Captain Howard Bradbury of the Matsonia watched the sea with a frown on his face. They had left San Francisco a few days ago, and the calm waters had made the voyage excruciatingly slow. At this rate, it would take a whole week to reach Honolulu.

It had been a bad voyage from the start and he was sorry for it, because rarely his wife followed him. The company’s owners had allowed it only because the spoiled daughter of a friend of theirs was aboard, and she could use a lady companion on her voyage towards Honolulu.

It would have been better, the captain thought acidly, if her father had prevented the young girl from sailing. But Miss Briefs seemed a rather stubborn woman, obviously used to have her way: it wasn’t a wonder that Mr Briefs had found easier to please her rather than oppose her. Maybe he had been even happy to get rid of her, if only for a short while. Bradbury smiled to himself at the thought.

On the deck the captain could see the spoiled child in question. A young, slender woman who was barely above twenty, her long blue hair gathered in a severe-looking bun, whose weight seemed almost to tip her chin up, giving majesty to her naturally erect bearing.

Frankly she made the captain uneasy: there was nothing soft, frail or docile in that creature. Despite his preferences towards more mellow women, Bradbury could appreciate beauty when he saw it, and there was no doubt that Miss Briefs was very beautiful. Not even the severe fashion of that age could hide the perfection of her figure; her dark dress managed to enhance her fair complexion, her eyes alone could have made pretty any girl, large and blue as they were, shadowed by long eyelashes. Unfortunately they were also extremely frank and ready to flash in a way that had put to flight many young men drawn by her beauty, and maybe by her fortune.

Oblivious of the captain’s scrutiny, Bulma was looking at the open sea. She was feeling a little tired and depressed. She had spent more than six days between a sleeping berth and another. The stop in Chicago had been nothing more than a change of train. She had been exhausted when she had finally reached San Francisco. Moreover, the elderly woman who offered to escort her from Boston to San Francisco had talked non-stop about parties and dances, boring Bulma out of her mind.

Luckily she had left the woman as soon as they reached San Francisco and Ellen Bradbury, the wife of the Matsonia’s captain and her lady companion from San Francisco to the Sandwich Islands, was a sweet woman, who reminded Bulma of her mother. So she had spent the last week talking with her and waiting to land. But now it seemed that the climate was being uncooperative. In the last two days they had barely moved!

Meaning to ask information about their estimated arrival, she went to the fore bridge to talk with the captain. But he wasn’t of much help.

"There is nothing I can do to change the weather, but I think that soon you will have all the movement you want." Bradbury said, after admitting that he hadn’t idea of how much it would take to reach Honolulu, considering the recent lack of wind.

"Are you saying" Bulma asked, interested, "that the wind will rise soon?"

"Maybe. The barometer lowers. A storm is getting ready to break out, and I don’t like it."

After a moment of silence, Bulma turned towards the captain and asked him "Captain, you had visited Honolulu many times, right? How is it like?"

"Well, Honolulu is a big sheltered bay, and is the only protected body of water of that size within 2000 miles of the Sandwich Islands. It explains its importance and why Oahu and Honolulu has been the business, political and cultural center of the Sandwich Islands since the early 1800’s..."

Bulma shook her head "No, it’s not this I want to know. I want to understand how it is like to live there!"

The captain answered that she would find out soon enough by herself.

"But I find interesting to know the others’ opinion. It is important if one wants to do good deeds, on this world."

Bradbury arched his eyebrows and put on a surprised face. "Good deeds? What kind of good deeds?"

"Help people. Put things in order."

The captain observed that surely she would find what would keep her busy at Honolulu.

"I know that" Bulma agreed. "It’s one of the reason I wanted so much to go there. Boston was so empty, there wasn’t a thing I could do there. Moreover, Chi, my cousin Chichi, wanted so much to see me again. We had always been great friends, and she feels lonely at Honolulu!"

Captain Bradbury’s lips tightened briefly and he said with an innocent voice that he had heard there was someone else at Honolulu who needed her: maybe Yamcha Cordel? She blushed and the captain, who didn’t think her able of such weakness, was surprised. The blush suited her so much that Bradbury thought she should do it more often.

