Crashing waves filled the air and icy spray pelted Lucien's face as he was overcome with grief. It always affected him that way. Whenever a soul slipped from its earthly bonds without that promise of life in eternal glory, he agonized over his failure to convince them to accept his loving Savior, or to at least buy their body more time on this earth so someone else could.

His body trembled as he reached up to wipe the salty water from his face and a firm hand squeezed his shoulder. Johnstone. The man knew better than to try to talk to him when he was in this state and stood quietly by.

After the winds had breathed life into the sea again, they finally made it to their next scheduled port. Immediately Lucien set off to seek those in need of his services. He found a young woman on her deathbed.

The woman had been sick with fever for days. There was no doctor—not that they could afford one anyway. Lucien knew it was too late, that he could do nothing at first glance; she was already firmly held in death's grasp. When he pulled his new Bible from his bag and asked to pray with her she turned her face to the wall. Minutes later she was dead; gone into eternity.

The new widower knelt at his wife's bedside and bitterness etched the man's face. He slowly lifted it to meet Lucien's. Lucien shuddered as he remembered the man's haunted look, eyes swirling with virulence. He had looked at Lucien's Bible and vehemently spat out he and his wife had no use for Him. Tears formed in Lucien's eyes as the widower told how the couple had lost all four of their children. They had cried out to Jesus but He hadn't spared a single child. After the last died, they cursed His name. The tears slid down Lucien's face as he watched the tortured soul rise from the bedside and stumble out the door and into the streets. Raising his hands toward the heavens, he had let out a tortured cry and lurched toward the sea. Lucien followed, concerned for the man's obvious distress, breaking into a full run as he envisioned what the man intended. He had reached the shore in time to see the distraught husband give his life to the ocean, her icy arms reaching up with a cold embrace to receive her prize.

Hours had passed before Lucien finally stopped searching the craggy bay for the poor man. Finally conceding, he sat despondently at the water's edge, absently watching the waves roll in and out.

Helplessness was a feeling he knew all too well. The sky was drab and somber and the wind, sharp and harsh, picked callously at his damp hair. His wet clothes were chaffing and he was numb from sitting so long, but that seemed trivial compared to what was lost this day. Two souls.

At last Lucien stood tenuously to his feet. Johnstone was there to offer his arm.

"It wasn't your fault," Johnstone consoled.

"I know."

"Do you?"

He met Johnstone's gaze and knew he couldn't pretend what his friend clearly knew was a lie.

Sighing deeply he turned his face back toward the sea. "If I'd been here sooner...."

"Perhaps." Johnstone followed his gaze over the churning waves. "Perhaps you could say the word and stop the incessant noise from the crashing waves. It'd be nice if you could part those clouds as well and let in a little sunshine. I grow tired of this dreariness." He nodded to himself, a serious look on his face.

"You mock me."

"And you mock God."

Lucien turned abruptly to face the old man. "What?"

"Just because you weren't here doesn't mean He wasn't. You're being arrogant if you think He can't accomplish His will without you." His eyed burned into Lucien's. "Those people might have not accepted Christ under any circumstances. You don't know what's in a person's heart."

"But I failed that family, and by failing them I failed Him. I wasn't there when I was needed."

"Aren't you listening? You're not the only tool in God's belt." Johnstone's voice hardened.

"I know!" Lucien snapped. The old bitterness from the past welled up in him. "I know He could've saved them if He wanted to. He could've saved them."

He fought for control, drawing in a shuddering breath. Johnstone understood who he meant. Lucien was referring to the death of his mother and sister. But he'd never realized how much he'd felt responsible for failing to save them, and how angry it'd made him at God for not allowing him to succeed.

"Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not on thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths." Lucien joined Johnstone in repeating the last of the Proverb he knew so well.

A small white bird flew toward the heavens and disappeared into the clouds. He'd have to think over this revelation.

"I don't understand why He brought me all the way here for ... this." He cast a look over his shoulder as they headed toward town.

"Patience, Lucien. Perhaps that's not why you're here," Johnstone said softly beside him.

"Patience? How long do you think I'll have to wait?" he mused, thinking of Dewberry's schedule.

"Patience isn't just about waiting. It's about persevering through what you don't understand, with faith that God has a purpose for it."

Lucien stopped and considered Johnstone's counsel. He could see the wisdom, though he wasn't sure he wanted to.

A ray of light pushed its way through the overcast sky where the bird entered and stretched toward the shore, warming their backs. Its warmth cut through Lucien's despondency, like only sunlight could.

