without

boys. I wanted her to want me.”
He looked up. Looked her full in the eyes. “I knew they were there from the night before. And I was going to leave them to die.”
He turned and walked off, leaving her to stare open-mouthed after him.

A lighthouse had already been erected on the cliff above Port Lockry, and the channel was now clear, even at low water. There was a huge crowd to wel­come them into port. Keilin found himself peering into the crowd, his keen eyes looking for her face. He found it, and thus was able to watch the expression as someone called out. “Hey . . . That’s Hedda’s crew on board!” And he saw hope blossom, and he saw her begin frantically waving.
Keilin was sitting in the deserted ship’s mess, getting himself quietly and systematically drunk. Everyone else was ashore. In the excitement of the castaways’ return he’d been able to slip away ­between decks without too much effort. S’kith had wanted to stay on board with him, but Keilin had chased him off to join the three enthusiastically waving girls, with Bey’s amused com­ments still ringing in his ears. But now the ship was ghostly quiet, only the near-still-water sounds of an occasional moving hawser, break­ing its tomb stillness. He heard feet on the gangplank, but paid no attention to the noise, other than to hope that whoever it was wouldn’t disturb him.
“Boy Hero.” Only one person had ever called him that. He stood up unsteadily. She came over to him as he swayed next to the mess table. Took his hands. Her eyes were luminous with a kind of deep happ­iness that had been absent when he’d last been with her. Then she hugged him. “Gabe told me what you did. Sven and my son wanted to ask you to come and stay with us. I said I didn’t think it was a good idea. I said you’d feel awkward there.” She gave a small smile, guilty, and yet mischievous, making her face