Billy came back eventually but the span of a day and night had not improved his mood and Sarah almost regretted the impulse that had made her probe him about his past. His anger had dissolved but their discussion had soured his temper and he stomped about the camp morose and taciturn, apparently wrestling with his demons. Sarah felt she understood him better now and, despite his misgivings, his revelations had not changed her opinion of him but his sullenness was starting to grate on her nerves and, when combined with her own anxious reflections, made her head throb dully.

She pressed a hand to her temple trying to ease the tension behind her eyes. Their talk of change had led to a fruitless contemplation of her future. Until she had made her reckless decision to claim Woodes back her path had been clearly laid before her. Bestowed by her father on a gentleman of his preference, and later children of her own to raise, her choices narrow, simple and straightforward. But she had cast all of that aside with her rash flight and although she saw it as a freedom, a gift not a burden, it was also daunting that her new reality was filled with uncertainty. The fact that she could neither settle into the quiet contentment of their shared life nor count on an inevitable rescue vexed her. The helplessness of their situation, dependant on the actions of others, unable to save themselves was galling to the extreme. She wanted to act, to do something to steer her own course for once in her life but instead was forced to bow to the whims of a capricious fate.

'I'm going to the wreck, we really need to get those barrels out,' Billy announced suddenly, breaking into her introspection. She blinked and stretched, rising to her feet.

'Alright, give me a moment to put on something more appropriate for scrambling around the ship,' she said.

He looked at her quizzically.

'Well, you're not going alone. Not this time,' she said firmly.

'You can't come, it's too dangerous.'

She raised an eyebrow. 'I'm aware of that, that's why I'm coming.'

'I'll be fine.' There was a mulish set to his jaw but she boldly stared him down, knowing she could be just as stubborn as him.

'Fine,' he said exasperatedly after a short pause. 'Just be bloody careful.'

'Advice you'd do well to follow if I remember rightly.'

He looked at her for a long moment before stalking off, grumbling under his breath.

He really was a delightful companion at the moment, she thought, opening her trunk to pull out her trousers and shirt.

The journey down to the wreck was accomplished in brooding silence and Sarah was heartily fed up. She found she was wasn't above needling Billy to get a reaction and so, as they began shoving the rowboat down the beach towards the water, she said, 'You realise no-one found the treasure. Captain Flint hid it somewhere and it was never recovered. There's a strong possibility it's still here on the island.'

He grunted noncommittally.

The little boat carved into the surf and Sarah jumped in before Billy could protest or suggest that she stay behind on the shore, taking up the oars defiantly. Billy pushed the boat fully out onto the water before vaulting smoothly in and seizing the oars from her with a reproving look. She grimaced but accepted his usurping of her task, moving to the prow to stare at the approaching ship. Now she was close she wondered if she had been a little bit hasty in her insistence that she accompany him. The blackened timbers and ominous creaking that echoed across the water were singularly unnerving but she refused to admit to her reservations, she had her pride.

'We could look for it,' she said.

'That treasure's more trouble than it's worth. It ruined the lives of almost everyone who touched it, who coveted it. I would have thought you of all people would realise the fallacy of wealth or did I read you wrong?' he responded sourly.

It was a little insulting but he was at least engaging with her.

'I'm not really interested in riches, more the adventure of locating buried pirate treasure.' She didn't mention that she craved a purpose, a goal to distract her from their predicament. 'Although if I were to be completely practical, it might be easier to induce someone to rescue us if we can provide them with a healthy bribe as recompense,' she said as hull of their vessel bumped against the wreck and she busied herself securing it to the interwoven ropes that hung down the sides.

'Or they'll just kill us and take it anyways,' he muttered. Sarah turned and placed her hands on her hips.

'You really do like to see the good in people, don't you?'

'It's a strong possibility, whether you like it or not. Those who anchor here are unlikely to be honest folk,' he said gesturing her forward impatiently. She wondered if he was aware of her misgivings. Given their stubborn stand off earlier, he was probably be enjoying her discomfort. Gritting her teeth she began hauling herself up the netting, stopping near the top to glance down. The drop surprised and alarmed her. She swallowed hard and focused instead on her surly companion who for some reason was staring up and hadn't even started climbing.

'Are you coming?' she called down to him.

Billy blinked uncertainly and she thought that she saw a dull flush creep up his neck. He sprang forward and began scaling the side of the ship. Sarah swung herself over the side, onto the waiting deck and Billy dropped down next to her only a minute later as she was surveying the carnage. The damage caused by the fire was very obvious, but it was the dark stains on the planks that turned her stomach. She looked away and met his troubled gaze.

'C'mon,' Billy said gruffly, 'The food stores are this way. Follow in my footsteps, I don't know which parts are sound.'

