Rue settled in for tranquil repose, difficult as that might be in the dark, oppressive stuffiness of her cabin. Graceful and well-appointed as it may be, it was not made for Indian weather. Nevertheless, she attempted to ignore both the heat and increasingly strident tones of the two directly over her head.

Then the tenor of the argument shifted. There came a yell that was by no means normal squabbling, and a loud thud.

Rue leapt out of bed, wearing nothing but her thin shift, grabbed her mother’s parasol, and climbed up the captain’s ladder to the quarterdeck. She emerged blinking into the late afternoon light to find Spoo sitting triumphantly on the head of someone while Virgil resided on the legs. Both of them were rising up and down, as if riding a wave, as the individual in question convulsed in an effort to de-seat them.

“What on earth?” Rue asked.

Virgil’s eyes widened at her scanty attire. “Why, Lady Captain! What are you doing above boards dressed like that?”

Spoo was not perturbed.

Rue was beginning to suspect that nothing perturbed the girl. “Spoo, report!”

“Intruder, captain! We caught the blighter trying to sneak straight up the gangplank.”

At the mention of the word “captain”, the blighter in question stilled. He was clothed in plain unbleached material shaped into a very baggy shirt and some even baggier trousers. More of the same was wrapped about his head, face, and neck. Or what Rue could see of his head from under Spoo’s bottom.

“Spoo, get off him, do.”

“You’re sure that’s wise, captain?” Spoo’s expression suggested that she sincerely doubted Rue’s ability to defend herself with only a parasol.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Spoo got off.

The man turned to look at Rue. He had beautiful large almond-shaped eyes and copper skin. Too beautiful. And awfully familiar.

“You? How did you follow us so quickly? Percy will be so sad. He thought we were making especially good time.”

The lady in question drew off her head wrap and spat out some bit of Spoo that had lodged in her teeth.

Spoo and Virgil gasped. Possibly because they now knew they sat on a woman, more likely because she was so beautiful. It spoke volumes for Virgil’s presence of mind that he did not move from her legs – stunning female or no, she was still an intruder.

Miss Sekhmet said in that cultured British accent with only a hint of lilting foreign tones, “Really, children, was that strictly necessary?”

Rue popped open her parasol and used it as a shield to hide her indecent apparel. “We haven’t been here very long,” she said mildly. “We were not expecting visitors.”

The woman sat up and attempted to shed Virgil from her legs.

Virgil did not budge and, after hopping about indecisively from foot to foot, Spoo joined him there, doubling the burden.