'I'm not sure what it is that you want me to say,' Sarah said, squinting at the sunlight flickering across the surface of the rock pool, searching for her next victim. 'There is no war, no slave uprising. At least,' she added conscientiously, 'there wasn't when I left.'

'That makes no sense,' Bones muttered almost to himself, from across the pool. Despite her initial reservations they were catching crabs, fresh ones. He claimed it was a simple thing to pluck the crabs from their hiding spots in the shadows of the tidal pools but she was sceptical on this point. However, it proved to be true and she now had three dead crustaceans lying in her basket, dispatched with a quick stab of her knife. She was currently stalking a fourth, a large one lurking in behind some seaweed that she was trying to scare out.

'There was a new Governor, a man called Feather…something, Featherstone maybe.'

He glanced up looking nonplussed.

'Featherstone is Governor?'

'Do you know him?'

'I did, but he wasn't in line to be the fucking Governor then!'

'There was some kind of treaty made with a colony of Maroons,' she continued. 'The Guthries made a trade agreement with the help of Captain Rackham and a woman, owned half of Nassau or something like that. I forget her name.'

'Max?'

'I'm not sure.'

He hesitated, seemingly reluctant to speak but said eventually, 'And Captain Flint?'

'I believe he was sent to a penal colony in Savannah, but the stories were a bit unclear on that point.'

Bones' hand shot into the water and came out clutching a thrashing crab which he dispatched with a vicious twist of his knife. She eyed him narrowly for a time.

'You seem to be rather well acquainted with them all?'

'Yes,' he acknowledged shortly.

'So when you told me you were a sailor…?' she paused and waited.

'I meant I sailed under the black.'

Her eyes widened a touch and when he looked up at her he frowned, his jaw tightening. 'Don't look at me like that, it doesn't change anything.'

'It explains a lot, but no, it doesn't change anything,' she agreed mildly. 'Miss Ashe seems to have had the right of it, she said you were just men, no better and no worse than other men.'

That caught his attention. 'Miss Ashe?'

'She is the previous Governor of Charles Town's daughter. She was captured by pirates and then they ransomed her and sacked the town, or so I read.'

'Actually, we didn't ransom her, Flint knew Ashe and returned her safe and unharmed.'

She looked at him curiously, crabs forgotten. 'You didn't sack the town?'

'Yeah, we did that,' he said with nonchalant shrug. 'They had Flint and Vane in custody, on trial to hang and Governor Ashe had killed Mrs Barlow. Flint was never going to forgive that.'

'They read Miss Ashe's diary at the trail, poor girl.'

'I know, I gave it to them.'

'You ruined her, you know.'

'Did I fuck! Not one of us laid a hand on her!' he declared hotly.

She shook her head impatiently. 'I didn't mean in the way you are thinking. I've never met her, I just read the story in the paper, with exerts of her diary.' Biting her lip, Sarah stared unseeing down the beach. 'I suppose she was already ruined having spent so much time in the company of pirates, but to have her sympathies for such men read out at the trial and then to have those same pirates sack the town and kill her father.' She looked back at him. 'Ruined you see, through no fault of her own.'

'Do you know what happened to her?'

'It was said that she had been packed off to relatives in Savannah, where no doubt…no doubt she will be forced to marry to save her reputation. Never mind the dissolute state of her future husband, he will expect her to be grateful,' she finished, a touch of bitterness colouring her tone.

Bones raised an eyebrow. 'You seem to have a certain amount of sympathy with her.'

'Well, it may not be too long before I find myself in similar circumstances, and having left England in the hopes of avoiding such a situation I can't help but find myself in sympathy with her.'

'I'm confused, you left England to avoid being forced into marriage?'

'Actually 'forced' is probably too strong a word for it. My father wants what is best for me, however, it would never occur to him to ask my opinion before he makes a decision on my behalf.' She grimaced, 'Negotiations were ongoing but a woman who has been discarded by her husband, for a known criminal of all people, should consider herself blessed to receive an offer from any gentleman, his financial situation and personal habits notwithstanding.'

