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there no more, even if I have to speak to the cap’n about it meself.” He scratched behind one ear. “But you got to promise me you won’t stay below decks after dark no more, you understand? It ain’t safe.”
    She took another sip, eyeing him warily. “You mean that? If I promise to halt my work after supper, you’ll protect the women from the sailors, Peter?”
    Though he reddened at her use of his Christian name, he bobbed his head. “His lordship paid me well to look after you. And if lookin’ after you means lookin’ after a bunch of convict women, I suppose I can manage it.”
    She took one look at his stoic expression, so like his brother’s, and she relaxed. It was exactly the sort of thing Hargraves might have said…and done. “All right, it’s a bargain. But I’m going to hold you to your end of it, Peter.”
    He gave a solemn nod as he clapped his hat back on his head. “Long as you hold to yer end, miss, I’ll not fail you. You’ll see.”
    When he headed for the door she said, “Peter?”
    He paused. “Yes, miss?”
    “It seems to me that Jordan bought the very best man he could find.”
    Peter’s ears pinkened. “Thank you, miss. I’ll do my best by you, I will.”
    After he left, she dropped into a chair, relief coursing through her. Now she wouldn’t have the entire burden of worrying about the women.
    Suddenly, the trip that lay before her seemed a little less daunting, a little less grueling. Maybe everything would be fine, after all, thanks to Jordan’s forethought. And if she and Peter could keep the ship from becoming a “floating brothel,” who knew what they could accomplish in New South Wales?

Chapter 3
    Go tell the King of England ,
    Go tell him thus from me ,
    If he reigns King of all the land ,
    I will reign King at sea .
    —A NONYMOUS
“A F AMOUS S EA F IGHT B ETWEEN C APTAIN W ARD AND THE R AINBOW ”
    T he tropical sun dusted the palm trees with its fading light as Captain Gideon Horn of the Satyr and the ship’s cook, Silas Drummond, climbed up the path through the crowded market of the town of Praia, which was carved in Santiago’s mountainside. Santiago was the last and largest of the Cape Verde Islands that Gideon and his men had visited. They’d gone to the smaller islands first, thinking they’d have better luck finding what they wanted, but they’d been wrong. And now Gideon feared they wouldn’t find it even on Santiago.
    So he’d decided instead to buy provisions to carry back to Atlantis Island. If Praia couldn’t provide them with what they really needed, there was no point in staying here any longer.
    He scanned the nearest stall, where a grinning nativewoman wearing a crumpled straw hat offered bolts of dyed cotton and called out to passersby in the bastard Portuguese the islanders used.
    “How much?” Gideon asked in English, then waited while Silas, who spoke a little Portuguese, translated.
    The woman shifted her eyes to him, her grin fading at once. First she rubbed the sweat from her brow with indigo-stained hands. Then she let forth a veritable torrent of words, gesturing to Gideon with jerky motions.
    His burly translator chuckled. “She says if the ‘American pirate’ wants the goods for his lady, he’ll have to pay dearly for ’em.”
    Gideon scowled. “Tell her I don’t have a lady and am not likely to have one soon.” Then, before Silas could get out a word, he added, “How did she know who I am, anyway?”
    Silas talked to the woman animatedly for a few moments. Apparently she found Gideon’s presence at her bamboo stall alarming.
    When at last Silas faced Gideon, he was tugging on the ends of his heavy brown beard. “Word travels quickly on the islands, Cap’n. It seems they all know that the notorious Pirate Lord and his crew are here. She took one look at that saber tucked in your belt, and figured you were him.” He looked thoughtful. “Maybe that’s why we’ve had little luck gettin’ what we want from these