"You have talked with Ellen!" Miss Briefs accused.

"Sure. You know, it happens sometimes between husband and wife" Bradbury admitted with a small smile. "But I didn’t realize it was a secret. I thought the purpose of your voyage was to go where he lives, and marry him."

"Well, you’re wrong." Bulma replied haughtily "I haven’t decided yet. I’ve always had great respect for Mr Cordel and I know that aunt Harriet and uncle Ox hope one day we’ll get married. But my father doesn’t like him. And I’m firmly convinced that marriage is not something one should rush into only on the basis of mutual liking; on the contrary, I think there should be much more."

And then Miss Briefs started an accurate description of Yamcha Cordel and his great intelligence and uprightness. Mr Cordel, she said, was a serious man, devoted to good deeds. She knew for sure, since she had talked profusely with him and they had always totally agreed on many matters. Moreover, he proved to be an honourable man, having turned down the idea of eloping with her.

"Whose idea was that?" the captain wanted to know, interested.

"I’m sorry to say so, but it was mine" the girl admitted with a disarming flutter of eyelashes. "I had suggested it only because I was very irritated with papa. I don’t think I would have done it. But Yamcha... I mean, Mr Cordel... wouldn’t even listen to it. Even if my cousin Marron, on that occasion, said he refused only because he knew all too well that my father would have disinherited me if I married someone, without his approval, when I was still not of age. But I had enough good sense to realize that Marron was also in love with him, and talked only because she was jealous. He is really handsome, you know."

She remained in silence for a long time, then she decided to bring the conversation on the subject she had started on. "Well, don’t you want to tell me how the island is like, now?"

"Why don’t you go and ask it to Monsieur Jules?" the captain replied "I’m sure he would be happy to tell you everything you want. He lives there, after all."

"He already told me." Bulma said "But he told me that the Sandwich Islands are ‘full of wonders. Everywhere there is beauty and poetry. The climate brings happiness and cheerfulness, as a natural result of the sun’s light, of the rainbows and of the hills.’ This is not what I want to know!"

Amused by the quotation, and by the eloquent expression that followed it, Bradbury burst out laughing, and observed that all French men said only what they figured a lady wanted to hear.

"But I want to know how to improve the life of those poor savages who dwell on the island. I’m sure I could do so much for them! They need to be civilized!"

The captain inwardly sighed, while his sympathy went to the Sandwich Islands’ population, oblivious to what disgrace was about to fall upon them. "Well, soon you’ll be able to talk to your uncle about it. What I can say is that, nowadays, those ‘poor savages’ have already been ‘civilized’. And I don’t think those islands are the heavenly place Monsieur Jules describes. They have become one of hell’s breathing holes, thanks to the influence of whaling ships and such".

"But my cousin Chichi thinks that Honolulu is a beautiful place!"

"Perhaps she is in love. Everybody knows that when one is in love, the world is seen through rose coloured glasses"

"In love? But there is nobody there..."

"There are men even at Honolulu, Miss Briefs. Like that French gentleman. There is a quite large white community at Honolulu, as a matter of fact . British naval officers, businessmen, scoundrels..."

"Scoundrels? What kind of scoundrels?" Bulma wanted to know, curious.

"Adventurers. Black sheep. Renegades. For the most part, opium traffickers. Scum like Vegeta, the sinister man."

"And who is he? A pirate? With a nickname like that..."

"I wouldn’t say it to him openly, if I were you." The man warned her. "He is English and extremely surly, obviously. The kind of person relatives are happy to pay as long as he stays out of the way. Any reprehensible traffic you can think, from opium to arms, from smuggling to kidnapping or murder, you can bet till the last cent that Vegeta Royston has a hand in the matter. He arrived at Honolulu five years ago, and managed to earn an unsavoury reputation in a really short time. Probably he is the agent of the most powerful organization involved in opium traffic. Lieutenant Mason of the British navy is after him from a long time. But he never caught him doing something suspicious. Mason went so far as to appoint one of his men to the only task of controlling him. But poor Goku hasn’t had much success, till now."

