Mauro had the night watch. Generally quiet, with nothing to do other than tend tied off lines and make sure the sails stayed taut, he wandered the ship decks. Sailors sat or stood close to the cleats where ropes wound in figure eights around bright brass fittings to keep the proper tension in place. High above in the crow's nest, the bosun looked down across softly swelling seas, and saw the same pod of dolphins racing alongside the prow he'd noticed for the last three times he'd been forward.

Mauro thought his friend was probably half asleep, lulled by the gently rocking motion as they cut through the seas with a hissing whisper. The ship's figurehead thrust proudly forward as they raced with the following wind. According to the latest sextant readings, they were already halfway to Kaap Horn. The most dangerous leg of the voyage was coming shortly. The winds and weather around Tierra del Fuego were notoriously stormy.

Wandering past the women's cell, he noticed Pansy standing at the window drinking in the breeze. She'd proven to be the most entertaining, fascinating woman. He memorized her face, as she looked out pensively staring at the stars and the full moon which hung off the port side. Huge and silvery, it hung like a molten globe. He didn't think he'd ever get enough of her amazing eyes. They looked straight through him into his heart and soul. He longed to kiss her peachy pink lips, perfectly proportioned below a nose which was upturned, but only a fraction bringing a slightly impish expression perpetually to her face.

Then her crowning glory. He'd been close enough to see her with it loose only once. Her pale gold hair almost white against the drab grey of the dress she wore. He'd been right. It cascaded in gentle waves to well below her waist, longer than he'd thought possible. He longed to make love to her, and keep her busy in his bunk, dressed only in her glorious tresses. Oh, to run his hands through the thick clinging curls!

They were lucky. Enough rainwater was caught during the few squalls they rode out, that fresh water supplies were continually renewed. The women were granted their request for a small bathing tub, and a few slivers of soap to keep themselves somewhat clean. He tortured himself imagining his Pansy rising from the small tub, glistening with droplets of water cascading over plump breasts to her narrow waist and down along long slender legs. Briefly he wondered if the soft furry covering at the apex of her legs, would be the same pale buttery gold as the hair on her head. His manhood responded filling his tight fitting breeches and he paused at the rail of the poop deck to allow his excitement to abate.

Perhaps Pansy would talk tonight. The wind was steady, and they had the goodwill of the dolphins riding the crest of their bow wave. They weren't more than a few miles from shore according to the charts laid out in the Captain's office. The bosun, although he rarely went up like he was this night, spotted no other ships in the area. Comfortable again, as he didn't want to alarm Pansy with his obvious need, he took the stairs down to the main deck and wound his way through the barrels, coiled ropes and gunpowder kegs stored in neat piles along his path.

"Pansy?" He saw her head swivel and knew she'd heard his soft inquiry.

"Mauro?" She sounded morose. And he spotted quiet tears slipping down the elegant oval of her face.

"What's wrong beauty? Tell me." His heart wrenched, and he longed to hold her. To comfort her with caring arms and a safe place to lay her head.

"I'm sorry, I can't stop thinking of my little brother. I never got to say goodbye." Pansy sniffled quietly. "I was his mother, when ours died. I wonder how Mother Aileen treats him now?" Her slender hands hung between the bars on the window, as if reaching for an anchor against her stormy thoughts.

"Tell me about him. If he's anything like you, he must be a sturdy lad," Mauro wanted to know everything about her. He already heard the tale of her escape from the town where she'd been born and vowed to give the smithy who'd rescued her from the lengthy walk to London a reward.

"He looks like me in coloring, except his eyes are a gorgeous shade of brown, like my father's. He has the same light blonde hair. My mother passed it to both of us. He was born after many years of still births and lost babes. Papa wanted to stop her from trying, there are ways. The Chinese servant next door knew what to do, but Mama wanted to give him a son. I was almost eleven, I'm just past my sixteenth birthday now," Pansy's love for her brother colored her words. "She did, but it cost her, all the stillbirths, miscarriages took their toll. She never recovered from my brother's birth she wasted away in less than a month."

Mauro cringed, so young to have lost her Mama and to step into those shoes, a mere baby herself.

"What was it that caused her to fade away?"

"The doctor told us it was consumption; she coughed a lot. But it was also melancholy. She was never happy again, even though she'd given Papa a son." Pansy never understood how her Mama could be so sad.

"Tell me more about him," he encouraged.

"He was such a sweet baby. Papa had the housekeeper nurse him, as she had her own boy just a month before and had more than enough milk for two. She moved into the nursery with her son. The two of them are inseparable even now." Pansy's eyes blurred with the memories.

"That was a lucky thing. A newborn son, and his mother paid the ultimate price. She must have been a very strong woman." Now he understood where Pansy got her stubbornness from.

"Mama was kind and sweet. But if I did wrong, my bottom suffered." Pansy pulled a hand in and touched the curves of her buttocks, smoothing the thin dress over it. "Oh, how the switch stung. I learned to think about what I did." She smiled ruefully. The painful recollection caused her to pat her bottom one more time.

Mauro squatted below and beside her window, reaching up to grasp the hand still extended through the window. Her subconscious caress of her bottom had revealed more to his imagination and his randy body responded. How was he going to keep his hands off her? Could he convince his captain to marry them before they arrived in Western Australia? What were the legalities? He was so lost to this nubile vixen, who'd had the courage to give herself a fresh life. He desperately wanted it to be with him.

"Is your brother a good lad, beauty?" Mauro wanted to keep her talking. Her voice was like molten honey and he could listen to her for hours.

"He's a determined child. When he learned to walk, he would fall on his bottom so often, but each time he'd pull himself up and try again. Even now, as he was learning his letters and to read, he is persistent. Whatever he puts his head too, he will eventually master. The only thing that came naturally was his pony. Once Papa sat him on Sandy the first time, it was like he molded to her back. He's never been thrown, no matter what." Pansy giggled. "His nursery mate, Brian, the housekeeper's son? He can't ride. The horses won't let him up."

"If you get the right horse, and a talented teacher, I'm sure it could be done. Even the worst of us can learn to ride. Do you beauty? Ride, I mean." It would help with what he planned to do with his life and hers if he was blessed enough to win her over.

"Of course, astride too. Papa thought side saddles were designed to kill women." Pansy longed for the days of her own pony when she'd gone with her parents on many adventures and picnics on Sunday afternoons. She squeezed his hand as she spoke, excitement racing through her. The tingles she felt deep into her core every time he touched her, heightened her color to a becoming rosy blush.

Looking up at her, Mauro imagined her slender form astride, and it nearly took him to the edge of his tolerance. The next time they walked the ship, he'd kiss her. He had to know. Did she feel the same pull?