***

A golden moon lit the way aboard the Falcon where Johnstone and Lucien nodded goodnights as they separated to their own quarters. Lucien opened the door to his cabin and crossed the wooden planks to the chair near his small desk. Weary from the long day, he sat heavily, pulled off his boots, and slumped back in the oak chair.

After leaving the shore and returning to town he had labored through the day and into the evening while a steady stream of requests for his aid filtered through the town. He hoped Johnstone would sleep well tonight, having helped him this day in more ways than one. Together they'd done their best to help the settlers. Johnstone cleaned minor wounds, while Lucien set a few breaks. They'd even delivered a baby, a boy, to a young mother glad to have a doctor just when she needed one. Lucien thought about this as he picked up a scrap of paper and folded it absently at various angles.

He'd watched a woman die and seen her husband take his own life, but he'd witnessed a new life come into being as well; new and perfect, as yet unspoiled by life's hardship. "Lean not on thine own understanding...." The verse Johnstone quoted reminded him how much he'd trusted in his own power, instead of God's. As he realized where his guilt truly lay he silently asked God's forgiveness, feeling an age old burden being set free.

He looked at the paper. It was now a dove, clean and white.

He lay in his berth, his mind at ease when, unbidden, his thoughts turned to the pirate captain, who'd captured both his ship and his freedom. Lucien wondered where she might be sailing on this moonlit night, and if everyone still took her as the man she pretended to be. A chuckle escaped his lips at that moment for he could hardly believe no one else could see through the disguise.

She was a thief and a scoundrel; but so mysterious. He couldn't help being intrigued. A grin spread over his face as he imagined what an encounter with her might be like. He sifted through various plans to recapture his ship.

As he contemplated, shouts and curses flew through his window from a ship slipping into harbor. He looked out his window. A fair-sized merchant drifted in, the name Matilda painted near the bow. Her crew disembarked with an unusual urgency. Lucien's mind racing so that he didn't think he could fall asleep anyway, he decided to go ashore and investigate.

He headed back into the night.

As he roved through the darkness he caught the boisterous sound of laughter on the gentle night breeze. He followed the sound to a small tavern with weather-worn steps leading to a patched and repatched door. The hinges creaked as he opened it, but the sound was drowned by the hearty cheering of male voices. He scanned the room and recognized the father of the boy he'd delivered earlier, raising a mug high into the air. The patrons took notice of the doctor and he found himself being pulled into rough embraces with many handshakes from the townsmen, thanking him for his part in the delivery. He smiled heartily and took the offered mug of ale, humbly receiving the thanks. Carefully he extracted himself from the jumble, pushing the mug into someone's empty hand as he did.

A table was pushed against a wall on the emptier side of the room and as he made his way toward it he found a woman to get him some wine. The chair he took protested loudly as he settled into it, having been broken and patched countless times. Sending up a quick prayer it would hold, he glanced around. Nothing was significant about the tavern—being much like many others he'd been in—but a trio of sulky looking sailors sat nearby.

Grumbling and casting dirty looks one to another, they ate hungrily, pulling bowls of watery stew close to their bodies, afraid someone might snatch them away.

Behind them, on the end of the bar another man sat alone, his back toward Lucien. The stranger must've felt him watching, because he turned slightly before resuming his meal.

The serving girl appeared in front of Lucien, blocking the man from further view and set a steaming bowl of stew in front of him along with a glass of red wine.

"That fellow," he nodded his head toward the bar, "did he come in with that ship tonight?"

The young woman turned to look where he indicated. "Nay, Frenchman's been hanging around for a coupl' weeks now. Wish he'd leave. Trouble," she cautioned as she looked Lucien straight in the eye. "For sure."

"Trouble?"

"Brought in a while back. Picked up on a spit of deserted land. Ship was plundered by pirates, so they say." She put a hand on each hip and leaned in close. "I thinks he had it comin'. I got a good sense 'bout people ya know. Them's the ones who come in tonight." She nodded toward the men hugging their soup bowls.

A call came from the bar and she turned to leave, but not before offering Lucien a wink and assuring him if he needed anything she'd be happy to oblige.

He turned his attention to the half-starved group now licking their bowls greedily. Gathering his dinner, he stood and made his way to their table.

"Mind if I join you gentleman? I've never fancied eating alone."

The men looked hungrily at his dinner. He waved the serving girl over and she returned with a hopeful gleam in her eye. It disappeared as he asked for more stew and bread for the three sailors.

"We ain't got no more money," one admitted, but he didn't stop the girl from walking back to fill the order.

"It's on me, gentlemen. Consider it fair payment for providing a man with a bit of conversation for the evening. Now, what brings you fine sailors to such a port as this?"

"We sure ain't here by choice if that's what ye mean," the man closest to Lucien answered, his eyes glued to the fresh stew carried out.

