"If they see me rowing out to the Desire," Cosmos said, "they will think nothing. Perhaps they will think I am fearful of rockets."
"If you are caught, you must say that," Catherine said eagerly. "Remember, Cosmos."
"Stay down, señora," he said. He pulled evenly at the oars.
"Where are we?" Catherine asked, her voice muffled in her dress.
"Near," said Cosmos. "I row fast."
"There are no rockets yet," said Lola. "That is good, for it means we have more time."
"After the rockets, there will be music and dancing," Cosmos said. "We have hours, señorita, but it would not be wise to stay long."
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"No," said Lola. "We know that. We wish only to see him, Cosmos."
"Si," said Cosmos. The shape of the Desire loomed up dead ahead. Lights from her shone out on a patch of dark water, and he avoided the light, banking his oars. The boat slid alongside the Desire; Cosmos reached out and caught up the painter, his fingers deft. He leaned down and spoke in Catherine's ear; there was need for quiet now. Cosmos shut his eyes in terror when he thought of Cavendish.
"You see the ladder, señora?"
Catherine didn't answer. She stood up and climbed aboard, her bare feet making no sound. Her wet dress clung to her legs. She waited quietly on deck.
Lola suddenly stood beside her. She took Catherine's hand, and put her other hand on Cosmos' belt. No word was spoken.
The Desire was very still. No sound came from below. But the sound of voices from the beach was plainly to be heard; there were shouts, and Catherine knew that the first of the fireworks would explode in a moment. She was trembling.
But there were fifteen feet of deck to cross before they entered the main hatch, and would be lost to the sight of the people on the beach. And there were men aboard. They crossed the deck. The heavy doors creaked. Cosmos opened one of them, and Catherine slipped in after Lola and Cosmos.
Now there was no sound at all. Lola released Catherine's hand. Catherine turned, for in the pitch dark it would be safer to go down the ladder backwards. At the foot of the ladder she bumped against Lola; in the silence she could hear Lola's quick breathing. She felt for Lola's hand again.
They went on, through the silent ship. Catherine heard little sounds, and finally she heard Cosmos open another door; it squeaked a little. She went through it, the door closed, and she realized that Cosmos had closed it.
The air was very stale, but it was not so foul as she had expected. Flashing through her mind were Havers' words to her; "We made clean the Desire before we stowed our goods." Catherine put her hand out again to Lola; but before she could grasp it, she heard Cosmos say, "I am lighting the candle now, señora."
The thick candle in his hand suddenly illumined the place where they were. Cosmos held the candle high, and Lola let out a little gasp. Then she ran, as though she would hurl herself forward, but
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she did not; she stopped and, standing over David, she looked down at him.
His eyes were black with the sudden light. Lola saw that he had been asleep. She stared at his face, at the bruised lips, at the blackened eye and cut cheek. His shirt was torn and blood-stained. His tousled hair was over his forehead; he shook his head to try to get the hair out of his eyes. He swore roughly, his tones tinged with amazement.
Lola knelt in front of him, running her hands down his arms as they were fastened back against the wood, until she touched his wrists and she felt the heavy irons that pinned him back.
David, in his sitting position, was almost unable to move. Lola put her fingers under the iron rings around his ankles.
"Double-ironed," David said. "But will you tell me why in the name of God you are here?"
Catherine stepped out of the darkness. "I'm here too, David," she said.
"Jesu," he muttered. Then he frowned. He was trying to pull his wits together, and for a moment he felt only annoyance that they—all of them—had thrust this additional problem on him. The first problem was Cosmos.
"Get out of here, Cosmos," he said. He hadn't the faintest notion of the time; he had slept heavily. "This is insane."
"I told them, sir! They didn't heed me!"
"Aye. Well, you go up on deck, where you left the boat you must have used. Wait there and look at the fireworks, if it's time for them yet."
"Aye, sir," said Cosmos.
"Leave the candle," David said. "Put it there, spill some wax over, Cosmos."
The hot wax dropped on the floor. Cosmos stuck the candle in the hot wax. He went silently from them; they heard the door close.
"Now," said David, strongly, "I'll give you two minutes to explain this mad behavior, and then you'll both go."
Lola had been undoing her belt. She untied it, drew out a chisel. "You see?" she said.
David laughed.
Lola stuck the end of the chisel under the heavy black piece of iron to which the rings around David's legs were fastened. She pushed on the end of it.
"Don't do that," David said sharply. He looked at Catherine,
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who was kneeling on the other side of him. "I'm amazed that you consented to this folly, señora. Lola, stop digging into the wood."
Catherine said, "I thought—" She stopped.
"You had some idea you could free me with that chisel?" he asked. "So I could drag these clanking irons up on deck?"
Then he said gently, "Señora, even if you could free me, d'ye think I'd consent?" He smiled a little; he turned his head again to see Lola, who was crouched at his pinioned ankle, her chisel still poised to dig under the iron. "Put that away, little one," he said. "Wrap it up in your sash again."
Lola picked up her sash, and tied it, thrusting the chisel through it. She knelt alongside him, smoothing his hair.
"Forgive me, Catherine," he said. "You are foolish, too, then, sometimes."
"Very foolish," Catherine whispered, her eyes filling with tears.
"It was so marvelously foolish to come. But it makes me feel very wonderful," he said "and much more clever than you two."
"But," said Catherine, as she looked at the heavy irons, "but, David, what . . ."
"Consider, Catherine," he said. "I haven't even had time to think—I've been asleep. But I do know this. You can leave this to me from now on." Then he remembered. "And to Tom," he added.
"Tom?" Catherine said, and in the quiet she listened for any sound.
"Aye, Tom. After all, it's our quarrel."
Lola said, "He is so stubborn a man, señora."
The grease from the candle spluttered, a bit of it flaring up with a hissing noise. David glanced at it; it was dangerous. He tried to move his hips a little, but the heavy irons around his ankles made moving difficult.
"If you had brought me a knife, it would have suited me better," he said thoughtfully.
Catherine said, "I did. I carried my little knife." She reached inside of her bodice and drew out the small pearl-handled knife.
"Put it down under my shirt, against the belt," David said.
Lola took the knife from Catherine's hand. "I do it, señora," she said. The knife was folded. David's smooth flesh, under his shirt, was warm to her touch. "I shan't tickle," she said soberly. His belt was tight, and she slid the knife under it, and let her hand rest flat against the hollow between his ribs for a moment. She felt the
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strong beating of the blood in the artery there. "I love you, David," she whispered.
"Do not worry about me," he said.
"I shall not," she replied proudly, looking at Catherine.
"You may leave this to me," he said.
"Si," said Lola. "I will wait."
Catherine got to her feet. "I'll leave you, for a minute," she said, moving out past the light to the barred door. She stood close to it, and suddenly she said, "There's someone coming!"