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but they know how to treat a man.’
    ‘Curb your enthusiasm; you’re positively dribbling,’ said Armand coldly. These rogues spent wildly, drinking, gambling, whoring till they had emptied their pockets and had to go to sea again. It suited his purpose, but sometimes made them hard to control. Lust ruled their existence – lust for riches and the women they could buy for gold.
    The men saluted him as they passed, after pausing to chat with Henry and pocketing their money. The weapons went into the armoury; the other goods set aside to be sold in Cayona, while the food and wine enriched the fortress’s larder and cellar. The business was almost concluded when the lookout knocked for admittance. He had been on watch at the top of a tower, scanning the ocean for miles around.
    ‘A ship has run aground, cap’n,’ he reported, a lean fellow wearing canvas trousers and a tattered shirt, his tanned arms tattooed against mosquito bites, his hair confined by a crimson bandana.
    Armand glanced up, his eyes razor keen. ‘Where?’
    ‘On the rocks near Seal Bay,’ the man answered promptly.
    ‘Any survivors?’
    ‘Don’t know, cap’n.’
    ‘Have a party go down and take a look,’ Armand said, stretching and rising to his full, impressive height. ‘In fact, I’ll go myself.’ He buckled on his sword and took up the brace of pistols hanging from the back of his chair.
    Were there really mermaids? Romilly pondered, gradually regaining consciousness. She could have sworn she heard them singing.
    She wanted to see them, those legendary creatures who sat on rocks, combing their long golden hair, full-breasted and beautiful with glittering fishy tails. It was said that they lured sailors to a watery grave.
    Water! She was in water, little wavelets washing over her as she lay on damp sand. Daring to open her eyes, imagining she might be dead and on some celestial shore, she found she was in a cove, backed by forest and high cliffs. The sun was hot and the sky blue, dotted with woolly clouds. She hadn’t drowned, but as memory returned she sat up, and then struggled to her feet, searching round frantically. Where were the others?
    To her intense relief Alvina tottered from beyond an escarpment, followed by Jamie and George. Romilly flew towards them, swept into soggy embraces. ‘Thank God you’re safe!’ exclaimed Jamie.
    ‘Where are we?’ Romilly cried.
    ‘Lord knows,’ responded George, every trace of affectation gone. Whatever the outcome of their dire experience it had brought them all down to earth with a bang.
    ‘Where are the crew and Captain Willard, and what has happened to Jessica?’ Romilly asked, wringing her hands in anguish.
    ‘And Kitty?’ Alvina added woefully.
    ‘And Tom and Gaston?’ said Jamie. ‘They were in charge of our belongings. I had a whole new wardrobe for the trip.’
    ‘Never mind that! The ship, did it sink?’ Romilly was impatient, beginning to realise their perilous situation.
    She also became aware that her nightgown and over-robe were soaked and torn, clinging to her curves, outlining her limbs and breasts in a most immodest fashion. Alvina was similarly half naked, and the men had lost their shoes, hats and periwigs, attired only in breeches and shirts. They were unarmed and without food or fresh water. Their chances of survival were limited unless rescue arrived soon. Shading her eyes and looking out to sea she spotted bits of wreckage being washed ashore and the horrifying sight of bodies drifting aimlessly like rag-dolls. Were she and her friends the only survivors?
    ‘Oh, my God!’ exclaimed Alvina, standing beside her and viewing the floating dead. ‘What are we to do? I’ve lost everything, except this,’ and somehow she had clung to her jewel box.
    ‘What use is that now?’ Romilly cried despairingly. ‘We can’t eat it.’
    ‘Hush,’ warned Jamie, clutching her arm. ‘We’re not alone.’ He jerked his head in the direction of the dense vegetation to