"Ah, then," he said lightly. "Nothing to be concerned about." And still there was a worry line etched faintly between his brows; Hannah saw it, and she saw more: behind the captain's back Giselle Somerville came up on deck in a blaze of green silk with a parasol tilted at a pretty angle over her dark blond head.

The drizzle picked up, enough to send Hannah back to the surgeon's cabin to fetch a shawl and to tell Curiosity the little she knew: a ship was approaching, but it was not the Osiris. Whether or not it was the ship Giselle was waiting for was another matter.

"Maybe I should come up on deck," Curiosity said.

Hannah shook her head. "There's a cold rain."

Curiosity flicked her fingers. "I ain't lived through forty winters in the great north woods for nothing. A little wet won' hurt me." And she shooed Hannah away.

In the few minutes that Hannah had been away the sky had lowered still further and now a steady rain washed over the yellow planks of the deck to soak her new moccasins. Other things had changed, too: Mr. MacKay and Moncrieff were on the bridge with the captain. Hannah's belly twisted at the sight of them, and for the first time she truly understood what she had heard her grandmother Falling-Day say many times, that true anger lives not in the mind or the heart, but in the gut. She wondered if Runs-from-Bears and Robbie would be with her father and grandfather. Hannah could imagine them around her, a circle of trees, a magic ring, a hoop of fire, and MacKay would have to pass through them.

He and the captain stood side by side, both with long glasses trained on the approaching schooner, just a few miles away now.

Hannah felt disdain, that they should have eyes so weak. She was proud of her own eyesight, as sharp as her father's or grandfather's. Even with the rain in her face she could see a lot about this schooner that had all their attention: it had triangular sails rather than square ones like the Isis, which turned out to be more than a matter of fashion.

Standing at the rail with her, Hakim Ibrahim explained it: men had to be sent up into the rigging to set or trim square sails, but those on the other schooner could be managed from the deck, and with fewer men. It had less of everything, it seemed to Hannah. Fewer sails, guns, decks, and none of the intricate paintwork and gilded decorations that sparkled on every surface of the Isis. It did not carry a figurehead before it, and the name on the hull was too faded for even Hannah's eyes to make out. The most obvious thing about the schooner was that she moved fast under full sail even in such quiet conditions. The Jackdaw came at them like a bullet at a target. Hannah shifted a little with the thought.

At the other end of the Isis a warm yellow lantern light radiated out of the round-house, the little room that stuck up from the quarterdeck like a silly hat. Through the window in the door Giselle's green cloak flashed peacock-bright. She stood watching. Maybe this schooner was the ship she was waiting for, after all.

Hannah pulled the shawl tighter over her head and around her shoulders, but it could not keep out the damp cold and she shivered.

"Perhaps you should go below," said Hakim Ibrahim.

But the hatch clattered, and Curiosity appeared, blinking in the rain. From the depths of her great cloak of boiled wool four round eyes peeked out, sea green and blue. Daniel let out a shout at the sight of her, and wiggled a hand free of his swaddling to flap in his excitement. He was glad to be on deck, too, while Lily scowled out at the world.

Curiosity did not look very happy, either. Her face was a knot of concentration as she stared out at the schooner. "What ship is it? Can you make out her name?"

"It's nothing, just a packet," Hannah said, knowing this was not the whole truth but wary of saying too much in front of the Hakim. "You might as well go back where it's dry."

A muffled boom! stepped in on her last word. And before she could say another, a stuttering of guns: boom boom boom.

"Nothing, all right," Curiosity said dryly. "A whole lot of it, too."

All around them the sleepy Isis came to life like an anthill carelessly kicked. But the sailors were not running to the gunports, as Hannah thought they would.

"Signal shots," said the Hakim. "She has some message for us."

"By God!" thundered Pickering suddenly. "That's Mac Stoker. The impudent puppy. I'll show him to come running at me!"

But Mr. Smythe's voice rose, cutting off his captain. "Sir! The Jackdaw signals that she brings news from the Osiris--and an injured survivor."

Hannah felt Curiosity jerk as that single word--survivor--echoed down the length of the ship. In her own belly a fist closed hard, and forced its way into her throat. She looked for Moncrieff, but he had turned his back to them.

"How shall I respond, sir?"

"Tell her to come alongside," said the captain. And then, raising his voice: "Mr. MacKay! Fenders, and be quick about it!"

Just then Giselle came out of the round-house, her hood up over her face so that Hannah could not see her expression. With one gloved hand she pushed her hood back and she turned, the line of her neck very long and white, to look at them. Her color was high, as if she had a fever.

Giselle met Hannah's gaze and inclined her head slightly as if to say, You see how easily men are made to dance. Hannah might have approached her, but the crew had erupted into a commotion of movement. Some of the men were heaving large bags of sand over the side, where they came to rest with a series of heavy thumps.

Curiosity frowned. "The fool won't run clean into us, will he?"