'I'll – do.'

'Look, Mike – there's the Esmerelda. They've been quick.'

I looked across the water and saw Pearl getting under way and, beyond her, Esmerelda coming up at a hell of a lick under power, her bow wave flecked red by the reflections from the burning shore. Pearl was still moving slowly and I could see from the changing angle of Esmerelda's bow that Ian meant to try and stop her by coming hard alongside or even ramming.

But the schooner was picking up speed under her engine and slid out from Esmerelda's threatening bows. Ian changed course again to converge but just at the moment of impact Pearl seemed to spin smartly sideways and Esmerelda's bow sprit only grazed her side. As the two ships passed one another there was a fusillade of shots from Pearl and an answering staccato rattle from our ship. I wondered who had guns and who was using them.

Then Pearl was safely out of reach, heading across the lagoon for the pass in the reef, lights springing up on board as she went. Esmerelda gave up the chase and turned towards the shore, and I heard her engines stop. Saving the hospital had priority and it was too dangerous to follow the fleeing schooner in the dark.

They'd got clean away.* 3*

Dawn revealed chaos. Trickles of smoke still spiralled skywards from the gutted buildings and the patients – the survivors – huddled together on the beach with friends and the remaining hospital staff. Piro had done a count, and the death roll numbered fourteen, not counting Schouten himself.

We were all weary, scorched and depressed.

Campbell looked about him at the scene of that damned atrocity and his face was grey. 'The bastards,' he said savagely. The murdering sons-of-bitches. I'll see them hanged for this.'

'Not if I get them first,' I said.

We were crouched over a couple of benches with hot coffee in our hands, brought ashore from the brigantine. We didn't have enough on board to provide adequately for everyone but we had distributed what we could, and the villagers had brought food of their own for the shocked survivors. The few men whom Schouten had trained were performing heroic feats of first aid but much more was needed. And we had received a bad shock of our own – the morning light revealed that our ship's radio had been smashed, presumably by Kane before he jumped ship. There was no way to send for help, save by going for it in person. Ian, who had done wonders by bringing Esmerelda down the coast at night, was castigating himself for not having the radio guarded, but we persuaded him that it wouldn't have been thought necessary at the time. I hadn't even been on board to see Geordie yet, though I was assured that he was doing all right, if still confined to his bunk.

Campbell said, 'I can't see Suarez-Navarro going in for this. They're a rotten crowd, as I've told you, but this is unbelievable.' X I wasn't impressed. 'Know any English history?'

His head jerked up. 'What's that got to do with it?'

'There was an English king – Henry II, I think it was – who had a bishop as his conscience, Thomas a Becket. The legend is that the king was at dinner one day and said, "Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest?" So four of his knights went off and murdered Becket in Canterbury Cathedral.'

I scraped with my foot in the sand. 'When the king found out he was horrified. He abased himself before the Church and did his penances – but he came out on top, after all – he didn't have Becket on his back any more.'

I pointed to the burnt-out hospital. 'Suarez-Navarro have a board meeting and some plump, stuffy director says, "I wish we could do something about Campbell and this interfering chap Trevelyan." So someone like Ramirez goes out and does something, and if everything gets done – and Campbell and Trevelyan get stopped – he gets a bonus paid with no questions asked. And the dividends of Suarez-Navarro pile up, and that director would faint if he saw a cut finger so he doesn't enquire too closely into how the job was done in case he gets sick to the stomach.'

'But they didn't attack us.'

'Not directly. This has more Hadley's trademark, sadistic revenge in the meanwhile. But don't think we're not in danger now.'

Campbell looked up the beach to the patients sitting in their forlorn group. He said slowly, 'Then this wouldn't have happened if we hadn't come here.'

There was a coppery taste in my mouth. 'No. Schouten was afraid of what would happen, and I told him he'd be all right. I said he'd be protected. What a bloody mess I've made of everything.'

We both fell silent. There was too much that could be said.

Clare came along the beach towards us, carrying a first aid kit. She looked drawn and pensive, but I was more attracted to her than ever. I would have liked to take her in my arms but something prevented me – and she guessed my intention and saw why I couldn't carry it out.

'Mike, your hands are burnt raw. I'll bandage them.'

I looked at my hands. I hadn't really noticed before but now they were beginning to hurt.

She got busy with my hands and spoke with her head down as she worked. 'Pop, I guess this is where you get busy with your cheque book.'

I said harshly, 'A cheque book isn't going to bring fifteen people back to life.'

'You men are damned fools,' she said and her voice was angry. 'What's done is done, and you didn't do it, though I guess you're both blaming yourselves. But the hospital is gone, and what's going to happen to the poor people here? Somebody has to do something – we can't just go away and say, Well, we didn't start the fire, even if it's true.'

'I'm sorry, Clare,' I said. 'But what can we do?'

Campbell dug his hands deep into his pockets. 'There'll be another hospital – a good one. And doctors, and good equipment. I'll endow the whole damned thing.' His voice became harder. 'But Suarez-Navarro will pay for it one way or another.'

He walked away down the beach as Clare smeared a cool emulsion on my hands. 'What's that stuff?' I asked. I had to discuss something less painful, though my throbbing hands weren't the best choice of subject in that case.

Tannic acid jelly. It's good for burns.'

I said, 'No one else has had time to tell us what happened on board. Can you? I didn't know we had guns.'

'Several of the men have them, besides Pop's little armoury. You can be awfully innocent.'

'Who was doing the shooting from Esmerelda?' 'A couple of the crew – and me,' she said shortly.

I raised my eyebrows. 'You?'

'I'm a good shot. Pop taught me.' She began to cover my hands. 'I think I shot one – and I think it was Kane.' Suddenly her voice broke. 'Oh, Mike, it was awful. I've never shot at a man, only at targets. It was…"

I was entangled in bandages but I somehow managed to get an arm around her shoulders and she buried her head on mine. 'He deserved what was coming to him, Clare. You've only got to look around you to see that. Did you kill him?'

She raised her head and her face was white and tear-streaked. 'I don't think so – the light was bad and everything happened so fast. I think I may have hit him in the shoulder. But – I was trying to kill him, Mike.'

'So was I,' I said. 'But my gun didn't go off. I'm not very good with guns, but I tried and I don't regret it.'

She pulled herself together. Thanks, Mike. I've been a fool.'

I shook my head. 'No, you're not, Clare. Killing doesn't come easy to people like us. We're not mad dogs like Kane or Hadley, but when we do come up against mad dogs I think it's our duty to try and stop them in any way we can – even if the only way is by killing them.'

I looked down at the top of her head and wished that this whole stinking business was over. It had suddenly come to me that a burnt-out hospital littered with corpses wasn't the best place in the world to tell a girl that you were falling in love with her. I would have to wait for a calm sea and romantic moonlight, with perhaps the strains of a love song echoing from the saloon.