I have my reasons."  He offered one of them.  "Captain Ferris may
think you disloyal."

"Nonsense!  And if he does, what can he do but watch me?  And since I
shall do nothing to concern him he will soon decide that our speaking
together is harmless."

"I wish I could be so sanguine!  He will most likely think we are
plotting Some coup-- '.

What had made him suggest that ridiculous idea?  His frustration at
knowing himself helpless to regain possession of his frigate?

"Adam, you have your sword.  You must have given him your parole.  Do
you think he doubts you are a gentleman?"

He stirred at that, turning to look at her again.  He was not wearing
his cocked hat and tendrils of black hair not held by his queue whipped
across his sombre face despite the bandage round his brow.  "In English
eyes I am probably not.  I may have the second son of an

English baron as a distant forebear, but that is the only aristocratic
blood I can boast.  "

"But your father is a rich plantation owner, is he not?  Considered to
be amongst the cream of American society?  And you are an officer and
therefore a gentleman?

"I am a sea-bred officer, my promotion was gained by merit rather than
by interest or influence in high places, as it so often is in the
British navy.  I'come from rebellious stock, my dear.  He may not trust
me."

"Then he would be a fool!  Adam, do not torment yourself.  In any case,
we shah be off this warship later today and Captain Ferris's opinion
will not matter a jot."

"But he will report to whoever takes over responsibility for you."

"What can he say?  That you were gentleman enough to treat your
prisoners of war with respect and consideration?  That, against your
own inclinations--' she still remembered his tirade concerning having
women on his ship '--you accepted a female aboard and treated her with
courtesy?"

"CourtesyT' he jeered.  " First I used you abominably and then treated
you with scant respect.  ~ He glowered at her.  "And now.  I
surrendered my ship.  You must despise me for that."

She drew a deep breath.  The fool!  He did not understand her at all!
She didn't understand herself much better.  But she must confess to the
truth'.

"Do not torment yourself, Adam.  I forgave you your treatment of me
before ever this happened."

He stared.  "You did?"

"Yes, I did.  And, as for your surrendering, I know you could have done
nothing more to stave off eventual defeat."

He straightened up to face her, his expression quizzical.  "You were
not so understanding of Mr.  Piper when he struck."

"I behaved in the stupidest fashion!  I was full of romantic, heroic
ideas!  What did I know of war, death and destruction?  He lost his
ship and will have to face a court of enquiry.  But he saved lives,
American as well as British."

Adam's expression lightened.  "So you do not think me a coward?  That I
should have forced the men to stand to their guns until most were dead
and the ship sank under them?"

"Death or glory?  No, Adam.  My father never advocated such a stupid
notion, and now I know why.  Every man must strive his utmost to do his
duty.  But bravery must be tempered with common sense.  Perhaps I still
suspect that Mr.  Piper failed to do his utmost.  But you did not."

He took her hands in his.  "You've grown up," he said, marvelling, and
wanting her more than ever.

He dropped her hands again and turned impatiently to stare back at his
frigate.  "We shall be parted for good soon," he predicted harshly.

A hail came from the lookout above.  "Land on the starboard bow!"

They turned to peer forward.  The smudge which was Lanzarote had
already slid by on their left with Fuerteventura to its south.  The
captain emerged from the companionway to take a look, although he must
have known what to expect.

Adam pointed.  "Look, the volcanic peak of Tenerife.  You can see it
for some fifty miles when visibility is good.  We shall drop anchor off
Grand Canaria before nightfall."

"And be put ashore?"  wondered Miranda anxiously.  "Ferris has not
said.  Perhaps not tonight--accommodation would take too long to
arrange.  They can provide cots or hammocks for us to sleep in and
mount a guard.  But tomorrow..."

He allowed his speculation to tail off.  Miranda cursed the
interruption: She felt certain Adam had been about to say something
important to her.  But the moment had passed.  He was all seaman again,
intent on navigation and the fate of his frigate.  Their own fates too,
she supposed, but to Adam they rated a poor second.

Miranda was taken ashore without seeing Adam again, for he and his
officers had been locked in the dining place long before the ship
dropped anchor at Las Palmas.

They, it seemed, would spend the night aboard.  But there was an
English military liaison officer ashore, a Lieutenant Cunningham, who
commanded a small detachment of soldiers, and he offered her the
hospitality of his house.  Captain Ferris took a courteous farewell,
after which Miranda was made welcome by the official's stout, matronly
wife, looking incongruously girlish in white muslin, who offered a bath
and the services of her maid, which Miranda accepted with gratitude. At
supper she was regaled with questions regarding her adventures and did
her best to answer cheerfully, but her mind would not shift from the
predicament of Adam and his men and the strong likelihood that she had
seen him for the last time.

Until the actual moment had come she had not realised just how unhappy
the final parting would make her.  He might be brought ashore the next
day but the last thing he had told her was that he intended to withdraw
his parole in the hope of escaping on the repaired Seafire.  He was
determined to regain his ship if humanly possible.  So he would be
locked up.

It was a beautiful island, she discovered the next day, but the new
sights and smells--the terraces of vines, the innumerable pannier-laden
donkeys, the Spanishness of the people--were of only marginal interest
as, from the balcony of the Cunninghams' house, she watched the ships'
boats plying back and forth between the two British warships,
transferring men and provisions.  She even caught a heart-wrenching
glimpse of Adam as he and his men were rowed ashore, guarded by
marines.  Their sea chests were also put ashore and lashed to the backs
of donkeys.  Then they were marched off under military guard, the
donkeys following.  The marines returned to their ship, and the two
men-of-war bound for the Cape weighed anchor on the ebb.

But the Seafire was still in the harbour.  Menl looking like ants,
swarmed over her deck repairing the masts and rigging while another
party removed the shattered rudder and prepared to replace it with a
new one fashioned from timber purchased locally.  Her own trunks,
containing all her possessions and stored in its hold, were ferried
ashore and brought to the house.

"When will Captain Godfrey be taking the Seafire to England?"  Miranda
asked Lieutenant Cunningham t] night.  Strain her eyes as she might,
she had seen no s: of the Osprey's captain on the deck while the work v
being carried out.

"Didn't know, eh?"  wondered the lieutenant.  "P, fellow was severely
wounded in the ~action--lost a i He lies in hospital.  If he recovers,
it will be weeks before he is fit to travel."

"I'm so sorry.  My father--he lost a leg."  Cunningham grunted.  "Lucky
to survive."

"Yes.  So who will command the American frigate?"

"The senior lieutenant left here, no doubt.  Seve of'em went off to the
Cape with the Victorious and I Argus.  I've been assured that there are
enough of t Osprey's people left to form a prize crew and take [ back,
where she'll be condemned by an Admira Court and the prize money
decided.  She's a useful sl~ I'm told, and will probably be bought in
for service the navy."

The Seafire being sailed and fought by a British ere The prospect would
devastate Adam.  "Shall I be goi with them when they sail?"  she asked.
The ship wot be familiar but she would hate sailing in her withe
Adam.

Lieutenant Cunningham, stout like his wife, with florid complexion not
improved by the hot clima which had turned it almost as red as his
coat, shook l head.

"No.  Too many American prisoners aboard.  I ca accommodate' era
here--not enough men to guard '~ all even if I had a lock-up big enough
to hold 'em.  E

they can be battened down on board, so fewer marines can do the job.
"

Battened down.  Miranda shuddered, thinking of the stinking conditions
the otherwise innocuous expression implied.  Poor Seafires!  They had
been such.  a cheerful, willing crew.  With them all being volunteers
there had been none of the gutter and jail scrapings one found aboard a
British man-of-war.  Not that they'd all been saints, for some had
undoubtedly joined the navy to escape justice, just as others had run
away from shrewish wives.  But, sorry as she felt for them, her own
fate was all important to her at that moment.

"Then when...?"  She left the question hanging.  "Don'tee worry your
pretty little head, m'dear.  You're welcome here; my wife likes
company.  Don'tee, Mrs.  Cunningham?,

"Yes, indeed," wheezed his wife comfortably, giving Miranda a nod and
smile.

"That is most kind of you, sir," responded Miranda.  "I do not like to
impose."

"Not imposin', m'dear.  But you may be lucky.  A brig came in today,
said he'd seen a sail o' the line comin' up from the Cape which
signalled its intention of callin' in for wood and water.  Should reach
here tomorrow if the wind holds.  Her captain'll probably take you."

"Oh," said Miranda.  One part of her wanted to be away, to leave Adam
and her memories far behind so that she could forget him.  Another part
of her bled at the thought of abandoning him to his fate as/a prisoner.
No man enjoyed being confined, but a man like Adam York, used to the
freedom of command, of roaming the seas unfettered by restrictive
orders or convention--he

must be suffering abominably.  It was like putting one of the wild sea
birds swooping overhead in a cage, she thought.

She clenched her fingers together in her lap, hoping her hosts would
not notice her agitation.  "Would it be possible for me to visit the
officers of the Seafire, sir?"

Cunningham puffed out his cheeks and let the air escape through his
lips with a soft pop.  "What the deuce for?"

"They were kind to me.  I should like to take them some fruit and
wine," she added on sudden impulse.  She still had a small supply of
money with her.

"Can't promise.  See how things turn out.  Could let you, I dare say.
Wait until tomorrow."

With that half-promise Miranda had to be content.

It seemed strange, sleeping in a bed instead of a swinging cot, not to
hear the constant creaks of the ship working about her but to have her
ears filled with the buzzing of insects instead.  However, with the
window open it was undoubtedly cooler than it had been in the enclosed
cubicle aboard the Seafire.  She wondered how comfortably Adam and his
officers had been housed.  Not very, if the lock-up in whi~ they were
confined was in any way typical of such places.

She should have been considering herself fortunate.  But she did not.
The prospect of sailing aw/~y and leaving Adam in prison, perhaps never
knowing what had befallen him, kept her sleepless, so that she rose
heavy-eyed but still determined to visit the Americans.

"They are prisoners of the British, not the Spanish," Cunningham
informed her testily when she broached

the subject again.  "You need have no fear of their being
ill-treated."

"But it can do no harm for me to take my leave of them before I sail,"
she argued.

"The Virago is reported to be in sight.  She will be dropping her
anchor soon after noon.  NaturalJy, I have no idea how long her captain
intends to remain.  He may delay weighing until tomorrow.  I suggest
you wait until I have spoken with him before anticipating your own
imminent departure."

Miranda decided not to press the matter further.  She turned to Mrs.
Cunningham, who was presiding over the breakfast coffee pot.  "Ma'am,
would it be possible for me to borrow one of your maidservants for the
morning?  I should like to explore the town but shall need an escort.
Preferably one with some knowledge of English."

"Of course, my dear!  I would come with you myself but--' she made an
expressive gesture '--I fear the exertion would be too much; I get so
short of breath..."

"I shall manage perfectly well, I thank you, ma'am," Miranda assured
her.

An hour later, as they left the house, she asked the dark-haired,
dark-skinned girl detailed to accompany her, "Do you know where the
British confine their prisoners?"

The 'girl understood some English but spoke little.  She looked
puzzled.  "Preesoner?"  she asked.

"Sailors--men from the sea," Miranda tried again, pointing to the
Seafire, 'from that ship.  "

The girl's face lit up.  "Ah!  Si!  You want go there?"  Miranda
nodded.

"Come!"

It proved a hot, dusty and unpleasant journey.  At the Cunninghams'
residence she had been upwind of the stench of the town, the strong
smell of rotting fish and tar emanating from the harbour.  But the
lock-up was on the inland edge of the town and Miranda pressed her
handkerchief to her nose as she passed through the narrow, foe rid
streets, picking her way around donkey droppings and the piles of
refuse decaying in the sun.

Besides suffering a distasteful journey, she had wasted her time and
energy, she discovered on arrival.  The maid pointed triumphantly at a
small blockhouse above which flew the British union flag but two
sentries stood guard at the only entrance to the surrounding compound,
in which a squad of soldiers was drilling and raising clouds of pipe
clay as the men presented arms.  Of the Americans there was no sign.
There would be no point in begging admittance.  She had no authority,
they would never allow her past the gates.

She did not know quite what she had hoped for.  A word or two through
the fence or gate, possibly, or perhaps the ability to persuade a
friendly sentry to admit her.  Both ideas had proved childish,
stupid.

But at least she knew where they were.  Could she help them to escape?
The idea that she wanted to shocked her, her conscience pecked at her,
yet she felt a thrill of excitement at the thought.  But the little
blockhouse looked impregnable, the lobsters in their red coats solidly
menacing.  A rescue, even if possible, would take much thought and
planning.

And in truth, her rational side told her, she must abandon the
Americans to their fate.  An English admiral's daughter, however
sympathetic to their plight, simply could not assist enemy naval
officers to escape.

She noted thankfully as she reluctantly turned away that the stench
here was greatly reduced, the British military keeping their isolated
surroundings scrupulously clean .  She saw that the small windows were
set high in the whitewashed walls and some of them were barred.  Adam
would never escape from there.

Depressed, she retraced her steps, the Spanish girl pointing out sights
Miranda scarcely glanced at, let alone took in.  She should not have
come.  It had served no other purpose than to make her more miserable
than ever.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE Virago, yet another warship like the Othello, came to an anchor in
the early afternoon.  Her captain, one Alban Judge, joined the
Cunninghams for dinner.

The tall, spare, greying captain had the lantern-jawed, lugubrious face
of a Puritan preacher.  Miranda met his hard, unfriendly brown gaze as
he made a formal bow and her heart sank.  Captain Judge would not
welcome her presence aboard his ship.  If he agreed to take her it
would be on sufferance.

"Good day to 'ee, Miss Dawson."  He spoke in an abrupt, hectoring tone.
"You are looking to find passage to Portsmouth, I am told."

"I would have preferred a passage to the West Indies, sir," replied
Miranda pointedly.  "But since Lieutenant Cunningham informs me that
there is little likelihood of a convenient vessel calling here in the
near future I have agreed to return to England.  I fear I must begin my
journey to join my father in Barbados all over again."

The captain nodded, dour-faced: "Very well, I will oblige Admiral
Dawson by giving you passage, miss.  I intend to weigh in--' he fumbled
under his coat, withdrew his chronometer and glanced at it '--three
hours.  I will arrange for your trunks to be loaded without delay. They
are ready packed, I trust?"

Miranda's heart sank.  She would never see Adam

again.  "I will go and lock them immediately, sir," she said
stiffly.

"Dinner will be served in ten minutes," Mrs.  Cunningham reminded
her.

"I shall not be long, ma'am."

As she departed the room Miranda heard Captain Judge say, "The others
will be aboard in time, Lieutenant?"  and Cunninghames reply.  "The
matter is being attended to now, Captain."

"The American frigate--'

She could not linger, so heard no more and was left wondering.  What
were they saying about the Seafire?  And who 'the others' referred to
were she could.  not imagine, but hoped they might be other civilian
passengers.  Any buffer between herself and the undivided attention of
the austere Captain Judge must be welcome.

Her unfavorable impression of the captain grew during dinner.  Despite
his looks he was no Puritan, drinking copiously of the wine on the
table.  But drink made him the more dour, while his host became more
convivial, laughing and talking loudly to cover his guest's silence.

Miranda was glad when Mrs.  Cunningham rose at the end of the uneasy
meal and the men were left with the port decanter.  The next couple of
weeks loomed uneasily ahead.  While the Virago headed north and finally
entered the chops of the channel she would be obliged to eat at Captain
Judge's table.  She wondered what his officers were like.

Having taken a cordial farewell of her hosts, Miranda accompanied
Captain Judge to the quay, where his barge awaited him.

The pull of some half-mile to where the man-of-war was anchored was
accomplished in silence, apart from the rumble of the row locks and the
synchronised splash of the oars dipping into the comparatively calm
waters of the anchorage.  As she grasped the ropes and was helped to
climb aboard the Virago behind the captain, who was piped aboard with
due ceremony, Miranda mused on the rigid faces of the impeccably
turned-out members of the barge's crew.  Not.  once had one of them
dropped their gaze from over her head to look at her, or at their
captain, for that matter.  Only the coxswain, at the tiller, had given
Judge a glance as they'd boarded, respectful but wary, awaiting
permission to cast off.  The men now sat like marionettes, waiting to
ship their oars and climb aboard with drill-like precision.

The men of the marine guard, led by their captain, stamped their feet
and presented arms, raising a cloud of pipe clay particles to dance in
the sun.  Captain Judge's officers touched the peaks of their hats and
then stood motionless by the entry port.  Only the bosun, whose Silver
call piped him aboard, had expression on his face--one which Miranda
instantly distrusted.

As she glanced round the assembled men her eyes suddenly widened in
glad surprise.  Her mouth opened to cry out, Dicky!

But the word never left her lips.  Her brother, stiff as a ramrod,
stood to attention, his desperate eyes on her face, the veri est
suggestion of a negative shake of his head begging her not to speak.

Captain Judge must have know~ she would recognise her brother. Perhaps
Dick's presence accounted for his reluctance to ferry her back to
England.  But Dick's not daring to greet her needed some other
explanation.  Was Judge waiting for the midshipman to breach some rule?
~

Miranda turned a limpid, guileless smile on the captain, who had made a
motion for her to follow him to his cabin.

"I see you have Mr.  Midshipman Dawson on board, Captain.  Have I your
permission to greet my brother?,

Judge gave an abrupt nod.  "Mr.  Dawson, you may exchange greetings
with your sister."  :

Dick stepped forward, his eyes full of emotion.  Dear Lord, thought
IVliranda, he looks ill!  He was thine faced drawn,.  cowed, the merest
shadow of the cheerful lad who had left home two years since, full of
his chances of passing his exams with flying colours and being
appointed a lieutenant the moment he was twenty.

"Dicky," she cried, kissing him.  " How wonderful to see.  yOU?  ~

He returned the kiss, whispering as he did so, 'i'll be on the deck
during the second dog watch.  ,

"Come, Miss Dawson," said Judge impatiently.  And then to his first
lieutenant, "Where are the prisoners?"

"Already below, sir."

"Have them brought to my cabin in fifteen minutes.  And signal the
Seafire to be ready to weigh."

"Very well, sir."  Prisoners!  Were the 'others' he had referred to
prisoners of war?  Recaptured deserters?  Or men being returned to face
trial on some charge?  Her heart began

to thud in her chest, for she had a premonition that ~' prisoners would
be the Seafire's officers.  She had he~ no mention of any other men
under arrest await~ transport to England.

Enemy officers, as long as they had given their pare would be treated
with courtesy.  It also seemed that I captured frigate was to travel
under the Virago's escc The ship would not be signalled to prepare to
wet anchor if she were not to sail in company.

Seething with impatience, Miranda followed Judge his cabin, where she
soon discovered that her guess a correct.

"I have had my desk and charts moved in here," Jud told her, indicating
the furniture squeezed into t corner.  of the great cabin.  "My clerk's
office has been divided into two.  You will have one half and the capta
of the captured American frigate will be accommodat in the other.  His
officers will have to sling hammocks the wardroom--there are no free
cabins.  The mast and midshipman will mess in the gunroom."  Gr Merrick
would not mind that, Miranda thought.  Frigates were too small to have
wardrooms as well gun rooms and the midshipmen's quarters were squalid
to say the least.  "I believe you are acquainted 'with t] gentlemen?"

"Since I was on the Othello when it was taken, yes Captain, I know
them. " I was their guest aboard the Sea fire.  "

"Then you will have company while you traw provided they are prepared
to give me their paroles.  not, you will have the entire cabin to
yourself, for they~ will be taken below and clapped in irons.  I must
ask y

not to seek conversation with any of my officers, Miss Dawson.  They
have no time for dalliance if they are to attend to their duties.  You
may report to your father that I run a tight ship.  "

"My brother," said Miranda, ignoring the captain's general instruction.
"I may speak with him, I trust?"

"As long as you do not interfere with his duties.  He is undergoing
punishment for insubordination, Miss Dawson.  I will not tolerate
slackness, indolence or insolence aboard my ship.  He is working double
watches at the moment."

The blood fled from Miranda's face.  She stared at him, incredulous. No
wonder poor Dicky looked weary and drawn!  He'd have to snatch a few
hours' sleep whenever he could.

She had heard tell of men like Captain Judge but until now had not,
mercifully, been brought into contact with one.  His attitude explained
why the quarterdeck was silent, why no laughter or quip echoed from the
main deck as the seamen went about their duties.  The only sounds were
those of activity, the shouted orders, the yelp of pain as a bosun's
mate struck a man with a knotted rope's end or a cane--'started' him,
as the navy had it, because he had not moved quite fast enough.  Dear
God!  How could she remain silent in the face of injustice and
brutality?  But she must, for Dick's sake.  If she did not, Judge would
only vent his anger on him.

"I do not entertain at supper," he was saying.  "A tray will be brought
to you in your cabin, as will all your meals except for when I issue an
invitation to dine in my cabin.  Your sea chest is stowed there
already."  He nodded his head in a slight bow.  "God give you a good
night, Miss Dawson."

She could do nothing but leave.  Her only comfort was that she would
not often have to be civil to the man while eating at his table.

A tiny triangular lobby had been constructed off the walkway by the
quarterdeck ladder.  As she entered it by its longest side, angled
doors forming the other sides faced her.

"This be your door, ma'am," said the steward detailed to show her the
way.  "That one--' he indicated the door on the right '--that one's fer
the American captain."

Her cabin was small, but larger than the one aboard the frigate, and it
did have one half of an opening skylight set under a wooden grating.
The other half was on the other side of the newly erected partition.

She sank down on her chest to await developments.  To think unwelcome
thoughts and at the same time feel a growing excitement at the
realisation that she would be near Adam York once more.

Her heart thumped when she heard the marine sentry announce Adam and
his officers.  Since the partitions were thin she could even hear the
rumble of the men's voices as they spoke, but found she could not
distinguish what they said, for the captain's dining place separated
her from the great cabin, where they were gathered.

Before long she heard Adam enter his cabin, on the other side of the
dividing partition.  Daniel was with him but did not remain long,
leaving to seek his own berth below.  Miranda took a deep breath and
scratched on the canvas separating them.

"Adam!"  She kept her voice low, for she did not want Judge to hear.

"Miranda?"  His voice held a pleased note which sent her pulses racing
anew.

"Yes.  Did you know I was here?"

"By inference, yes.  How are you, Miranda?"

Her heart beat even faster, taking some of her breath.  The familiarity
of the use of forenames, begun under the stress of parting, came easier
now.  "I am well enough; I was made welcome and comfortable ashore. But
you, Adam, shut up in that blockhouse!  You must have roasted!"

A quiet chuckle greeted these words.  "Not quite!  It was primitive,
but they did their best.  How did you know...?"

"I walked out hoping to speak with you," Miranda admitted, feeling shy
about it, 'but it proved quite impossible.  I am so glad we are
together again!  "

"Are you?"  Adam's voice took on a grim note, "I think both of us might
regret being aboard this particular warship before long."

"You have noticed it too?  Adam, my brother, Richard, the midshipman,
is serving on the Virago.  He was in the welcoming party when Judge and
I boarded.  He was scared to even smile in greeting when he saw me!  He
looks ill; he's standing double watches as punishment for.  some
misdemeanour."  She lowered her voice to a mere whisper.  "Can you
still hear what I say?"

, "Yes.  A moment."  As she waited she heard the rattle of the skylight
overhead as Adam used the tackle, on his side of the partition, to
close it.  "What is it, Miranda?"

"He is on duty during the second dog Watch.  I imagine he'll be
snatching a couple of hours' sleep during the first.  I shall go up on
deck and speak with him.  I must find out what is going on!"

"We shall meet on deck in due course, I promise you.  Meanwhile, take
care, Miranda.  Do nothing to displease Judge."

"It is such a comfort to know you are here, Adam."

"For what little it is worth, I am at your service.  I have given my
parole rather than condemn myself and my officers to travelling in
irons.  in stinking conditions below.  I have, however, only undertaken
not to attempt to take the ship or to escape in any other way.  There
would be little chance in any case.  But I would not rule out the
possibility of mutiny among his own men--the atmosphere positively
reeks of it and Judge seems oblivious.  In that case the mutineers
would probably try to kill all of us as well as the captain and his
officers.  We should most certainly defend ourselves under those
circumstances."

"Surely the men would not-- ?"

"Once the blood lust takes hold they will not care which navy the
officers belong to, or which of the British ones were used as badly as
themselves or treated them well.  They will kill anyone in authority
who could' identify them."

Miranda swallowed, quelling the panic threatening to rise up and choke
her.  "Are all the others still with you, Adam?"  she asked huskily,
cursing the shake in her voice.

"Aye, Zack West, Abe Windsor and Tom Crocker, plus the senior
midshipman, Greg Merrick, and the marine lieutenant, John Fenton.  And
Daniel, thank the Lord."

"Seven of you.  Adam, I'll warn Dick to be on his guard."

"Do that, for what such a warning is worth?

At around seven o'clock, in the middle of the second dog watch, Miranda
ventured out on the quarterdeck, cursing her skirts as she climbed the
ladder.  But she did not care to upset Captain Judge by donning her
midshipman's outfit, tucked away in her chest.

The officer of the watch touched his hat to her and, since the captain
was nowhere to be seen and he was still a young man, ventured a
half-smile.

"Mr.  Dawson is by the larboard carronade on the poop, miss," he
murmured, keeping his voice low because of the great cabin's open
skylight.

Miranda beamed at him and nodded her thanks, not speaking for the same
reason.  Dear Lord!  What a ship!  Everyone afraid to even speak for
fear of the captain!  And he held absolute authority, He could rule his
ship, deal out punishment and death exactly as he liked and no one
could or would interfere.

In the twilight, she climbed the ladder to the poop and walked to the
stern, where she found her brother curled up by the gun, doting.  She
dropped to her knees beside him and touched his shoulder.

Dick woke with a start, a look of fear crossing his face before he
realised who had woken him.

"Mirrie!  Thank God it is you?

"I don't think the officer on duty would mind you sleeping, Dicky.  He
sent me to you."

1,3 /

"No, he's a good sort, all the officers are--even Mr.  Winchester, the
first lieutenant--but if the captain discovered me sleeping Mr. Jackson
would be in trouble too, so he would wake me if he knew I was
neglecting my duties."

"Which are?"

As Dick scrambled to his feet he raised a wan smile, a shadow of the
merry grin she remembered.  "Light, thank God and Mr.  Jackson?  He
held out a hand to help Miranda up.  " I'm supposed to be keeping an
eye on the lookout in the raizzen and on the American frigate to make
sure she's on station.  It's merely an excuse to keep me on deck, where
I must remain until midnight.  " " The lookout will be coming down
soon, surely?  "

"No.  Captain Judge keeps men aloft all night.  And all hands have
to.be at quarters to greet the dawn."

They stood at the taffrail.  Dick, she noted, as she turned and rested
one elbow behind her on the gleaming teak in order to look at him, did
not support himself as she did, but stood back, swaying with the motion
of the ship.

