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she turned to examine the room for a possible means of escape. It was very dark and she could barely make out the outline of a box of matches on the table. Striking one with shaking hands, she lit a candle.
    The cabin was small, so as to take up less of the precious cargo space. The walls were panelled in dark pine and had bookshelves built right into them. The shelves were fronted with glass, to keep, Cathy supposed, the books from flying about in case of rough seas. A bunk bed was neatly made up against one wall. Besides the bed, there was the round table and two chairs, a wardrobe, a coal stove, and a couple of sea chests pushed against the wall.
    The only possible exit was a small, glass-paned window. Cathy rushed over to it, fumbling with the latch and then flinging it wide. Cold salt spray struck her in the face, and she saw to her disappointment that she was leaning out directly over the dark sea. The wind had whipped the water into tall, angry waves that pounded viciously against the hull. Cathy shuddered, drawing back a little. She was not that desperate yet.
    In the distance she could see a dozen or so small lights bobbing up and down. The frigates! They were still out there, not daring to come too close. Cathy drew a relieved breath. If she could only hold on for a little while she would surely be rescued. The pirate ship could not outrun her pursuers forever!
    The spray dampened her dress, and she drew back from the window, thoroughly chilled by the cold, moist air. She longed to undress and sooth her abused body in a hot bath, then put on a dry nightdress and crawl into bed. But there was no bath in sight, and no nightdress either. And even if both had been set before her she would have been hesitant about using them. She had no doubt of the captain’s purpose in having her locked in his cabin, and she hoped to keep him at arm’s length until the frigates came to her rescue. But if he were to come in and find her freshly bathed and tucked up cozily in his bed, she had no doubt about her fate. Innocent as she was, she knew that.
    Cathy compromised, slipping off her wet gown and hanging it over a chair to dry. She would leave it there overnight and put it on again first thing in the morning, doing up the torn bodice with some straight pins she had found in a shallow dish beside the box of matches. She shivered in the torn chemise, and crossed hastily to the bed, dragging the heavy quilt from it and wrapping it around herself for warmth. Her eyes searched the room for a likely place to sleep, coming to rest on the cushioned alcove beneath the window. She took a pillow from the bed and settled herself as comfortably as possible in that small space. It was cramped, but that was all to the good. She had no intention of being fast asleep when the captain returned to his cabin.
    Cathy twisted and turned in her nest, trying desperately to stay awake. Her mind went over the events of the day, and turned at last to the frightening man who held her prisoner. Unwillingly, she remembered his handsome face and broad shoulders and the way he had held and kissed her. Of course, the man was a pirate and a criminal and not fit to associate with a lady like herself. But still … His kiss had roused something deep inside her, something that made her wonder, with a kind of shivery fear, what would happen if he took her in his arms again, and kissed her, or did even more. Cathy was not certain exactly what “more” was, but she knew that it had something to do with the way the captain had stroked her breasts. The memory of that intimate caress both excited and shamed her. She could not understand herself or this partly suppressed longing for what she did not know.
    Hastily she forced her thoughts away from such an indelicate subject, and turned them severely to coming up with a plan of escape. Try as she would, she could think of nothing that had the least chance of success. At last, her head dropped wearily on the pillow and she