The Diamond King by PATRICIA POTTER

other.
    Swaying with the rhythm of the ship, she made her way down the companionway to the galley for a cup of coffee. Then balancing carefully, she took it up to the main deck. She loved to watch the sun rise over the Caribbean waters.
    Seamen were piling on sail and with each pull she could feel the ship give a little kick as if delighted at the chance of dancing across the ocean.
    Dancing, of course, was an exaggeration. The ship was more a lumbering laggard, but still she liked the image.
    “Sail ho,” cried a sailor above her.
    She strained to see, but though she had excellent eyesight, she saw nothing of a ship.
    She felt something though. The seamen moved a little faster, and their faces tensed. She walked over to where the captain stood next to a helmsman.
    His lips turned up in a smile as he saw her. “First one up again this morning, I see,” he said. “How is Miss Celia?”
    “She will never be a sailor,” Jenna said.
    “Not like you,” he agreed. “If you were a man I would hire you straightaway.”
    “I could always cook,” she said, only half in jest.
    “Ah, but you would have the crew in a twist,” he said. “It is no job for a lady.”
    Being a lady was a bore, she thought, but instead of arguing, she turned back to where the phantom sail had been sighted.
    “Is there really a ship out there? I can’t see it.”
    “Williams has the best eyes on the sea,” Captain Talbot said.
    “Another merchantman?”
    “Most likely,” he said, but she could see little lines of worry dart away from his eyes.
    She sipped the coffee as they both strained to see the distant ship. The sun rose, detaching itself from the sea. Against its background, she saw a sail.
    “It’s coming toward us,” cried the lookout.
    The worry on the captain’s face deepened. “Can you make out a flag?”
    “Nay,” came the answer.
    The captain turned to the helmsman. “Helm a’weather,” he said, ordering a turn. “Let’s see if she follows us.”
    She stood, listening to the calls, the new urgency among the crew. Why? They had passed other ships along the way.
    But she didn’t want to interrupt the captain, who was conferring with his first mate and helmsman. Instead, she went over to the rail and stared out at the sea.
    The sun had risen farther, and they seemed to be sailing away from it, fleeing from the streams of light it sent cascading into the sea. The sail had disappeared again.
    She breathed easier.
    But the deck was still busy, and she decided to fetch tea and crackers for Celia. The rhythm of the ship had increased, as had the voices. She had hoped Celia would get some sleep while she was gone, but now she doubted it.
    The cook, an east Indian, gave her a grin full of teeth as she collected more coffee, bread, salted fish, and cheese for herself, and crackers for Celia, along with hot tea, then made her way to the cabin.
    When she opened the door, she found Celia asleep. She set the tray down on a table bolted to the floor.
    Quietly, she sipped her coffee, nibbled on the bread and cheese, and picked up a book of poetry she had brought with her.
    She’d read for perhaps an hour when she heard a loud voice outside the cabin. Celia jerked awake, looking bewildered. “What... ?”
    Jenna opened the door. A sailor was knocking on each of the doors.
    “What is it?” she asked.
    “A ship is closing on us,” he said. “The captain fears it might be hostile.”
    “Hostile?” Celia’s trembling voice came from behind her.
    “Yes, ma’am. The captain wants the passengers to stay in their cabins.”
    Jenna glanced over her shoulder to see Celia sink back on her bed. When she turned back, the sailor was down the companionway, knocking on another door. “Stay here,” she told Celia. “I’m going to see—”
    “But he told us to stay here.”
    “I will be right back,” she said, slipping out the door before Celia said any more and before the sailor turned around. She sped through the ship, out to the