He made a gesture.  "No one, even officers, are allowed to lean on any
of the rails."

Miranda frowned.  "Does that include me?"

"Don't suppose so.  You're not a member of the ship's company."

"Thank goodness!  Dicky," what ever is the matter with the Virago?  The
atmosphere aboard is so tense, one could cut it with a knife.  "

"Shush!"

Dick looked anxiously around them but no one was near and the skylight
to the chart room beneath was closed and dark.  The master was below,
eating his supper, as were all the crew except for those on duty.
Miranda had hastily eaten her own meal before coming on deck.

"The captain has very sharp ears, and eyes in the back of his head," he
muttered in rueful explanation of his urgent behest to lower her voice.
"I'm being punished because he overheard me criticising the harshness
of a flogging he'd decreed.  Four dozen lashes for grunting at a
bosun's mate, I ask you!  I know it was a disgruntled grunt, if you
know what I mean, but still!"

Miranda gasped.  "But according to naval rules the maximum imposition,
without a court martial, is supposed to be a dozen, isn't it?"

"Most captains ignore that.  But Judge punishes harshly for the
slightest thing," Dick said unhappily.  "The crew is assembled to
witness punishment almost everyday."

"I knew there was something wrong!  Will the men mutiny?"  asked
Miranda, remembering Adam's foreboding.

Dick sighed.  "I don't know, Mirrie.  I'd not blame 'em if they did."

"But they'd kill all the officers."

"Aye."

"If only Papa were here!"

"Even he could do little unless the captain was insane, or incapable in
some other way.  He is insane, of course, but not certifiable."

"You'll be in Portsmouth in a couple of weeks or so," pointed out
Miranda, trying to hand out encouragement.  "You must endure until
then."

"But that won't solve anything!  I'd wager the crew will be confined
aboard'--the officers are too afraid the men will desert to allow them
ashore--and even if the officers themselves are given a few days? leave
and report the trouble no one will do anything about it.  Judge is not
officially mad.  We shall sail again in a few days, weeks at the most,
and be back where we started."

"There must be something someone can do," murmured Miranda.  "Did you
know' there were some American officers aboard, being taken back as
prisoners of war?"

"From the Seafire?  I'm not surprised," said Dick, glancing across to
where the American frigate was sailing two hundred yards to the
larboard of the Virago.  "Glad to see she's still on station," he said
with a grimace.  "I'd forgotten her.  We are escorting the prize and
its crew back to Portsmouth, But tell me, Mirrie, what were you doing
on Grand Canaria?"

"I was on the Seafire when she was taken, It,s a long story," she added
hurriedly as she saw the incredulity on her brother's face, and
proceeded to give him an edited account of her adventures, "If Captain
York can help, I'm certain he will, He immediately sensed something was
wrong."

"I doubt he could stop a mutiny," said Dick gloomily.

A shudder of apprehension shivered down Miranda's spine.  She asked him
again, "Will there be one, Dicky?"

Dick shrugged.  "I wonder they haven't taken things into their own
hands long before this.  All they lack, I imagine, is a leader ready to
risk his neck."

At that moment they heard footsteps on the ladder and Dick stiffened to
attention.  But it was Adam.

;

Miranda stepped forward eagerly.  The last of the daylight was almost
gone, yet the radiance which lit her small face at sight of the
American made Dick stare and Adam almost to lose his stride.  He had
not realised.  "Adam!"  Miranda greeted him softly.  "This is my
brother, Midshipman Richard Dawson.  Dicky, this is Adam York, captain
of the frigate

"Former captain, I'm afraid," said Adam ruefully, shaking the younger
man's hand.  :

"Glad to make your acquaintance, sir,"

Dick.  "Mirrie has just been telling me of her adventures~ But I must
not daily here any longer.  The second lieutenant is already risking
severe reprimand for granting me so much leeway."

The noise of wind and water, the sound Of the ship's timbers and
rigging, was all about them when the human silence was suddenly rent by
a hail from quarterdeck.

'mr Dawson!  "

'

"He thinks I've had long no ugh sighed Dick, 'and~

has found another job for me!  "

"But the watch is almost ended."

"But not mine!?  came Dick's gloomy response as shot down the ladder.
;

Miranda leaned on the rail with Adam beside watching the wake and the
flashing sea-fire.  them both of the last time they had stood so
Victorious.

"We have met again," she murmured.

"Fate, or providence," said Adam.  "But we should appear tOO intimate.
The same reasoning applies did aboard Victorious.  Judge may think you
unreliable."

Miranda snorted.  "He informed me that the prisoner would provide me
with company!  I am forbidden t, speak to his officers!"

"Really?  I thought him stupid, now I know it!  I ga the your brother
is exempt from this ban?"

"Only so long as our speaking together does no interfere with his
duties!"

"He calls you Mirrie.  I like that."

"It's an old, childish shortening."  Miranda was no keen on taking the
diminutive into adulthood.  She became suddenly serious.  "He is
suffering, Adam.  Hi used to be such a lively boy?

"He seems a bright lad.  Did you discover anythin!  further?"

"No more than we knew already--that Judge is wha is known as a flogging
captain.  And Dick does fear mutiny."

"He does, eh?  Interesting.  Confirms our fears.  But they are very
near home now.  They've suffered thi long, why not suffer a little
longer?"

"The men know the navy, Adam.  They'll not bl allowed ashore and in a
few days, weeks at the mosl they'll be back at sea again in the same
ship under the same captain."

"Hmm.  Perhaps that's why things are threatening t~ come to a head."

"Yes."  She moved closer and lowered her voice to ~ breath.  "Dick
thinks Judge is mad but, of course, no from would be able to prove it.
So nothing will be done unless they take the law into their own
hands."

"And suffer the consequences.  To be shot down b

~

Miranda stepped forward eagerly.  The last of the daylight was almost
gone, yet the radiance which lit her small face at sight of the
American made Dick stare and Adam almost to lose his stride.  He had
not realised.  "Adam!"  Miranda greeted him softly.  "This is my
brother, Midshipman Richard Dawson.  Dicky, this is Adam York, captain
of the frigate

"Former captain, I'm afraid," said Adam ruefully, shaking the younger
man's hand.

"Glad to make your acquaintance, sir," responded Dick.  "Mirrie has
just been telling me of her adventures.  But I must not daily here any
longer.  The second lieutenant is already risking severe reprimand for
ing me so much leeway."

The noise of wind and water, the sound Of the timbers and rigging, was
all about them when the human silence was suddenly rent by a hail from
the quarterdeck.

"Mr.  Dawson!"

"He thinks -I've had long enough," sighed Dick, 'and has found another
job for me!  "

"But the watch is almost ended."

"But not mine?  came Dick's gloomy response as shot down the ladder.

Miranda leaned on the rail with Adam beside 'watching the wake and the
flashing sea-fire.  It them both of the last time they had stood so,
aboard Victorious.

"We have met 'again," she murmured.

"Fate, or providence," said Adam.  "But we should appear too intimate.
The same reasoning applies as did aboard Victorious.  Judge may think
you unreliable."

Miranda snorted.  "He informed me that the prisoners would provide me
with companyl I am forbidden to speak to his officers!"

"Really?  I thought him stupid, now I know it!  I gather your brother
is exempt from this ban?"

"Only so long as our speaking together does not interfere with his
duties!"

"He calls you Mirrie.  I like that."

"It's an old, childish shortening."  Miranda was not keen on taking the
diminutive into adulthood.  She became suddenly serious.  "He is
suffering, Adam.  He used to be such a lively boy!"

"He seems a bright lad.  Did you discover anything further?"

"No more than we knew already-that Judge is what is known as a flogging
captain.  And Dick does fear a mutiny."

"He does, eh?  Interesting.  Confirms our fears.  But they are very
near home now.  They've suffered this long, why not suffer a little
longer?"

"The men know the navy, Adam.  They'll not be allowed ashore and in a
few days, weeks at the most, they'll be back at sea again in the same
ship under the same captain."

"Hmm.  Perhaps that's why things are threatening to come to a head."

"Yes."  She moved closer and lowered her voice to a breath.  "Dick
thinks Judge is mad but, of course, no one would be able to prove it.
So nothing will be done unless they take the law into their own
hands."

"And suffer the consequences.  To be shot down by the marines, or, if
they survive that, to be hung from the yardarm if they are caught.  "

"Some of them," said Miranda seriously, 'might prefer that to leading
such a hellish life.  But it is difficult to know where they could go
to be safe.  "

"The United States would offer them refuge."

They stood for a moment in silence and then Adam's hand covered hers as
it rested on the rail.  Miranda's nerves tightened in a delicious fris
son which finished in the region of her thumping heart.  The incipient
panic which had held her in its grip retreated as she turned her face
to look up into his.

He was very near, his features just visible in the darkness.  The two
double strikes of four bells echoed along the decks, signalling the
change of watch, but neither of them moved, even when one lot of silent
men went below and another took their place.

"I fear for you," said Adam simply.  "If anything happens I and my men
will try to look after you but it may not be possible.  Ask your
brother for a pistol.  You can use one?"

"Papa taught me years ago, though I'm not much of a shot."

"You do not need to be to turn it upon yourself, my dear.  For if the
people gain possession of this ship you would be better dead."

Miranda, suddenly chilled, shivered.  She could visualise just what
Adam meant.  One female among four or five hundred rough, deprived
seamen .  no, it did not bear thinking of..  but even so, could she.

"You would find the courage," murmured Adam, sensing her doubt, and
took her trembling body into his arms.  The only man who might possibly
see them was the lookout at the head of the mizzen-mast, but it was
dark and he was hidden from view by the billowing sail.  And in any
case, did it matter?

One of Adam's hands smoothed her hair, the other rotated soothingly on
her back.  Miranda buried her face in his shoulder beneath the stiff,
scratchy epaulette, and gave way to tears.

The feel of her in his arms roused him to an extent he had not
anticipated.  But she had come to him trustingly.  He cursed the fire
in his loins and concentrated on offering comfort.  She was, after all,
an enemy admiral's daughter, while he was a prisoner aboard an enemy
ship. The sheer frustration of his situation made him drop his arms,
releasing her.

"Don't worry."  he murmured.  "I'll do my damndest to prevent it
happening."

Miranda raised her streaked face.  "I know, but you are only one man,
Adam.  What can one man do?"

"We are seven men, Miranda, six armed with sword or dirk, As for
Daniel..."  He allowed his thoughts to trail off.  "He will find
something to use, if it is only his fists?  He pulled her to him again.
" To save you I would break my oath and take the ship.  " Amazingly, it
was true.  He would.  " I'd bet any odds the people would not put up
much of a fight to save it!  "

"It would be dangerous, Adam.  The officers might feel it their
duty--'

"Leave it to me.  But get that pistol, just in case."

Miranda sniffed and wiped her hand across her wet face.  "All right,
Adam.  Please kiss me."

She gazed up at him, her eyes still swimming.  For a fleeting moment he
looked taken aback.  Miranda flushed, thinking he would refuse.

Good God!  thought Adam.  I can't!  I cannot trust myself-Then he took
a grip on himself.  A teasing grin spread across his features.  "I
thought it to be the last thing you wanted--to be kissed by ms!  I seem
to remember being told--'

She put a finger up to touch the healing wound on his scalp.  Then her
arms crept about his neck.  His mouth was only inches away from hers.
"I changed my mind about that a long time ago."

"You did?"  Adam drew a breath, a steadying breath.  The poor innocent
did not know what she was "Well, then..."

First he kissed away the tears lingering beneath eyes.  Then .  then he
took her lips, teasing them so that he could feel her w~Icome his
tongue with He did not deepen the kiss further.  He was, after still
offering comfort, not an expression of the passion that so
frustratingly tormented him.  And which she might innocently respond
and thus control.

Miranda felt dizzy and only the rail digging into back and Adam's
strong arms kept her upright ship pitched and rolled its way
northwards.

Neither heard a heavy tread ascending the poop.  Not until he spoke did
they realise presence.

"Consorting with the enemy, I see, Miss grated Captain Judge.

Already shaken to her core by that kiss, could do no more than gasp as
shock waves of

apprehension swept yet her.  Adam kept arm about her as he faced the
man to given his parole.

"Our nations may be at war, Captai~

personal level there is no room for

Dawson and myself.  "

"I'll not tolerate immorality aboard ray slY!?," you wish to preserve
your freedom you

"You consider a ki~s though interested in Judge's answer.  I4e
Miranda's body shakihg.  " Tell me, sir,

If possible, Judge ~tiffened still further.  matter, sir, a differeht
matter entirely?  "With one's spouse s%h conduct is per mitre with
one's spouse'

"I could ask' you to marry us," murmured heard Miranda's sharp intake
of breath-What had Judge drivel~ him to say?

"Which I should certainly refuse to do!  enemy of my countr~ and Miss
Dawson under age!"

"I thought there' %uld be insuperable sighed Adam, giving bliranda's
shoulders squeeze as he releasetl her.  " You see, my have to wait.
But, on~ wed, Captain Juddge doubt bless our disgusting behaviour?

Miranda realised he had not meant his offer.  He had merely been
baiting ~ludg~.  perfectly well that a union between thefts impossible.
But--marriage, to Adam York?

fleeting moment he looked taken aback.  Miranda flushed, thinking he
would refuse.

Good God!  thought Adam.  I can't!  I cannot trust myself-Then he took
a grip on himself.  A teasing grin spread across his features.  "I
thought it to be the last thing you wanted--to be kissed by me!  I seem
to remember being told--'

She put a finger up to touch the healing wound on his scalp.  Then her
arms crept about his neck.  His was only inches away from hers.  "I
changed my mind about that a long time ago."

"You did?"  Adam drew a breath, a steadying breath.  The poor innocent
did not know what she was "Well, then '

First he kissed away the tears lingering beneath eyes.  Then .  then he
took her lips, teasing them so that he could feel her w~Icome his
tongue He did not deepen the kiss further.  He was, still offering
comfort, not an expression of the passion that so frustratingly
tormented him.  And which she might innocently respond and thus
control.

Miranda felt dizzy and only the rail back and Adam's strong arms kept
her upright ship pitched and rolled its way northwards.

Neither heard a heavy tread ascending the ladder the poop.  Not until
he spoke did they presence.

"Consorting with the enemy, I see, Miss grated Captain Judge.

Already shaken to her core by that kiss,

could do no more than gasp as shock waves of apprehension swept over
her.  Adam kept a steadying arm about her as he faced the man to whom
he had given his parole.

"Our nations may be at war, Captain, but on a personal level there is
no room for enmity between Miss Dawson and myself."

"I'll not tolerate immorality aboard my ship, York.  If you wish to
preserve your freedom you will cease to exhibit disgusting conduct of
this nature."

"You consider a kiss disgusting?"  enquired Adam as though interested
in Judge's answer.  He could feel Miranda's body shaking.  "Tell me,
sir, are you wed?"

If possible, Judge stiffened still further.  "A different matter, sir,
a different matter entirely!"  he blustered.  "With one's spouse such
conduct is permitted.  But only with one's spouse'

"I could ask you to marry us," murmured Adam, and heard Miranda'ssharp
intake of breath.  The devil!  What had Judge driven him to say?

"Which I should certainly refuse to do!  You are an enemy of my country
and Miss Dawson is assuredly under age!"

"I thought there would be insuperable difficulties," sighed Adam,
giving Miranda's shoulders a reassuring squeeze as he released her.
"You see, my dear, we shall have to wait.  But, once wed, Captain Judge
would no doubt bless our disgusting behaviour."

Miranda realised he had not meant his words as an offer.  He had merely
been baiting Judge.  He had known perfectly well that a union between
them was quite impossible.  But--marriage, to Adam York?  Her pulses
raced at the thought while her common sense rejected the idea out of
hand.

Adam knew he had caught Judge out but forbore to press his advantage.
The man was a bully and a hypocrite but now was not the time to
challenge him further.  He had already waded into deeper water than
he'd intended.  He bowed stiffly to Judge.

"Then we shall abide by your ruling, Captain.  But,you will not, I
trust, object to our taking the air together?

As long as you do not interfere with the working of my ship,~ agreed
Judge grudgingly.

Adam saluted the captain, who seemed not to notice the contempt in his
prisoners eyes.  "Your word is my command, sir.  We shall, of' course
keep to the leeward side of the deck."

Judge nodded, returning the salute.  His chilling gaze rested on
Miranda.  "It is time you retired to your berth, Miss Dawson."

"But--' She felt Adam's touch on her arm and the protest died on her
lips.  She acquiesced with bad grace.  " Oh, very well, Captain.  "

"I will escort you below," murmured Adam.  "Give you a quiet night,
Captain Judge."

CHAPTER EIGHT

DICK, after'a certain amount of demur, handed Miranda the pair of
pistols their father had given him for his seventeenth birthday.

"You'll need the powder and shot, the rammer and the priming powder, so
you'd better take the whole case," he said.  "I'll use service issue if
I have need of a firearm."  He fingered the chased silver handle of his
midshipman's dirk, a short sword, which he had been given upon joining
the navy and worn proudly ever since.  "This, or perhaps a cutlass,
will be all I need to defend myself with."

"I'll keep one of these loaded," said Miranda, weighing the heavy
weapon in her hand.  "Then all I'll have to do in an emergency is prime
it.  I really don't think... but Adam was anxious and I promised..."

"I don't like it, but I have to agree with him," said Dick unhappily.
"There's to be another punishment today.  The people really are at the
end of their tether."  Miranda shuddered.  "I don't want to watch."

"Think yourself lucky you don't have to."

But she did watch.  Somehow it seemed necessary for her to join Adam
and the other prisoners, mustered on deck with all the ship's hands.
She could not shut her eyes to what was going on--she wanted evidence
to present to anyone who would listen once she reached England.  Or to
give to her father, who might be able to wield enough influence to get
Judge beached.  if not dismissed from the service.  And she wanted to
watch the seamen, to assess their mood.  For all their lives might
depend on gauging it right.

She found the brutal sight nauseous.  After the first few strokes, when
the blood began to flow and cover the sailor's already striped back,
she tore her eyes away, for the first time in her life wishing she had
her mother's viA aigrette to hold under her nose.  But she simply would
not faint!  She concentrated her attention on the hands crowding the
decks.  before the main mast, some clinging to the rigging.  Their
mood, she decided, sullen.  Eventually, as his flayed back became more
more raw, despite teeth clenched on the leather placed between them to
stop him from biting off tongue, the man began to whimper.

It was inhuman, thought Miranda, yet part of life, a method of keeping
discipline that the understood and tolerated as 'long asit was not Part
of many people's lives; come to that: criminals.  transportees,
'slaves.  even servants wives .  were beaten, though not as cruelly,
not with cat-o'nine.  tails,.  " She clenched her hands into fists.
her' lip and set herself to endure.

"Thirty-six," into~ed the bosun.

"Cut him down," commanded Judge, and hands ran forward to release the
spreadeagled from the grating to which he'd been tied, and a of water
was thrown over him.  The ship's surgeon a look at the man, who had
risen shakily to his feet squared his raw shoulders, and ordered.  him
below receive treatment before he resumed his duties.

With the company dismissed, the ship returned to normal routine.  As
Miranda swallowed the bile in he throat she felt Adam's hand on her
arm.

"Walk with me," he invited.

She smiled weakly at the other Sea fires, who persed about the deck or
went below.

"We must not appear to be conspiring," tour mute Adam.  "Judge finding
us last night may be a blessing i disguise.  He will believe we have an
attachment whic inclines us to seek each other's company--'

"Which, of course, we have not!"  snapped Mirand~ upset already and now
piqued.

Adam's tone hardened.  "That is not what I necessarily implied, but
whether we have or not, my dear, it will b as well if Judge continues
to think we have.  Otherwis we cannot plan."

Damn being a woman, thought Miranda as tear welled into her eyes. Dick,
despite all his suffering, ha~ not gone to pieces at the sight of a man
being floggec He was on the foredeck now, supervising the hands his
division as they did repairs to the rigging.  Th, captain had gone
below to eat his dinner.  While she.  It must be because she was so
upset that she ha snapped at Adam.  But she did not wish him to know
how weak she was, she'd done enough crying into hJ shoulder the
previous evening.  Then he'd healed he tears with his kiss.  The
temptation to give in and repe, the performance was almost
overwhelming, but she resisted it.  There were too many people watching
and would not be fair to Adam.  But she could apologise She took a
steadying breath.

No, certainly not!  It was indubitably his duty to safeguard Miranda
Dawson, because without his interference she would have been halfway
across the Atlantic, safely on her way to the West Indies by now.  What
he felt was simply protectiveness allied to a desire which would soon
pass, but meanwhile her presence was deuced uncomfortable, for she
roused all his male instincts,

His fingers lightly brushed her jaw.  Don be vexed; Miranda.  I will
not tease you so again.  "

But he should not have touched her, he realised as she shied away like
a startled horse.  Her trembling could be fear, but he thought not.  He
had enough experience of the opposite sex to know when his own desire
was reciprocated.  But this was an innocent girl, emotionally immature,
who did not quite what to make of the sensations assailing her,.  And
was probably feeling as guilty as he was for reacting as she did, He
must tread warily,

"I'm glad you've got the pistols," he told her prosaically.  "Keep them
loaded and at the first ~sign of any trouble prime them and keep them
handy."  ~

Them?  Surely one would be enough ?  Yet it be stupid not to' try to
defend herself first.  She nodded.

They had come to a halt by a gun fleer the master~s chart room.  There
had been no one near their conversation, for the master stood by the
double wheel watching the helmsmen, checking their course.

"Shall we continue to walk?"  suggested Adam.

Miranda nodded.  "The wind has eased.  It is quite pleasant on deck
now."

"And we are still too far south for it to be chilly."  Adam crooked his
elbow.  "Will you take my arm, ma'am'?"

"Thank you, sir!"

That was a mistake too, but the feel of her small hand resting
trustingly on his arm gave Adam such pleasure that he could not. regret
it.  That startled reaction had been what he'd suspected--awareness,
not fear.  The knowledge gave him satisfaction. But of what use was
that when he knew he dared not kiss her again?

After eating her solitary supper, Miranda decided to go up on deck. She
could watch the sunset and maybe find someone to talk to.  Dick would
be on watch during the evening.  She might find a chance to speak with
him again.

She might find Adam on deck, too, Unless he was visiting his officers
in the wardroom, for he was ~aot in his cabin.

Feeling lonely and abandoned, Miranda emerged to discover herself in
the midst of a hive of activity.  The most able of the seamen, the
nimble top men were swarming up the rigging like monkeys to furl the
topgallants--the third tier of square sails, whose yards--the
horizontal spars crossing the masts from which the sails hung--swayed
high above the deck.  Up there they would look like ants as they
shuffled along the ropes to space themselves out at intervals in order
to furl the sails and lash them to the yards.  The men had scarcely
begun to climb before the captain's voice rasped after them.

"Smartly, now!"  He waved the watch in his fist.  "I am timing you! The
last man down will be flogged."

Miranda could feel the wave of animosity which swept towards the
quarterdeck from the men talking onto the ropes which controlled the
sails and yards.  As for the men climbing the rigging,.  one or two
faltered but most doggedly continued their swift upward progress.

Her heart seemed to.  be in her throat.  Someone must be last down; the
threat of punishment could not be fair.  She looked round anxiously but
there was no sign of Adam.  Dick, she saw, was with the men at the
foremast, stationed partway up in the top, directing operations from
there.

The lieutenant's voice sounded tinny and.  strained as he shouted the
necessary orders through his speaking trumpet.  Tension had gripped the
entire ship, or so it seemed, although those off watch below could not
know what was happening.

But the news spread through the grapevine of the ship's company faster
than lightning.  Heads began to appear at the hatches and all the
officers not actually sleeping came up.  The Seafires were with them.
Miranda saw Adam's head appear through the companion hatch and,
careless of what anyone thought, moved swiftly to meet him.

"A damnable thing," he growled as he led her to one side out of the
way.  "By all accounts he did the same thing a couple of weeks ago. The
man who came in for the punishment then is in this watch."

Miranda lifted anxious eyes.  "He's up there now?"

"Aye, so I'm told.  On the main mast."

They both gazed up.  The massive timbers reduced in size the higher up
they were, but, even with the mast vertical, which it never was since
it constantly gyrated with the movement of the ship, men would be
hanging out over the sea.  One false step and someone would drown.

"They'll all be clumsy with nerves," muttered Adam.  "Him
especially."

The billowing canvas was beaten and pounded into submission, the
lashings tied.  Naturally, the smaller sails fore and aft were finished
first and, on the order, those hands clambered down the rigging.
Shortly afterwards those up the main mast began to return to deck. Down
they came, swinging through the rigging, hands and feet sure as they
found their holds.  But then, suddenly, the Virago was no longer a
silent ship.  An agonised groan, more like a roar, rose up as-one of
the tiny figures above missed his grip and, because of the way the ship
was heeling with the wind, plunged, not into the sea but to the deck.

Miranda's fingers flew to her mouth but an instant later she found
herself gripping Adam's arm with both her hands as the flailing figure
bounced off the solid lower yard to land spreadeagled on his back
across one of the boats stowed upside down on the main deck below.

The surgeon had come up from the gunroom.  He surged forward, the only
man to move in the awful silence which had followed the initial gasp of
horror.

"Get about your duties, you bastards," thundered Judge.  "Anyone caught
idling will earn punishment!"

"The fool," muttered Adam.  "Is he asking them to mutiny?"

They had instinctively gone forward to peer down to the main deck.  The
surgeon finished his examination.  "Broken neck," he proclaimed
laconically.  "Heave him over the side," ordered Judge.

The silence deepened, if that were possible.  Such an unceremonious
burial was acceptable in the heat of battle but not in these
circumstances.

"He was incompetent," proclaimed Judge harshly~ if his words were
intended as a justification of his ed'~ they cut LITTLE ice with anyone
who heard them.

"E were one of our best top men 'till you 'ad flogged," came a brave
voice from amongst the other~:: top men gathered about the foot of the
mast.  "E still, weren't fit--stiff as a board, 'e were--'

"Arrest that man for impudence!"  thundered Judge.  '~ shall decide his
punishment, which will be administered tomorrow.  "

The bosun had hold of the man and a couple marines came forward in
response to an order, instantly as far as Miranda could tell, to escort
down to the lock-up.  He would spend the night in irons.

"Now," went on Judge in an awful voice,

Get about your duties or, by God, I'll have the lot you flogged!
Captain Goddard," he shouted to captain of marines, 'have your men
dispose of the:~i body."

Having issued his orders, Judge stalked from deck.

Even Adam was white-faced.  Miranda forced her fingers from his
arm--she must have bruised him with the strength of her grip--and
grasped the rail instead as they watched four marines pick up the
broken body.

"I'll sew him in his hammock," said the sail maker grimly.  "Smith," he
addressed his mate, 'get it laid along, and a couple of round shot too.
"

"A man of some sensibility," murmured Adam as the mate passed on the
order and seamen raced eagerly to do the sail maker bidding, "Not
leaving the body for the sharks will help to mollify the men."