"No?"

Gravy from the first helping dripped down the beard of the man in the middle. He wiped at it with his hand and licked it off before answering, "We was supposed to be on our way to Port Royal but we was robbed!"

"Robbed?"

"By pirates!"

"De Scalawags took all our food!" the man on the end paused long enough to say before diving into the steaming bowl set in front of him.

"Took us free days to get ere' and not a scrap of food they left us." Grease leaked down the side of his face as he shifted a mouthful into his cheek to speak. "Less'in you wanna count the blubber." He grimaced.

"And dey took all da rum!" the one on the far left coughed out, having swallowed his grog too quickly.

"Blubber?" Lucien asked.

"Seal blubber. We hadn't cooked it all ta oil yet, what wif such a large haul. We was on our way to Jamaica to sell it to the sugar plantations when we was caught in the doldrums."

"Nasty trick they played on us too," the middle one commented after he swallowed.

"Yeah, dat was a low trick ta play," agreed the other.

Lucien's gaze flicked between the men, though they seemed to have forgotten his presence. "What trick?" he prompted when they became silent.

"We should've known, ship wif a name like dat!" the left wing said to his friends, still ignoring Lucien.

"Name like what?" Lucien leaned forward.

"The Huntress. It was one all right. Shameful it were."

"Ain't right to play wif a man's emotions like that."

"Like what?" Lucien's voice came louder than he'd intended upon hearing the name of the ship.

The trio looked at him in unison, back at each other, and then each flushed as he looked at his empty bowl. One nibbled on his bread while the other busied himself drinking. Lucien turned to the man on the right as he unconsciously gripped the table.

"What happened?" Lucien demanded.

"It's a bit embarrassing."

"I swear I'll not laugh," he assured.

"Wouldn't want this getting out."

"My lips are sealed." The chair he sat on let out a long creak as he leaned into the table.

"We was sailing out wif our big cargo of blubber, like we said," said the first sailor.

"Was making good time too," the second added.

"That's when the wind died down to noffink," the third man shook his head.

All three were staring into space as they remembered, speaking in turn as they relived the voyage.

"We was a week on the water wifout nary a breeze and everyone was kind of restless like," began the first man.

"A small ship sat on the horizon, but she was becalmed as we was," continued the second.

Lucien thought they might be intentionally trying to drive him mad.

"After the wind started up again we was all real happy to be moving again," said the third.

"We went to sail wide 'round the other ship, case she were trouble..." the first man took his turn in the story.

"...but, someone looked at 'em wif the spyglass and said it was a ship full o' ladies," the middle man followed.

Here they paused as they recalled their mistake. Then they continued the story, always speaking in turn.

"Captain said we'd not be boverin wif 'em and we'd stay on course, though we was beggin 'ard."

"He wouldn't hear noffink of it."

"'Til we told him what a small ship she was, and what if dem poor ladies was starving being becalmed for so long."

Another pause.

"He changed course and we sailed right up beside her," one said in a quiet, meek voice.

"Dat whole ship looked all full o' women, cept the captain who waved to us and told us to please grapple on so's we could come over."

This time the pause went on so long Lucien decided to fill it. "They weren't women were they?"

"How could we haf knowd? They all sort o kept der faces hid like."

"And then it was too late," Lucien offered.

"They frew off dem frocks and pointed a hundred knives and pistols straight at us."

"We gave up wifout a fight we was so surprised."

Their heads bowed in embarrassment.

"No one was harmed?" Lucien questioned.

"Nay, weren't no need, we all was sorta dumb-like when they jumped onboard."

"They did force the cook, but they'll be sorry when they taste his grub," one added as an afterthought, sniggering.

"Tied us all up cept'en the cap'n. They made him stand afore the mast, while their quartermaster threw knives at him."

"Threw knives?" Lucien wondered if the knife thrower was the other apprentice.

"Aye, he weren't too good, though. Kept missin'. Had a dozen knives stuck in all the way round the poor captain's 'ead. Don't rightly know where that fella kept 'em all," he remarked with curiosity.

"They wanted to know where your money was hidden?"

"Naw, dat was da other strange thing. They only took food. That quartermaster wanted cap'n to give 'is word 'e wouldn't hunt seals no more. Cap'n finally agreed. Guess 'e thought that fella couldn't keep missen', and he didn't look ter be running outta knives soon."

Lucien raised his eyebrows but made no comment.

"Their captain took him aboard their ship after that so's he could watch while they cleaned us outta all our provisions."

"He was the only one not in a dress."

"And dey took all the rum!"

"We should haf knowd it was a trick when we saw dat. Ship couldn't be run wif just a bunch o' women."

