Caleb’s words cut Regan. It was almost impossible for him to imagine the forceful Sea Siren and the compassionate, lovely woman he called his wife stripped of her vitality and determination. A shudder coursed through him as he turned his eyes to Caleb. No matter how brave his father’s words, Caleb read fear in his cold, hard eyes.

  A week passed, then two, and then three. Caleb was openly discouraged and antagonistic toward Regan. Regan, his nerves as tightly strung as the guitar Sirena had strummed, could only look with pity into the eyes of his son.

  “Sail ho!” came the cry from the rigging. Caleb leaped to the rigging and climbed to the topmost sail, his eyes hopeful and alive for the first time in weeks.

  Regan lowered the spyglass from his eyes, a thoughtful look on his face. It was the Sea Siren and she carried a Spanish flag atop her mast. To the naked eye she sailed as if she were heavy with cargo. Caleb’s jubilant cry made him raise the glass again.

  “It’s the Sea Siren,” Caleb shrilled as he slid down the rigging. “It’s Sirena, Father, it’s Sirena!”

  There was something wrong, Regan could feel it in his bones. He put a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder and tried to quiet him. His touch held no comfort. Caleb was off and running to the stern, his hands shielding his eyes.

  “I see Jacobus and Willem. Sirena isn’t on deck, she must be in her cabin,” he cried excitedly.

  Even at this distance Regan could see the grim lines on the faces of the two men on deck. He was right, there was something wrong!

  “Ho! Sea Siren,” he called loudly. “Call your captain to the decks.”

  “This ship carries no captain,” Willem called harshly. “What is it you want? We carry no cargo.”

  “What happened to your captain? I speak of the Sea Siren, if you lie to me I’ll carve your tongue from your mouth.”

  “Willem, Jacobus, it is I, Caleb. Where is Sirena? Answer my father, he means her no harm.”

  “Ay, boy, if I could make our capitana stand before you I would. She is no longer aboard. The bastard Spanish devil, Alvarez, attacked our ship shortly after the Sisters erupted. He took her prisoner, along with a woman we rescued from the wharf at Port Batavia. Her name was Frau Holtz. Our capitana made a last request as she left the ship. She entrusted the crew to bring the ship to port and to have her repainted and hoist a white sail. She was to be turned over to her little brother. We gave our promise. We could do no less as she saved our lives. The Spaniard was bent on killing every man aboard. She said she would go with him if he let us go free to bring the ship to port. There was no way we could fight. We were outmaneuvered and outmanned. The Spaniard’s ships were heavily armed and he had an escort of two.”

  “Where did he take her, Willem?” Caleb called shrilly.

  “If I knew I would have sailed after the stinking bastard,” Willem said viciously as he spat in the water. “My guess would be Spain, but I’m not sure. I heard one of his crew mutter something about there being no welcome for him there, so it’s possible he heads in another direction. I wish there were more I could tell you, young Caleb. Unfortunately, we weren’t within earshot for long, the Spaniard took her aboard and immediately set sail. I didn’t think he would keep his promise to let us sail free, at any moment I expected a good broadside to this frigate.”

  “How … how was … Sirena, Willem?”

  “She was … ill. The woman will look after her. There’s nothing more I can tell you. With your permission, Captain, we’ll continue with our journey to the cove where the Sea Siren is to be careened and repainted. When you next see her, lad, she’ll carry her true name. She’s yours now, with the wishes of the Sea Siren.” With a low, flourishing bow, Willem made his way to the wheel to relieve Jacobus and to continue his mission.

  Tears of frustration pricked the boy’s eyes as he gazed upon his father. “Even at the last she thought of me. Now do you see why I must find her? Tell me, Father, what captain do you know who would do as Sirena did to protect her men? Not one, I’ll wager,” he cried hoarsely, his young voice rising and falling shrilly. “Not one. Each would only want to save his own skin at the expense of the others. I told you, Sirena is like no other. She made a promise and she kept it.”

