“What took ye so long?” asked Runner, giving her a hand to scramble over the side of the nest.

“I had to coil the ropes first.” She brushed herself off. “May I ask ye a question?”

“Make it fast ’cause I have something to show ye.”

“Are the men content?”

The lad gave a lopsided grin. “They’ll be a whole lot more bloody content after a few nights ashore.”

Feigning an affronted gasp, she shoved him in the shoulder. “’Twas not what I meant—are they receiving a fair wage?”

“Aye. Anyone aboard who might be unhappy is addled in the mind.” Runner grasped her arm and pointed. “Now look yonder. I waited until ye climbed up so ye’d be the one to holler down to the quarterdeck.”

Divana shaded her eyes, squinting until she saw the faintest outline of something dark on the horizon. “Saint Columba! Is that what I think it is?”

“’Tis land, or my name isn’t Baltazar MacGee.” Runner slung an arm around her shoulders. “Ye’d best alert them now, Davy.”

If she weren’t so high off the deck, she might take his hand and dance a jig. Instead, she cupped her hands over her mouth, careful to keep her voice deep. “Land ho!”

*  *  *

Lachie Mor stepped into Kennan’s cabin. “The skiff is ready, Captain.”

The ship was always peaceful when at anchor, and more so today, protected in the harbor between Nassau and Hog Island. Seated at his writing desk, Kennan replaced the quill in its holder and wiped the sweat from his brow. “My thanks. I’ll be there directly.”

At the table, Divana closed the book detailing the types of sailing ships. She’d already learned her letters and taken to reading like a fish to water. Her smile was fresh as spring, and it appeared the sweltering air affected her little. She hopped to her feet. “I’m ready as well.”

“I think ’tis best if you remained aboard ship.”

“Stay here? Whilst ye walk on dry land? But I’m not on watch. I-I’ve been looking forward to going ashore ever so much.” She clasped her hands over her heart. “Please, ye cannot expect me to remain behind. I’ve never been anywhere away from the Highlands.”

Kennan put his tricorne on his head. He hadn’t mentioned his misgivings to the lass because she’d be disappointed. “I’m sorry but—”

“Ye cannot make me miss Nassau. Not when Runner has told me so many stories about the place.”