Sarah followed him cautiously, casting anxious glances around as they made their way into the bowels of the ship, the smell of scorched wood and mildew rising up from the depths. He reached an intersection of corridors and glanced down the left hand one before turning right. Sarah looked back as she passed and paused, seeing a broken section of flooring and a splatter of browning blood staining one of the smashed boards. She gave a shudder and quickly followed Billy down the stairs. He leaned back to duck under a low beam before straightening up and watching her descend. One of the lower steps was broken and he wordlessly put out a hand. She clasped his fingers gratefully and allowed him to steady her as she stepped down. Once her feet were planted securely he dropped both her hand and gaze, striding to the stacked barrels at the other end of the room. Sarah rubbed her fingertips together as she trailed after him, unconsciously savouring the warmth of his callused touch.

Of the five unspoiled barrels she could only just manage to heave the two smaller casks up to the deck. She tried not to resent the ease with which Billy hefted each of the three larger ones onto his shoulder, nor be distracted by the play of muscles in his biceps as he did so.

While Billy was fetching the last barrel up from the hold Sarah sat on the rail and pondered how they would get the heavy wooden containers down to the boat. She knew she couldn't both carry and climb and, despite his strength, she doubted Billy could do it either. Squinting in the glare of the overhead sun she nibbled thoughtfully at a fingernail. Across the weather-beaten deck a frayed cargo net caught her eye and she smiled, slipping down from her perch.

She'd barely gone more than two steps when Billy's arm swept around her waist and dragged her back, the barrel on his shoulder dropping with a bang.

'What the hell are you doing?' he said roughly, his breath hot on her ear. For a moment Sarah couldn't answer. His strong arm around her rib cage was like a vice and the press of his chest against her seemed to have completely scrambled her wits. For a time she could only focus on his ragged breathing and the heat of his body, forgetting to even try to extricate herself.

'I don't know how safe that section is, you need to be careful,' he said eventually, his voice a low murmur that send a shiver down her spine. He rather abruptly let go and stepped away, causing her to stumble. She caught herself and turned to glare at him, the peculiar yearning swiftly replaced by irritation in the face of his brusqueness. She wanted to remind him imperiously that she was quite capable of taking care of herself, however despite her annoyance her response was candid.

'I'm sorry, I forgot.'

'Clearly,' he said as he began treading carefully towards the net, a wealth of condescension in his tone. She narrowed her eyes at him. He was being absolutely infuriating today but all the same, she held her breath until he returned with the bundle of ropes.

When he had lashed all the barrels neatly together he looked up at her.

'You go down to the boat and I'll lower it down while you guide it in,' he said. Sarah eyed the bundle of netted casks doubtfully.

'Can you manage them all?'

'Yes,' he said shortly.

She huffed, trying not to think about the drop to the water and began her descent. The ropes abraded her hands and her muscles felt shaky from the unexpected exertion so it was with relief that her feet found the planking of the rowboat. When she called out to him and he began to lower their haul she took a judicious step back, not absolutely convinced he hadn't overestimated his strength but despite her very tiny doubts she was soon guiding the barrels into the bottom of the boat. As soon as they were secure Billy threw down the rest of the rope and hopped over the side, climbing nimbly down.

It was only as they were dragging the rowboat up the beach, its hull leaving deep furrows in the sand, that its significance finally hit Sarah.

It was a boat, an actual boat.

She had seen it before of course but at the time she had been so desperate to find Billy that its potential had not occurred to her. They were trapped on this island and it hadn't crossed Billy's mind to mention the boat? Admittedly it was very small and had no sails but in this situation a boat was a boat. The ship was as he had described it, a fire ravaged sunken carcass in the middle of the river. No possibility of sailing that triumphantly into Nassau, but the rowboat was intact and sturdy. Surely with a bit of planning they could find some way to utilise it to get themselves back to civilisation?

'You didn't tell me there was a boat.' It came out more accusatory than she had intended. He gave the little vessel a cursory glance and picked up a barrel.

'I didn't realise it was important,' he responded indifferently.

'You didn't realise it was important? A boat? When we are trapped on an island?' She tried and failed to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. He looked at the boat again and then gave her a patronising smile.

'You're thinking to escape in that?'

'Well, why not?' she answered stoutly. He had the audacity to scoff and shake his head which made her want to grind her teeth in a most unladylike manner.

'Do you know how far it is to the nearest landfall?' he said, that superior smile still on his lips.

'No, Billy, I don't. In case you had forgotten I don't have the faintest idea where I am,' she said in a level voice, concentrating on shouldering a cask to keep her irritation under control.

'It's a long way,' he clarified unnecessarily, turning up the shore and making his way back to the forest, forcing her to follow. 'Trying to make it in that boat would be suicide. If the storms didn't get us we'd likely run out of water. And were you planning to row the whole way?' he said over his shoulder.

'I thought we could fashion a sail,' she admitted, feeling more and more foolish in the face of his condescension.

'From what?'

She didn't say anything but she did succumb to the temptation to grind her teeth.

'It would be suicide, and I'm not quite ready to die just yet,' he reiterated.

'Could we not find a way to send a message?'

'Got any pigeons hidden under your clothes? Or were you planning to train one of the humming birds?' he said sarcastically.

'I was thinking more a message in a bottle, it would be something at least,' she said with as much dignity as she could muster.