  Something strange and sad fluttered in Regan’s chest as he stood at the rail. The boy was right. There wasn’t one man in his employ who would have given of himself to let another go free. The sun-bronzed hands gripped the rail he leaned on, a new determination coursed through him. “And I,” he said quietly and with deadly calm, “will find your … sister. I may be many things in your eyes, young Caleb, but this I implore you to believe. I’ll find her, for you and for myself.”

  Caleb looked at the tortured face opposite him. Gently, he lay a darkened hand on his father’s arm. “We’ll find her … together.”

  “You must stir yourself, Mevrouw, it’s been weeks since you last walked on deck. You must have fresh air and move your muscles. Laying abed won’t do you or the baby any good. I beg you, Mevrouw, come on deck with me. The winds are brisk and the spindrift is lovely.”

  “I can’t bear to look upon that devil Alvarez. I’ll want to kill him with my bare hands. If there were only some way that I could…”

  “There is no way. You must also get that notion from your head. Day and night there are two guards outside this door. The Spaniard knows you couldn’t fight in your condition.”

  “In my condition! I’d fight the Devil himself in my condition if I thought it would do me any good. You’re right, Frau Holtz, it’s useless to even dream I could overpower the bastard. However,” she said viciously, “I won’t always be in this condition.”

  “Mevrouw, at that time you will have an extra burden, one you do not have now, the babe.”

  “Ah yes, the babe. You’ll care for the babe while I carve the manhood from the Spaniard’s body,” Sirena said conversationally.

  Frau Holtz’s eyes protruded at her calm words. There was no doubt in her mind that Sirena would do exactly what she said she would.

  “I think you’re right, Frau Holtz, a brisk walk on the deck would do me wonders. Shall we go?” she asked, getting up from the hard bunk.

  The two women strolled along the wide decks, the brisk trade winds ruffling Sirena’s hair, bringing a glow to her pale cheeks. “It’s been too long.” Sirena sighed as she stopped to peer over the rail. The clear, azure waters brought a lump to her throat. A small school of fish swam beneath the surface—how effortlessly they moved beneath the sparkling water. Heaving a sigh, she stirred herself and moved from the rail to rejoin Frau Holtz.

  “So, you decided to join the living,” Chaezar said urbanely as he leaped to their side agilely. “Perhaps I’ll join you, it’s a beautiful day.”

  “If you so much as take one more step,” Sirena said, stopping in midstride, “then I shall go below. I don’t want your company now, or at any time. If you must walk, then walk alone. I warn you, Chaezar, stay out of my sight.”

  “Very well, Sirena, I’ve no wish to force myself upon you.”

  “It’s well you’ve learned your lesson. The last time was a freak circumstance.” Angrily, she turned on the Spaniard. “You drugged me, in my heart it was Regan no matter what you want to believe.”

  “l’m a patient man. I map every detail before I make a move. Bear that in mind. When next you sleep with me the only drug in your veins will be passion and desire.” With a slight nod of his head he backed off a step, and Sirena, seething inwardly, continued her stroll along the deck.

  Sirena looked at Frau Holtz, despair in her eyes. “It was all I could do to keep my hands still I wanted to choke the life from his body and watch his face turn blue.”

  Her quiet voice sent a chill through the housekeeper as she laid an arm around the girl’s trembling shoulders. She spoke soothingly of the warm weather and the sultry breeze, hoping to take Sirena’s mind off the brief encounter with the Spaniard.

  Chaezar impatiently paced the close confinement of his cabin. The child she carried within her was his! He knew it in his heart. Why did she persist in saying it was Regan’s? He knew the marriage was never consummated. Even Regan would never go back on his word. How could he have reneged on her period of mourning? No, the child was his. Still, if it made her happy to think of it as Regan’s, if fooling herself kept her content, let her. She would be due for a rude awakening when the baby arrived. The child would be olive-skinned with dark, glossy hair. What more proof could a man want? There was no way she could deliver a golden-haired, blue-eyed baby, of that he was certain.

  It was two months since Regan sighted the frigate, Sea Siren. Since that time, he had questioned every ship he encountered. There wasn’t one that had seen the Spaniard. Despair would have engulfed him time and time again were it not for Caleb. Each time he let his shoulders slump or his eyes grow weary, the boy was there to bolster him, A strength which knew no bounds surged in Caleb’s slim, youthful body.