"Until tomorrow," said Mirmada grimly.

"Aye.  I think we can expect trouble when punishment is administered
tomorrow.  I can't tell you what I intend to do, because I don't know
until it happens.  But be ready."

Miranda nodded.  Her knees seemed weak and ~he was trembling but panic
had passed, the calmness of inevitability had settled on her.  By this
time tomorrow they would all either be dead or not.  She could do
nothing to alter the course of events, a course dictated on one side by
a cretinous bully with absolute power, and on the other by the
ingenuity and swift reactions of a foreign prisoner of war.

Someone had brought out the Union 'flag and' laid it over the body.  As
the marines slid it gently over the bulwark their captain's lips moved
in what she suspected, by his bowed head, was prayer.  The seaman's
erstwhile shipmates stood around with bared heads.  So the poor
creature would have a half-decent burial after all.  The captain of
marines went up in her estimation.  Possibly the marines would not pose
as much of a problem as Adam feared.

A collective sigh seemed to rise at the sound of the splash.  Then the
officer of the deck shouted an order and the ship returned to its
normal routine.

Before long Dick came aft for a word with his sister, something the
other officers tolerated unless the captain happened to be on deck.  He
saluted Adam.

"There'll be trouble tomorrow unless I miss my bet," he muttered.

"Could you do something to calm them?"  asked Adam.  "Pass word round
the ship, anonymously if possible--is there a hand you can trust?"

"Aye, sir.  If I tell him and he gossips with the orderly..."

"Right.  Tell them to bear up and not to be surprised whgtever happens,
but don't mention me."  Seeing Dick's questioning look, he grinned
wryly.  "I can't tell you more, because I don't know roy selL Anything
I do will be dictated by Judge's actions and how the marines to
react."

"Captain Goddard is unhappy, sir, like all the sea officers are, and
his marines are restless.  There isn't a man aboard, except the bosun,
who doesn't hold the captain in the deepest dislike."

"Capital.  But don't repeat that in the hearing of' anyone else, for it
is mutiny, my lad!"

Dick shrugged.  "If that constitutes mutiny, then the whole ship is
already guilty!"

"Be that as it may, pass the word for everyone to wait.  Let no one
risk his neck or his future until he's absolutely certain there is no
other way.  Mutineers usually end up dead or wishing they were."

Dick lifted his cap from his head, ran his fingers through his cropped
hair and put it back on again.  "If there's anything else I can do--'

"Absolutely nothing, except start that rumour.  Keep your powder dry,
Mr.  Dawson.  You may need it later!"

Dick grinned as some of the tension drained from his face.  "I'll be
required to muster to witness punishment," he observed.  "More broken
sleep!"

But he sounded cheerful for the first time since Miranda had come
aboard.  And if he was cheerful perhaps the man he entrusted with the
message might be infected and so enthuse others.

So much depended on Adam.  As Dick took his leave she glanced up at
that face she ~had come to know so well.  The harsh lines had become
harder, his brows gathered into a frown over those slate-grey eyes.  He
was, she rca~ed, lost in his own thoughts, unaware of anything around
him, including herself.  But that did not trouble her.  If he was
planning the release of all these men from daily torture she was happy
to fade into the background for a while.  But, watching the
concentration mirrored on his face, she relished anew his powerful
personality, the leadership qualities which came so naturally to him.
His officers and Daniel would do his bidding without question, even in
a lost cause.  As would she: American he might be, but how much she
admired him!

How different he was from the effete fops and dandies who idled about
the assembly rooms and drawing rooms of Bath!  His strong personality
had almost erased the memory of Peter Stannard.  She had loved Peter
with all the ardour of a first love but even those feelings had done
little to prepare her for the devastating effect Adam York had upon
her.  Almost~ she resented the hold he had gained over her emotions,
for it could, not be right or proper.  Yet--had that kiss last evening
meant the same to him as it had to her?  The signalling of an emotion
welling between them that only death could destroy?

But tomorrow death might in fact destroy it.  She slipped quietly away
and Adam did not notice.

She heard him retire to his cot.  Heard Daniel

Lying so close beside him with only the canvas partition between them,
she allowed her imagination to run riot.  But only for a while.  Until
She was certain that Captain Judge, too, had taken to his cot and that
the marine sentry was most probably dozing at his post.

Then she swung her feet to the ground, took up her silk wrapper and
covered her simple lawn nightgown: She did not bother with slippers but
padded barefoot to the door, opened it quietly and slipped out into the
tiny lobby.

There she paused, gathering her fast diminishing courage.  Guilt almost
overcame her as she hesitated on the threshold of Adam's cabin.  But
she had decided o~ a course of action and she would not allow guilt,
nerves, modesty or any other of the dozens of emotions rackin, g her to
prevent her from carrying it out.  She pushed open the door.

He was not asleep.  As the door moved he sat up sharply in his cot,
making it swing against the motion of the ship, causing the bolts to
groan against the timberS holding them.  The skylight let in a little
starlight and

Miranda caught the glint of steel as he snatched a knife from beneath
his pillow.

"Adam?  she whispered urgently, afraid he might throw it, a skill she
knew he possessed.  She had not known he had the weapon with him.  "
It's me.  "

He relaxed.  "Miranda?  What the hell are you doing here, scaring me
half out of my wits?"

As Miranda trod the two steps which took her to his side, he replaced
the knife and sank back against the pillow.  For answer she took her
courage in both hands, leant over and kissed him on the mouth.

For a moment his lips accepted hers.  Then he was pushing at her
shoulders, thrusting her back as he struggled up.

His voice came out as a harsh whisper.  "Miranda!  Don't."

Miranda drew back, shamed and mortified by his rejection.  "I thought
you liked me," she mumbled.

"I do!  Oh, Miranda, my dear, don't you understand?  I am intolerably
tempted but I can't ... we can't..."  Devil take it, he was stumbling
like a guilty adolescent boy!  "We cannot make love' here he went on
more firmly.  " We'd be heard--the cot would rock--'

"Would it?"  ~

They were-both whispering and for a moment Adam was tempted to laugh at
their ridiculous predicament.  But not for long.  "My dear innocent,"
he murmured, his voice a trifle unsteady, but not with laughter, "I'm
afrafd it would, rather noisily, and if Judge found us I'd be in irons
before you knew it and unable to lift a finger to help tomorrow!"
Anticipating a rare undisturbed night, he had undressed fully and was
in his nightshirt.  He swung his legs from the cot and gathered her
shivering figure into his arms.  "Besides," he went on gently, stroking
her hair and sternly controlling his responses to the soft nearness of
her thinly clad 'when--if--I ever make love to you, sweetheart, I do
not want to do it in a narrow, swinging cot in a cubbyhole on a foreign
ship where I am not a Once I am back in my own cabin--'

"Aboard the Seafire ?"  In her astonishment Miranda's voice rose
slightly.  "But she is a prize of war!  Could get her back?"  she
continued, whispering almost lessly in response to Adam's hissed
warning.

He shrugged as her hands crept up his chest and her arms encircled his
neck.  "I don't know.  It may possible--but it all depends.  I have the
glimmering of a plan but it's best you don't know anything of it."

"We may not have a chance after tomorrow.  That's why I came," breathed
Miranda, her fingers digging under his pigtail to bury themselves in
his hair~ "Adam, I couldn't bear to die without.  :," She allowed her
barely audible words to tail off, unable to express deepest desires.
~

So it was the prospect of death which had her.  That certainly
explained her astonishing Yet to meet the threat headlong was c the
young woman who had challenged him, chan into convenient boy's clothes
regardless of and borne herself with courage in the midst of This was
his Miranda, the girl he--loved?  leashed his own desire and kissed her
tenderly.  heart, if we indulge ourselves now there may indeed nothing
after tomorrow.  But trust me and the

~ 163

Seafires to do our best and God willing we shall all survive.  "

"Of course I trust you, Adam.  I love you.  I want to belong to you."

Adam groaned, resting his face on her hair.  "You cannot mean it, my
dear.  An enemy officer, sworn to damage your country's interests?  I
would delight to think it so, but how can either of us be certain of
our deepest feelings under these conditions?"

"You don't want me," muttered Miranda flatly.

"Did I say that?  I could believe I love you too, sweetheart, but
neither of us can be certain until we are out of this mess and looking
to the future with hope.  Hope of an end to war, of a peaceful life
together ... and I shall still be a naval officer, at sea for long
periods... not exactly good husband material, my dear."

"I didn't say anything about the future, or marriage," protested
Miranda, sounding the more fierce because she was denying her dearest
wish.  "I just said I loved you and wanted to belong to you.  If only
for this one night."

"And I..."  Adam breathed a rueful laugh 'must conquer my own longing
for the sakes of everyone on board the Virago.  Go back now, my dear,
and try to sleep.  Tomorrow will be a demanding day.  "

He kissed her again, restraining his impulse to kiss her silly, to
rouse the passion he knew to be burning just under the surface of her
innocence.  God grant there would be time enough for that another
night.  Though.  -but he thrust the fears, the doubts, the guilt aside.
He'd deal with them all when the time mme.  If it did.

Miranda felt his body move against her and an uncontrollable shiver of
desire took the strength from her limbs.  She clung weakly to the
cotton of his nightshirt, felt the hard flesh beneath, shut her eyes
and gave herself up to the rapturous feel of his lips on hers.  He did
not deepen the kiss, just ashe had not last night, yet the tumultuous
feelings invading her body could not have been more shattering.

Voices from the quarterdeck above, a bustling about the ship as the
watch changed, brought them back to reality.

"You must return, my dear, but quietly.  The new sentry will not yet be
asleep!"

Reluctantly, Miranda extricated herself from Adam's arms, surprised to
find that her legs would bear her weight.  He took her hand and, after
kissing the palm, led her to the door, opened it and then hers.  The
last he saw as he beat a retreat was a wistful, slender shadow closing
the door between them.  He retired to his cot to lie fighting the
frustration gripping his body.  To take his mind off Miranda he
concentrated on his rather dubious plans for the morrow.  Zack and Abe
had been enthusiastic; Tom Crocker, a cautious man as became a sailing
master, had pointed out all culties.  Greg Merrick had been eager,
Fenton determined to show what the military

Daniel he could rely on to back him whatever harebrained scheme he
might dream up.  In the end, success: or failure would be in the lap of
the gods.  But to save Miranda from the clutches of mutineers he would
almost anything.  Damn and blast!  He was back thinking of Miranda
again!

The sight of Adam's stalwart figure, albeit in white linen, remained in
Miranda's vision long after she returned to her cot.  A sense of
grievous disappointment, of having been cheated of something beyond
price, kept her wakeful.  But he had kissed her hand.  She fell asleep
at last with the palm nestled beneath her cheek.

CHAPTER NINE

MIRANDA could not settle.  All morning she paced quarterdeck,
accompanied in turns by most of officers, who seemed more in evidence
than though this did not appear to disturb the marine sentries posted
about the decks.  Adam himself was lying although he did take a turn
just before noon.

Each day the master, several midshipmen instruction and the captain, if
he felt like it, took a as the sun reached its zenith, measuring its
above the horizon.  This enabled the master to fix latitude--the ship's
exact position relative to the equator--and to turn the glass to
correct the ship's time noon.  Miranda suspected Adam wanted to know

"Virago's location-a suspicion confirmed when remarked that they had
already left Madeira to board, though the island had been too distant
for the masthead lookout to sight.

Passing on this information allowed him to her without undue
awkwardness, though both conscious of the events of the previous night.
embarrassment had become acute the more she'd side red her forward
conduct, While Adam had a 1ous sense of guilt for rejecting her, albeit
in the interests of herself as well as everyone else.  So casual
announcement of their whereabouts covered difficult moment and they
were able to resume an easy relationship without further fuss.

After a few turns about the deck Adam prepared to go below again.

"Do not stand near me or the captain later," he murmured as he, bent
over her hand in farewell.  "The surgeon reckons that a sentence of
more than a dozen lashes will kill that man, who already has a raw back
from previous punishments.  He was a fool to speak out as he did, but a
brave one.  I'll not allow him to be killed for speaking the truth."

"So if the punishment is severe--'

"I intend to intervene anyway, since I've sent word round the ship for
the people not to make a move themselves but to expect action from
another direction, but brutality of that magnitude would vindicate my
decision."

"Adam."  Miranda's fingers clung to his hand.  "Take care."

He smiled, that buccaneering smile she had glimpsed before when' he'd
scented action.  "If I die it will be in as good a cause as any I can
conceive.  But I will take care," he added quickly, seeing the dismay
written on her face and turning her away so that others would not
observe it.  He bent his mouth near her ear.  "I have no wish to lose
my life before I have savoured the delights you so generously offered
last night, sweetheart."

Miranda hid her face now, for it was poppy-red.  "I

shouldn't have.  " she muttered.

"I'm glad you did."

He kissed her fingers, reminding himself that her life was more
valuable to him than his own, and that he'

sEAFIRE

better remember that when the time came, otherwise he might act less
decisively than he should, afraid to die now that he had discovered
life to be more precious than it had ever seemed in the past.

Punishment would be administered in an hour's time.  Miranda remained
on deck after Adam left, afraid that she would not be able to swallow
her dinner, which Daniel was due to serve soon.  She hoped he would
understand and not be offended if she failed, for he went to great
lengths to obtain decent food from~ Judge's cook to serve to her and
Adam.

She did follow him below, though, when Daniel came to fetch her.

"You must eat, missie, you'll need all your strength,~ he told her in a
gruff whisper.  " The cap'n will be all right.  Ah'll take good care of
him, never you fear.  You could surely manage some stew?  "

There was no sound from the other side of partition.  "Is he eating in
the wardroom?"  Miranda.  Daniel nodded.  Miranda grinned despite self?
Making friends and influencing people?  "

"Talking to Mr.  Winchester and sharing a bottle with him and Lootenant
Goddard."

Daniel's colonial inflection was always more noticeable than that of
the other Americans and now Southern drawl had become more pronounced
usual.  He was, she guessed, as anxious for Adam's safety as she was.

Miranda sniffed at the salt pork and chicken stew, thickened with dried
peas, and decided it did not smell too bad.  One tentative spoonful was
followed by another as she discovered the concoction to be both tasty
and filling.  And her stomach had been feeling hollow.  Yes, she could
manage some.  If the routine of the ship was disturbed it might be
hours before she would be able to eat again.

She had scarcely finished her meal before the drum began to beat and
the bosun's pipes to twitter, calling all hands to witness punishment.
Miranda stood up, drew a deep breath and reached into the foot of her
cot.  She took out the box Dick had given her.  She had already loaded
both pistols with powder and shot, ramming it down the barrel and then
adding a wad of cotton to keep it there.  Now she checked the flints
and poured priming powder into the pan before tucking them into her
reticule.  Luckily it was capacious, but the weapons dragged it down;
it was obvious she had something heavy in there and she hoped no one
would notice.  Or wonder why she had chosen this particular occasion to
carry the.  cumbersome drawstring bag up the companion ladder to the
deck.

But no one was concerned with her.  Adam gave her a brief smile as he
lounged against the breech of a gun waiting for Captain Judge to
appear.  He and all his officers wore their swords, Midshipman
Merrick,had his dirk.  These weapons were accepted, since this was a
ceremonial event, and the Americans were on parole.  Daniel, she
discovered after some searching, was halfway up the main rigging,
hanging on with one hand and idly swinging a heavy belaying pin in his
other fist.

Yes, as usual on such occasions, every English officer had a sword at
his hip, for it was, after all, the visible sign of his status and
authority.  As Judge stepped on

S pounds Fig deck, Captain Goddard stood in front of his main body of
marines with his sword drawn and held with the blade vertical between
his eyes.

Marines were posted along the quarterdeck rail, their loaded muskets
pointing at the seamen beyond.  One was stationed in the main top above
Daniel's head,

manning a swivel gun.  So that was why Daniel was where he was.  Zack,
his right arm still in a sling,

near Mr.  Winchester, the first lieutenant; Abe had taken up position
close to the marine manning a swivel on the starboard bulwark, while
Tom strolled casually stand between Zack and the soldier stationed
larboard gun.  Lieutenant Fenton stood to near the main body of British
marines.  Young

Merrick hovered behind Zack and near the master only Seafire to look
anything other than casual:

appeared excited, but no one was looking, No ordered the American
officers to stand in a not seem necessary--the seamen were the they
were glaring sullenly but doing nothing,

by the marines' muskets and swivels, None of officers suspected the
Americans of an interfere; why should they?  This was a purely matter
of a kind they had witnessed before.  ~

Miranda supposed it would have been too for Fenton to actually join
Captain Goddard to attention before his marines.  Or perhaps Adam able
to disregard any threat from his direction.

Goddard could shout an order and the soldiers would react like puppets
and fire thought.  And they would aim at Adam.

She crossed the deck to stand as near to the captain as she dared.
which put her in the line of fire between Adam and at least half the
soldiers.  No one told her to move, although Fenton beckoned her to
join him, a worried frown on his round face.  She did not think they
would shoot with her in the way and if the moment came her presence
might cause confusion.  She ignored him.

Surreptitiously, she loosened the strings at the neck of her reticule.
She 'would shoot Goddard herself if she had to, despite quite
respecting the man.

Captain Judge stepped forward and Adam straightened up.  at the same
time gaining a couple of paces in Judge's direction.  Judge read the
relevant Articles of War and pronounced sentence.

"The prisoner is sentenced to receive five dozen lashes."

An audible sigh went up from the mustered crew but no one moved.

"Silence!"  roared thecaptain.  "Bosun, carry on."

The prisoner had been brought up in manacles.  These had already been
removed and he'd been tied to the grating erected for the purpose.  so
a flogging had been anticipated.  Only the number of strokes had been
in doubt.  The leather strap was now placed between the victim's
teeth.

"Captain..."  began the surgeon anxiously.

"Silence.  sir!  I have already listened to what you have.  to say! You
are too soft.  The man has persistently offended and must receive his
due punishment.  I consider five dozen lashes a lenient sentence."

"But he may not survive..."

"Then he will be entered in the muster book as discharged dead!
Bosun!"

The evil grin on the bosun's face made Miranda's stomach turn.  "Do
your duty, Spencerl' he snapped.

The mate picked up his lash and ran the tails across his palm as the
marines' drum rolled.  Nervously, he moistened his lips with his
tongue.

Everyone else's eyes were fixed either on the man at the grating, whose
back was already a of half-healed weals.  Miranda's were on Adam.

could sense him gathering himself, waiting for the right moment to
act.

In one sweeping movement his sword was drawn pointing unerringly at
Judge's throat.  As he moved ]

shouted, "Belay that order!  Seafires!"

The mate, looking relieved, lowered his tails.  Adam continued talking
over the sound abrupt scuffles on the quarterdeck and in

"A single shot," he warned in ringing tones, 'a by anyone, will ensure
your death, Judge, and anyone who attempts to come to your aid.

notice that all the swivel guns are under the my officers.  Mr.
Winchester has been relieved of'!

sword.  " ~ ~

Zack held the first lieutenant at the point of his sword.  Abe and Tom
had knocked out the marines the swivels and had the guns aimed, Abe at
of officers, including Dick, standing to one side captain and Tom at
the three lines of marines Goddard.  Greg Merrick was waving his dirk
ingly at the master.  Daniel was behind the in the top.

The helmsmen were keeping the warship on the designated course,
apparently uninterested in what was going on around them.  But Miranda
noticed a tension about their shoulders, the whiteness of their
knuckles on the spokes of the wheels.

As for the men of the lower deck, it was difficult for her to see most
of them, but some stood on the raised foredeck and others clung to
various parts of the rigging.  Their expressions were universally ones
of expectation.  But they had made no move themselves.  No one could
ever accuse them of mutiny.

"Parole!"  thundered Judge.  "You have broken your parole, you pirate!
Bosun, ignore him, carry on!"

"If he does, you die, he dies, and many others with you!  And I am not
breaking my parole, I do not intend to take this ship, although clearly
I could, but merely to prevent you from meting out any more inhuman
punishments to your people;'

"You cannot stop me, York; Neither you nor anyone else can dictate the
way I run my ship.  Aboard the Virago I am as God!  I can do as I
please.  Under God, I rule here!"

"Under God; aye, God is merciful, Captain Judge.  You have no
conception of mercy.  If you refuse to moderate your tyrannical rule I
will see that you are certified unfit for command.  In the meantime you
will be relieved of this one."

"Whoever dares to do that will be brought before a court martial and
sentenced to be hanged!"

"But I am not in your navy, Captain."

Adam was taking a great risk, Miranda realised.  Judge had only to
acquiesce in order to recover command of the ship and he could then
have Adam and the other Seafires thrown into chains or even hung from
the yardarm, and carry on exactly as before.  Except that were that to
happen the Viragos would probably mutiny.

Adam knew the risk, and held his breath, praying that his gamble would
come off.  Judge, he had assessed, was not a devious man but a
stiff-necked tyrant who could never be seen to give in.  It would be
beneath his dignity to surrender his authority.  If Judge did choose to
use guile, if he promised to mend his ways, then Adam would have to
chance his arm and rouse the men to mutiny.  Under those circumstances,
the Seafires and Miranda might be safe.  But he desperately did not
wish to test the theory.

"My officers will all be charged if they follow your orders and fail to
come to my aid!"

He was trying intimidation still.  It seemed to be the only way he knew
of retaining any kind of authority.

"Look round," offered Adam, sweeping his unoccupied arm but not
allowing his sword to waver from Judge's throat for an instant.  "They
are helpless, Captaint.  They are incapable of assisting you.  Only you
can help yourself, by confessing your error in treating your people
with such insane brutality and promising to mend your ways."

"You demand the impossible!  Captain Goddard, shoot this man!"

Relieved that he had assessed the fellow's character correctly, Adam
pricked Judge's throat with the point of his sword.  "You are inviting
a blood bath!"

Captain Goddard was still standing as though cast in stone.  Miranda
had seen the shock on his face at Adam's original action, seen him open
his mouth to shout a command and then close it again.  But Judge would
not be easily subdued and Goddard had his duty to perform.  He
hesitated, glanced anxiously at the nearest swivel and then issued a
gruff order.

"Corporal, execute Captain Judge's command."  Miranda had her hand on
the pistol in her reticule but she did not wish to start the shooting.
Abe and Tom, grimly determined, were sighting their swivels.  They must
not fire!  Chaos would result.

"No!"  she screamed~ and flung herself behind Goddard to collide with
the corporal--a man renowned for his accurate shooting,

She was conscious of the click of the flint, the splutter of the
priming powder as the spark ignited it, of a deafening bang above her
head.  Despair took her.  She had not reached the marine in time to
spoil his aim, She had hit him a split second after that deadly report.
But so far it had been the only shot fired.

An enormous cry went up from the ship's company but Miranda did not
heed it.  She clung to the man, regaining her balance, afraid to look
to see if Adam had been hit.  Of course he had; the corporal would not,
miss.

A firm hand pulled her off.  "Now look what you've done!"  came Captain
Goddard's grim voice in her ear,

She looked up.  He was under threat from John Fenton's sword and
pistol, but was ignoring both.  And was that a grin he was attempting
to suppress?  Chaos had broken out all round, but it was a slightly
hysterical chaos which sounded as though people were attempting to
subdue a desire to cheer.  Then she heard Adam's clear tones addressing
the company and relief swamped through her so that she almost fainted,
She did not know what had happened, but Adam was alive!

"Hear me, lads!"  came his confident, ringing tones.  "We Seafires have
not broken our parole and taken your ship!  We were intent only on
preventing an injustice."  A ragged, spontaneou cheer rose at his words
and Adam held up his hand for silence.  "Your captain is dead,
therefore Mr.  Winchester is your commander!  Hear him?

"Well, my lads," called Winchester, his youthful, long face showing
complete confidence despite the strain he must be under, his left hand
resting on the hilt of his sword, now restored to its scabbard.
"Discipline aboard this ship must be maintained at all costs.  Make no
mistake about that.  I will not tolerate slackness or disobedience.  A
King's ship cannot fight when called upon to do so without the
strictest discipline, However, you may cut that man down, he has
already suffered enough."  '

"But, sir," began the bosun indignantly, 'you must execute the
captain's last order!  And you must arrest the American prisoners of
war!  They caused his death!  " ~

"Must, Bosun?  Must?  You are in error: I now commend the Virago and my
word is law!  Cut him down?

The bosun's mates were ready with their knives.  The prisoner was soon
standing up rubbing his wrists.

"Thank you, sir," he called.  "Three cheers for Captain Winchester!
Hip, hip--'

The huzzahs rang around the deck.  Winchester stood gravely
acknowledging the accolade.  For a young man ~)f less than thirty
summers he had managed the change of command with commendable authority
and coolness, considered Miranda, though Adam must be even younger. and
look what he had done!  She hoped that if Winchester took the
two-decker home successfully the Admiralty, would see fit to promote
him to a ship of his own.  The bosun's had been the only dissenting
voice.  The rest of the ship's complement knew their lieutenant and
would follow him.

"Dismiss," ordered Winchester when the last cheer had died.  "Be about
your duties.  Doctor.  see that Captain Judge's body is dealt with
having due regard to his rank.  I shall conduct a funeral service
tomorrow morning at six bells.  We do not have the means to preserve
his remains in order to transport them back to England."

They could have used what was left of the rum ration, Miranda supposed.
but no one even suggested wasting good spirit on the carcass of the
detested Judge.  He would be consigned to a watery grave and all
evidence of the cause of his death would be lost for ever.

Adam turned to Winchester.  "I should be glad of a few words with you
below.  Captain."  Like the man released from punishment, he gave the
lieutenant the courtesy title his new command warranted.  He indicated
Abe, Tom and Daniel, still manning the swivels.  "My officers do still
control the ship.  They will not, of course.  interfere with its normal
running.  But they will remain at the swivels until our own futures are
decided.  And that of Miss Dawson.  Perhaps she could accompany us
below?"

Winchester nodded.  "Very well.  Carry on,

Mr.  Jackson.  Oh, and Mr.  Dawson, go and get some sleep.  You are
relieved of your double watches.  "

"Aye aye, sir!"  grinned a delighted Dick.  "Congratulations Captain
York!  You did it!"

Leaving the second lieutenant in charge of the deck, Winchester led
Adam and Miranda down to the great cabin.  It would be his now and once
in its privacy he relaxed, though as yet he had not smiled.  He knew
Adam held the trump cards and was wary.

"So young Dawson was in on the plot, was he?"

"He knew I planned something to prevent an injustice being done, and
kept the men quiet, that is all.  But his passing the word saved this
ship from mutiny and a blood bath."

"Quite.  I wonder the men stood for it as long as they.  did," admitted
Winchester with a sigh.  "I did what I could to relieve their misery,
but Judge's brutality grew steadily worse the longer the voyage
lasted."

"The men knew they had your sympathy, Captain.  That is why they will
follow you now."

Winchester nodded and the first glimmering of a smile touched his
narrow face.  "What can I do to be of service to you, Captain York?" he
asked without further preamble.

