Black Sheep's Daughter by Carola Dunn

animal.
     "I am delighted to have done something right for once," she retorted tartly. "However, I take leave to doubt that many English ladies are thoroughly acquainted with veterinary medicine. Will you be so good as to tell me what I have done to earn your approval?"
     "Resisted the urge for vengeance. Not necessarily a ladylike trait, but admirable nonetheless."
     A wave of weariness overwhelmed her. "I am too tired to try to be ladylike. Do go away." She turned to the servant. “Juan!  Tráeme mis hierbas, por favor. "
     Thanks to Teresa's herbs, the ox was clearly on the mend by morning. The Spaniard was duly grateful when they met at breakfast. His wife, however, sat at table with her back to the room, rigidly disapproving. Teresa was inclined to take a pet until Sir Andrew murmured "coals of fire" in her ear.
     "Coals of fire?  Whatever are you talking about?"
     "Another expression you are not familiar with?  It's from the Bible, I believe, unless it is Shakespeare. Everything is one or the other. Something about feeding your enemy and thus heaping coals of fire on his head."
     "That's all very well," grumbled Teresa, "but la señora seems to have a fireproof head."  All the same, she felt better.
    * * * *
     It was a long day's ride to Limón, but nothing occurred to slow them and once again they reached shelter as dusk was falling. Oscar led them to an inn where he was well-known, a large, two-storied building with extensive stabling for horses, mules and oxen. It was too dark to see much of the town or the harbour, but Teresa looked forward to exploring in the morning.
     It rained all night, a ceaseless drumming on the roof tiles that was irritating to begin with but soon became soothing. By the time they gathered for breakfast it had stopped and the sun, already hot, had chased away the clouds.
     Andrew was anxious to establish contact with the Royal Navy frigate that had been sent to meet him. The Danvilles walked with him through the little town down to the harbour to view the situation.
     Limón appeared to consist of several inns, a carpenter's shop making ox carts, a number of warehouses and, near the quay, a customs house that was little more than a shed. In this ramshackle building, Oscar explained, were stationed a pair of customs officers whose job was to prevent the Costa Ricans from trading with anyone but Spain.
     "If they were more successful," he went on, grinning, "we should have started fighting for our independence long ago. As it is, British and American traders come and go more or less at will."
    "I gather the Admiralty does not care to risk offence by sending in a Navy ship," said Andrew. "I was told to signal from that little island, just offshore."  He pointed to where, sheltering the harbour, a small island rose from the sparkling blue swells of the Caribbean.
     "The Isla Uvita," said Oscar. "We must find a boat to take you there, then. How are you to signal?"
     "With a lantern, at night."
     As the two young men discussed their plans, Teresa gazed out to sea. Waves lapped gently at the wooden quay and fork-tailed frigate birds wheeled high overhead. Suddenly it was real to her, the fact that she was about to leave her native land, to sail thousands of miles across the ocean to a world she could scarcely imagine. A rising bubble of anticipation made her breathless, and she held tight to Marco's arm, very glad that he was to go with her.
     He looked down at her and she saw by his shining eyes that he was feeling the same excitement. "What an adventure!" he breathed.
     Sir Andrew and Oscar had settled matters between them and turned back towards the town. Teresa and Marco followed reluctantly, unwilling to leave the inviting shore for the muddy streets.
     The day dragged endlessly. By mid-morning it was raining again, and the occasional pauses in the downpour only allowed a swarm of vicious mosquitos to attack. The heat and humidity made every movement an effort. Even Gayo