  “I think I’ll weigh anchor at the next port and add fresh provisions. Perhaps we can learn news from some of the merchants.”

  “I’m sure we’ll find something we want to hear. I feel good today,” Caleb said jauntily.

  A pall of gloom settled over Regan as he made his way back to his cabin, a dejected Caleb trailing in his wake. It was almost as if the ocean had opened up and swallowed Sirena.

  One weary day followed another as the ship continued her journey to Spain. Caleb became fretful and openly defiant and constantly apologized for his behavior. Regan was fast becoming a man obsessed with the thought that the Sea Siren was dead. There was no other explanation. Two more days, he told himself wearily, and he would dock at Alvarez’s home port.

  “The Spaniard told me this morning that we are near land. By sundown,” Frau Holtz said grimly.

  “It’s just as well, Frau Holtz. My time is almost here. I want a fresh bed and a soft pillow for my head. Where is this place we are landing, do you know?”

  “I know as much as you, Mevrouw, the northwest coast of Africa.”

  Suddenly Sirena grasped the old housekeeper’s hand. “Have I told you how grateful I am that you’re here with me, Frau Holtz? I don’t know what I would have done without you. I’ll never be able to repay you.”

  “I want no payment.” The women clasped hands and the housekeeper was the first to disentangle herself. “I must gather together the few belongings we have and be ready when Señor Alvarez gives the order to disembark.”

  “I think I’ll lie down for a while, my head pounds with the thought that I’ll be forced to live in the same house with that bastard Alvarez and that my child will be born under his roof.”

  Frau Holtz clenched her teeth. If there were only something she could do, but what? She was an old woman and old women were useless. Would the Spaniard guard her as he had done these past months aboard his ship? Nodding morosely, she thought he would take no chances that the woman called Sea Siren might escape him. Where was Mynheer van der Rhys now? Would he search for his wife or would he think she had died when the Sisters erupted?

  Her small tasks completed, Frau Holtz sat down on a hard chair to await the Spaniard’s orders to disembark. From time to time, she dozed off only to be jerked awake by some loud noise on deck or some slight stirring Sirena made in her cramped bunk.

  A hard rapping on the door startled her. Still, she heaved a sigh of relief. It would be good to see trees and houses and have solid ground beneath her feet again.

  Gently, Frau Holtz helped Sirena to her feet. She moved clumsily, her added weight a burden as she climbed the ladder with Frau Holtz’s help.

  The two women stood on deck as the galleon glided effortlessly into her slip at the wharf.

  So, Sirena thought, this is to be my temporary home. There was no doubt in her mind that the word temporary meant just that.

  Caleb and Regan disembarked onto the busy dock in Barcelona, Spain. Leaving orders with his crew to lay in stores, Regan immediately asked directions to the harbor master’s offices.

  Caleb watched his father’s jaw tighten and his eyes narrow expectantly. He knew Regan believed he was close to his goal of finding Sirena and the scoundrel Chaezar. Not many nights ago, at the ship’s wheel, Regan had confided to his son: “Sometimes Caleb, I feel as if that bastard is so close I can smell his greasy hair oil and garlic breath!” It was merely wishful thinking, Caleb realized. Somehow the boy felt that Sirena was no closer to him than she had been when they left Java.

  The dignified harbor master extended every hospitality to Regan and Caleb. It was an honor to receive the Dutchman who, if rumor was correct, had a very good chance of being named governor of Java —a post the Burghers of Holland had deemed necessary. During the leisurely midday meal which they were invited to share, Regan adhered to Spanish protocol and refrained from discussing business. It was over steaming cups of coffee that Regan broached the subject of Don Chaezar Alvarez.

  Disbelief darkened Regan’s features at his host’s response. “You’re sure of your facts, Señor? It isn’t that I don’t believe you, it’s just that Alvarez painted such a glowing picture of his superiors’ opinion of him here in Spain that I doubted he could ever fall out of favor. Now you tell me there’s a price on his head and that for years he’s been smuggling unlimed nutmegs to some far-off place where he’s going to retire and reign like a king.”