"Restore my ship and men to my command and allow us to return to
America, where we were headed when we ran across the Osprey."

Winchester pursed his lips.  "I thought that might be your price for
freeing this ship from the rule of that tyrant.  Is that why you did
it?"

Adam grinned.  "No, although I confess the possibility of regaining my
command did enter into my calculations.  No, I could not stand by and
watch that man's merciless punishments at the merest suggestion of an
offence, real or fabricated.
That top man death finally decided me.  In my opinion, and that of Mr.
Dawson, who had contact with his sister and informed her of the
situation, a mutiny was imminent.  All our lives would have been
forfeit and Miss Dawson would have been at the mercy of hundreds of
crazed seamen.  "

"The commander of the Seafire would have come to our assistance."

"Lieutenant Piper?  Yes, he might have done.  And instigated a sea
fight if only to refute any charge of cowardice over the way he
surrendered the Othello.  He might have saved the ship, but he could
not have saved us.  However, as it happened he was too far off to be
disturbed, especially by a single musket shot.  May I suggest that you
hoist a signal to have him close with US?"

Winchester called for a midshipman and gave the order.

"What of Miss Dawson?"  he demanded, turning to Miranda, who had been
sitting quietly listening to the two men, wondering what plans, if any,
Adam had for her future.  Right or wrong, she knew what she wanted, and
held her breath as Adam placed one foot on his other knee, removed a
strand of hemp from his trouser leg, and settled back more comfortably
in his armchair, facing Winchester across the vast mahogany desk.

"She will return to the Seafire with me and join the other prisoners I
took from the Othello.  I have, for all practical purposes, recaptured
them.  My men will expect their share of the head money."

"And mine, although they cannot claim prize money for the Seafire, for
our ship was not in sight when she was captured, would be due a salvage
payment for bringing her back to Portsmouth."  .

Adam settled even more deeply into' his chair, his respect for
Winchester growing.  The man, narrow~ of body as well of face, was yet
possessed of both the physical and mental strength necessary for the
task ahead of him.  He had become a different man, relaxed, confident,
prepared to bargain even under his present difficult circumstances. How
he must have suffered under Judge!

Adam appeared to consider, though his mind was already made up.  Piper
and the others would be nothing but an embarrassment on the Seafire and
his men would receive plenty of prize money from other sources.  He
would be well rid of the prisoners of war.  But Miranda was a different
proposition.  His body quickened at the thought of what could lie in
store for them once he was back with his ship.  Their relationship was
fraught with difficulties, but he would not easily surrender her to
Winchester.

"Very well," he agreed, "I will release the officers of the Othello to
you."

"Together with Admiral Dawson's daughter."

As Adam appeared to hesitate, Miranda stiffened.  What should she do if
he agreed?  Throw herself at him again, plead to be taken to America?
Never!

But she had judged too soon.  A smile played about Adam's mouth as he
said, "Captain Judge accused Miss Dawson of consorting with the enemy.
He noticed," he added drily, 'that we had become somewhat attached.

She may return with you if she so wishes, but I would choose to keep
her with me.  "

"He was not the only one to notice your, er, partiality for Miss
Dawson," responded Winchester, equally drily.  "Or hers for you,
Captain."  He turned to Miranda.  "What are your wishes in this matter,
Miss Dawson?"

Miranda swallowed the lump in her throat.  Adam had not let her down.
Nevertheless, she was mortified to find herself put to the blush by the
exchange.

"My father is stationed in Barbados," she reminded both men.  "I should
be nearer to my family in America.  It might take me many months to
find another warship agreeable to giving me passage out to join them. I
would rather cross the Atlantic with Captain York."

Adam had a frown between his eyes.  He had admitted his partiality for
Miranda but the only reason she had given for wishing to sail with him
was her eagerness to cross the Atlantic!  Yet, sitting there with hands
tightly clasped about the reticule in her lap, her confusion was
obvious.  The sardonic smile on Winchester's face told that he hid
noticed it too.  She was~ understandably, too shy or too ashamed to
admit her desire to be with him,

"I see," murmured Winchester.  "But I believe I must insist that you
return to England.  I shall have to face a court martial upon my
return, when I shall have to account for all my actions, and describe
the circumstances leading up to Captain Judge's death.  I shall also
have to account for the loss of a captured enemy frigate.  To be forced
to admit the loss to the enemy of a British admiral's daughter as well
might stretch the tribunal's credulity.  My position will be difficult
enough--'

He broke off as Miranda rose to her feet and he saw the pistol pointed
steadily at his breast.  It was a desperate expedient, yet she felt she
had no alternative.

"You may say, sir, that you had no choice.  If necessary I will hold
you at gunpoint until I am safely off this ship!"

Adam almost burst out laughing at the comical expression on
Winchester's face.  Surely he realised the gun wasn't cocked?

"Madam?  the commander exclaimed, climbing carefully to his feet and
holding out his hands in a warding-off gesture.  " Please be careful
with that weapon!  I presume it is loaded?  "

"Loaded and primed, sir, and I have another in my reticule.  I was
prepared for every eventuality, you see.  But do not be unnecessarily
alarmed.  I am an excellent shot, taught by my father,"

"I have only to raise my voice and call the marine sentry"

There was a click as the pistol was cocked.  "For us all to be
killed!"

"My dear," murmured Adam, rising slowly to his feet, "I do not think
you need threaten Mr.  Winchester.  I am certain he will accept your
decision--'

"I am taking no chances!  Besides, I am giving him a defence at the
court martial!  The death of Judge he can blame on you!  No one will
contradict his version of events--'

"Could I not blame that on you as well, Miss Dawson?  It was, after
all, you who spoiled the marine corporal's aim!"

Miranda opened her mouth to deny the truth of this accusation, but
closed it again.  That had been her purpose in barging into the
man--only he and she knew that he had deliberately aimed at his
captain, and although this mitigated her own sense of treachery for
acting against a British officer, she could not condemn the corporal,
who had done everyone a good turn, to the hangman's noose.  She
temporised.

"But the prisoners of war had already taken the ship, Captain.  Such
accusations will not concern Captain York and his officers once they
are back aboard their own ship.  As for my actions in connection with
Judge's death, I leave your account of those to your instincts as a
gentleman!  This is another matter.  No one, I conceive, will blame me
for wishing to cross the Atlantic as soon as possible in the company of
Captain York."

Winchester bowed.  "Your action at the time of Judge's death confirms
your regard for Captain York beyond doubt, ma'am.  It is unfortunate
that you are on opposing sides in this war.  But I wish you well. Since
you are so determined, I will not oppose your sailing in the

Miranda beamed, lowered her weapon and uncocked it, though she still
held it in her hand, "Thank you, Captain?

"What," asked Adam mildly, 'did Miss Dawson do that so spoiled the
corporal's aim?  "

He had been too occupied with keeping his sword pointed at Judge's
throat to see anything going on more or less behind him, He had
accepted that Judge had been shot by mistake without knowing why.

"Miss Dawson," drawled Winchester, seating himself again, 'threw
herself at the marine to deflect his aim and save your life.  Captain.
It was perhaps incidental that she also prevented your Lieutenant
Windsor from spraying my marines with canister!  It was sheer bad luck
that the man hit the captain instead.  "

"Or good luck--depends which way you look at it," said Adam.  but his
eyes had sought Miranda's to verify the truth of Winchester's
statement, The fact that hers were lowered in embarrassment confirmed
the truth of the matter.  She had been prepared to attack her own side
to save his life.

Miranda felt dreadful.  No wonder Fenton had beckoned her to move to
his side!  She realised now how carefully he had sited himself out of
Abe's line of fire!  Yet, unwittingly, her action had saved the British
marines from devastation even if it had not actually saved Adam and
caused Judge's death.

"Will you be abe to convince the court martial?"  asked Adam once they
had all resumed their seats.  It would take the Seafire a good hour to
come up with the Virago for she had dropped a long way to leeward. 
Zack and the others would have no trouble on deck, he was certain,
apart from, perhaps~ the bosun.  "Will the bosun cause a problem?"

Winchester smiled.  "I doubt he will survive to bear witness.  He has
made too many enemies aboard this ship.  He will simply disappear."

Adam did not seem surprised, thought Miranda, herself shocked.  "You
mean he will be murdered?"  she demanded.  "And you v~ill do nothing to
prevent it?"

"What can I dot asked Winchester with a shrug.  " He has done nothing
to warrant his arrest, so I cannot confine him for his own safety.  And
I cannot act as nursemaid all day and all night.  There are plenty of
opportunities to slip an unpopular man over the side, Miss Dawson, the
seamen have their own form of justice and are quite merciless.  "

"It's true, my dear.  Do not concern yourself over it.  The man
deserves to die."  Adam had accepted a glass of Judge's wine and he
twirled the glass between his fingers.  "I am puzzled as to why Judge
treated young Dawson, an admiral's son, so harshly.  One might have
thought he would toady to the youth, hoping to influence the father."

Winchester snorted his scorn.  "Not Judge!  Nothing he did could
possibly be wrong!  A man without mercy himself, he would suppose that
the admiral would admire his devotion to duty without fear or favour!
But your brother will make a fine officer one day, Miss Dawson.  He
will pass his examinations with flying colours~ I am short of an
officer and shall appoint him as temporary lieutenant for the remainder
of this voyage.  Not long, I grant you, but the appointment will go
down on his record."

"You are very kind, " Captain.  I trust you will obtain a command of
your own soon.  "

"A frigate, like yours, York!  That would make me very happy."

"Then here is to your achieving your ambition!"  said Adam, raising his
glass.

"You know, for an enemy, you are a most congenial fellow," smiled
Winchester, acknowledging the toast.

The two men had much in common, thought Miranda.  All Winchester lacked
was Adam's charisma.

CHAPTER TEN

T. E Virago had shortened sail to enable the Seafire to claw her way
back to her escort.  As the smaller ship approached, Winchester ordered
the two-decker to heave to.

While this manoeuvre was being carried out the lookout suddenly yelled
a warning.

"Deck, there!  Her gun ports are opening, sir!"

Adam and Winchester had already spotted the black holes appearing along
the frigate's side, followed almost immediately by the sight of the
muzzles of her guns as they were run out.

"Confound it!  What the devil is the man thinking of?"  exclaimed
Winchester.  "Has he run mad?  Can't he read our signal to heave to and
come aboard?"

Adam had snatched a telescope from the hands of a nearby midshipman and
was studying the quarterdeck of his frigate.

"Mr.  Piper is no ton the deck, Mr.  Winchester."  A smile of sheer
delight lit his face.  "The Seafires have recaptured their ship!"

"What?"

"Afraid so."  He scanned the gun ports before lowering the glass.
"Can't you see the US marines?  And they are my men behind the guns.
Midshipman Light foot, the bosun and a master's mate appear to be in
command and they're handling her well!"

"Confound it!"  exclaimed Winchester again, peering intently through
his telescope.  "You're right.  How could the dolts allow that to
happen?"

"We shall no doubt discover.  My men have come to rescue their officers
and anticipate having to use force, so they have manned the guns.  They
will think us still prisoners.  I suggest we find a white flag and
mount the bulwarks together, Mr.  Winchester, before they decide to
fire!  Unless you wish to engage in battle?"

Winchester shook his head and snapped an order.  As they leapt up on
the bulwarks, clinging to the rigging, he assured Adam, "We came to an
agreement, Mr.  York.  Nothing I shall do will break it."

"Nor I. We want no unnecessary bloodshed at this stage."

A midshipman ran to Winchester with a large piece of white bunting
flapping in his hand.  Winchester snatched the flag and waved it as
Adam flourished his sword and hailed his ship.  They were too far away
still to hear what he said, even with the aid of a speaking-trumpet,
but he hoped someone over there would get the message.

Once the Virago was have to Winchester ordered the men of the watch to
line the bulwarks and make friendly gestures, but others, on the lower
deck, were quietly preparing their guns to fire.  "Don't run them out;'
he'd ordered his officers, 'and on no account fire without my express
command.  But be ready, just in case.  They might think this is a
ruse."

Adam feared that too.  With the warship's crew prepared to obey their
new commander's orders without demur, and having come to an agreement
with a man he instinctively knew he could trust, Adam had told his own
men to stand down from their captured swivel guns.  Now he shouted to
the Seafires to wave and cheer from the deserted poop, which they raced
to do with such enthusiasm that Daniel almost fell overboard in his
eagerness to be seen and understood.

Once again cursing her skirts, which prevented her from climbing up on
the bulwarks with Adam, Miranda followed his officers to the poop and
pushed her way to the rail.  The Seafire was slowing down, spilling
wind from her sails, hesitating, approaching with caution.

Lieutenant Fenton, whose stentorian voice as he drilled his marines was
a joke among, the seamen, had captured a speaking-trumpet.  "Sergeant?
he bellowed, his round face red with effort.  " Stand down from your
arms!  We are free and returning aboard, bound for home?

Miranda wondered whether his voice had carried, but the distance
between the two ships was diminishing fast.  She could just about
recognise the rotund figure of Fenton's sergeant without the help of a
telescope now, could see him hesitate, confer with the bosun and
midshipman and then order the soldiers to lower their muskets.  which
had been levelled at the Virago across the hammock nettings and from
the tops, Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, although the cannons
still pointed menacingly at them.  Mr.  Midshipman Light foot, no doubt
revelling in his first taste of command, was not about to relinquish
his advantage easily.

"I don't blame him," observed Zack.  "I'd be cautious in his position."
Greg Merrick, almost in tears, groaned.  "Why didn't they leave me
behind?  That could have been me commanding the

"I'm glad to see the boy has learnt some of the lessons I've been
trying to teach him," remarked Tom Crocker drily, eyeing the
midshipman's course and sail handling with approval.

Abe, his tension somewhat relaxed, laughed as he answered Merrick's
moan.  "Penalty of being the senior midshipman, Mr.  Merrick.  But you
played your part in preventing a mutiny here.  Don't be greedy."

"The cap'n's going to speak," said Daniel.  "Listen!"  ordered Zack.

Adam's distorted voice echoed over the two hundred yards of sea still
separating the ships.  "All is well, Seafires, we are no longer
prisoners!  We'll lower a boat and I'll come across.  Stand down from
your guns and heave to."

The bosun answered, presumably because Mr.  Light foot feared his newly
broken voice might not carry.  "Aye, aye, sir, but we'll keep the
quarterdeck carronades trained, just until you gets here safe."

"A good compromise," came Winchester's rueful voice.  "You have your
men well taught, Mr.  York."

Adam acknowledged the compliment with a grin.  "Accepted," he shouted
back to the bosun.  "Prepare to receive your captain!"

Miranda quickly descended to the quarterdeck and Adam,

"Let me come with you," she pleaded.

"If Mr.  Winchester agrees.  And it would reassure my men if you would
allow my servant, who is also my coxswain, to cox the boat, Captain."

"Very well, said Winchester.  who was watching the lowering of the
quarter boat.  " My own boat crew will row you over.  "

Details of the exchange had already been decided.  Once Adam was back
aboard the Seafire and his men reassured, the operation could proceed
as planned.  Her trunks, Miranda noted, had already been brought up
from below, and at that moment were joined by her sea chest and those
of Adam and the other

A yawning Dick had appeared on deck.  wakened no doubt by the shouting
and the noise made as the quarter boat was lowered on its davits.
Miranda ran across the deck to him.

"I'm going over to the frigate with Captain York," she explained. "Here
are your pistols, Dicky, thanks for lending them to me and be
careful--they are both loaded and primed.  The box is hidden in the
foot of my cot; you'd better rescue it quickly."

"You're going?"  asked Dick ruefully.  accepting his pistols back and
tucking them into his belt.  "You're not returning to Portsmouth?"

"No.  Captain York is releasing all his other captives, but not me."

"Of all the--' He drew a breath.  " I'd thought better of him.  I'll
have a word--'

"No, Dicky.  I could have refused."  She hesitated, then confessed, "I
wish to return to the Scarre with him."

Her blush confirmed Dick's growing conviction as to her feelings and he
shook his head.  "Are you certain, Mirrie?  He's a fine fellow and I
have cause to be eternally grateful to him, but he's an American!"

"I know.  and an enemy.  Somehow, Dicky, it doesn't seem to matter any
more.  You see..."  She lowered her voice and admitted something she
had scarcely dared to even think.  "I love him.  If possible I want to
spend the rest of my life with him."

"Good Lord!  What will Father say?  He'll never allow it!"

"I don't know.  That's what worries me most.  But he may not find out
until after the war is over and I am free to leave America, unless you
decide to betray my confidence when you write."

"I shan't do that, Mirfie, I promise you.  In fact I don't often write,
you know."

"Mama looks for your letters.  Be a dear, Dickie, do write, but only
say I'm safe and that I've been taken to America; give no details."

Dick drew her to him and kissed her cheek.  "Be happy, Mirrie.  God go
with you."

"And with you, Dickie; keep safe.  Mr.  Winchester says you'll pass
your exams with flying colours.  I'll expect to hear you've received
your commission and become

Lieutenant Dawson before long!  "

"How?"  Dick grimaced.

"Once I reach America the Admiralty will be informed of my whereabouts,
I imagine.  You could write via them and with luck I'll receive it
eventually."  "Are you ready?"

Adam came up, looked enquiringly at Miranda and held out his hand to
Dick.  "Good luck, and thanks for your help.  The men behaved supremely
well.  I guess they approve of you, young fellow."

"I'm glad to have met you, sir."  Dick hesitated, then, "Look after my
sister," he said rather gruffly.

Adam placed an arm about Miranda's shoulders.  "I intend to.  But the
boat is waiting.  We must go."

Final farewells to Mr.  Winchester and all those they knew were made as
they crossed the deck ready to descend into the waiting boat.  "See you
later," Adam called to his officers, still gathered on the poop.

They knew what was happening.  Once Adam had reassured his crew, a boat
with them aboard would cross with others ferrying British captives to
the Virago.  "Aye, aye, sir," they called, saluting.

Adam caught Miranda as she followed him down into the heaving boat and
held her a moment longer than was strictly necessary, sending messages
of awareness winging along her nerves.  Together, they sat on a thwart
in front of Daniel, who sat at the tiller with the boat's usual
coxswain beside him.  Daniel gave the orders to the British seamen, who
cast off and rowed across the swell to the Seafire.  At times, as the
small boat dipped into a deep trough, Miranda lost sight of the frigate
apart from the tops of its masts and sails.  But her spirits were so~
high she could 'have shouted for joy just knowing it was there and that
she would soon be back on board.  With Adam.

The bosun's squealing pipe was drowned by a spontaneous cheer as Adam
climbed aborn-d, the first up the side, as tradition demanded.

Close behind him, Miranda's eyes reached the level of the entry in time
to see Midshipman Light foot salute smartly and cry, "Welcome back on
board, sir?

Miranda, followed by Daniel, stepped onto the deck.  Adam gave Miranda
a brief smile and turned back to the midshipman.  He looked around the
deck, which showed signs of recent conflict.  A pile of discarded
weapons lay near the mast and a dark stain on the scrubbed planking
looked remarkably like blood.

"Congratulations, Mr.  Light foot!  You had to fight for possession?"
he enquired.

"Aye, sir.  But we outnumbered 'em by four to one,

they didn't stand a chance.  "

"Any dead or wounded?"

Mr.  Light foot looked grave.  "Lieutenant Piper is dead, sir.  He
fought bravely.  I'm afraid the English marine on duty guarding us was
killed after he shot one of our men as we took him by surprise. Several
other English and two more of our people were wounded as well."

Adam's brows came together in a frown.  "Mr.  Piper is dead?  He was to
go back in the boat in exchange for me.  Mr.  Gander will have to go
instead.  Bring them all on deck."  He turned to Miranda.  "Wait for me
in my cabin."

She nodded.  Adam was in possession of his command again.  Her sea
chest had been brought over with her and immediately taken below.  She
would be glad of a moment to freshen up and change.

She had many moments.  The ships lay alongside each other for an hour
or more as the British prize crew, numbering some fifty men, were
ferried across to the Virago with all their possessions.

The moment the great guns had been withdrawn, unloaded and lashed down,
Daniel had set the cabin to rights, restoring Adam's things as Adam
liked them, removing all traces of Mr.  Piper's occupation.  The
lieutenant's body had gone across to the British ship

S pounds FIR

with Mr.  Gander, as had that of the marine.  The wounded had been
taken across too, once the Seafire's surgeon had attended to them.

Miranda, washed and changed back into her midshipman's clothes, was
soon on deck again to watch the operation, emerging in time to bid
farewell to Mr.  Haskett.  She had grown quite fond of the master of
the Othello.  She looked about her for Will Welland, but he was not
among those still waiting to be taken across.  He must have already
gone, or not been part of the prize crew.

It did not take her long to reacquaint herself with the Seafires.  The
seamen grinned, saluted, and told her they were glad to have her back
with them.

The last boat was about to leave the side of the Seafire.  Lieutenant
Fenton had the muster book of the prize crew in his hand and was
marking off the British seamen as they went down the side.  As the last
boat prepared to cast off, he called a halt.

"There's a midshipman missing," he told Adam.  "William Welland."

Miranda stiffened.  Will missing?  How could that be?  "He was in the
prize crew?"  Adam demanded.

"Aye, sir, he's listed here.  Seems as though Piper and all the old
Othellos were; it was a way of sending 'em back to England to give an
account of themselves before being posted to other ships, I guess."

"Very well.  Ask our people if they saw what happened to Welland."  As
the marine lieutenant moved off Adam leaned over the side and called
down to the bobbing boat below, "Do any of you men remember seeing
Midshipman Welland recently?"

After a short conference the call came back from Tony Keeper.  "Last
seen on deck with his dirk in his hand."  There was a slight sneer in
the boy's voice which Miranda resented on Will's behalf.  "One of the
escaping prisoners picked him up and set him aside.  No one remembers
seeing him since."

"Rather than kill the lad, I expect," mused Adam to no one in
particular, returning to await Fenton's report.  "He'd become quite
popular with the hands."

When questioned, the man who had picked the boy up vowed he had not
hurt a hair of the lad's head and had most certainly not tossed him
overboard, though after that he seemed to have disappeared.

"Mr.  West, have the men search the ship," ordered Adam.  "He may be
lying somewhere wounded."

It took no more than five minutes for a team of men to sweep through
the ship.  Will Welland was nowhere to be found.

"Check that he's not already gone across, his name might not have been
marked off," Adam instructed Tony Keeper.  "Signal the result.  One
arm' raised if he's there, two if he's not.  If he's not, Mr.  Gander
will have to' enter him in the muster book as dead.  He must have gone
overboard during the fighting."

Miranda felt sadness at the thought that Will was dead.  He'd been a
lovable child.  As the boat pushed off without him she looked across to
where James Stirling was standing gazing steadfastly at the planks
beneath his feet.  He must be mourning too.

They waited while the 'boat rowed across and enquiries were made on the
Virago, then saw Winchester raise both arms above his head, signalling
that Will had not been taken across.

"Very well.  A pity," remarked Adam.  "Prepare to make sail and to fire
the salute."

A gun roared out from the Virago, followed immediately by one from the
Seafire: Six times the blank shots were exchanged before Adam gave the
order to proceed.  "Right, Mr.  Crocker," he said, 'you were given our
exact position by Mr.  Winchester's master.  Set a course for Madeira,
if you please.  "

Tom grinned.  "Aye, aye, sir.  By my reckoning we should sight the
island by tomorrow morning."

He gave the helmsman the bearing.  Sail orders were bellowed, men leapt
to obey, the ship heeled and steadied on its new course.  Behind them,
the Virago had resumed her progress to Portsmouth.  Already, the
distance between the two ships was widening.  Soon the Virago and her
dead captain would be no more than an unpleasant memory.

But not just yet.  The remembrance of that almost paralysing fear as
the marine had aimed his musket was still with Miranda.  She could not
quite believe that the ordeal aboard the Virago was over, that the
menace of ugly mutiny had gone, that she was safe with Adam.

He, meanwhile, turned to Zack.  "Have the Cook light the galley fires
and serve a meal.  And see that every man receives a double ration of
spirits.  Carry on, Mr.  West.  I am going to my cabin."

Miranda remained where she was, in her favourite spot at the taffrail.
Adam had forgotten her, she imagined, in his eagerness to resume
command and to settle in below.  He managed to forget her all too
easily,

she thought gloomily.  Sailors!  He was just like all the others she
knew.  His ship stood head and shoulders above everything else in his
affections.  While she could think of little else but him.

But they were safe, safe, safe, and even Adam's neglect paled into
insignificance when she remembered that.  Besides, it was stupid to be
jealous of a ship.

A rumble in her stomach reminded her that they'd missed dinner again
but it was some time before Daniel appeared at her side.  Time Miranda
had spent in worried speculation.

"Cap'n sent me to tell you a meal i's served, missie."

"My thanks, Daniel."  Miranda smiled up into his face.  "You must be
glad to be back on the Seafire ."

His grin widened.  "We all are, missie.  Worse than a sea fight, that
was, watching things go from bad to worse, feeling helpless.  But
the.cap'n, he wasn't goin' to let any bunch of mutineers get the better
of him?

"Thanks to him they never became mutineers," Miranda reminded him as
they crossed the deck to the companion ladder.  She shivered.  "I
reckon I shah have nightmares about that ship for a long time to
come."

"Not you, missie," said Daniel confidently.

Miranda didn't know what to expect from Adam now he was back in
command.  She had spent the last hour fretting about it.  He'd implied
that once in his own cabin--but maybe that had only been a sop to pass
over the awkward moment when he'd refused to She still went hot and
cold all over when she thought of her unbelievably forward behaviour
the previous night.  Behaviour that, were it known, would ruin her
reputation and brand her a traitor.  Yet one part of her could not
regret it.  If only Adam had meant what he'd said!  It was because of
their improved relationship that she'd dared to go to him, and he'd
been roused, she knew, but by all she'd heard men were easily stirred,
especially by ladies of easy virtue, which was how she must have
appeared to him.  She could never bring herself to throw herself at him
again and, if he did not care for her, now they were safe he might
simply revert to treating her as he had before the disastrous
engagement with the Osprey.

Yet he had kept her with him.  Because he truly wanted her with him, or
because he sought favour with his admiral and she was a valuable
hostage?

One minute she was full of hope, the next sunk in a fit of the dismals.
Her uncertainty kept her on an emotional see-saw, her feelings in
constant turmoil.  Supposing Adam simply thought her easy and took what
she had offered without serious commitment himself?  Could she live
with that?

She didn't know.  She'd protested that she hadn't been thinking of
marriage, but that had been when she'd believed that day might be her
last and before she'd realised the true depth of her feelings for him.
Now the future stretched ahead~ a glorious future if Adam loved her as
she loved him, but if she gave herself to him and he did not care it
would become a wilderness through which she would have to wander
without hope or direction or ice this passage to America had been
accomplished.