"Been nice to haf been der captain though!" One of them half smiled before being elbowed hard by the other.

"'E wasn't really wif a bunch a women you idiot."

"And then they let you go?" Lucien interrupted.

"They took all da powder so's we could nah fire on 'em. Only thing left to eat was the seal blubber. Said we should know what it feel's like ta starve."

"No rum or anyfink!" one of the sailors repeated.

"What did they mean? 'You should know what it feels like to starve'?" Lucien asked.

"One of em was going on about killin' all da seals ceptin' the pups. I don't see how it makes any difference to 'em. We're jus' trying to make a livin' is all."

Lucien was disgusted when he realized what they were saying. He put together what must've happened on that little island with the carnage of seals and was puzzled by this odd show of mercy from his pirates (somehow he found himself feeling responsible for them). It surprised him how deeply relieved he was that his pirates were not the cause of the bloodbath. Lucien realized deep down he'd been hoping to find some reason to acquit the lady captain of the horror he'd seen there. Now, knowing his dinner companions were the perpetrators, he suddenly had his fill of the odorous company and stood to take his leave.

"Thank you gentlemen for your company." He used the term 'gentleman' loosely as he flipped seven silver shillings on the table for the meals and pushed his forgotten dinner into the center. "Have at it fellas," he offered as six hands shot out. "One more thing. Did you happen to hear their next destination?"

"Aye, they took a vote. They're goin' to Curacao," said one before he ripped off a chunk of the stale bread with his teeth.

Lucien nodded and as he turned away he caught a glimpse of movement where the Frenchman sat. When he turned back there was only a fat rat looking for scraps. Leaving the tavern he breathed in the clear night air.

"Now I know where to find her," he said to himself, "I think I'll beat her at her own game." A plan formed in his mind to catch the renegade. His deep chuckle echoed into the night. How had she gotten her entire crew to wear dresses?

His only problem now lay in convincing Captain Dewberry to go to Curacao.

***

The following morning Lucien awoke feeling more refreshed than he had in a long time. And he knew why.

For the first time since he could remember, he'd slept a sound, dreamless sleep.

Whether from the sleep or something else, Lucien couldn't help feeling optimistic about finally recovery his ship as they left Santiago behind them. As it turned out, the solution to the problem with Dewberry presented itself shortly thereafter.

"I made arrangements to take on the cargo of oil from those sealers," Captain Dewberry said as he and Lucien breakfasted together.

"Where are you going to sell it?" Lucien asked.

"It's a quick jump south to Port Royal. And we're due there anyway to collect sugar and ginger.

"I wonder if we shouldn't try Barbados. I think we might be able to sell it at a higher price, and the sugar there's better quality as well," Lucien suggested, a plan forming.

"Maybe so, but these bones of mine are screaming for this voyage to be over. We'll take the closer port," Captain Dewberry said with finality.

Lucien tried to look sympathetic. "Of course, of course. I'm sure my father will understand the sacrifice."

The old captain scowled. He looked like he might be having second thoughts. Lucien could smell victory.

"Then again, you could rest in Port Royal, while I take the cargo to Barbados. Then I can pick you up and we'll head for home." That route would take him twice past the port in Curacao, and he was sure to catch her one way or the other. He watched Dewberry carefully as he considered Lucien's idea. It looked as if he was about to disagree so Lucien cast about for another.

He met the older man's eyes, and then squinted as he looked into them. "Oh, that's no good now, is it," he said as he looked from one eye to the other.

"I beg your pardon?" the older man said with trepidation.

"Have you been eating properly?" Lucien asked.

"Whatever do you mean? What are you on about? Out with it!" the captain said with authority.

"I apologize. It's only that I noticed your eyes have a faint yellow cast to them. With all the stiffness you've been complaining about, I thought you may be coming down with a bout of scurvy." Lucien shook his head as if it couldn't be helped.

"What! Nonsense. I've never had scurvy in all my sailin' days! And I'm always stiff. I'm no youngling," Dewberry blustered.

"I'm sure you're right. I just thought it seemed worse than before is all. It wouldn't be surprising. At your age the body becomes most sensitive to things like that. But no matter. Probably a trick of the lighting."

"Let's say I was coming down with scurvy. You can cure it?" Captain Dewberry said in an offhand way as he stirred his plate of food with his fork.

"Of course. It so happens the best cure is to simply spend time ashore," Lucien assured, taking a casual sip of wine.

The old man nodded. "Do you think you could spare your man Johnstone to stay with me in Port Royal? I enjoy his company."

"Capital idea! He can help keep an eye on your condition while I'm away!" Lucien could hardly contain his elation. He was going to get his ship back!