'Jesus!'

'Quite. Now, of course, no gentleman of breeding will be willing to take me without heavy financial inducement which I have no idea if my father will provide, he may consider me a lost cause.'

'You seem quite calm about that.'

'Would you prefer hysteria? I am not comfortable with the realities of my situation but I made my proverbial bed and now I must lie in it,' she sighed. 'Sometimes I think it would have been better to have been born without money. I could have married a kind, simple man, one who wanted to marry me and not my father's money,' she said wistfully before looking up to find him staring at her. She flushed and resumed her search for more crabs.

The large one she had been stalking earlier was still lurking. It scuttled away from her groping hand and straight into the waiting clutches of the other. She lifted it out of the water triumphantly. It was at this point that she realised the large gap in her education, as one of the large waving claws of her intended victim fastened itself tightly around her finger and wouldn't let go. She gave a small shriek of pain and tried, without success, to tug it off.

'Ow! No! Let go you stupid creature!' she cried. Bones came sauntering over.

'Do you want some help with that?'

With as much dignity as she could muster with a crab hanging off her finger she nodded and held out her hand. He managed to maintain a serious expression but she could see the corners of his mouth twitching.

'Are you finding this amusing?' Bones didn't respond but his smirk grew. He took the claw and, avoiding the other waving appendage, carefully pulled it apart so she could draw her sore and bleeding finger free. He grabbed the crab from her hand and killed it, tossing it into her basket with the others. She watched him, sucking on her finger and thinking how much she was going to enjoy putting that one in the pot later.

'You never swear,' he said suddenly.

'Pardon?' she frowned, not understanding.

He gestured at her with his knife, 'You never swear, even when the crab is hanging off your finger you just say 'Ow'. Do you never get the urge to just shout 'fuck'?'

She blinked, 'Not really, no.'

'No even when you are stuck on an island, completely and unfairly ruined in the eyes of society, with no better prospects than a forced marriage to some drunken, lecherous, old man?'

She glared at him. 'That was cruel but no, not even then. I don't even know what it means.'

He looked momentarily taken aback but then grinned, 'You say it and I'll tell you what it means.'

'But I don't want to know what it means, how is that a compromise?'

'Okay, you say it and I'll cook dinner and wash the dishes.'

'Well, that's hardly an incentive, is it?' she said raising an eyebrow and watching as he gave a rueful grimace. 'Why are you so keen for hear me swear?'

He grinned at her again, 'You are just so prim and proper, I'm constantly tempted to try to corrupt you. Plus, I like to hear a lady swear.'

She was about to protest his description of her but in truth she couldn't really fault it, add the words dependable and dutiful, at least until she had run away from her father, and it would be a depressingly accurate summary of her character. She tried to ignore the implications of his wish to corrupt her, closed her mouth again and then said slowly, 'I feel like you're mocking me.'

'Only a little,' he admitted. She rolled her eyes at him.

'Fine, if it means that much to you, fuck.'

Bones held up a hand and cupped his ear. 'It only counts if I can actually hear it I'm afraid.'

'Fuck,' she said a fraction louder.

'Better, I could almost hear you that time. I want them to hear it in Nassau,' he encouraged her.

'This is ridiculous, you're being ridiculous!'

'Just say it.'

'Fine, fine!' Sarah took a deep breath. 'FUCK!' she all but shouted and then put her hand over her mouth in disbelief.

'I knew it would sound good with your ladylike accent.'

'So, what does it mean?' she asked.

'It has loads of uses; as a verb it describes the act of physical intimacy between a man and a woman,' she blushed when he said that but didn't stop him. 'It can be used as pretty much as a noun, an adjective, to add emphasis, or simply as an exclamation of displeasure.'

'Useful,' she said sardonically. 'So what are you making me for dinner?'