But she still had the best part of a month before they reached their
destination.  Lack of wind or storms might delay the ship further.  Or
they might run into another enemy.  That thought made her shiver.  But
if she could not win Adam's love before they reached Annapolis she
would at least have something to remember for the rest of her life.
Taking a deep breath, she came to the conclusion that she might just as
well live for the day and not fear for the future.  Tomorrow might
never come.

She was still on a see-saw of emotions when.  she reached the great
cabin, but of one thing she was certain.  She would not beg again.  Her
innate dignity would not allow it.  Adam must make the next advance.
If~ he made it she would give herself up to him.  Meanwhile, she would
behave as though that embarrassing incident had never occurred.

The table was set for two, a simple meal, lit by candles in a darkening
cabin.  One could have called it an intimate setting.  Her hopes lifted
slightly.

"I should have changed," she apologised, with a little laugh to hide a
new embarrassment.

"I've heard it said that clothes make the the man, but men's clothes
could never make you less than a woman, Miss Dawson.  Here--' he pulled
out a chair with a flourish '--do sit down."

Miranda supposed that was intended as a compliment despite the
formality of his address but she did not blush as she might have done a
few days ago.  Blushing was for stupid chits and she seemed to have
aged years over the last eight and forty hours.  She could scarcely
believe that she had become a watering pot and wept into Adam's
shoulder because her brother was unhappy and a mutiny threatened.  Or
even that, in order to satisfy her own immature urge to know' what it
was like to be loved by Adam before facing an ordeal which might end in
their death, she had gone seeking a union he was not willing to
consummate. The memory of that escapade and his refusal to accommodate
her could still mortify her.

She was hungry, but scarcely noticed what she was eating while
maintaining a flow of small talk designed to ease the tension which had
sprung up between them now they were alone together.  She managed to
make him laugh as she related tales of her experiences at the Academy.
Adam, prompted by her, spoke a little of his family and his early days
at sea.  He drank rather more wine than usual, she noticed, and
appeared ill at ease, but who could blame him, when she had so far
forgotten herself as to behave in such an outrageous manner?  Neither
of them could forget her intrusion into his cabin.  Things could never
be the same between them again.

Hot soup was followed by cold meats, fresh vegetables and fruits from
Las Palmas.  Finally, wiping her sticky fingers on a napkin, smiling
brightly, she pushed back her chair.

"I'll leave you to your port.  God give you a good night, " Captain.  "
If he wanted to retreat into formal forms of address, she would oblige.
" Thank you for taking me off the Virago.  I am glad to be back in
cabin here once more.  "

Adam had been listening to Miranda's chatter with' wry resignation. She
was nervous and he did not blame her.  That was why he'd opened up a
little, family, of his early life.  At least they knew each better'
now

What the devil was he supposed to do?  Did she still want him to take
her to bed?  He doubted it.  She'd said she loved him, but now she was
doing her best to keep him at a distance.  Her visit to him had been
born of desperation out of fear.  And as a gentleman he must forget her
advances, subdue his own raging desire, for she' was not to be taken
lightly.  Hence his defensive need for formality.  Yet, were she
willing.  He had never wanted a woman so much, and her boyish garb only
added to his titillation, for it could not hide the voluptuous curves
endowing her body.  No, not an exaggeration, for although small she was
strong and beautifully formed.  And had a mind and spirit to match. She
had cried for her brother and for them all, had shown fear, but reacted
with courage.  Her rash action had saved his life.  He owed her.  He
wanted her, was willing to risk his honour for her sake, but if she
wanted to go he must let her, whatever the cost to himself.

"I thought you might have preferred to remain with your brother," he
remarked, and awaited her response with well-concealed tension.

She could not confess her need to be with him, it would be too
lowering.  "I shall be nearer my parents in America," was the only
excuse she could think of.

His brows lifted.  Remembering all the difficulties, not entirely
fabricated, with which he had once attempted to deter her, he was not
entirely convinced by her thin pretext, "I see.  Will you not have
another glass of wine?"  he asked in an attempt to delay her departure.
He could not bear to lose her company yet.

She shook her head as she stood up.  "No, thank you, Captain."  She
dared not stay.  Being so near to him was torture.  If she did not get
out soon she would lose her resolve, break all her vows and throw
herself into his arms.

He stood too, walking round the table to take a studiously polite leave
of her.  But, the devil, how he wished she were staying!  His
frustration threatened to deprive him of his senses, of his fragile
hold on honour.  All he wanted was to have her in his arms, to prove
that she was still alive, to lose himself in her, to forget the
appalling events of the last couple of days, have them wiped from his
consciousness in the joy of knowing she was safe.  And his.

They met near the cabin door.  Adam took her fingers in his and bent
over them, meticulously correct.  Yet even that impersonal touch
agitated Miranda, who would have snatched her hand back except that to
do so would show lack of conduct.  Lack of control.

Perhaps because they were both distracted, the sudden corkscrew motion
of the' ship took them by surprise.  Even Adam lost his balance for a
moment though he recovered instantly, but as Miranda, who had not,
staggered into him his arms automatically closed about her.

It was as though a charge of powder exploded between them.  Miranda
actually gasped with the shock of his embrace, while Adam's arms
tightened and his head came down and his mouth found hers.

Miranda had flung her arms about his neck and when he lifted his head
momentarily to take a gasping breath she pulled it down again, her lips
seeking his, her fingers digging into his thick hair.  As their passion
rose she grasped his queue, and, in her abandonment, tug gee it.

As the frigate corkscrewed again Adam instinct iv kept them both
balanced, though they staggered back to collapse on the settee.  She
was underneath him now, her fingers untying the ribbon on his queue,
teasing the plaits, releasing his long hair to hang down arou her
face.

He had unbuttoned her jacket.  His lips were still hers, his tongue
exploring the sweetness of her mouth as he searched for the buttons on
her shirt so ~hat might feel the satin skin beneath.

He had just succeeded in freeing one generous breast which fitted so
perfectly into his palm, when the sen~ knocked on the door.

With a smothered imprecation, Adam leapt to feet.  "What is it?"

"Mr.  Merrick, sir.  Message from Mr.  Windsor."  Miranda had sat up
and quickly fastened her jack There' could be no restoring his hair to
its queue, but must see what Windsor wanted.

"Send him in," he said, striding to meet the lad by door.  With luck,
he would not notice Mirand dishevelment.

Greg Merrick entered, saluted.  "Mr.  Windsor's co: pliments, sir, but
the wind has risen and veered so proposes to shorten sail and alter
course a point or tv With your approval, sir."

Only now did Adam become aware of the rain pelti down on the deck above
and spattering from the op skylight.  "My compliments to Mr.  Windsor
and I'll col up," he said, reaching for his tarpaulin.

"Aye, aye, sir."

Merrick disappeared and Adam went back to Miranda.  He touched her
cheek, took her hand, placed a kiss in her palm and closed her fingers
over it.  "Keep it until I get back," he murmured.  "I shall not be
long."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

S pounds ~sG Adam struggle into his tarpaulin as he left the cabin
brought Miranda's attention to the drops of rain spattering in through
the skylight.  Trembling, far from in command of her mind or her
senses, she struggled to her feet and made her way across a deck which
was pitching and rolling with alarming violence, intending to shut it. 
She clung to the table, grabbed at sliding dishes and glasses.

Daniel knocked and entered.

"Sudden squall, missie," he informed her, unconcerned, as he closed the
skylight.  "I'll light a lantern and douse the candles, it'll be safer.
Then I'll take care of those things."

"I'll put the decanter back behind its bar on the sideboard," offered
Miranda, hoping Daniel would not notice the unbuttoned shirt beneath
her jacket.  Or her neck cloth lying discarded on the settee.  He did
not seem to.

The squall had come at an opportune moment; it had literally thrown
them into each other's arms, removing at a stroke all the doubts, all
the reservations between them.  If they had not been interrupted
anything might have happened.  At least she now knew beyond any doubt
that Adam desired her.  Dressed as she was, too.

All the same, the interruption had given her a chance to think again.
She stood on the edge of a moral and social precipice.  If she jumped
off there could be no turning back.  In the eyes of the crew and the
world at larg~ she would be the captain's doxy, mistress of a man her
father and brothers were sworn to fight.  Was that truly what she
wanted?

Yes.  For she loved him and did not care what anyone else thought of
her.  With still shaking fingers, she unbuttoned her jacket again.  He
could, if he wished, finish what he ~had begun and she would help
him.

A thrill of urgent, almost alarming excitement rushed through her at
the thought of Adam,s return.  Wicked, ruinous, against all the rules
of conduct it might be, but she did not care.  She'd had a foretaste of
rapture and here on the high seas convention did not exist.  At least,
it did not for her!

True to his promise, Adam was not long on deck, returning to drip pools
of water all over the cabin's sailcloth-covered deck.  Daniel appeared
to relieve him of the streaming tarpaulin and hand him a towel, and was
promptly dismissed for the night.

Rubbing at his wringing-wet hair, Adam looked at her sideways and gave
a rueful laugh.  "What a downpour!  But it has rinsed the salt from my
hair!"

"Let me rub it dry for you."

Adam paused, standing as though paralysed.  "Would you?"

"Come here," ordered Miranda with new-found confidence, patting the
settee beside her.

As he sat, Miranda knelt up, took the towel and began to use it with a
slow, rhythmic motion which both found almost unbearably stimulating.

"You waited," murmured Adam at last, his breathing

20?

somewhat ragged, his voice muffled, although that might have been
because of the towel and his luxuriant, tousled hair.

Miranda tried to subdue her thumping heart as, throwing aside the
towel, she ran her fingers through the tangles the drying had caused.
"Yes, Adam, I waited.  Do you have a comb?"

He ignored the question of a comb.  "Then you still want-- ?"  He
seemed afraid to go on.

Miranda hugged his dark head to her, damp hair and all.  "More than
ever."

At that he turned and dragged her into his arms.  "Miranda, my little
love!"  His voice was little more than a groan.

It happened all over again, the explosion of feeling, the reckless
abandon.  They'd both had time to think, but the parting had only
fuelled their need for each other.

For Adam it was so unexpected, this wanting of a small, seemingly
fragile creature he had come across by chance under circumstancos so
unusual as to be almost impossible.  Yet she, for all her youth and
innocence, was meeting his fierce demand with an abandon which
astonished him.  But he needed more; he needed to lose himself in her,
to know that she belonged to him, at least for now.  In the throes of
passion, he was incapable of contemplating the future, the end of the
Seafire's cruise, the inevitable parting.  Or of considering that, for
the first time in his life, he would be depriving a young girl of her
virginity.  Guilt had no place in his emotions at that moment.

While Miranda had thrown any such considerations aside, together with
caution.  Why be cautious when, so many times in the past' few days,
her life had hung by a thread.  "?  Might do so again at any time." No,
she loved Adam and wanted, longed to give herself to him, to be part of
him, to feel they belonged together.  Even if that belief should prove
to be an illusion.  For they came from different worlds and Adam did
not want a wife.

But the tiny spear of pain that thought brought was quickly swamped by
other,~ more immediate, more urgent sensations as Adam swiftly removed
her garments and she, her innocence tempered by growing up with two
brothers and listening to girlish gossip at the Academy, became equally
involved in ~removing his as fast as she was able.  They had not quite
finished--both still wore shoes and stockings and Adam his breeches
too--when the ship gave another lurch and they were deposited on the
floor in a tangle of limbs.  Adam's response was to pick her up and
stagger through to the darkness of his sleeping place.  ~

The feel of his skin against hers, the soft tickle of body hair against
her cheek, thrilled Miranda.  He laid her in his swinging cot and
stripped off her stockings and half-boots.

The cot was much larger than any other she had seen.  She had a moment
to notice this while he removed the last of his own garments.  Then the
bed lurched as he climbed in, landing partly beside and partly on top
of her.

She shifted a little to give him more room.  "Lucky you have a large
cot," she murmured, wondering a little jealously why.

"I sprawl," he explained, pulling up a cover, for the night had turned
chilly with the storm.

But they were both talking for the sake of it, to cover the slight
embarrassment of actually going to bed together.  There had been too
many interruptions, otherwise, surely, she would no longer be a virgin,
Miranda thought as Adam began his wooing all over again.

The initial, explosive urgency had died.  Now he took his time,
stroking, kissing, murmuring words of love as he nibbled at the lobes
of her ears.  She seemed to be drowning in his flowing hair, in the
clean scent of him as he bent over her.  And then he lowered his lips
to caress her breasts.  Spears of fire shot through to her vitals and
Miranda gasped aloud as her hips moved in response.  As he took her
nipple into his mouth the sensations multiplied.  She moaned her
pleasure.

She didn't know how to respond at first, then simply followed her
instincts.  Now it was Adam's turn to gasp.  And then he parted her
legs and hovered over her for a long, breathless moment before he
whispered, "Miranda?"

"Yes," she whispered urgently, her hands pulling him to her.  "Yes,
Adam, yes!"

He was so gentle, probing carefully before plunging into her, that the
pain barely registered.  For Miranda, surrendering herself completely
to the exquisite sensations, responding with all the ardent passion and
love of youth, time ceased to exist as she rejoiced in the rhythm of
their union.  The cot, rasping and creaking on its tackle as it swung,
became a small island of delight.  For the two people in it it
represented their entire world.  Adam gave no thought to who might hear
and speculate, for aboard his own command he ruled supreme.

Adam, roused almost beyond reason, taken beyond endurance by the
sweetness and warmth of her, by the sheer exuberance of her response,
had to let go.  But he had held out long enough to take Miranda with
him.  And the joy this knowledge gave him added to his own completion,
After long moments in the limbo of his little death, he returned ~to
awareness to find that Miranda was lying beneath him, her fingers
playing idly with his hair, taking strands to her lips and kissing
them.

"My sweet," he murmured, touching her mouth gently with his own.

She clasped him to her fiercely, afraid that it might all turn out to
be a dream.  But it was not.  This had been her true awakening to
womanhood.  To her, it was her wedding night.  No one could regard her
as a green girl now.  And Adam had been wonderful.  She spared a moment
from her euphoria to feel jealous again--of all the women who had
contributed to his experience.  In view of Zack's remark that first
evening, she doubted there had been many.  But there must have been
some.

"I shouldn,t mind dying now," she murmured, stroking his smooth,
muscled shoulders.

He rolled off her and gathered her into his arms, holding her tightly
against him.  "You are not going to die," he asserted fiercely.  "You
are too precious.  Besides, I promised your brother to take care of
you!"

"So you did.  He wondered what Papa would say and wished you were not
captain of an enemy warship."

"So do I, believe me!  But this war cannot last long.  And then..."

"And then?"  whispered Miranda.

"We shall have to see."

No promise of lasting love.  No proposal of marriage.  But why so
disappointed?  In that moment she felt far older than Adam.  Whereas
she was prepared to give her entire life to him, he was not yet ready
to make any such commitment.  A naval captain had to be young,
carefree, prepared to risk his life time after time.  How could he
shoulder the responsibilities implicit in marriage?

She did understand.  How could she fail to, when her own mother had
more than once ruefully remarked that her father should not have wed?
His duty to the navy would always come first with him, she'd said.  Not
until he'd been made VicecAdmiral of the Blue and posted to Barbados
had he managed to spend more than short, infrequent periods with his
wife and family.  Communications being what they were, he'd not even
known she, Miranda, was on the way until he'd arrived home one day to
find her staggering about clutching a rag doll and asked who she was!

Now, of course, with a port posting, it was different; he could have
his family with him.  Her mother and younger sister, Chloe, were
already in Bridgetown, where she had been meant to join them.

She snuggled closer to Adam.  "You know, I've no wish to reach Barbados
at all.  All those gossipy women, the eternal tea and dinner parties,
the evening soirees and balls.  I'd rather remain at sea.  I used to be
so envious of my brothers!"

"Aren't you still?"  he asked in a teasing voice, with a subtle caress
that sent an ecstatic shudder running through her.

"Well, I no longer wish I was a boy, if that's any comfort to you! You,
my dearest captain, have made me realise just how wonderful it is to be
a woman!  If I could somehow remain at sea..."

He was too busy kissing her to answer at once.  Then he said, "Some
captains allow women on their ships, but to my mind women aboard a
warship must only be a liability, my love--even women as intrepid as
you.  Have I thanked you for saving my life?"

He kissed her again, his hands wandering deliciously about her body.
Miranda fought: down an inclination to let him go on thinking he owed
her his life.  She could never live with that kind of lie.

"I didn't save it," she told him when she could speak again.  "The
marine aimed at Captain Judge, not you."

He shot up on one elbow to look down at her and the cot swung
violently.  "But you threw yourself at him and spoiled his aim!
Everyone saw you?

Their eyes were used to the dark now.  He saw her shake her head.  "I
was too late.  He fired seconds before I hit him.  But I didn't say
anything earlier because I didn't want to get him into trouble."

"A musket is not terribly accurate at that distance," muttered Adam.
"Are you certain, Miranda?"

"As sure as I can be.  He had the reputation of being the best shot,
after all; that's why he was ordered to shoot you.  No one expected him
to miss, least of all Captain Goddard, who hated giving the order."

"So," mused Adam, sinking down again, 'it was mutiny, after all.  And
the fellow will get away with it, thanks to you.  "

"Aren't you glad?  I am!"

"I don't know.  It could become a dangerous precedent.  The marines are
supposed to put down mutinies, not collude in them!  The man may think
he can do it again."

"He was driven, like everyone aboard the Virago, us included.  But let
us forget all.  that, Adam.  It is over now, you have your ship
back--'

"And shall not have to face an inquiry when I reach port?

"Or spend months or years in a British prison!"

"From which it would have been my duty to escape."

"Huh!"  said Miranda.  "Fat chance!  And how would you get back to
America7'

"Via France, perhaps;' he said, knowing that would annoy her.  " She is
an ally.  "

She pounded his chest with her fists.  "Don't talk to me about France!
Thank goodness Napoleon lost the battle of Leipzig!  He surely cannot
raise yet another army.  We must defeat him soon."

Adam pinned down her fists and lay on top of her again.  "I don't care
about Napoleon," he murmured, 'and the only person I want to conquer at
the moment is yOU.  "

Miranda put up no resistance.

By morning the gale had abated, but they'd been forced slightly off
course.  Instead of sighting Madeira at dawn they saw the conical peak
of Porto Santo, altered course and, later, the larger, mountainous,
volcanic island of

Madeira itself became a recognisable smudge on the horizon.  Miranda
watched as they approached, fascinated by its steep green lower slopes
and the layer of cloud hovering about the volcano's rugged peak.

The Seafire came to an anchor in a sheltered cove to the west of
Funchal, avoiding being seen by any ships of the line possibly anchored
there by approaching from the north-west, passing by the high cliffs of
Cabo Cirao with Miranda's eye glued to a glass so that she could see
the strange, grotesque shapes of the rocky outcrops, the caves and
inlets worn away by the storms which lashed the coast from the
Atlantic.  Turning south, they passed the Ponta do Pargo, the most
westerly point, and finally beat against the wind into a sheltered
anchorage on the less rugged south-eastern shore.  Even so Adam ordered
a masthead watch to be maintained and sent men to a nearby headland,
telling them to fire three warning musket shots if they saw danger
approaching.

"I have no intention of being caught anchored in a bay by a British
warship," he explained.  "But we should have an hour or so to slip out
done is sighted."

Meanwhile the watering party was busy cartin.  g empty barrels on deck
and lowering them into the water, where they were strung in a long line
to be towed ashore, bobbing like corks, by one of the ship's boats.

"While they are filling them from the spring, I'm going inland to
purchase some wine," Adam told Miranda.  "Do you want to come?"

Without a town nearby to put a stench into the air, the delicate
perfumes of the land were on the breeze, a persuasive argument for
sampling them at closer hand.  Besides, she did not want to be parted
from Adam.

"Yes, please.  Is it far?"

"Up through the terraces of the vineyards.  If the warning guns are
fired we can be back in less than half an hour."

They were rowed ashore and Adam took her hand as they began to climb
through the arbours formed by the vines sprouting on supports above
their heads, which sheltered them and the crops growing in their shade.
Sometimes they walked beside irrigation channels.  Miranda noticed
again, as she had on Grand Canaria, that the ground seemed to heave
under her at first.  This time, though, the fragrance of warm, moist
earth and growing vegetation met her nostrils, not the reek of rotting
garbage encountered in a port.

They were not alone, of course.  A string of half a dozen seamen
followed them, ready to carry the casks of wine and any fresh fruit and
vegetables available down to the beach, and a couple of marines had
come along to afford protection.

"You know the way," remarked Miranda as Adam unhe1 pound atingly
followed the paths.

"I have been before.  Madeira, in all its forms, whether it be the
sweet after-dinner malmsey, the medium-sweet, lighter bual or the dry
sercial, is the favourite wine at home.  It has brandy in it and
benefits from the long sea voyage across the Atlantic in tropical
climes,

particularly if it crosses the equator!  "

"Will we cross the equator?"

"Not this time, I fear, even for the benefit of the Madeira."

"I'd like to cross the equator one day."

She sounded wistful.  Adam smiled.  "Who knows?  Perhaps you will."

It was a cheerful, happy party that arrived at the quinta.  Miranda
luxuriated in the amazing perfumes and colours of the shrubs and trees
of the gardens surrounding the stylish mansion and outbuildings while
Adam negotiated for his wine and other stores.  It was an equally
high-spirited group which made its way down again with butts of Madeira
and baskets of produce hoisted on all shoulders.  Even the marines and
Adam were carrying something, Adam a small cask of best French
brandy.

Miranda, carrying a net of freshly baked bread, could not have been
happier, mostly because Adam was there.

The watering had almost been completed by the time they reached the
beach.  The boat towing the last string of filled barrels, now lower in
the water, though barrels filled with fresh water still floated in the
sea, had just hooked on to the frigate.

"No alarm," remarked Adam as he lifted her into the boat awaiting their
return.  "We'll be away within the hour."

"A pity.  It would be nice to stay longer.  I'd like to go right to the
top of the volcano, up among the clouds."

He shook his head.  "Sorry; it'd be dangerous to remain long.  I'll be
glad when the men on the headland are back on board."

They pulled away from the beach, leaving a smaller ship's boat to
transport the lookouts.  The moment he had seen the captain on his way
back, Zack had given the order for the blue and white flag known as the
Blue

Peter to be hoisted--a signal for the lookouts to return to their
ship.

Once they were safely aboard, Adam weighed anchor without further
delay, setting the frigate on a course far enough west to avoid the
Canaries while still travelling south to meet up with the trade winds.
Madeira was well behind them when Lieutenant Fenton presented himself
on the quarterdeck, stamping his boots in a smart salute.

"Yes, Fenton, what is it?"

"I have to report a stowaway aboard, sir.  I have him under guard
below."

"A stowaway?  Where the devil did he come from?  It is a he, I trust?
Who is it?"

"A midshipman from the Othello, sir.  William Welland."

"Will!"  exclaimed Miranda.  "He's not dead after all?"  "Seems not,
ma'am."

Miranda heaved a sigh of relief.  "Thank God!"

"Where did you find him?"  demanded Adam curtly.  "He crept out for air
while most of the people were ashore, sir.  The bosun's mate caught him
emerging."  from the forward hatch.  Seems he'd been hiding in the
cable tier.  "

Adam's expression was grim.  "And no one thought it his duty to inform
me before we weighed.9'

"No, sir," admitted Fenton uncomfortably.  "You were occupied, and we
did not imagine you would put him ashore on Madeira."

Adam glowered.  "It is not for my officers to decide what I should
do!"

Fenton's face had gone more red than usual.  "No, sir."

"The damage is done now.  You may inform the other officers concerned
in this deception of my severe displeasure!"

Lieutenant Fenton clicked his heels and stamped again in a dignified
salute.  "Very well, Captain."

"As for the boy--he was certain to be discovered when we weighed again!
Stupid child!  Doesn't he know the penalty for desertion?"  It was a
rhetorical question which no one answered.  "Have him brought to my
cabin in ten minutes."

"Yes, sir!"

Fenton saluted again and disappeared below.  Miranda looked at Adam's
harsh expression and shifted uncomfortably.

"They were right, weren't they?  You woulcin'~ have left him abandoned
on Madeira.  What will you do?"

"I cannot condone insubordination2 He made an irritable gesture, the
pleasure of the day's excursion spoilt by the necessity to reprimand
his officers.  " It's damned embarrassing!  What can I do?  Clap the
lad in irons?  Hand him over to the next passing British warship?  Take
him back to the United States as a prisoner of war?  I'll decide when
I've heard what he has to say.  "

"He hated the Othello."

"Most youngsters hate life as a midshipman when they first join."

"Most of the seamen seem to hate life at sea too.  Especially those
landsmen who have been pressed or who accepted service in the navy
instead of a sentence in gaol."

"You're talking about the British navy when you speak of pressed men.
But even volunteers find it an alien, harsh, overcrowded, evil-smelling
environment at first.  The ship's boys are probably the happiest--they
mostly come from very poor homes or even the gutter; they're used to
being cuffed and don't expect much in the way of comfort."

Miranda nodded and indicated the three or four boys, including Billy
Crow, who were skylarking up in the rigging, climbing about like
monkeys.  "They seem perfectly happy."

"And will make first-class able seamen in a few years.  But, unlike
them, a midshipman is most likely used to a soft life at home and is
suddenly thrust into an overcrowded, possibly unhappy berth, with every
officer seemingly out to make life as difficult as possible for him!"
He grinned down at her.  "I hated it too, but luckily I loved the sea
and soon grew used to the conditions.  Welland would too, given a
chance."

"That's why you brought him aboard the Seafire.  You told me so at the
time,"

"Aye.  Well, I'd better go below and see what he has to say for
himself."

"May I come?"

"Provided you don't interfere."

"As if I would!"

"No, of course not, my love.  I had quite forgot how detached you can
be!"

Miranda coloured, both at the endearment and the reminder of previous
interventions she had made.  But they'd all been for the best, hadn't
they?  And Adam's whole attitude told her he was running her.

A dishevelled and rather smelly Will was brought in by the marine
sergeant, whom Adam instantly dismissed.  With the sleeping place and
storeroom between the cabin and the sentry he was unlikely to hear what
was said, and Adam wanted no witnesses to what was about to take
place.

"Well, Mr.  Welland.  What have you to say for yourself, pray?"

Will gulped.  "Nothing, sir."

"Nothing?  When you need to explain why you allowed us and the Viragos
to think you dead while all the time you were stowed away in the cable
tier?"

"I didn't want to fight you, sir.  I wanted you to recover the Seafire,
and I didn't want to go with the others, sir.  I've been happy aboard
your ship, sir, happier than I've ever been.  I wanted to stay."

"You are a deserter from the British King's navy.  If I return you
where you belong you will find yourself hanging from a yardarm."

Will swallowed.  "I know, sir.  But I was hoping you'd keep me as one
of your midshipmen, sir."

Adam raised his brows and stared at the lad.  Will was showing a
remarkable degree of courage at the moment.  Gone was the snivelling
boy who had been brought aboard as a prisoner' of war.  Will knew what
he wanted and was prepared to fight for it; To risk death for it.