  “It is sad but true, Mynheer van der Rhys. We’ve only discovered this recently, and allowed him to stay on in the Indies till another of our men was properly trained. If he hadn’t taken matters into his own hands he would have been relieved of his duties one month from today.”

  “Your new man will have his work cut out for him,” Regan sympathized. Briefly, he told the aging Spaniard of the devastation the Sisters had brought to port Batavia.

  “Via con Dios, Mynheer. The most encouragement I can offer you at this time is purely speculation. The African coast is the only place Alvarez could hope to plant his unlimed nutmegs. If you have no success, then it would be wise to forget the matter for the time being. Alvarez will eventually poke his head out, much the way a turtle does. And when he does, you’ll be standing by with a stick.”

  “Thank you for all your help, Señor, but I can’t give up now!”

  Back aboard ship, Regan cursed himself a fool a thousand times. Why hadn’t he thought of the African coast? Even if he had to search the entire length of Africa he would find Sirena.

  “What do you think, Father?” Caleb asked excitedly.

  “I think the old harbor master was right. Alvarez has gone to Africa. If only I had thought of it, we could have saved ourselves months at sea. Soon, I’ll feel that skinny bastard’s neck beneath my fingers,” he said, flexing his sun-darkened hands.

  “Soon, Father, soon we’ll have Sirena back with us.”

  “Yes,” Regan answered, his thoughts spinning to Sirena. Could it have been almost nine months since that night aboard the spectral, black frigate when he had fulfilled both his obsessions: the possession of the Sea Siren and the consummation of his marriage.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Frau Holtz lay in her bed listening to the soft moans that came from the bed adjoining hers. She decided she would pretend to be sleeping until her Mevrouw called for her. Sirena would prefer to be alone with her pain for as long as possible. Instinctively, the German housekeeper knew this and would defer to Sirena’s wishes.

  Frau Holtz was, for the first time in many years, frustrated by her helplessness. Not having had a child of her own or even attended at a birth, she was uncertain and unsure of her ability to help Sirena. Preparing for this moment, the housekeeper had inquired of Chaezar’s staff and had located a midwife. The woman on which Sirena must depend to see her through the birth was far from the fastidious housekeeper’s liking. Ebony-black, old and cronelike with a shocking gray mane of wiry hair, the woman appeared stupid and slow and exceedingly dirty. Even her name was unpronounceable; it sounded to her Germanic ears like Tsuna Muub. Whatever, the Mevrouw needed her and hers was the only knowledgeable assistance available.

  The only fact Frau Holtz was certain of was that the baby would be healthy and strong. Hadn’t she seen to it herself that Sirena ate properly, hadn’t she insisted Sirena take daily walks to keep fit? Since coming to this godforsaken hole in the universe, she had made Sirena sit outdoors in the shade of the trees. The fresh air had been a boon to the pale-faced Sirena, and despite her constant objections, she had thrived under Frau Holtz’s relentless care.

  The moans were increasing and Frau Holtz sensed a struggle in the next bed. Quietly, she got up and slipped downstairs to the vast kitchen. She roused the shiny, black cook and through sign language was able to convey that the midwife Tsuna Muub was needed. The ebony-faced cook smiled her understanding and roused her sleeping husband to fetch the skinny, crone-like midwife. Without being told, the cook set to work heating water in her heavy kettles, humming a strange, toneless melody in her deep, throaty voice. Believing her message understood, Frau Holtz returned to Sirena, stopping only to take a fresh pile of clean bedding from the chest in the linen room.

  “Frau Holtz, I’m so glad you’re awake. I didn’t want to disturb you, but I think my time has come,” Sirena gasped, her hands grasping her swollen middle. Perspiring from the heat and exertion, she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand as the pain subsided, a trembling yet brave smile on her face.

  “I’ve sent for that witch, Tsuna Muub, God help us.”

  Sirena laughed. Poor Frau Holtz, how she hated to admit she needed anyone’s assistance, least of all a black-as-night, emaciated African’s. And the way she pronounced the old woman’s name!