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seaworthy before he takes her out into open water again."
    "At anchor?" Summer gasped, licking the
crumbs of a buttery biscuit from her fingers. She went to the gallery and
unlatched one of the heavy diamond-paned windows. "Where?"
    "I don't know," Michael shrugged. "I've
asked, but no one will tell me. It's an island friendly to Captain Wade,
though. I think."
    "An island," she murmured. "If we only
knew which one, or if we could somehow get a message ashore—"
    The next instant they both whirled to stare at the door
as it flung wide open and crashed against the wall. Captain Morgan Wade stood
there, his long legs splayed apart, his hands resting squarely on his hips. His
jaw was tensed into a hard ridge, and the blue of his eyes flashed almost
black.
    "I understand you have a message for me," he
snarled, taking a step across the threshold.
    Summer was sufficiently startled to drop the quilt
from around her shoulders. She recovered her composure quickly and met the
challenge in the blue eyes with some fire of her own.
    "How dare you enter this cabin without knocking!
Get out at once. At once, do you hear me!"
    Morgan Wade's mouth curved into an ominous smile. He
kept his gaze fixed on Summer for several moments before flicking it toward
Michael. "Get out, boy," he said evenly. "Now."
    Michael looked from the captain to his sister and back
to the captain.
    "I said now, boy, unless you care to feel the
back of my hand."
    Michael swallowed hard and edged to the door slowly,
pressing as far from the angered captain as he could.
    Summer took a step forward. "You have no right
ordering him to do anything."
    "Shut up!" Wade commanded, "or, by
Christ, you'll both be feeling the bite of my hand!"
    Summer gasped and retraced her step. Michael exchanged
a last apologetic glance with her, then dashed out into the corridor. Wade
slammed the door shut and faced Summer.
    "Now, just who the hell do you think you are,
Governess, and where the hell do you think you are that you can order my men
around like servants?"
    Summer responded in kind to the insolence in his
voice. "Michael and I are British subjects. We travel under the protection
of the governor of Barbados."
    "On board this ship, madam, I am the governor,
the president, the king and any other figurehead you'd care to mention. I
decide who does what. I decide who earns special treatment, who earns the lash
and who earns the rat watch in the bilges."
    "Yes, Mr. Thorntree has already enlightened us on
your manner of justice, Captain. I hardly think it worthy of boasting."
    He walked a few more paces into the cabin. "I
might remind you that you were pulled out of the ocean in the middle of the
night—from shark-infested waters—and allowed to stay on board my ship purely
out of the goodness of my heart. At least ten of the so-called degenerates on
board dove into the water without thinking of the risk to their own
necks." He paused and took a deep breath. "For someone so free and
easy with her insults, you should learn the basic meaning of the word
gratitude."
    Summer was not daunted. "For someone so free and
easy with his lectures, you should learn the meaning of the word courtesy.
Common decency, sir, decrees that you convey us to a British port
immediately."
    "Not likely, madam."
    Summer flushed hotly. "Then if your purpose is to
detain us—"
    "Yes?" He arched one black brow.
    "If that is your intent, be warned, sir: If any
harm comes to Michael Cambridge, I will not rest until I see you hung as a
pirate and miscreant."
    "Assuming you live to see anything at all,"
he countered dryly.
    Summer clenched her hands into two fists by her sides.
"How dare you speak to me like this!"
    "Have a care I do not dare more, Governess,"
he snapped angrily, and headed back to the doorway. "As to your bath,
unless you have something of interest to barter with other than a sharp tongue,
I suggest you do what the rest of us do: Take a dive off the side in calm
waters."
    "Barter!" she cried. "I have