"Supposing the frigate is taken again?  You would be discovered as a
deserter and hanged."

"I'd risk that, sir.  You said they think me dead.  So I could change
my name, become an American citizen, and they'd never know."

Miranda thought it time to interfere at that point.

"What about your family, Will?  Have you thought of them."  "

"Yes, Miss Dawson.  My mother's dead.  My stepmother persuaded my
father to send me to sea to get rid of me.  They'll not be troubled to
think me dead.  Her son will inherit the estate, which isn't large
anyway."

"I'm sorry, Will.  I didn't realise--'

"That's all right, miss.  It wasn't that that made me unhappy.  And
being in action doesn't frighten me any more.  At least, not much," he
added honestly.

"You'd be a strange man if you were not afraid sometimes, Welland.  By
the way, why did we not find you during our search of the ship?  Did
Mr.  Stirling help you to hide?"

"James, sir?"  Will looked uncomfortable but said, "No, sir.  But he
guessed I was down in the bilge, beneath the hold, because we'd laughed
about me being small enough to get through the scuttle.  He said the
cable tier would be safe enough until we anchored."

"In the bilge?  No wonder you stink, young man!  James Stirling brought
you food?"

"I'd taken some ship's biscuits and cheese down, sir; I haven't needed
more yet."  Miranda shuddered as he added, "The rats were the worst
part."

Adam's response to this was a sardonic smile.  "So I would collect.
When were you going to be so obliging as to show yourself~'

"Soon, sir.  As soon as we were far enough away from the Virago."

"So when you came up you were expecting to be found?"

"Well, not exactly, sir.  I wanted to see where we we re."

"Hmm.  I see.  What name would you choose were I to grant your
request?"

"William Williams, sir."

"Very well, Mr.  Williams.  I'll have you entered in the muster book
and the moment we reach the United States you may apply for American
citizenship.  Meanwhile, as punishment for evading your true duty and
causing me to take a difficult decision, you may climb to the fore
masthead and remain there until I say you may come down."

Will saluted smartly, his face beaming.  "Thank you, Captain."

"And pass the word for Mr.  Stirling to come to the cabin."

As Will left them Miranda went up to Adam and clasped her arms about
his neck.  "What will you do to James, Adam?"

"Send him to the main masthead.  The young rogues!"  She kissed him.
"Thank you, Adam."

"What for?  Turning young Will into a renegade?"

She shook her head.  "For showing mercy to a rather confused boy.  He's
too young to feel any allegiance to England when his family have cast
him off.  And you are his hero."

"That will not last for long when he has a full taste of my
discipline," asserted Adam grimly.

Miranda rather thought he had underestimated his power to inspire
devotion in those he led.

CHAPTER TWELVE

THE days became weeks which passed like a dream for Miranda.  The
weather held, they picked up the trade winds which swept them westwards
at a fine pace, and not only did she spend ecstatic nights in Adam's
arms but her days were full of interest and delight, leaving no room
for negative thoughts.

The trade wind clouds marched across the sky from east to west like a
ranked army of strangely shaped balls of cotton wool.  Unfamiliar
birds, like boobies and twin-tailed frigate birds, 1tew past despite
their distance from land.  Flying fish leapt from the water and even
landed on deck, washed aboard by the creaming bow wave.  Schools of
playful dolphins leapt and dived alongside the ship.  Fearsome sharks
cruised nearby, hopeful of' finding a feast.

Added to all those pleasures was that of joining the midshipmen to
learn about the rigging, how to splice a rope, tie a knot, to navigate,
and being taught by Adam to read the weather, to trim the sails to suit
every condition.  In fact, learning all about a ship and how to sail
it.

The Seafire's people indulged her.  She was the captain's lady, even if
she was a foreigner, and if they thought it strange that she should
dress like a boy and be interested in seamanship they were too polite
to say so.

Adam's reaction passed from indulgent amusement to admiration.  He'd
thought her worthy of respect and regard before, but this was
different.  She loved the sea, accepted the discomforts of the life
cheerfully, learned quickly and seemed to him the most perfect female
he had ever met.  As the days went by he was tempted to consider the
possibility of making her his wife.  He would never, he was certain,
meet any other woman to compare with her, who would so wholeheartedly
share his interests.  She would never desert him while his back was
turned.  He wanted her for his own.

Yet marriage, even were it possible between them, and he'd need her
father's consent, meant more than sailing the seas together and making
love, delightful as these occupations were.  Marriage meant
responsibilities, a family, the obligation to worry about the needs and
comfort of others.  Of course he did that already, for every Seafire
relied upon him for his health, happiness and safety while aboard the
frigate.  But a wife would be in another class altogether.  He would
worry about her and his family while he was at sea.  As she would no
doubt worry about him.  They'd miss so much by being separated.  No, it
would be best in the long run to say farewell when they reached
journey's end~ painful as that would be, as painful as losing a limb,
but men did recover from such an amputation.  Look at Admiral Lord
Nelson, winning the battle of Trafalgar with one arm and one eye!

And being killed in the doing of it.  Still, that had had nothing to do
with the loss of his parts.

A nagging voice told him that Lord Nelson had not only had a wife but a
much loved mistress as well.  Yet

, 225

he had remained in the British navy, only to be killed, leaving two
women behind to mourn him.  And Lady Hamilton, it was said, survived on
the charity of her friends and the curiosity of others.

He could never condemn Miranda to such a fate!  No, if he did not wed
her he must set her free.  She was young, she would find another, more
worthy man to love and cherish her once he was out of her life.  A
prospect which pleased him not at all.  He thrust the pain aside,
snapping an unnecessary order to the helmsmen to mind their come.

Their cracking pace was brought to a temporary halt when they ran into
a calm.  For four days the Seafire wallowed in the swell, drifting with
the west-running current, for despite setting every stitch of canvas
the.  frigate had no.  steerage way.  The boats could be sent out to
tow it along, but this would be hard on the men rowing and scarcely
worthwhile, since Adam was in no need of extreme haste.

In these conditions, for the first time ever, Miranda felt the
stirrings of seasickness.

"It's the unusual motion," explained Adam.  "You're normally such a
good sailor the sickness is bound to pass off quickly.  Certainly the
moment we catch a puff of wind strong enough to move us forward again
you'll feel better.  Do you want to lie down for a while?"

Miranda, sitting in a canvas chair, shook her head, reluctant to leave
the shade of the awning spread above the deck.  "It's not bad enough
for that.  I just feel queasy."

After twenty-four hours, to her relief, Miranda's sickness did pass off
and the next morning she felt well

S pounds nRE

enough to join in the life of the ship again.  Some of the men spent
the otherwise idle hours scrubbing the decks, polishing the rails and
buffing up the brass fittings with brick dust while others hung over
the sides, scraping them down before adding a fresh coat to the
paintwork.  For recreation they fished, and those who could swim
frolicked in the water while a lookout kept a wary eye open for
sharks.

A small cheer went up when the calm finally gave way to a brisk wind
which eased the sweltering atmosphere and allowed the Seafire to
chuckle through the water again, making a fine bow wave and leaving a
spreading wash astern.

Miranda climbed up to the main top, as she often did, and put a glass
to her eye.  Nothing pleased her better than to sweep the horizon for
sight of anything of interest.

The official lookout was on the higher platform, known as the cross
trees above the topsails, but it was Miranda who called Adam's
attention to the dark grey patch on the horizon.

"Squall coming!"  he cried.  "Come down at once!"

It was rushing down upon them.  Adam ordered most of the sails to be
taken in and those remaining to be reefed.  Hectic activity up the
masts and on deck resulted in his orders being carried out just in
time.  The last men slid down the rigging as the first of the wind and
rain swept across the frigate.

The Seafire bucked and swung.  Everything shook, banged and creaked.
Even with a pocket handkerchief of sail left set, keeping to their
course became impossible without risking the masts.

"Alter course to run before it!"  shouted Adam and Tom Crocker
immediately translated this into directions for the helmsmen while
seamen ran to haul round the yards to alter the set of the few
remaining sails~

No one bothered with tarpaulins; the officers were all clad in tropical
linen, the seamen in little more than duck trousers.  Once the squall
had passed their clothes, like the decks, would dry in minutes.

The men began to rig sailcloth into enormous basins to catch the
rain.

"Why are they doing that?"  demanded Miranda.  "We're not short of
water, are we?"

"No, we're not, but we may as well fill the empty barrels.  It's for
washing--both clothes and themselves," explained Adam.  "You, madam,
are privileged to use precious drinking water but if we run short the
men often have to use sea water and the salt dries in the clothes and
chafes the skin."

Miranda watched the men, amused, as they un plaited each other's
pigtails.  "They're letting their hair loose," she commented.  "Why
don't you free yours?"

"Why not?  An extra wash wouldn't do my hair any harm.  Perhaps you'd
unravel my queue?"

"Certainly, Captain!"

And so, in the midst of a tropical storm, Miranda set about the
sensuous task of releasing Adam's hair so that the rain could wash out
the salt.  It reminded her of the first time they'd made love, when
he'd come back to the cabin with his flowing hair dripping water.
Queues were a bit old-fashioned, according to her father, but all the
ordinary seamen wore them.  Dick and many of the other officers kept
their hair short, she'd noticed.  But

SEAFmE

she liked Adam with his plaited and clubbed queue.  Doubling it up
meant it did not dangle down his back but hung tidily at his shoulders.
It gave him a distinction no fashionable haircut could have achieved.
And she'd have missed the pleasure of running her fingers through its
vibrant strands when it was loose.

She removed her boy's cap and shook out her curls.  She still wore her
hair short, with the help of the ship's barber, it was less trouble to
keep in order.  Because it was fine and curly she had never been able
to grow it.  long enough to make a decent bun, let alone a pigtail. 
She envied Adam his luxuriant growth.

The waves grew alarmingly high, each one a huge wall of water towering.
above their stem before the ship rode up on it and fell back into the
trough behind.  Sailing the ship became a nightmare which took all
Adam's and his officers' skill and the seamen's strength.

"This," declared Adam eventually, as alert and taut as though he were
in action against a human enemy, 'is no squall.  "

"It can't be a hurricane--it's not the season," shouted

All the Officers were quite calm, Miranda noticed as she clung on to
the nearest stay, feeling useless, and so were the seamen, although all
were on their toes waiting to react to whatever 'the elements threw at
them.  The four helmsmen heaving at the double wheel were changed every
five minutes, for keeping the bucking 'ship at the right angle to the
wind took all their combined strength.

"Don't worry, this is but a severe storm and the

Seafire could ride out a hurricane if necessary," Ac reassured
Miranda.

Her trust in Adam was absolute.  "I'm not afraid," assured him.

He spared her a quick smile.  "Good girl!  But ~ better furl the
remaining sails if we don't want a mast go by the board.  Give the
order, Mr.  West."

"Aye, aye, sir."

Zack used his speaking-trumpet and men swam up the rigging to the
wildly swaying yards to fight wet sailcloth and lash it down.  Miranda
heaved a sigl relief when the last man returned safely to the deck.

Looking over the stern, Zack remarked, "With sea running at us from
behind we'll be lucky if we're pooped.  Hadn't the men better make
themselves fast'

"Adam nodded.  " Make it so, Mr.  West.  And be anything movablel'

Zack shouted again and Miranda watched as seamen took lengths of rope,
tied them round their waists and then to any fixed part of the ship wit
reach.

Adam knotted a rope round her but he had finished fixing it before he
grabbed her, yelling, "H fast!"

A huge wave was curling over them--the stem we never lift in time!  She
flung her arms around sew ropes attached to the mizzen-mast and felt
the comforting weight of Adam's body pressed against hers as arms
encircled her and grasped at them too.

The wall of water swept the length of the dee dragging mercilessly at
their bodies, knocking breath out of them, hurtling anything loose
overbo.

SE^Fm with it.  The ship slewed as the helmsmen, like everyone else,
were hurled off their feet.

Adam and Zack yelled at the same moment; Zack and Tom staggered up and
reached the wheel in time to help the helmsmen's struggle for control.
If the ship turned far enough to be sideways on to the waves they would
capsize and all would be lost.  Moans from the foredeck indicated that
someone was hurt but such was the violence of the storm that no one
could easily go to anyone else's assistance.

"Probably a broken limb," said Adam grimly as he finished lashing them
both to the mast.  "There'll be someone nearby to see to him and take
him down to the surgeon as soon as there's a lull."

The most violent phase of the storm soon passed.  They were not pooped
again and after a while the officers and most of the men untied
themselves so that they could move about the decks and take the wounded
man below, though the helmsmen remained fastened to the wheel.  At
Adam's insistence, Miranda kept the rope about her waist.  She knew
quite well that she would never be strong enough to resist the pull of
the water by simply holding on and there was still the chance of a
freak wave.  ,

For two days the officers and men snatched what sleep they could, ready
to face any emergency at a moment's notice.  None of them undressed.
Adam spent most of the time on deck, falling into a deep sleep the
instant his head touched the pillow at those moments when he felt he
could allow himself a few minutes below, while at night Miranda lay in
their cot missing him.  She had the utmost faith in his ability to
bring the Seafire safely through.

In a way she enjoyed the weather, the struggle against the elements. To
her it was a far more satisfactory challenge than any action, however
successful, against an enemy warship, Sailing was the thing, not
fighting.  During one of his rest periods she said as much to Adam, for
a brief time awake beside her in the cot, who grinned.

"That's the female 'in you coming out, my love.  Of course you don't
like fighting!  But you love the sea, it's born and bred in you, I
guess,"

"But you enjoy a battle."

'"Enjoy" is not.  quite the word I'd use, sweetheart.  I find an action
stretches me; the smell of gunpowder in my nostrils stimulates my
senses, forces me to use all my skill and knowledge to defend and
attack; it's a challenge like no other.  But I hate the bloodshed--the
killing and maiming of good men.  "

She kissed the new scar on his forehead.  "And I fear for your life, my
dearest."  She did not add, How will I bear it, wondering whether you
are safe?  If only this stupid war would end!

Although it seemed like weeks that they battled with the storm which
drove them far south, it had passed by dawn on the third day.

The sails were set again, a rough position estimated and anew course
laid.  The sun had reappeared from behind the banks of cloud by noon
and Tom and Adam were able to fix their position.

"Three hundred miles too far south," Tom decided gloomily.

~EAF1RE

Adam agreed with his calculations.  William Williams, midshipman
extraordinary, had them sailing on the South American continent.  He
was told to check his sums.

"Do you want me to lay a course more to the north?"  asked Tom as
captain and master pored over the chart.

Adam shook his head.  "Not yet.  We'll take advantage of the trades and
current as far west as we can."

He stood gazing at the chart long after Tom had left him.  He'd been
intending to leave the Leeward Islands to the south before heading
north for Annapolis.  Now the Seafire's course due west would take her
to Dominica, halfway down the string of islands towards Barbados.  If
only he had an excuse to divert those extra three hundred miles south!
He could land Miranda, leave her in safety and to the devil with what
his admiral might say!

And probably never see her again.  An unbearable thought.  Yet he'd
give much to see her safely reunited with her family.

But he couldn't do it.  He'd been given an open commission to harass
the enemy but his time was almost up.  Unless he could justify more
delay he must be back in port early in April and as it was, with the
time spent in captivity and the bad weather he'd met, he'd have
difficulty in complying with his orders.  He needed an excuse.  As
though on cue, a distant rumble interrupted his thoughts.  He shot on
deck.

"Thunder?"  wondered Abe Windsor doubtfully.

Another rumble had Adam shaking his head.  "Gunfire!"  he proclaimed
with absolute certainty.  "To the

pound ~ south of west.  Tom, lay a course towards it and Abe, we'll set
all the sail she'll carry!  "

The Seafire, already skimming along in a brisk breeze, came alive under
Adam's control.  She surged through the waves and only moments later a
hail from the masthead confirmed his diagnosis.  Two vessels of
doubtful origin were exchanging broadsides at regular intervals.

"It'll take us an hour to get within range," Adam declared.  "Have the
men piped to dinner.  Then clear for action and pipe to quarters."

As they drew nearer it became clear that one of the vessels, a brig
with one of its tw~o masts down, was fighting off the attack of a
pirate brigantine flaunting a black flag with skull and crossbones at
its masthead.

"No flag on the merchantman," said Adam, who had joined Miranda up in
the top.  "But from the looks of her I'd bet she's a British brig. Lost
her main mast in the storm, I'd guess.  She carries five guns a side,
but so does the pirate.  If only we can reach them before the pirate
boards her!"

Adam kept both craft in his telescope as the battle ahead raged on. The
merchant ship fought desperately, giving a good account of itself, but
the pirate was closing on the crippled brig fast.

The Seafire was still out of range but Adam decided, "We'll let 'em
know we're coming," and ordered the bow chasers to fire.

The men took boarding pikes from their racks around the main mast and
drew cutlasses and pistols from the arms chest as they went to
quarters.  Once there, the gun crews loaded their cannon and ran them
out.

"We may have to board the pirate," Adam explained to Miranda as he
buckled on his sword and tucked pistols into his belt.  "You'd better
have a brace of pistols too, just in case."

"This could be worse than the trouble aboard the Virago, couldn't it?"
asked Miranda quietly.

"Not for you, my love.  We shall outgun and outnumber the pirate.  If
he's any sense he'll make haste to get out of our way.  If he doesn't,
then we'll take him.  You'll stay here with Zaek, who'll be in command
of the Seafire ."

"While you, I suppose, will be leading the boarders?

"Naturally," grinned Adam, the reckless expression she knew so well
back on his face.

She had to accept him as he was--a man who thrived on danger.  And not
try to hold him back.  She nodded.  "We must rescue.  that merchantman,
whatever his nationality?

"They're holding out well, considering they're so damaged.  Ah!"

The glass: was at his eye and at Adam's exclamation

Miranda concentrated hers on the pirate.

"He's sheering off!"

"Aye.  Mr.  West!  Give chase!"

The brigantine had been damaged in the exchange of fire--her largest
fore and aft sail was in tatters.

"It won't take long for us to overhaul her," remarked Adam
confidently.

"They're bending on a replacement, sir!"

"They'll not be able to raise it in time."

The bow guns were still firing at regular intervals and

now their shots were falling close in the pirate's wake.  Then one pierced
its large square sail.

"Starboard guns ready, rake her stern.  Fire as bear!"  shouted Adam.
"Helm hard over!  Now!"

The frigate swung round, presenting her side to retreating pirate.  The
guns roared out almost toge and shouts of triumph went up as several of
the found their mark.

The Seafire's heavy broadside again crashed into smaller vessel, whose
shots fell short.  Half a mile aI the vessels raced along side by side,
exchanging fire the pirate's crew found the range, a shot hit the Sea]
side and another punched a hole through her main sa

As the thunderous roars followed each other in q~ succession Miranda
found her ears ringing.  Deafe~ when the great flash came she scarcely
heard the sc of the explosion.  But a blast of hot air swept across
deck and she staggered to recover her balance as wash heaved beneath
the frigate's hull.

Where the pirate ship had been there was nothing scattered wreckage.

"We must're hit his magazine," said Zack quietly.  "May not have been
us," said Adam, aware Miranda's stricken face.  "May have been
careless~ It'd only take a spark and they wouldn't be train el we are.
We'd better go and search for survivors."

"Will there be any?"  wondered Miranda, fighting to be sick, not to
crumple to the deck.  Everyt] seemed far away, voices came to her as
through a t blanket.  Adam's hand gripped her shoulder.

"Take some deep breaths," he ordered crisply.

be all right.  It's only the shock.  Sit down on this cartridge case.
"

By the time they reached the wreckage she had recovered enough to watch
the search.  There were no survivors and before they left to join the
merchant ship the sharks were already gathering.  Well, thought Miranda
with a shiver, the men would not be aware of their final fate.

Half an hour later Adam had boarded the merchant ship, the Daphne, now
flying American colours above a British flag.  He left Abe and a dozen
or so craftsmen, sailors and marines on board her and returned.  He was
in fine spirits, smiling as he ordered the Seafire to make sail,
keeping the brig under its lee, and gave the helmsmen a bearing.

Down in the cabin he told Miranda, "An excellent prize.  She's a
splendid vessel in good repair except for the mast and some superficial
damage inflicted by the pirate's guns, and she's carrying a valuable
cargo of necessary tools and equipment from England.  The mast went by
the board in the storm.  and they had just sorted out the mess when the
pirate attacked them.  Its crew was about to board her when we arrived.
Mighty glad to see us, the master was, although we're American.

They'd rather be our prize than taken by pirates.  "

"I'm sure.  Where were they bound?"

Adam's hesitation was fractional.  "Barbados."

Miranda's eyes widened.  "Barbados?  But you'll take them back to
America with you."

He shook his head.  "We've come to a better arrangement The Seafire
will escort them to Barbados in return for a ransom.  The master thinks
his owners will be only too glad to pay to have the ship and its cargo
returned intact.  They'll recover the ransom from insurance, too, so we
shall all gain."

She'd thought they'd been sailing rather too far to the south.  This
explained it.  "You're going to Barbados, to an enemy naval station?"
she asked disbelievingly.  "Can you do that?  What about me?"

"I can enter Carlisle Bay and anchor off Bridgetown, yes, under a flag
of truce.  And you, my love, will be reunited with your family."

"You'll put me ashore?"  "Isn't that what you want?"

"Yes--no!  I don't know, Adam," she wailed.  "I want to remain with
you!"

"You know that's impossible, Miranda."  His voice was gentle as he took
her in his arms.  "A warship in time of war is no place for a Woman,
however intrepid she may be.~You'd see sights far worse than those you
witnessed earlier."

"Yes, I suppose so.  But in peacetime--'

That was a stupid thing to say, she realised as a closed expression
settled on Adam's face.

"That may be a long way off."

She lifted her eyes to his, trying to read his thoughts.  Her anguish
was clearly written in hers, he could not fail to see it.

"So we shall have to part."

"It will be better so, my love.  A few more weeks and it would have
happened anyway, but you would have been in a strange land without
friends."

"Zack said I could stay with his wife," she whispered.  "He did?  That
was generous of him.  But you would not be able to join your family.
Miranda.  and that is what you set out to do.  I should like to make up
for all the inconvenience I have caused you.  "

"You.  arranged this so.  that I could be with them, didn't you?  I do
thank you, Adam."  Her voice sounded stiff.  She was grateful in one
way, but disillusioned and sad in every other.  He could not truly love
her or he would never let her go!

She would not plead.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

T8 pounds aphne's crew, with the help of the Seafire's carpenter and
his mates, rigged a temporary mast as the brig progressed.  That
'increased the speed they could make, to Adam's relief.  He had little
patience with travelling slowly when there was a brisk wind to fill his
sails.

Now the die was cast he wanted to get the parting over with quickly. It
would be less painful for both of them that way, He dared not think
beyond putting Miranda safely ashore in Bridgetown.  He must face the
admiral, he supposed, but could scarcely admit to deflowering his
daughter.  Admiral Dawson would call him out.  If he ignored his own
scruples and asked for her hand her father would simply laugh in his
face.  Parting was inevitable.

Miranda, hid' rag her quiet despair, gave herself up completely to
Adam's lovemaking on the few remaining nights, storing up the memories
to live on in the barren years to come.

She knew Adam by now.  ~He was not ready to abandon a career in the
navy which had become his whole life, and did not consider it right to
wed only to leave his wife for months, perhaps years, at a time.

Many men did.  She tried, in subtle ways, to assure him that she would
not mind, she was a naval officer's daughter, she understood, that
she'd rather have him part of the time than not at all.  Of course, she
would rather sail with him, but her mother had survived many protracted
partings.  She could do the same.  But Adam did not want to hear.  His
mind had long been made up and he would not change it easily.  And her
father would never consent to the match.  There seemed little hope of a
happy ending to her adventures.

The storm had passed, there were no further emergencies, and he was not
once called out at night by the officer on watch.  So the last precious
hours of sharing his cot were almost perfect, filled with wistful
tenderness and a desperate, despairing passion.

To Miranda's disappointment she could not glimpse any of the string of
islands enclosing the Caribbean Sea, since Barbados was out in the
Atlantic a hundred miles to the east of them.  People said they were
strung out like a necklace, mountainous, full of beauty and delight.

When Ragged Point, on the east coast of Barbados, have into sight the
brig took the lead, for its master was familiar with the shoals and
reefs which surrounded the island.

"We have to sail round the south-eastern coast, pass South Point and
then bear up, round Needham Point, to turn into Carlisle Bay," Adam
explained.

Miranda regarded the low slopes of the distant island with dismay.  It
looked flat and singularly uninteresting.

"Sugar cane," explained Adam when she asked what the isolated patches
of green vegetation were.  "Not much can be grown on this side, facing
the Atlantic and catching the full blast of the trades, but I'm told
they grow plenty of sugar and some tobacco and other crops on the
sheltered side."

So this was where she was to live, for some years, at least, unless her
father got another posting.  Or a promotion.  Her disappointment in the
island, on top of her despair at parting from Adam, kept her quiet and
subdued while the ships wove their way through the ever-changing
colours of the sea, following the channels between the reefs and
sandbanks.  Miranda noticed some huge, awkward-looking birds with
enormous pouches under their long beaks basking on com outcrops from
which they flapped to dive for fantastic fish, brilliantly coloured and
teeming around the reefs.

"Pelicans;' said Adam of the birds.  " And the fish are colourful but
tasteless.  Always are in warm waters.  "

"Oh."  Miranda's interest in the wildlife was surface only, something
to take her mind off losing Adam.

"I'd better change back into a gown," she told him a little later,
choking back her tears.  "Otherwise I shall scandMise Bridgetown
society before I've even landed!"

"It would be better."

Adam seemed almost indifferent.  His attention was focused on
navigating the intricate channels.  A lookout in the foretop, who had
experience of what the different colours of the sea indicated lay
beneath the surface--coral or sand or deep water--shouted directions
and warned of trouble ahead, while the leadsman's chant came with
monotonous regularity as he sounded the depth.  Even with the merchant
ship leading the way they might ground, for the frigate needed a
greater depth of water to keep afloat.  Besides, although Adam was
inclined to trust the master of the Daphne and Abe was aboard her to
see he got up to no tricks, there was

always the possibility that he might get past Abe's guard and try to
trick the Seafire into grounding herself.

By the time Carlisle Bay have into view Miranda was respectably gowned
as a young lady should be, in sprigged muslin.  She even wore a bonnet,
tied with blue ribbons beneath her chin.  The fact that she had not
been wearing bonnets for some time would be obvious to anyone looking
at her face, which was most unfashionably weather-beaten.  Being fair
skinned, her nose and forehead had burnt and peeled at first, but that
phase had passed during her first days on the Seafire, before Adam had
been forced to surrender it.  He liked her the colour she was, he kept
telling her, stroking the roughness where her skin still peeled
slightly.  She doubted whether anyone else would.

