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Billy’s smile was lopsided because of the scars. “One of these days, gnome, I will pin your pointy little ears to the mast and use you for target practice.”

Unfazed, he chuckled and walked away, whistling through his teeth to signal the men that the work was done and they should gather up the ropes and winches and return to the boats.

When the last of the copper was unloaded into the tidal pool and they were certain no trace of their presence had been left behind, the empty longboats and their exhausted crews returned to the ships.

Two of the boats were rowed to the Cygnet , one to the Pride and one to the Hyperion .

With the waves getting rougher and the wind picking up, all three ships were tugging restlessly on their anchor cables as if anxious to leave as well.

As his boat approached the hull of the Hyperion , Duardo twirled his finger in the air, alerting the men to put their backs into the anchor windlass and raise the heavy iron hook.

It was decided he would take the helm of the balky English ship until they found a good place to sink her.

The Cygnet’s helmsman, Jose Mercado, was put in temporary command of the Pride .

Having already transferred the charts, ledgers and papers from the Pride to the Cygnet , and having endured quite enough of the crimson nightmare that was Lafitte’s cabin, Rose returned to the welcome familiarity of her own ship.

When she walked through the gangway, Stubb was already on board and greeted her with a partially devoured chicken leg clutched in his fist.

“Hard work ‘at was,” he said around a mouthful of meat. “An’ a mort o’ greedy hands in the stew pot afore I got there. Be n’owt much left aside from biscuits an’ broth, but ol’ Barney saved a piece o’ capon an’ put it in yer cabin.”

Rose’s stomach rumbled to remind her she had not eaten since …

since she could not remember when. But the sky was still a brilliant, pristine blue, with a clear horizon stretching out for miles.

Hoping to ease the persistent scratch across the nape of her neck, she climbed up the rigging to the topmost yards and perched there with the spyglass aimed to the western horizon.

Her sight-line was elevated just enough for her to see over the crest of the atoll and allow a slow sweep from one side of the vast expanse of the ocean to the other.

She frowned a little, thinking of the notation scripted along the border of old sea charts.

Beyond this place, there be dragons.

Dragons? Or black-haired devils?

She sighed and tucked the long glass into her belt. Her eyes were dry and burning, scorched by the sun. She had not slept more than a mouse in a cat’s cage over the past forty-eight hours, so it was her berth, more than the thought of food, that had her start to shinny back down to the main deck.

“Sails Captain! Sails off the larboard beam!”

Rose stopped, climbed to the topmost yard again, and raised her glass. She blinked hard and rubbed a fist across her eyes but could see nothing through the glare of the lowering sun.

“Where, dammit?” She caught a breath, then: “Never mind, I see it.”

What she saw was smallest wink of white peeking sporadically between the distant waves.

It was little more than a tiny pinprick easily lost in a sea of glittering pinpricks as the sun bounced off the distant whitecaps, but it was there and it was a ship.

It was impossible to see any pennants or flags that would identify her, but the brush of ghostly fingers down Rose’s spine told her exactly who it was.

She cupped her hands around her mouth and called down to Stubb’s upturned face. “Signal the other ships. Let go the sheets and braces. Make all sail.”

“Be there one ship? Two?”

“I can only see the one, but there may be more below the horizon coming up behind her. One or twenty-one, we’ve no time to waste!”

“Aye, aye.” Stubb tossed the gnawed chicken bone over the side and relayed orders even as he scrambled nimbly up the ratlines.

He joined Rose at the very top of the mainmast, one hundred and sixty feet above the deck, and helped her untie and unfurl the topgallant sail.

It opened with a shudder and a loud snap as it caught the wind and belled outward in a hard curve.

Job done, Rose swivelled around on the yard, and her temper bristled slightly knowing the Cygnet’s sails would be winking back across the leagues. She could almost hear the shouts of a sharp-eyed lookout on board the distant ship.

There was the possibility it was a galleon making its way to Havana.

It was also possible it was a British patrol skulking around the islands, searching for potential smugglers.

There were always merchants and couriers travelling to and from the other side of the Ocean-Sea, for not all nationalities were involved with the conflict between Britain and America and trade carried on as usual, though most kept a wide berth.

But Rose knew it was none of those. It was Lafitte’s hunter and whoever her captain was, he was undoubtedly roaring orders to his crew to pile on sail.