From her right came a whine. Then a lick to her wrist.

“Bannock?” she whispered.

The dog slurped her face.

Leaning forward, she searched the sand for the thong and quickly reeled it in with her fingers. “Take this,” she whispered in his ear. Her fingers trembled while she quickly used the thong to secure the message around the dog’s rope collar. “Find Runner. Haste ye.”

“Avast!” hollered Petey, throwing a rock at Bannock. “Be off, ye mongrel stray.”

Divana bit her lip and cast her gaze downward. Run, Bannock. Please do not fail me.

As the pirate moved, she ducked and covered her head. Had he seen her?

Another brigand stepped into the fortress and beckoned with a wave of his hand. “Petey, bring the wench. We sail.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Baltazar paced in front of the skiffs with a musket slung over his shoulder. He hated being the one left behind to guard the boats. When it came to real fighting, the captain always assigned him to something to ensure he kept out of danger. Bloody hell, he was almost seventeen years of age and taller than most of the men on the crew.

All the rest of them were in the town muscling their way around the taverns and brothels. He ought to be out there looking for Divana, too, not marching around a pair of empty skiffs. He hated tending the stupid boats. Blast it, he could hear the laughter and music above the sound of the surf. Who knew what those heathens were doing with Divana? Surely he’d be able to find her afore anyone else, save the captain, of course.

“Arf!”

Baltazar stopped dead in his tracks and peered in the direction of the bark. Through the shadows, an enormous dog raced along the shore.

“Bannock!” Runner fell to his knees and beckoned the dog into his open arms. He’d only found the big fella two days past, but he clung to him as if he were already kin. A big, wet tongue licked his face. “Where the blazes were ye?”

Bannock rubbed his neck against Baltazar’s chest, turned in a circle, then yowled while he rubbed his neck again, faster this time.

“Och, I missed ye, too.” He took the dog’s face between his hands. “Why did ye run away like that?”

He threw an arm around Bannock’s back, but the dog whimpered and squirmed away.

“What the—” Runner carefully rubbed his hands over the dog’s coat. “Are ye hurt?”

But Bannock yipped and persisted to rub his neck on Baltazar’s chest. Then the collar scratched his palms until the coarse rope gave way to something soft.

Runner tugged the dog closer and examined the rope. “What’s this?”

Bannock excitedly pawed the sand with his front feet while Runner removed a thong and a bit of parchment. He held it up to the moonlight, and though he was unable to read, he thought he recognized the name of the mermaid ship they’d seen in Nassau—the same one that had set sail just after dusk.