'Actually, we never formally agreed the deal, you just went right ahead and said it. And let's be honest, it's better for both of us if you cook.'

She opened her mouth, then shut it again, realising that he was right. Rocking back on her heels she met his amused gaze.

'Well, Fuck!' she said.

For the first time since she had met him he laughed out loud, a deep resonant chuckle that judging by the look on his face took him as much by surprise as it did her.

The ache in her belly had warned Sarah of the imminent arrival of her woman's curse. It had never been that regular, something the physician had intimated might be a reason for her difficulty in conceiving, bad humours trapped in her body or some such thing. She was at a loss for some time as to what to do given that she had taken to wearing only two white petticoats which would not hide anything from Bones' prying eyes. She seriously considered putting on her skirt, which being dark green would hide all that she wished to remain hidden. However, her problems with this were two fold, firstly the material was hot and heavy and would hinder her movements, and secondly doing so would draw attention to her predicament given that she hadn't worn the garment since she had thrown it violently into her chest a few days after meeting Bones. He was bound to ask what had caused her sudden change in apparel.

In the end she had fashioned herself a sort of belt from twine she discretely removed from their stores and some rags of fabric. It was not very comfortable but it didn't show and it was reasonably efficient at absorbing the flow of blood so she was pleased with her ingenuity, and other than the pain in her back and the unreasoning want to throw something at Bones on a daily basis she was able to continue as if nothing were amiss.

Bones was out hunting so she had had a quick wash in the pool, changed her rags and then gone to the stream to wash the soiled ones from the previous day. She was rinsing them in the running water of the stream when Bones' spoke behind her, sounding concerned. She almost dropped the rags into the water, for such a large man he could move almost silently.

'Are you bleeding? Where is it from?'

She grimaced, she was reasonably sure that he didn't want an factually accurate answer to that question, men usually like to pretend that aspect of being a lady didn't exist. He put his hand under her shoulder and hauled her to her feet, turning her to face him, all the while his eyes roving over her trying to discern the source of her injury. She pulled away from him, unnerved by his manhandling of her and discretely folded the dripping wet rags as much as possible to hide them in her hand.

'I'm not injured, I'm fine.'

'There's blood, why are you lying to me?' he said accusingly.

'There is blood,' she acknowledged, 'but there is nothing wrong with me, aside from a little back ache.'

She was strangely touched how alarmed he appeared to be on her behalf but mortification was her overriding emotion. Unfortunately he seized on her comment about her back without really listening to her other words and immediately turned her to check for injuries.

'Billy. Billy!' she said exasperated, giving him a speaking look. 'There is nothing wrong with me, other than my monthly blood.' She felt her cheeks burn and saw the answering flush creep up his neck as he finally understood her meaning.

'Oh, sorry. Um…I…caught a pig, for dinner. I'll…leave you to…um…finish…' he stammered out. With impressive poise Sarah inclined her head, still hiding her rags in her hand.

'Thank you. Pork sounds lovely.'

'Can I do anything for you, to help?'

'Unless you have a warming pan hidden somewhere then not really,' she said pulling a face.

'A warming pan?'

'It helps with the pain, something warm on my stomach.'

'Oh, I'm afraid not.'

'I didn't think so.' She turned to resume her washing and he left her to it. When she returned to their camp with her now clean rags, which she hung up to dry out of sight, he came out of the hut looking unsure of himself.

'I made you this, it might work, I'm not sure,' he said holding out a glass flask wrapped in cloth, the stopper in the top. She took it from him uncertainly and seeing her frown he explained. 'I filled it with hot water.'

Her brow cleared as she suddenly understood and he looked relieved.

'Thank you,' she said fervently, pressing it to her abdomen and immediately feeling the comforting warmth.

'Is it very bad?'

'The pain? No, not that bad, just uncomfortable. This will help.'

