When Cutter was gone, he reached out to turn up the bedside lamp. Light spilled over Reeve’s face, and this time Jamie was sure of what he’d seen before; Reeve’s eyes, closed by the doctor like a dead man’s, were open.

Jamie’s own eyes had misted over, but he managed a lopsided grin. “So you found me. You never give up, do you, brother?”

Reeve’s face might have been carved of granite, it was so still, but Jamie could feel his brother’s struggle in his own spirit.

“I know what you want, mate,” Jamie said, his voice hoarse. “I’ll take you back home as soon as you can travel.”

“When’ll that be?” demanded a man from the doorway.

Jamie looked back over his shoulder to see Jacob Hughes, Reeve’s first mate, standing where Cutter had been minutes before.

“We gotta get back to Sydney, mate. The men got families there, wonderin’ and waitin’, and there’s some that have to be told bad news.”

Jamie sighed. “Sail whenever you’re ready; I’ll see that my brother gets back when he’s well enough for the trip.” An image of saucy gray eyes and tangled hair the color of moonlight rose in his mind. “He’s got a woman. I want you to tell her that Reeve’s alive.”

“I’ll see that it gets done, Mr. McKenna,” Hughes answered, and then he was gone.

Jamie swung his gaze back to Reeve’s face, still as impassive as a stone statue. “At least Maggie won’t be worrying that you’re dead,” he said.

Reeve closed his eyes and Jamie bent closer, squinting. Sure as hell, there were tears glistening along Reeve’s coal-black lashes.

“So Reeve managed to survive, did he?” Loretta smiled broadly at the crewman dispatched by the first mate of the Elisabeth Lee. “Why, that’s just wonderful news!” She turned briefly to the man behind her, who was dressed for an evening at the theater. “Isn’t it, Duncan?”

Duncan’s green eyes were thoughtful. “Yes,” he replied, “wonderful news.”

The man who had carried the message nodded his head nervously and turned to leave. He ran down the walk to the street and disappeared into the night.

Duncan’s shoulder was still stiff from that unfortunate incident in Melbourne, and he rubbed it distractedly with his hand. “There is never going to be a better opportunity,” he said in that odd, faraway voice that had become his usual way of speaking.

Loretta was annoyed. “Really, Duncan, your obsession with that little twit is really quite tiresome. She loves Reeve, and she’ll never want you, not after what happened in Melbourne.”

Duncan smiled absently, looking through Loretta to something else, something that was out of her sight and her reach. “She must be devastated, believing that Reeve is dead. And vulnerable.”