The brig flew the American colours above the British, and had a white
flag at its masthead.  The Seafire flew its own colours together with a
large white flag.  It was a tense moment, for if the British shore
batteries ignored or doubted the flags of truce they could be bombarded
as they approached.  And once inside the bay they'd be under the guns
of the flagship and any other British warships at anchor there.

The watch-tower would have reported the arrival of the two strange
vessels.  Both "Adam and Zack had Charles Fort and the Beckwith Battery
in their glasses, looking for the first wink of a red eye or any other
sign that they had been, or were about to be, fired on.  The Seafire's
guns were loaded and ready to be run out, but the ports were closed and
most of the crew was either up in the rigging or lining the bulwarks,
all the men on show and obviously making no hostile moves.  The

marines were drawn up in a parade-ground square the stern,

Adam was taut as a bowstring, more strung up t~ Miranda had ever known
him before, even in the heat of battle.  As tense as she was.  She
realised it was sailing into possible.  danger that had him so straim
Parting must be as painful for him as it was for her.  why was he
forcing it upon them?  From some quixo but implacable notion that he
was doing the right thir How foolish men could be!

The grand sweep of the bay curled from east to we.  the land a grey
smudge with a scattering of cloud abo, which would afford no shade.  As
they drew nearer sl could see low, rolling hills covered in vegetation
a~ make out Bridgetown at the western end of the ba Palms fringed a
long line of glaring white sand whi~ merged with a pale green sea.  In
its way, it w beautiful.

Ships of all descriptions rode at anchor before the town.  As they drew
nearer--no one had fired on thel yet-Adam pointed out the admiral's
flagship, flyin the blue ensign with a white ball.

"That must mean he's on board," murmured Mirand: excited despite
herself at the prospect of seeing her parents and sister again.

"Aye," said Adam, ~and they're already lowering boat.  " Seeing the
brig signalling him to anchor, he gaw the order.  " And smartly, now,
my lads!  Let 'em see wha the United States navy can do!  "

The anchoring ritual was carried out with faultles accuracy and speed.
Adam ordered a party to the entry

port ready to greet the admiral's emissary with due ceremony.

A lieutenant climbed the side and stepped on deck, holding the hilt of
his hanger to prevent the sword from getting between his legs and
tripping him up.  As the bosun piped him aboard he saluted Adam, who
returned the courtesy.  The lieutenant took a quick look round before
introducing himself and addressing the frigate's captain.

"I am Admiral Dawson's flag lieutenant, Captain.  You have anchored
under a flag of truce.  What is your purpose?"

"Twofold, Lieutenant.  First, to escort my prize, the brig Daphne
yonder, into port and to arrange the details of its ransom.  Second, to
deliver Admiral Dawson's daughter into his safekeeping."

The-lieutenant had noticed her standing behind the captain, his eyes
had lingered on her face.  Miranda stepped forward.

"Good evening, Lieutenant:'

"But you were supposed to arrive on the Othello, Miss Dawson!  We have
been expecting her arrival these several weeks."

"Unfortunately the Othello will not be arriving at all," put in Adam
with a show of regret.  "She should, by now, be in Annapolis, taken
there by a prize crew under the command of my first lieutenant: Most of
her original crew are aboard her as prisoners of war."

"Well," said the lieutenant, somewhat stunned, 'perhaps you had better
both accompany me across to see the admiral.  Where is the master of
the brig?  "

"Still aboard his vessel.  The owner is in Bridgetown at present?"

"I believe so.  I have not heard of his travelling elsewhere.  We will
collect the master and take him with us.  If that is convenient to
you?"

The question was perfunctory.  Adam had little choice but to agree.

Miranda's trunks and sea chest were being hoisted on deck.  She
motioned towards them.

"Can you arrange for my things to be taken ashore, Lieutenant?  Or may
one of the Seafire's boats take them?  Captain York will, I am certain,
have no objection to that."

"No, Miss Dawson, but the admiral might!  Do not fret, your dunnage
will be collected and conveyed to his residence as soon as h9 gives the
order."

Miranda turned to say goodbye to all the officers, who were gathered
around the entry port.  Will, so much more self-assured now,
nevertheless looked ready to burst into tears.  But he'd be all right
with Adam.  She sent her regards to Zack's wife and thanked Daniel for
looking after her.  Then, as she cast her gaze around the massed seamen
and marines, one of the older hands stepped forward.

"Permission to speak, sir?"  he asked Adam, who nodded.

"Carry on, Scott."

"Well, miss, the lads have asked me to tell you that we've enjoyed
having you aboard and hopes as how you'll be happy here in Barbados,
ma'am.  We wants you to know that we wishes you well."

Tears misted Miranda's eyes.  She would miss all these men, who had
been unfailingly courteous and helpful, rough and tough as some of them
were.  "Thank you, Scott."  Her voice almost broke and she cleared her
throat before looking again round all the grinning faces.  "Thank you
all."

For the last time, Miranda climbed down the side of the frigate, to be
helped to a seat in the British boat.  British sailors, smartly turned
out in blue and white striped duck trousers, white shirts and round
black hats with striped bands, bent to the oars.

As they were, escorted to the admiral's cabin it seemed strange to be
surrounded by British voices, English, Scottish and Irish dialects
amongst them, after the weeks when only the accents of the New World
had struck her ears.  Strange; even, to see her father.  He had become
rather corpulent since the loss of his leg and been made more so by his
advanced age, for he owned to sixty years.  He wore an admiral's dress
uniform--a blue frock coat,~dripping gold lace and festooned with gold
rings, above white breeches and silk stockings--and his lined,
astonished, sweating face beneath his tricorn hat suddenly broke into a
smile of joyful relieL

"Miranda!  My dear girl!  How did you get here?"  he asked as he drew
her to him to kiss her cheek, adding, "Your mother will be so relieved
to see you!"  He held her away to gaze at her with 'fond eyes.  "You
look well enough."

Miranda introduced Adam, who presented the brig's master, who was asked
to wait in an antechamber.  Then Miranda gave her father a brief and
discreetly edited version of the adventures aboard the Othello, the
Seafire, the Victorious, the Virago and finally aboard the

Seafire again which had led up to her belated arrival in Bridgetown.

"So, young man," the admiral began when she had finished, "I have you
to thank for the safe delivery of my daughter.  But you have been
responsible for the loss of a valuable seventy-four-gun line-of-battle
ship which should have been under my command, and of the British
frigate Osprey.  I will not ask how many supply ships and other prizes
you have deprived us of but I congratulate you on the destruction of
the pirate.  They are the scourge of the seas to all nations.  And,
although I am certain it suited your own purposes to do so.  you saved
the Virago from almost certain mutiny.  I compliment you, sir, on a
successful commission.  Your admiral should be grateful.  I should
delight in having such an enterprising officer under my command."

"Thank you, sir."  This was generous praise from a senior officer of an
opposing navy.  He went on, "But the period of my commission is fast
running out.  As soon as I have settled matters regarding the ransom
for the brig Daphne, I must return to my station with all possible
speed.  At the latest, I must sail on tomorrow's first ebb."

Adam was behaving with great rectitude.  He no longer seemed to be the
Adam she knew and loved.  He was so withdrawn.  Her father's voice
boomed out again.  "But you'll dine with us, I hope.  Captain?  My wife
will be anxious to thank you in person for delivering our daughter to
us."

Would he?  Miranda studied the toes of her shoes.  She did not wish to
influence him in any way but she hoped he would refuse the invitation;
his presence would be too awkward with him in his present mood

S pounds ~mE

and no one allowed to guess what their real relationship aboard the
Seafire had been.  And, although he had once engaged to discover how
she went on once the war was over, more recently he had made no such
commitment.  On the other hand she hoped he would not refuse.  A few
more hours of his company.  Oh, she didn't know what she wanted. Except
for Adam to take her with him when he left.  But there was no chance of
that.

In fact, Adam had little choice but to accept the admiral's
'invitation.  To refuse would be thought unforgivably bad manners, And
he was intrigued to meet Miranda's family.  He would be able to picture
her living among them when he was back at sea without her.  Missing
her.

"Thank you, sir; I appreciate the honour."

"Good.  My lieutenant will escort you wherever you wish to go and bring
you to the house at six.  We dine in the cool of the evening here."

Adam saluted smartly.  "Thank you, sir.  Miss Dawson."  He bowed over
her hand.  "Until six, then."

The admiral took Miranda ashore in his barge, rowed by sixteen of his
uniformed seamen.  As a post captain he had been accorded every
courtesy but she was amazed at the added deference his promotion had
earned him.

Bridgetown was much like any other port, though it lacked the large
shipyard of many British naval stations.  If any of the warships in his
squadron needed a refit or much in the way of repairs they had to go up
to English Harbour on Antigua.  But the victualling agent could supply
stores and spares in plenty: flax, thread and beeswax for the sail
maker rope and light cordage for the bosun; shirts, trousers and shoes
for the purser.  Not to mention water and salt meat, fresh fruit and
vegetables- and fresh meat if a captain liked to purchase it for his
crew.  Along the shore a powder coy waited to come alongside at the gun
her request.  And almost anything else anyone might wish to purchase
could be found in the town,

A pervading smell of tar, stale fish, rotting vegetation and sewage
filled the air around the bustling jetties but the admiral had a
residence well away from that crowded area.  He hired a kind of
one-horse gig with a fringed canopy slung above to take them home.

It would have been a long walk to the residence-a typical colonial
structure with, to Miranda's astonishment, light internal partitions
which did not reach the ceilings.  This, she discovered later, was to
encourage the air to circulate But it would be somewhat like living
aboard a ship.  Everyone would hear everything that went on.

Her mother, a stylish figure in a light muslin gown which, despite her
forty-odd years, suited her, clasped Miranda to her bosom with a cry of
joy.

"My darling!  We had quite given up hope!  When the Othello failed to
arrive we naturally thought you were lost."

"I did not," rumbled her father.  "Stephen Blackmore is a fine
captain--'

"Was, Papa," interrupted Miranda quietly.  "I did not tell you earlier,
but he was killed, together with his first lieutenant.  Lieutenant
Piper, his second, surrendered the Othello, and he was killed later,
aboard the Seafire,

when Ad--' she caught herself up quickly '--Captain York's men retook
it from the British prize crew.  "

"You have had an adventurous time, Mirrie," said her sister, Chloe, a
demure, pleasant-faced young lady due to be let out of the schoolroom
to come out in society on her sixteenth birthday, in July.  She needed
no encouragement to behave as a young lady should.  She would escape
banishment to some academy.  "I should have died!"

"No, you wouldn't," said Miranda fondly.  "You would have had a fit of
the yap ours and all the gentlemen would have rallied to your
assistance!"

"Didn't they to yours?"

Miranda's hesitation went unnoticed but memories of Adam's attitude
during her first days aboard the Seafire no longer rankled; in fact
they rather amused her.  She had guessed long ago that he had been
fighting his attraction to her.  "I was always treated with the
greatest respect."

"Here comes your dunnage," boomed the admiral as several seamen noisily
dumped her trunks in the cool, shaded entrance hall where they were
still gathered.

"I'll take you to your room, my love?  said Delia Dawson, linking arms
with her daughter.  " I think you'll like it.  " It is on the cool side
of the house, facing northeast, and you have a fine view of the bay."

~Mine's next door," said Chloe.  " I'll come with you.  " After a while
they left Miranda to settle into a delightful room done out in pastel
colours and transparent drapes.  The furniture here, as below, seemed
to be mostly made of wickerwork, or rattan as it was called.  And the
feet of the chairs and tables stood in small bowls of water to prevent
the ants and other insects from climbing up.  Well, it was different,
and preferable to the Academy in Bath.

Delia Dawson's maid would unpack her trunks later.  Meanwhile a black
servant brought a can of hot water so that she could wash and change.

The girl's grin reminded her of Daniel.  She refrained from making the
mistake she had made with him, for despite Mr.  Wilberforce's Act there
were still slaves in the colonial territories.  She merely asked her
name.  "I'se called Lilah, Miz Dawson, ma'am."

"What work do you do here?"

"I works in de kitchen and fetches an' carries."

"How old are you?"

"Don' rightly know, Miz Dawson.  " More'n twenty, accordin' to ma
mammy, who done come from far, far away on de slave boaL But I done bin
born here right 'hUff and we's free now.  "

So that answered that question.  "Would you like to learn to serve me?
I'm sure the master and mistress would have no objection to your
becoming my personal maid."

"Oh, yaz, ma'am, I sure 'nuff would, Miz Dawson."  Miranda smiled.
"Call me Miss Miranda."

"Sure 'nuff, Miz Mandy."  Well, that would do.

By the time she was ready for dinner Miranda felt slightly better.  She
was back with her family, all of whom she loved, especially her
mother.

Gauze at the-windows prevented mosquitoes from entering the house, but
on the terrace it was a different matter.  They began biting the moment
she set foot outside.

"Come in!"  called her mother, seeing Miranda smacking at the insects.
"It is much more comfortable!"

"You did say you liked it here, didn't you, Mama?  I cannot imagine
why!"

"Oh, it is delightful once you are used to the minor discomforts, my
love.  And I can be with your father at last.  That is such a
blessing."

"Yes," agreed Miranda.  "It must be."

"And there are so many sea officers here!"  put in Chloe.  "You are
certain to find a husband, Mirtie!"

"I would not wish to marry a sea officer.  I should be left so much
alone."

"Oh, pooh!"  Chloe looked disgusted.  "What of that?  Think of the
homecomings!  It must be like getting married all over again!  What was
your Captain York like?"

"You'll see for yourself soon, since he is coming for dinner."

"He's an American, Chloe, dear," protested Mrs.  Dawson.  "Most
unsuitable!"

"Why?"  demanded Chloe.

"Oh, do be quiet, Chloe!  I want to forget all about Captain York and
my dreadful journey here," Miranda lied.  But she could not discuss
Adam with her family.  Their relationship was too precious, too private
to be bandied among others.  /~ nd what had made her protest~ that she
did not wish to wed a sea officer?  She did.  Even if he was American.
Her protest had been a kind of self-defence.  For she knew no other man
would interest her snR^~ W pounds ~"L pounds GH now, at least not for a
very long time, and she did not want her mother matchmaking on her
behalf.

"Here comes our guest~' announced the admiral, entering the sitting
room where his womenfolk had gathered.  " Admirable fellow, m'dear,
even if he is a foreigner.  Ah, there you are, Captain!  " he said
amiably as a servant announced Adam.  " Come in, my dear sir, come in!
Allow me to present my wife, My eldest daughter you already know and
this is Chloe, our youngest.  She is not officially out yet-but we gave
her special permission to dine with us to meet you.  "

Adam did the pretty all round but Miranda knew he was as uncomfortable
as she.  They dared not look at each other for fear of giving their
feelings away.  Or at least Miranda feared that she would, but could no
longer make out what Adam's feelings were.  He was not himself, but was
it discomfort he was feeling or merely irritation at having to spend
the evening social ising when he would rather be dining with his
officers aboard his frigate?

Dinner was served and the meal wore on.  The admiral dominated the
conversation, talking to Adam as a fellow sailor.  Chloe, Miranda
noticed with secret amusement, could not take 'her eyes from Adam's
face.  She was about to develop a tend re for the dashing captain.
Well, she could scarcely blame her.

At last the meal was over, the men had joined them and Adam was about
to take his leave.

"Once this little fracas is over you must come and visit us again,
young man," invited the admiral, who seemed to have taken to Adam.  If
only everything had been straightforward, thought Miranda miserably.

~Thank you, sir.  I will if I am able.  Your servant, ma'am.  " He
bowed to her mother.  " And yours, Miss Chloe.  Miss Dawson.  " He held
her hand in his warm clasp and for the first time looked into her eyes.
" I shall be glad to renew our acquaintance when it becomes convenient.
 But for the moment I am happy to have been of service. "

"And I thank you for bringing me safely to Barbados, Captain.  I shall
always remember the Seafire with affection."

Did he guess she had meant him, not his frigate?  He kissed her hand
and then let it go, quickly.  Next moment he had gone, the admiral
following to ensure an escort back to the jetty.  After all, an enemy
officer, however congenial, could not be allowed to roam freely around
a British naval base.

Miranda fought down a compulsion to burst into tears.

Chloe burst into speech.  "Don't you think Captain York just perfect,
Mirrie?"  she cried.  "So dashing and handsome!  I declare I am in love
with him already!  Oh, Mama, do you think he will really come to visit
us when the war is over?"

"Stop your foolish chatter, Chloe," ordered Mrs.  Dawson, noting the
fixed expression on her elder daughter's face.  "You are far too young
to be talking

SO!  "

"I'll wager he is not more than ten years older than me," declared
Chloe petulantly.  "If he does come back, I shall attempt to engage his
interest!"

"It is quite time you were in bed, my child!  Go upstairs at once!"

When Delia Dawson spoke in that tone, her children did not argue. "Yes,
Mama," said Chloe meekly.  "I shall go to bed and dream of Captain
York," she sighed as she trailed languidly towards the door.

The moment her sister had gone, Miranda stood up.  "If you will excuse
me, Mama, I will go to my room.  I am very tired.  Oh, and by the way,
I have asked the servant Lilah if she would like to be my personal
maid.  You will not mind?"

"Not at all, my love, if you are certain.  Come here."  Miranda walked
over: to where her mother sat by the tea-tray, wishing her legs did not
tremble so, She felt shaky all over.  She had not realised how severely
the final parting with the man she loved would affect her.  Her. mother
grasped her hands and pulled her towards her.

"So Friday-faced, my rdear," she said softly.  "Chloe is right--he is
an attractive young man.  But it would be better if you were to forget
himi He seems quite wedded to his profession."

How had her mother guessed?  Miranda shook her head helplessly.  "I
shall not repine over him 'long, Mama; He was kind to me, we became
good friends."  And that was the truth, if only half of it.  She
scraped up a smile.  "He taught me to sail his frigate, you know.  I
shall miss the life at sea."

"No wonder you are so weather-beaten!  ~ailing his ship, indeed!  That
is no sensible occupation for a young lady!  Did you learn nothing at
the Academy?"

"Oh, yes, Mama.  But I did not regard it at sea.  I have always envied
my brothers.  Now I do so even more.  Being a young lady is so
boring!"

Mrs.  Dawson smiled.  "My love, I fear there is no help for it, since
you are one!  Unless, of course, you prefer to be regarded as a hoyden
without manners or address and quite unsuitable to marry a
gentleman?"

Miranda sighed.  "Do not concern yourself; Papa's money will not be
wasted on me.  I shall comport myself impeccably in Barbados
society."

"I may be prejudiced, but I believe you are quite beautiful, my love,
despite your burnt face.  which will recover if you will only protect
it.  You will undoubtedly be a success with all the gentlemen.  You do
have a choice, for besides the officers there are plenty of planters'
sons who will wish to fix your interest."

"I do not think."  said Miranda soberly, 'that I should wish to remain
on Barbados for the rest of my life.  "

"Perhaps not, but, you will see.  you will not lack for suitors here!
You will soon forget Captain York."

"Yes, Mama."  She bent forward to kiss her mother's cheek.  "Goodnight,
Mama."

"Goodnight, my love.  You must tell me all about your adventures
tomorrow."

"I will."

With that promise Miranda retired to her room and, to her surprise,
fell asleep the moment her head touched the pillow.

The next morning, the morning of Adam's departure, Lilah presented her
with a note.

"It done come by a boy from de town, Miz Mandy," she explained.

"Thank you," said Miranda faintly.  That bold scrawl was quite
unmistakable.  "Leave me now."

Adam had written!  Eagerly, she removed the wax seal and unfolded the
paper.  He had not written much.  "If you should ever need me, write
care of the following address."  The US Admiralty's direction followed.
The note was signed simply, "Adam'.

Why had he written?  Because she might have his child.  The reason came
to her with blinding clarity.  He would not desert her were it to prove
so.

She had been so caught up in the spell of love that she had given the
possibility of conceiving a child scant consideration, The possibility
must have stirred at the back of her mind, but she had disregarded it.
Hadn't wanted to face the likely consequences of her uninhibited
behaviour~ Now she tried desperately 'to remember back, back to the
time she had last seen her courses.  They should have come during her
last days aboard the Seafire.  And then her arrival in Barbados had
taken such mundane matters from her mind, But'she might just be late.

Adam had seen and faced the danger.  He would not abandon her were she
indeed pregnant.  How she loved him!  But would she wish to tie him
down against his true inclination to be free?  She thought not.

The following days were so full of social visits, meeting her parents'
friends and acquaintances, that Miranda found little time to speculate
or mope, although she felt so generally upset in herself that
everything she did seemed an effort; And her period did not appear. But
all her strange symptoms could be accounted for by her precarious
emotions and the heat, which would have been intolerable without the
relief brought by the trade winds from the east.  When they died out,
as they did from time to time, the discomfort became insufferable.

She tried to put a brave face on her misery, to recount ainu singly the
story of her adventures to all who asked.  Tongues were clicked at the
torment which could be inflicted upon an entire ship's company by an
unworthy captain.  Her father in particular wanted to know every last
detail of her experiences aboard the Virago, while her mother wept over
the suffering.  of her youngest son.  She allowed them to think that it
had been her fault entirely that Captain Judge had been killed.  She
could not implicate the marine corporal.

"Write a report," said her father gruffly.  "The Admiralty must be
told.  Your evidence may save some of the ship's company' from
disciplinary action."

"But there was no mutiny," protested Miranda.  "What could they be
charged with?"

"You don't know Admiralty courts martial, my child.  If they are
looking for a scapegoat... No, if I send them your account it may help
Winchester--especially over his allowing York and his officers to go
free."

"Very well, Papa.  And I shall emphasise that Dicky played an important
role in preventing a mutiny."

The report took her some time to write and.  brought back such vivid
memories that her pain was intensified.  But when it was done and had
been dispatched to London by a fast frigate she tried hard to put the
past behind her.

But it was not to be.  Within a month of her arrival her vague
forebodings were confirmed.  For the second month in succession, she
had not bled.  The conclusion was inescapable.  She was pregnant.

She had to tell her parents.  Her mother would understand.  If she told
her, she could pass on the news to the admiral, who would be deeply
shocked and extremely angry.

"You really must be increasing," murmured her mother faintly, having
been informed of her daughter's symptoms.  "Miranda, you have always
been headstrong, but how could you so far forget yourself as to allow
that creature to possess you?  Had you no thought for sin?  For
propriety?  For your future?"

"I love Adam, Mama.  We were at sea, in danger every.  day.  I wanted
to know to live... I might easily have died ~before I arrived in
America, which was where he was taking me until we captured the brig,
as you know."

"Does he love you?"

"I think he does, in his own way.  He certainly wanted to make love to
me."

Her mother made a derisive noise which was almost an undignified snort.
"So will most men you meet!  Miranda, you have been extremely gullible
and foolish, and now you will have to suffer the consequences.  You
will bring disgrace upon the entire family.  What your papa will say I
fear to think!"

Miranda, in the long watches of the night, had already agonised over
her desperate situation.  Since she did not wish to call on Adam for
help, she suggested the only other solution which made any sense to
her.

"I could tell everyone that we were married at sea.  We could have
been.  And that because Adam is an American and engaged in fighting us
we decided to keep it a secret until after the war.  But with me
expecting his baby I have no option but to admit to my union with an
enemy.  "

"And what of Captain York?"  demanded Delia Dawson.  "Has he no sense
of responsibility?  If he comes to vi ait us after the war and finds
himself spoken of as a husband and a father..."

"He must understand," whispered Miranda, wondering whether he would.
"If I wrote, he would come when he was able.  He is not irresponsible,
Mama.  But I will not force him into marriage.  His mind is set against
it.  The navy is his life."

"But you must write!  And the moment he presents himself here he will
wed you,.  my girl.  Your father will see to that!"

"I will not trouble him, Mama."  Miranda's firm tone belied her inward
quaking.  "He has no obligation to me.  What I did I did of my own free
will.  I shall call myself Mrs.  York, but I will not have him
compelled to marry me.  What sort of a life could I hope for if he
were?"

"He may not come back.  What will you do then?"

"No, he may not.  And if he does it will be awkward to explain things
to him.  But I will neither trick nor force him into marriage. 
Deserted wives are not uncommon, I believe.  I shall survive--provided
you, dearest Mama, do not turn your back on me."

Suddenly, Delia Dawson took her errant daughter into her arms.  "That I
would never do, my love, you know that.  We must face this together.~ I
am persuaded that your father will come round to our way of
thinking."

"You will ensure that he does not write to Adam care of the US navy,
won't you, Mama?  I could not bear for

Adam to be made to feel guilty for what was not fault.  "

Delia did snort this time, and her arms dropped av as she stood back to
glare at Miranda.  "Not his fault you say?  Then whose child is it, if
I may make so bold to ask?"

"His of course!  But he did not seduce or rape r Mama: I wanted him to
make love to me!"

Her mother sighed, making a helpless gesture.  "Y should be repenting,
child, not throwing defiance in face!"  She shook her head and asked
despairingly, "H did I come to bear such a wayward child?"

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

PREDICTABLY, the admiral raised the roof, threatening to thrash Miranda
if she did not write to Adam, vowing to call 'that young puppy' out.

"And to think I judged that renegade honourable?  he roared.  " To
defile my daughter!  Fellow deserves to be flogged!  "

Miranda discovered previously uncharted depths of courage and
determination in the face of her father's wrath,

"I will not write, Papa, and nor will you.  Neither will you call him
out, for, I declare, if you do you will suffer humiliation at his
hands.  He is an accomplished swordsman and a prime marksman."

"I can still aim a pistol, young lady?

"Yes, Papa, but not with the accuracy you once possessed."  She glanced
pointedly at his unsteady hand.  "Besides, duels are illegal.  And
whatever you may protest, you were not mistaken when you judged Adam
York honourable.  It was a misconceived sense of' honour and duty which
prevented his asking me to be his wife.  He did not wish to abandon me
for long periods while he was at sea.  He thought it tragic that
lieutenant had not seen his daughter yet, and she almost a year old."

Her father's head went back as though she had hit him.  That thrust had
found its mark.

"But that is a sailor's lot!"  he roared.

"Quite.  If he marries."  Miranda clenched her fists.  She would not
allow her father to think badly of the man she loved.  "Adam has chosen
his career and, Unlike you, cannot bring himself to condemn me, or any
other woman for that matter, to such a fate.  Sailors, he believes,
should not wed."

She thought her father might have an apoplexy but could not regret her
words, for they were' true

"Ask your mother," seethed the admiral, 'whether she would prefer not
to be wed!  "

"Of course she would not," said Miranda quickly, before her mother, who
was sitting twisting agitated fingers in her lap, could intervene.
"Just as I would prefer to marry Adam.  But your long absences were
difficult times, Papa, especially when we children were young and Mama
had so little.  money to manage on."  She ignored her mother's muted C~
of distress and went on, "Adam has money, and I should not lack for
funds, but I will not condemn him to suffer the pangs of conscience
during his long cruises which must have been yours during those
years."