'Jesus Christ!' was his only response. She felt her anger rising, her temples throbbing in steady accompaniment to her rising heart rate.

'Why are you being so stubborn about this? If you're so clever what's your plan? At least I am trying to find a way to get home.'

'Home?' he said wistfully. 'You think I haven't spent the last eight months wracking my brains for some way out of here? Unless someone comes there's no way of saving ourselves and even if they do there's no way of saving me. I can't return to Nassau, not unless I'm tired of living.' His voice rose as he spoke, regret and frustration colouring his tone.

'So go somewhere else, you don't have to go to Nassau.'

'Wherever I go he'll find me.'

'Silver?'

'It doesn't matter.'

'Don't do that. It does matter, why does he terrify you so much?'

'He doesn't terrify me!' Billy said through gritted teeth.

'Really?' she said, her disbelief audible.

'For fucks sakes! Will you just leave it alone? God, it's no wonder…' he stopped talking suddenly. Sarah halted on the path, thumped the cask down by her foot and glared at his retreating back.

'It's no wonder, what?' she said dangerously. Billy stopped walking and turned back to her, looking shamefaced.

'Nothing, it doesn't matter.'

'No, Billy, do say it. It's no wonder my husband left me?'

'For fuck's sakes, he's not your husband!' he burst out.

'He is my husband,' she said automatically.

'No, he's not. He married someone else which should be a pretty big clue! And yet you've still got this misguiding loyalty to him which he doesn't fucking deserve when you could…'

He stopped suddenly and turned away. Sarah's hands formed impotent fists, her fury searching for a physical outlet.

'Just because you are too much of a coward to leave doesn't mean I should have to stay here forever.'

As soon as the words passed her lips she regretted them. He turned and glared at her.

'I'm not a coward,' he said. 'I just…' he stopped again.

'You just…?'

'Nothing. You just need to get over this pathetic obsession with your husband.' He drew the syllables out mockingly.

'Pathetic?' She glowered at him, her simmering resentment barely held in check. He met her stare levelly.

'Pathetic,' he reiterated harshly.

She straightened her spine, anger coursing through her, and hissed venomously, 'Fuck you, Billy!'

She relished the feel of the obscenity on her tongue. His expression didn't change but there was a glint of a challenge in his eyes, goading her to further articulations of her anger.

'Fuck Woodes!' she said and it felt good.

She turned away from Billy, wishing to put some distance between them, and started moving back towards the beach. She heard him swear and a thud as he dropped the cask so she picked up her pace.

'Fuck this island!' she shouted as she ran through the trees and breasted the beach. Sprinting down to the edge of the surf she looked out across the river at the broken wreck and screamed 'Fuck!' at the top of her lungs, a drawn out cry of frustration and fury.

As the echoes of her shout began returning to her she sank to her knees and wept. For her old life, a life she wasn't even sure she wanted any more. For Billy, for the betrayals that had broken him. For the failure of her marriage and the time she had wasted on a man who had never even cared for her, and for the hopelessness of their situation.

Billy's footsteps thudded on the sand as he slowly approached her shaking form. Dimly, through her heaving sobs, she heard him sink down onto the sand beside her. He very carefully gathered her against him, putting her arms around his neck and cushioning her face on his shoulder. Cradled in his arms she could feel his large hand stroking her hair as he held her, smoothing the strands down the back of her neck. Even as she wept she revelled in the feeling of being held for the first time in a long time. Not since her mother had died had anyone embraced her with any particular degree of affection, comforted her when she was desolate. She continued to weep, soaking his shirt with her tears and crumpling his collar in her fist as she clung to him, while he patiently soothed her, rubbing circles on her back. Eventually she calmed, the flow of tears slowing until she had reached the stage of hiccups and sniffs. He put two fingers under her chin, tilting her face up and wiped the tears off her cheeks, his touch oddly tender and gentler than she would have expected.

'You're getting good at that swearing, I might have to teach you a new word. Feel any better?' he said softly.

She sniffed and managed a weak smile. 'I'm sorry,' she started to say but he cut her off.

'Don't be sorry, it's me who should be sorry. I didn't mean it, Rogers is a fucking idiot and so am I.'

Suddenly incapable of meeting his eye she turned her face back into his shoulder.

'I don't really think you're a coward,' she said, her voice muffled in the fabric of his shirt. It was not the best apology but she hoped that he knew she did not mean the things she had said.

'I don't think you're pathetic, far from it.'

She looked up, the sincerity in his tone chasing away the last vestiges of her anger. As she stared at him longing suffused her. In the shelter of his arms his scent and his nearness made her heart thump. She wondered what he would do if she kissed his cheek again. She wanted to. She wanted...?

She wanted.

'We should be getting back,' she said, pulling away from him and struggling to her feet. He looked up at her and for a second she thought she saw a flash of hurt in his eyes, but it was gone in an instant and he nodded. She turned from him and strode up the beach, not looking back to see if he followed.

No, it was not Billy who was the coward.