She turned away from him and went to find her comb. Seating herself on the chest, warm bottle in her lap, she loosened her hair from the knot she had tied it in while bathing. She considered the drying mass of her hair, tangled and damp, and wondered if she should ask Billy to cut some of it off. She thought it would be more practical if it was shorter but her hair had always been her private vanity. She was no beauty but her hair was a rich chestnut colour and fell naturally in loose curls. Even Woodes, who had no interest in her beyond her wealth and ability to provide him with an heir, had occasionally run his fingers through her curls as if he appreciated them. It was his one tender gesture and it made her sentimental. She pulled the mass over one shoulder and working from the ends began to comb out the snarls. While she combed she surreptitiously watched Billy prepare the pig carcass for cooking. He worked quickly and with some skill and it was only a short time before it was skewered and he was hanging it over the fire. She dropped her eyes as soon as he looked up, concentrating on the task in hand. When she glanced up again he was standing next to the cooking pig watching her.

'You have a lot of hair,' he stated.

'I was just wondering if I should ask you to cut some of it off.'

'That'd be a shame,' he said and then looked abashed but added, 'It's nice.'

She felt her face grow warm at the unexpected compliment, mild though it was. 'It's rather impractical and hot sometimes,' she said candidly.

Billy rubbed his cropped hair, 'I'm not sure I'm the best person to cut your hair, unless this is the look you're going for?'

'I'm not sure it would suit me.'

'But it would be cooler and more practical.'

'There is that,' she said reflectively. 'I'll think on it.'

When she looked up again he was smiling slightly at her.

'I can't tell sometimes if you're serious.'

'I'm always serious,' she said solemnly.

His smile widened and he narrowed his eyes at her. 'See, I have no idea.'

She didn't respond, just continued slowly combing her hair. It was odd, she had in recent days noticed that she was enjoying her conversations with Billy more and more, he was far better educated than she had assumed and seemed to understand her sly humour in a way that she had not experienced before. Most people assumed that she was serious and thought her humourless. She didn't need to watch her tongue around him, she could say anything she pleased and he would never be shocked or horrified. He would never give her a scandalised sidelong glance because he had considered her words to be unladylike, if anything it seemed to amuse him. It was rather liberating and as with her stays she wondered how she would respond to the renewal of all those restrictions when she returned to civilisation.

Sarah was returning to the hut with a basket full of wild onions and a small fern-like plant the botany book called Gale of Wind, when the rain started falling, gently at first and then increasingly heavily. She gave an exasperated sigh, Billy had warned her it would rain but she had ignored him, determined to search for the plant that the book mentioned was good for reducing fevers. She was wearing her hat but otherwise was unprotected and although the forest foliage was thick overhead large droplets of rain were still finding their way through the leaves. She spotted a tree with good overhead coverage and sort shelter underneath. It wasn't perfect, her neck and shoulders still got damp but it was better than nothing and sufficed until the short but torrential rainstorm had run its course. While she waited she noticed that the tree she was standing under had a profusion of green apple-like fruits that she had not seen before so she plucked a couple and added them to her basket, intending to show them to Billy case they were edible.

It was about half an hour later as she wandered back towards the shelter that her neck and forearms started to sting. She rubbed absently at her arm and then winced in pain as the tender skin flared under her touch, wondering if she had somehow managed to get sunburn whilst gathering. It seemed unlikely given that she had been careful to avoid the sunlight as much as possible but she couldn't explain the sudden agony any other way. Increasing her pace she hurried towards camp, and Billy. Billy would know what to do. Her heart was hammering and her breath coming out in short gasps as the pain and her panic increased and she began calling her companion's name, although she was still some way away. A tree root tripped her and she staggered, dizzy and disorientated, her sight blurring. A lump formed in the back of her throat that she couldn't swallow, making it harder to take a breath and preventing her from further cries for help, and all the while her skin prickled and burned.

She stopped suddenly, choking on panicked breaths as her vision began to darken and her head swam queasily, before she slumped unconscious to the forest floor. As she fell the basket dropped, onions and green fruits rolling across the ground unheeded.