Had she managed to make him understand?  She glimpsed the uneasy look
in his eyes and thought that perhaps she had.  She relaxed slightly,
unclenched her fists and smiled.

"Papa, I promise I will be as discreet as I possibly can, will be a
model of decorum from now on.  Please, Papa, grant me your
understanding, as Mama has done.  I cannot manage without it."

The choleric colour faded from Admiral Dawson's face.  He emitted a
deep, heavy sigh and slumped into a rattan chair.

"Y'know I only want the best for you, m'dear.  Don't care about the
disgrace.  Only your happiness."

Miranda went over and kissed his cheek.  "Thank you, dear Papa.  If I
cannot have Adam, I shall be content to have his child."  Her mind went
back to Adam's taunting and flippant suggestion that Captain Judge
should wed them.  It gave her an idea.  "And there will be few to prove
that Captain Judge did not marry us aboard the Virago before he
died."

"But what if you wish to wed someone else?"  asked her mother
anxiously.

"That is unlikely.  But I should confess the whole of it.  After all, I
could scarcely marry a man without telling him the truth."

Both her parents looked sceptical.

"It will take an extraordinary man to wed you after such a confession,
Miranda," her mother pointed out.

"I know.  I have already said that I doubt I shall marry."

"Have it your own way, then.  What will you tell Chloe and your
brothers?"

"What I tell everyone else.  Even Dicky~cannot prove that such a
ceremony did not take place, though he may strongly doubt it.  If
necessary, I would tell him the truth.  But no one else."

Her father struggled to his feet again.  "Well, I've had my say," he
rumbled.  "Shan't mention it to anyone.  Let you do the explainin'.
Must get back to my flagship."

As the door swung to behind him Delia heaved a sigh of relief.  "I
thought for a moment he would not come round~ But he has always been
soft where you and Chloe are concerned."

Miranda gazed at her mother, astonished.  "You call that being soft?"

"Imagine if it had been Ned or Dick!"

"I suppose so," admitted Miranda with a grimace.  "He would have cast
them off after horse-whipping them!"

"Well, perhaps not quite that."  Delia gave a soft, rather breathless
laugh.  "His bark ~has always been a lot worse than his bite, but he is
used to naval discipline and finds any show of leniency difficult. When
will you begin to explain?"

"When I cannot put it off any longer."

"When you begin to show, you mean?  In July?"

"Probably, yes."  "Very well, dear.~

But Miranda noticed that her mother behaved in a way that made everyone
think she was hiding a secret: She looked conscious whenever her
daughter's future was mentioned, whenever a suitor have on the horizon
and was gently rebuffed.  And Miranda, taking her cue from her mother,
did not attempt to hide her blushes whenever Adam's name was mentioned.
Which, considering he had met few people outside the family while he
had been in Bridgetown, was quite often.  But then, everyone still
wanted to hear Miranda describe her adventures.

She had become quite a celebrity in Barbados society.

Her eighteenth birthday, on the seventeenth day of April, passed almost
unnoticed outside her family, Even there, all attention was focused on
Chloe's sixteenth anniversary in July, for which Mrs.  Dawson was
planning a grand reception to be followed by informal dancing.  Making
the arrangements for this, and ordering new gowns and bonnets, kept her
mother occupied.

Miranda did her best to appear enthusiastic.  But it was difficult,
with Adam's child growing inside her.  In the privacy of her room she
sewed baby clothes.  Lilah became her confidante.  The girl would,
considered Miranda, make an ideal nurse for the baby when it came.  She
wanted a boy, of course, but a girl would be nice.  A girl was unlikely
to run away to sea and leave her!

In the third week of May a British frigate came tearing into Carlisle
Bay, flying a string of flags signalling that it carried dispatches and
that there had been a victory.

Miranda had taken to watching activity in the bay from her bedroom
window, using the telescope Adam had given her aboard the Seafire--her
most prized possession.  Even before the ship was properly at anchor a
boat had been lowered and her captain had embarked to carry the bag
over to the admiral.

Everyone aboard the frigate appeared to be excited and soon she could
see cheering aboard the flagship.

She rushed down to the sitting room to find her mother.

"Dispatches have arrived and there's been a victory!"  she cried.
"Papa's barge has been brought round to the entry port; he must be
coming ashore!"

"A victory?  I wonder what it can be?"

"Could it be a defeat for Napoleon?  He's been on the defensive on all
fronts for months now, Lord

Wellington is already in France!  Napoleon has to give up sooner or
later.  "

"Oh, I do hope this terrible war is over?  cried her mother.  " It's
been so long!  Ned and Dick will be safe at last!  "

"Safer, anyway.  I wonder if America will carry on..?"

Miranda trailed off: She dared not think that the war with America
might be over too.

A couple of hours later, the admiral, having relayed his news to the
governor and those others who must be told, arrived home, "Henry!"
cried Delia, running to him the moment he entered the house.  "What is
the victory?  We are so excited!"

"There is a letter for you from Richard,~ said the admiral.  handing
his wife the missive.  " As for the victory-.  " He kept them in
suspense while his ruddy face broke into a broad grin.  " Napoleon was
deposed by the French Senate on the ninth day of April, and surrendered
on the fourteenth of the month!  That frigate crossed the Atlantic in
seventeen days!  Just fancy that!  Had excellent weather and steady
winds all the way!  Fine young captain!  "

He was, thought Miranda.  more excited about the' performance of the
frigate than about the defeat of Napoleon!

There was, of course, no news of peace with America.  In fact.  while
the British community in Barbados celebrated the fall of Napoleon with
balls.  routs and soirees, the troops from the Peninsula were being
shipped across the Atlantic to fight in Canada.  Soon, the fleets which
had been blockading the French ports crossed it too.  Some of the
men-of-war under Admiral Dawson's command were detached and ordered
north.

"They are planning something," the admiral growled, wishing he had been
called upon to go too.

Eventually the news filtered through.  An invasion of Chesapeake Bay
had been attempted and repelled.  Annapolis was in Chesapeake Bay.  But
Adam was probably on the other side of the world.

In fact Adam was not.  The Seafire, up to full complement again with
the return of the prize crew, which had successfully brought the
Othello home, had been sent to join an American squadron serving in
home waters.  She was one of the scouting frigates which first sighted
the approaching British expedition.  Flags were hoisted reporting
'enemy in sight', the message passed from frigate to frigate until it
reached the admiral, but the commodore in command of the frigates sent
the Seafire flying back to the admiral's'flagship carrying a more
detailed report.

He was not in the thick of the action, since his next orders were to
watch and warn, to be one of his admiral's eyes.  As the British
withdrew, however, the Seafire did enter into a fierce engagement with
an enemy frigate, taking it at length by going alongside and boarding.
Zachary West and Greg Merrick were both killed in the action, together
with too many seamen.  They towed the British frigate into port as a
prize, but that could not relieve the sense of deep loss Adam felt.

Zack had returned home for a reunion with his wife and a first sight of
his daughter after their return from Barbados.  He had reported again
for duty in the highest of spirits, proud and happy.  Now he was dead,
and Adam had the sickening task of writing to his wife.  Of course he
was used to writing such letters of condolence to the relatives of the
Seafires killed in action or dead from other causes, but none of them
could compare with the pain he felt as he penned his appreciation of a
fine officer and attempted to convey his sympathy to Zack's wife,

He had treated Miranda badly, he knew.  But Zack's death confirmed him
in his opinion that a naval officer should remain a bachelor.  He could
not begin to contemplate Miranda's distress were she to receive a
missive such as the one he was writing.  Their parting had hit her
hard, he knew, yet the pain of a clean break now.  while she was young
and had her life before her, must be preferable to the anxious wait
which might end in news of his death.

Subsequent: to the action at Chesapeake he was engaged in escorting
convoys along the coast, chasing off any enemy attempt to attack the
merchantmen.  Slow, laborious and tedious work after the freedom he'd
known on the other side of the Atlantic.

Miranda still engaged his thoughts far more often than she should.  She
had not written to him, so presumably their union had not borne fruit,
Only at the last moment had he faced the possibility and sent her a
note.  He'd 'been unforgivably careless, he knew, careless of Miranda's
feelings, of her welfare after they parted.  But everything had worked
out satisfactorily in the end.

Except that he could not forget her.

On her finger, Miranda wore an engraved signet ring.  To anyone who
exclaimed over her lack of a proper wedding band, she protested that
there had been no opportunity to purchase one.

For several days after learning of Miranda's condition and supposed
marriage, Chloe refused to speak to her sister.

"You deceived me!"  she cried in outrage, and ran to her room to shed
buckets of tears.

"She still cherishes a tend re for your supposed husband, Miranda,"
explained their mother somewhat sharply.  "She is jealous of you at
present, but she is very young and has a sweet temperament.  She will
soon recover.  She will have plenty of other young men to take her
fancy after her come-out."

"I hope so, Mama.  I did not realise how seriously she had become
attached to Adam."

"Her attachment is not serious, my love.  She only thinks it is."

The come-out reception was to be in a few days' time.  On her mother's
advice, Miranda had broken the news beforehand, slightly earlier than
was absolutely necessary.

"We would not wish to distress Chloe during the excitement of her entry
into society," she had suggested.  "She will far get her disappointment
all the sooner if she is engaged in a round of pleasure."

The ball proved a great success and during the following days Chloe,
still moping slightly, gathered about her a group of admirers, which
lifted her spirits~ The young gentlemen followed her from one function
to another and, in her demure way, she flirted outrageously.

"Pooh," she said at the end of the first week.  gazing starry-eyed at a
young lieutenanl in a red coat with splendid gold frogging.  white
breeches and stockings.  "I cannot.  imagine what I saw in your Adam
York, Mirrie.  I do so much prefer an army uniform.  His shako suits
him wonderfully well, do you not think?  Just see how the plume
nods!"

Miranda smiled to herself.  The peak of the shako shadowed the young
man's features, but hadn't she been taken in by a fine uniform and a
handsome face before she'd met Adam?  And Chloe was far too young to
appreciate Adam's less spectacular qualities.

In December.  the supposed Mrs.  Adam York bore her absent husband a
fine son.  whom she named Adam Henry and called Hal.  She nursed him
herself and cared for him with the help of Lilah.

In the new year they heard that peace was being discussed between
Britain and her former colony.  By the end of February Miranda knew it
was fact.  The treaty had been signed in Ghent in January of 1815.
Britain, for the first time in many years, was at peace with all the
world.

Was Adam still alive7 Would he come?  When would he come?  He might
still be on a lengthy commission somewhere on the other side of
America.  in the Pacific.  He would have to take leave or make an
excuse to call in on his way to or from somewhere else, as he had done
to bring her here.  If he was still alive and wanted to see her.

The months passed.  Her hope began to fade.  And yet, and yet.
Something told her that Adam would come if he could.  The exigencies of
the service must be keeping him away.  She had to believe that, or the
mainspring of her life would be gone.

Hal grew into a sturdy baby, before long sitting up unaided.  Soon he
would be crawling.  But even he could not take the place of his
father.

All kinds of merchant ships, as well as warships, came into Carlisle
Bay now.  French, Dutch, American, even a few Spanish, though Spain
still fought a losing battle to keep all the trade in the area to
herself.  Her pirate ships were the greatest threat Admiral Dawson and
his squadron now had to face.

Miranda watched from her window, hoping to see the Seafire sail in.
Although, of course, Adam might have been given command of a different
ship.

When he did arrive, just ahead of the hurricane season, she was one of
the last to know.

The tails of his blue coat flapping in the wind, Adam strode up the
hill towards Admiral Dawson's residence with Daniel at his heels.
Despite the heat, the sweat beginning to trickle down his neck, he did
not slow down.  Action was the only thing keeping him sane at the
moment; he could not have borne to sit quietly in a gig while the horse
clip-clopped along at a leisurely pace.

"Why, it's Captain York, isn't it?  the official who had greeted him at
the jetty had exclaimed.  " Hardly recognised you in that garb, sir!
Left the US navy, have you?  "

As Daniel had leapt out to hold the boat while he stepped ashore, Adam
had nodded.

,

"Your lady wife will be that glad to see you.  Only saying to her the
other day~ I were.  that the boy would be quite grown before his father
set eyes on him."

What he had said to the man Adam could never afterwards remember- He
was too shocked.

His 'lady wife' could only be Miranda And she had a child.  Fhat man
believed the child to be his.

Why had she not written, as he'd told her to?  He'd resigned his
commission in the navy and.  determined to overcome any obstacles
raised by her family~ had come to ask her to wed him.  But now he felt
uncertain of the wisdom of his decision.

She hadn't sent for him when she'd found herself pregnant.  Did that
mean she no longer wished to marry him?  How could he know.  until he
saw hero Had her father intervened.  forbidden her to write?  If so he
would not be welcome now.  Yet Admiral Dawson had seemed to approve of
him--but as a naval officer.  not as a son-in-law!

Impatient for answers, he kept up the killing pace until the residence
came into sight.  He paused in a scrap of shade before entering the
grounds The walk had given him time to compose himself.

He took off his cap to wipe his streaming forehead, revealing his newly
cropped hair.  His stock was a dismal, damp rag about his neck, but
that could not be helped.  His plan to arrive looking smart and
acceptable to a British admiral's daughter and her family had been
doomed to failure from the 'start, given the heat.  He eased his
shoulders under the coat, trying to shift the damp shirt from his skin.
It should be cooler inside.

"Wait outside the house," he ordered Daniel briefly, and strode up to
the open door.

From somewhere on the shady side of the house he heard the gurgle of
baby laughter.  With his hand on the bell, he stopped, turned, and set
off towards the sound.  It might be some other child, of course, a
servant's offspring, or that of someone making a call.  But he did not
think so.  Especially as, as he drew nearer, he heard Miranda's voice
cooing at the baby.

He turned the corner and stood watching the scene.  The baby, naked
except for a napkin, had been set down on a rug in the shade of the
veranda and sat with his mother kneeling in front of him, holding his
hands while she talked to him.  A native girl squatted on the ground
nearby, holding his little dress.

Adam stared at his son with wonder and pride and the surge of emotion
almost unmanned him before he turned his attention to the ~girl who was
his son's mother.

More beautiful than ever, was his immediate thought, but her face and
figure reflected a new maturity.  Now the feelings which shook him were
of another kind entirely.  Had he lost her by his foolish refusal to
keep her with him?  Had she found another man to love?  It had been
more than a year since he had left her here.  Plenty of time for her to
forget him .  except that she called herself Mrs.  York and had the
baby to remind her.

Perhaps she held that against him.  Was it resentment that had
prevented her from writing to him?

He wanted to walk forward and greet her but he was overcome with fear
and guilt.  How was it that Miranda

Dawson so often reduced him to an awkward, faltering oaf?

The child's nurse-for that must be her function--saw him first.  Her
eyes opened wide, the whites rolled as she lifted her arm and
pointed.

"Miz Mandy!"  she cried.

Miranda looked up.  For an instant she appeared turned to stone.  Then
such a smile lit her small face that Adam knew immediately that he had
not come in vain.

She jumped to her feet, abandoning the baby, and as he took a step
forward she ran into his arms.

"Adam!  You came!  I knew you would!"

"Yes," he agreed gruffly, once he had thoroughly kissed her.  "I came.
Why did you not send for me?"

"Later."  murmured Miranda, glancing at Lilah.  "Come and meet your
son."

She led him by the hand to the rug.  Then she dropped it as she bent
down and took the baby into her arms.  Adam swallowed.  He had missed
so much over the last fifteen months--something he had vowed never to
do.  It would not happen again.

"I hope you will approve,- I have named him Adam Henry," she said
softly, holding the child so that his father could see him properly.
"But I call him Hal.  I thought it might be less confusing when you
came for

US.  "

Such confidence!  Adam felt ashamed all over again, for doubting her
constancy.

Speechless, he held out a finger whicfi Hal immediately clutched.

Adam cleared his throat.  "What a grip he has."

"Do you want to hold him?"

The infant changed hands.  As Adam tucked his son into the crook of his
arm he thought he had never been happier.

Miranda watched Adam's reaction and rejoiced at what she saw.  All her
doubts had been groundless.  He was already the proud father, chucking
his son under the chin and saying all the foolish things one said to a
baby.

And then she noticed his cropped hair, the change of uniform.  For
surely the dark blue coat with its brass buttons was some kind of
uniform?  She opened her mouth to ask but was interrupted by a little
shriek of surprise from the house as a glowing, graceful Chloe came out
onto the veranda on the arm of her lieutenant.

"Captain York!"  she cried, to Miranda's great relief showing no
consciousness, no evidence of tender feelings trampled underfoot.  "So,
brother, you have come at last!  My sister was quite beginning to
despair!  We had feared you lost at sea or something, and with your
marriage being so secret--well, the authorities may not have known
where to write!"

Adam did not let go of Hal.  He used his free hand to bow over Chloe's
and acknowledge the introduction to the lieutenant.

"My wife," he said quietly, 'would have been informed had I been killed
in action.  Otherwise, our countries being at war, it was better that I
did not write.  " He looked straight into Miranda's eyes as he went on,
" But communications have been poor since the end of the war.  Did you
not receive the letter I sent in February, my love?  "

They were playing a game; Adam had fielded Chloe's ball and now she
must pick up Adam's.  Dear Adam, who had met the unexpected challenge
of being supposed wed with such aplomb.

"No, my dear, I have received no letter from you at all.  But I always
imagined that you had written but the letter had gone astray.  What
must you have thought of me when I did not reply?"

"I feared you had forgotten me," said Adam with perfect truth.
"Although I hoped it had been lost.  So I came to claim you with all
the dispatch at my disposal."

"How romantic it was to be wed at sea aboard the Virago!"  sighed
Chloe, gaz!  ng up at her lieutenant, who, silent at the best of times,
had now completely lost his voice.  His lack of conversation did not
appear to concern' Chloe who did the talking for both of them, content
to bask in the adoration of her beau.  "And then Captain Judge was
killed and your marriage certificate lost in the confusion which
followed.  You will have to wed her again, Captain, if you wish to
convince the parson who baptised Hal."

So that was the story Miranda had told.  Plausible enough but not
entirely convincing to all.  "I have every intern ion of doing so,"
responded Adam seriously.  "I Can allow no doubts as to the legality of
our union to remain.  Besides, we would both wish to receive the
blessing of the Church."

~When?  " cried Chloe excitedly.  " And may I attend the bride?  "

"Of course you may, sister,.  dear."  Miranda turned her radiant face
to Adam.  "As to when, we must discuss that with others.  With Mama,
Papa and the parson.  Mama is resting and Papa is busy about his
duties.  You will see them both at dinner.  "

"Meanwhile," said Adam soRly, reluctantly handing his son to Lilah,
'may we seek a little privacy7 I have much to tell you and much to
explain, my love.  ~

Miranda nodded.  "Lilah will take care of H~I, Is Daniel with you7'

Adam grinned.  "Of course.  He is waiting at the front of the house.

"Then I must instruct one of the servants to look after him."

Saying which, Miranda led the way into the coolest room in the house,
speaking to a footman on the way,

With the door closed firmly behind them.  Adam took Miranda into his
arms again, The kiss, a delightful reminder of all they had been
missing over the last months, deepened from tender caress to almost
desperate longing.

"Tonight."  murmured Miranda at last, 'you will be staying here?  "

He held her clasped firmly against his heart.  "If you will welcome me
into your bed."

Miranda's laugh was shaky as her fingers tangled in his short hair, The
cropped style suited him splendidly, she acknowledged, delighting in
his distinctive looks all over again.  "Oh~ Adam, I have missed you
so!"

"And I you.  my love.  When you did not write I tried to forget
you--especially after Zack was killed--but it proved impossible.

Miranda drew back a fraction to gaze into his face.  "Zack is dead7
How?  When?"

"During a duel with an enemy frigate at the close of the attempted
British invasion of Chesapeake Bay.  He was killed instantly by a
cutlass blow as we boarded."

"Oh, his poor wife!"

Adam nodded, his face sombre.  "I had to write to her, I did not have
leave to visit.  I swore then that I would never put you in a position
to receive such a letter."

"Adam," she whispered, 'the war is over now; you are unlikely to be
killed, though there is always the risk of being lost at sea.  Is that
why you have come?  "

He led her to a rattan sofa before he answered.  Once they were
settled, entwined closely together~ he explained, "I'm here because I
could not stay away, my dearest girl.  The war ending made it possible,
that I grant, for I could not have deserted while I was needed to serve
my country.  But they were putting me on the beach on half-pay, like so
many others--'

"In the " British navy too.  "

Adam nodded.  "So rather than that I resigned my commission."

"You've left the navy?"

Grinning, Adam pointed to the coat he had discarded on entering the
room.  "There you see my new uniform, my love.  I am now owner and
master of the itrading barque Seafire.  She lies at anchor in the
harbour."

"The Seafire?"  wondered Miranda.  "You named her for your frigate?"

"I could never forget my naval command.  Neither did I wish to.  I
found my true happiness aboard her, Miranda."

"So did I," remembered Miranda wistfully.

"Why did you not write, my dear one?"

~I could not force you back to me, Adam You had to come because you
could not stay away.  Otherwise you would have grown to resent your
responsibilities, for you did not wish to be wed.  ~

~. And you were prepared to be condemned by the world for bearing a
bastard rather than hold me to my duty?  "

"That w. as the point, Adam.  I did not wish you to wed me from a sense
of duty.  I knew that for us to find true happiness together you must
~sincerely wish to marry me."

"So you contrived that story about being married at sea " For my
parents' sake.  really.  I did not care for myself.  And in the eyes of
the world.  if you did not come, I should simgly be a wronged wife~ you
would not be hurt, while if you did come you would still have the
choice.  If you had not wished to wed me you had only to go away again.
You still could.  "

"Thank you.  my dear~ but I do not think I will, if you do not mind!  I
am hoping our happiness will continue aboard the new Seafire ."

"How?  What do you mean?"

"Why~ my love, I hope that you will sail With me.  The accommodation is
far superior to that of a warship, this Seafire will carry passengers
as well as cargo and a necessary complement of crew and cannon designed
to deter pirates.  Abraham Windsor and Thomas Crocker are both with me
as mates and I have no doubt you will be delighted to learn that
William Williams and James Stirling are also in the crew.  together
with a number of the old Seafires.~

Miranda's eyes shone.  "You mean it, Adam?  I may come with you7 How
wonderful to face the dangers of the sea together!  No waiting at home
for letters that do not come, no entertaining of desperate hopes that,
somehow, even if the ship has foundered, you are safe."

Then her face dropped.  "But what of Hal--and other children we may ha
veT

"He and his nurse, or they and their nurse, may accompany us, at least
until such time as they either take to a life at sea or attend school
on land.  We will, of course, not be at sea all the time; we shall have
a home somewhere--here if.  you prefer, or in the USA--and we can hire
houses in London or anywhere else in the world we may find ourselves
for any length of time."

"London!"  exclaimed Miranda.  "We may go to London one day?  I have
never been there!"

"It will be our first destination when we leave here, my love.  The
Seafire will make its way up the River Thames to dock below London
Bridge, near the Tower.  We may explore the city as much as you
please."

"Adam!  I should enjoy that above everything!  Though of course," she
added hurriedly, "I long to see your home in Virginia and to meet your
family."

Adam smiled and squeezed her shoulders.  "We shall explore the USA,
never fear.  I believe your charm may even melt my father's irascible
heart!"

"As you will my father's!  You begin with an advantage, my love, for he
dotes on Hal and found you congenial, a courageous and honourable
officer until he discovered my condition!  Then, of course, he fretted
and fumed and took a deal of pacifying, but I do believe that beneath
his outrage he still admires you.  So he will accept our belated
wedding with approval even if he does rant a little at first.  "

Adam kissed her again.  "I am delighted to think so, although I should
not allow him to deter me from making you my wife."

"I am not yet of age, Adam.  But I do not believe he will prevent our
marriage."

"If he tries, we will elope!"

"And sail the seas together for evermore!"

"We shall not be at sea all the time: we shall spend time at home; of
that you may be certain.  Abe and Tom between them are perfectly
capable of making voyages without me.  And if the venture is successful
I shall purchase more vessels, train up more crews.  We could own a
fleet for our sous to command.  What do you think?"

"I think it is wonderful, Adam!"  She jumped to her feet.  "Let us go
up to my room so that I may scan the harbour for sight of the

"Look," said Adam a few moments later.  pointing from her window. 'that
three-masted ship there.  She has a capacious hold for cargo and is a
fine, seaworthy ship capable of making up to ten knots.  "

"She's beautiful," murmured Miranda, eyeing the barque's graceful
lines.  "Oh, Adam, I am so happy!"

"So am I, my love.  Who knows that we are not truly wed?"

"Only Mama and Papa.  Forgive them if they are constrained with you at
first.  but I am persuaded that they will soon forgive you when they
learn of our plans!  Oh, Adam~,"

Her arms crept round his neck.  The bed stood invitingly behind them.
Their full reunion could be denied them no longer.

The wedding became the social occasion of the year on Barbados.  Even
the governor and his lady attended, mostly on account of his having
worked so closely with Admiral Dawson, though Miranda suspected his
wife of sharing all the ladies' curiosity and speculation over the
circumstances and legality of her first marriage.  Let them wonder, she
thought as, her face radiant, she walked from the church on the arm of
her husband.

Despite the imminence of the hurricane season the Seafire sailed
immediately after the ceremony and reception, bound for London by the
northern route across the Atlantic.  There were no passengers on this
trip--Adam had turned down several requests for passage to England, for
this was their honeymoon--but the holds were full of valuable sugar.

"The North Atlantic currents and winds are more helpful for a crossing
from west to east," Adam explained.  "It'll be icebergs we shall have
to fear, not hurricanes."

As the anchor was weighed and the ship sailed out of the bay he held
her close.

Miranda watched until the island began to sink below the horizon, sad
to leave her family again but so happy otherwise that the emotion soon
passed.  She left Adam on deck and went below to the sumptuous cabin
they would share, all mahogany, Satin and velvet, and looked in on Hal
on her way, smiling contentedly to herself.

Lilah was busy settling him into his small swinging cot.  The girl had
been reluctant to accompany them at first, but Daniel had persuaded
her.  Miranda doubted it would be long before Adam was asked to marry
the pair.  Daniel was clearly besotted with the lively young woman and
she.  despite the disparity in their ages.  seemed taken with the big.
genial sailor.

All the Sea fires had welcomed her aboard with beaming smiles and
exclaimed like old women over the baby.  Tomorrow she would resume her
boy's garb, take up her lessons in seamanship again.

But for now.  When Adam descended the ladder to join her she once more
gravitated straight into his arms.  It seemed that.  having been
separated for so long, neither of them could bear to be far from the
other for many months.

The ship was in good hands.  The deck heaved easily beneath their feet,
the water chuckled blithely along the sides of the vessel.  To Miranda,
being aboard a ship again was like coming home.  The comfort of the
wide swinging cot Adam had introduced awaited them.  With a sigh of
deepest contentment.  she surrendered herself to the fire of her
husband's embrace.