Hunter worked through the afternoon, doing most of the labor. He was not only faster than Steve, but also more precise in his work. Jane watched for company, but few people came so far from the center of the waterfront. Those who did walk by on the beach took no notice. Steve could see that among the buccaneers, minding one’s own business was a survival trait, and woodworking was common along the docks anyway.

“There’s another one,” said Steve, standing up from a newly sawed board to wipe sweat from his face. “This climate is great for you, Hunter, because the sun beats down constantly on your solar collectors. But I need a break.”

“Of course,” said Hunter, without looking up from his chisel and hammer. “Suit your own need, as you wish.”

“I want to dunk myself in the water,” said Steve, turning to Jane. “Walk with me?”

“Sure.”

Steve wanted to talk to Jane alone for a moment. He led her to the edge of the water and they waded along the surf, away from Hunter. Steve knew that if Hunter wanted to monitor their conversation, he could turn up his hearing to do so; the robot could probably even filter out the sound of the breakers. However, Hunter probably wouldn’t bother.

Steve put his arm around Jane and leaned close to her ear. “Any idea what our chances are now?”

“Of catching MC 2, you mean?”

“Yeah. I mean, snagging MC 1 was a lot simpler in the dinosaur age. No other humans lived in that time to complicate the search. Now we have all these pirates to worry about.”

“That’s true, but this world isn’t as complex as ours. I think if we can catch that ship, we’ll still have a reasonable chance of finding MC 2.”

“Even with all those pirates around?” He glanced back over his shoulder. Hunter was working hard, but of course he could be listening without appearing to be.

“Well, it all depends on Hunter right now.” Jane stopped and watched the surf splash around her legs, holding her skirt up with one hand. “Without his robotic abilities, we wouldn’t be able to get this little sailboat made. If I can keep Hunter focused on action, instead of on frustration over the First Law, then he’ll be worth any number of buccaneers.”

“I don’t doubt that part.”

“What really makes me angry is Rita’s lack of professionalism, running off like that.” Her tone was hard.

“I know,” Steve let himself fall into the cool water on his back, then spat out water and regained his footing. “I have to say, this life-style seems pretty carefree. Fruit and fish everywhere, the sea and the beaches, and a feeling of adventure.”

“Not you, too.”

“No, not really. Let’s start back.”

By the time the sun was low in the west and the fishing boats were coming in, Hunter had cut and shaped all the wood. Steve had done what little he could. Most of all, he was glad to feel the cool air of evening.

“Dinnertime,” said Steve. “Tonight I wish Jane and I could just get what we need from the sunlight, but it won’t work for us.”

Hunter looked up at both of them.

“We can leave you here to keep working,” said Jane.

“No,” said Hunter. “The waterfront is too violent at night. I will come with you.”

“I had a hunch you would,” said Steve.

Rita stretched out on the deck of the Hungry Hawk after dark like the rest of the buccaneers, except for those on duty. The masts and sails rose high above her, their tops now beyond the reach of the torchlight on deck. Dinner had been fairly good, a sort of stew. On their first night out of port, the fresh meat and produce were still good. She knew that in such a warm climate, the fare would quickly turn to salted fish and pork, and hard biscuits.

Roland had picked out a spot in a corner of the deck toward the stern for the three of them. They were right under the rail, wadding up some empty burlap bags he had brought to use as pillows. MC 2 lay down near Rita, still imitating the behavior of the humans around him. Roland sat down on her other side.

“Faring well, sweet lady?” Roland whispered.

“Well enough.” She looked out over the water, where the moon was rising.

“A fair night.”

“Yes, it is.” She decided to ask him some of the questions she had been considering, hoping that this would be a good time. Still looking away from him, she spoke casually. “Tell me about your travels.”

“My travels?” He sounded surprised.

“That’s right.”

“Well, I was born to a London waterfront family. Nothing to speak of there, except the ships were always coming and going. So I grew up wanting to get out, and the sea was the way to go.” He shrugged.

“How old were you?”

“I was an eleven-year-old cabin boy on a trader to Holland and back first. Later, I came out this way.”

“When did you, uh…”

“Join the buccaneers?” He grinned. “I jumped ship off a brig in Tortuga a few years ago. Liked the climate and the freedom. Then I came to Port Royal with some shipmates just last year. It was too crowded in Tortuga.” He shrugged. “It’s a better life than I ever had in Old England.”

Rita didn’t dare look at him. Instead, she watched the bright moon in the dark sky. It looked the same as it did in her own time.

She was telling herself not to ask any more about his life. He must have killed people, of course. His was a violent time and a violent life. He was a creature of his time and he had survived so far.

Uncomfortably, she reminded herself again that from the vantage point of her life and time, he had been dead for centuries. That was her professionalism coming to the {ore again. After all, she repeated to herself, she was here first as a historian. She was merely doing field research, the same way anthropologists, zoologists, and other scientists had always done.

“Is something wrong?” Roland slipped his arm around her shoulders.

Rita stiffened, startled though not exactly surprised. Roland was exciting but his action scared her. She tried to push his hand away, but he held on.

“Ah, Rita, speak to me. What’s on your mind?”

“Let go.” Suddenly more afraid, despite his calm manner, she struggled to get free.

Instead, Roland grabbed her arm with his other hand. “What is it? All of a sudden, you’re-” He stopped abruptly.

Rita saw that MC 2 had sat up and taken hold of one of Roland’s wrists in a smooth, quick motion. MC 2 slowly but firmly pulled Roland’s hand away from Rita.

“Go back to sleep,” Roland ordered. “Or go away. Take a walk, Shorty.”

Instead, MC 2 pushed Roland’s other hand off Rita’s shoulders.

“Hey, what’s wrong, Shorty?” Roland moved up into a crouch, ready to fight if necessary. “You’ve been taking orders up to now without a complaint. Gone sweet on the lady, eh?”

Rita scooted out from between them. She got to her feet and moved to the rail. Her heart was pounding.

“You have quite a grip, there, Shorty.” Roland stood up, eyeing MC 2 cautiously and rubbing one wrist.

MC 2 remained seated on the deck, watching Roland.

Rita, now relieved, suppressed a smile. MC 2 was far stronger than any human, even with his small size. If he was really forced to prove that, of course, he would no longer be able to get lost in the crowd of buccaneers. For now, though, Roland didn’t seem inclined to fight with him.

“Think I’ll take a stroll about the deck,” said Roland. He nodded to Rita and walked away, glancing back once to make sure that MC 2 was remaining where he was.

Rita sat down next to MC 2 again. She felt safe now, but was still wide-awake. Still, she was also glad to know that MC 2 would keep her from harm if he could.