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clutching his sleeve.
    Peter Dykstra was helpless. Her agony was clearly apparent and mirrored that of Regan’s which he’d witnessed earlier. “I can’t help you, Sirena. There isn’t a ship in the harbor ready to make sail. Even if there were, they’re filled to the brim with cargo. You’d never catch him. The best you can do is wait a month when the next ship sets sail for Europe.”
    â€œThe Rana,” Sirena said hopefully, “I could—”
    Peter Dykstra shook his head. “No, you couldn’t. She’s not seaworthy. She’s been in drydock. Be reasonable.”
    Sirena looked to the window. Even from where she sat, she could see the tip of Regan’s sail drop over the horizon. Peter was right. She could never catch him.
    â€œSirena, let me take you home,” Peter said softly, touching her hand in consolation.
    â€œHome? Where is that?”

Chapter Two
    Month after dreary month passed with Sirena doing no more than making a daily pilgrimage to the burial site. Afterward she would sit in the garden until the rains came, then return to the house and apathetically work on embroidery. She grew thin and gaunt, the hollows in her cheeks more pronounced with each passing day. The once vibrant green eyes were now as dull and lifeless as her spirit.
    Nearly five months had passed since Regan had left, and Frau Holtz was observing Sirena from the doorway. She would never forget that morning when Captain Dykstra had brought Sirena home from the wharf. Regan was gone. Over and over Sirena whispered the words, tears glittering in her eyes.
    Regan’s leaving alone had taken the life from the Mevrouw. By nightfall Sirena had been put to bed with a raging fever, and it had been several weeks before she regained even a semblance of her former strength. The absence of those she cared for most was almost more than she could bear. Sirena had never again spoken of joining Regan. It was almost as though he, too, were dead and buried. Every so often Frau Holtz would encourage Sirena to talk about him, hoping that in doing so Sirena would be persuaded to leave Java and follow her husband. Always she would receive the same response.
    â€œIf Regan had loved me, he would have waited for me. It’s obvious he wanted no part of me. He knew I didn’t want to leave Mikel and he was counting on it to keep me here. No, I won’t chase him. I want nothing to do with a man who doesn’t want me.”
    From her position near the door, Frau Holtz noticed a figure on horseback approaching the long drive leading to the house. She squinted into the bright sunlight and realized it was Peter Dykstra.
    Wiping her hands on her apron, the housekeeper hurried out to meet him. It would be good for Sirena to have company.
    â€œThe Mevrouw is in the garden, Captain Dykstra. Come, I’ll take you to her. She will be happy to see you. Visitors don’t come very often.”
    Captain Dykstra drew his breath in sharply at the appearance Sirena made. What in the name of God has happened to her? Alarmed because of the news he brought, he debated a second and then sat down beside her.
    â€œPeter, how nice to see you,” she said, her voice a thin wail. He looked at her dull expression and flinched. Yet he knew he must tell her why he had made the call.
    â€œHow have you been, Peter? You look well.”
    â€œSirena, I’ve come to tell you something. I have some disturbing news.” She appeared so ill—no, that wasn’t it exactly; she appeared tired, exhausted, as though life had become too much for her.
    Sirena tilted her head out of the sun’s direct glare. “Yes, Peter, I’m listening. Is something amiss at the office?”
    â€œNo, the Company is still doing well. I have information concerning the Spanish Lady, Regan’s ship.” Sirena waited patiently for him to continue. Her face was unreadable.
    â€œThe reports I received were ...