"And who is this Goku?"

"Hasn’t your cousin Chichi talked about him in her letters? And here I thought he was responsible for the pink glasses. Son Goku is an English officer. He came two years ago at Honolulu, mainly, I think, to see the places where his father spent so many time. Bardock, his father, was a whaler sailor and he stopped frequently at Honolulu. He must have passed the curiosity for these places to his son. Goku is a really good lad, a bit too cheerful, but very kind. He is no match for that trafficker. But then, Royston is too much even for Mason. The Probitas moves on the ocean like a shadow, nobody has ever been able to stop him when he doesn’t want to be stopped."

"The what?"

"The Probitas: Royston’s ship. He named it himself. Father Paul, one of the missionaries on the island, told me it’s a Latin word meaning ‘honesty’. The nerve of that man! Well, Mason is really looking forward to the day he’ll be able to throw that scoundrel in jail, and then throw away the key. And Goku is busy searching the way to do it. I don’t like English men very much, but I’m on his side for this one."

"And you think Chichi is on his side, too?"

"On Goku’s side, you mean? Uhm, it could be. He is really handsome, after all. But I’m not sure. It’s been a year since the last time I visited Honolulu, and at that time they had just met, even if was obvious she wasn’t indifferent to him. When I heard she wrote that the island is romantic, I thought love blossomed. On the other hand, she seemed also interested to meet Queen Emma and the other Sandwich ‘noblewoman', so maybe she thinks its romantic because of their influence: they’re really romantic."

"Oh yes, " Bulma said with interest. "We’ll have to be close to those women, they need our assistance."

Bradbury opened his mouth to say something, but closed it without a word. Surely Miss Briefs would have many surprises when she reached Honolulu. It was strange that a young woman, physically and materially so well endowed, was obsessed with that reforming zeal. At such a young age it was more logic to be interested in dances and beaus, instead of running after ‘good deeds’. But it was of no use to think about it. Probably she had missed her real inclination: she would have been a perfect governess. And perhaps she would become one, given the information he had about Yamcha Cordel. According to the rumours he heard, Mr Cordel was a young and lively gentleman, who liked the high life.

Bradbury couldn’t imagine that kind of man joined with a pedantic, and probably frigid, girl like her. The concept Miss Briefs had of marriage was enough to freeze even the most ardent of suitors, and the captain felt sorry for her future husband (if she would ever be able to find one). But one could always take into account her fortune. Yes, maybe sooner or later she would find a husband, after all. It was a thought not at all pleasant for a girl, but it was, nonetheless, the hard reality.

The hot weather, meanwhile, had become even more uncomfortable. He took his handkerchief and wiped his neck. After that, he accompanied the girl on the deck, noticing the strange rumour of the waters, and wishing once more that Ellen wasn’t aboard. And neither Bulma Briefs! He didn’t like that stillness, he was sure they would have problems with the upcoming bad weather.

Bulma, on the other hand, was admiring the view of the open sea. In that moment, the silence seemed almost sinister. She could see something similar to a blur in the distance. That blur drew near, while a breath of wind finally made itself known. For the first time in days, the Matsonia moved visibly, cutting through the waves.

>From the sailor on the mainmast came a cry that roused Bulma from her contemplation. "A ship!"

Bradbury looked with his binoculars, and after a few seconds he said that was a relief to spot another sailing ship. In his opinion, it was depressing to wander in an empty sea.

"But, what ship are you talking about? I don’t see a thing." Bulma replied, straining her eyes.

"A schooner. But you can’t see very much with this fog that has lifted. ...Now I’ve lost it. It was rather distant and it moved fast, that means it had enough wind. Soon we’ll have it too, it will wipe out this fog, and we’ll be able to proceed."

His words were prophetic. By the evening the wind blew furiously, and after two hours the sea was covered with foam. Under deck the cabins were still too warm, since the hatches had been sealed and the wind couldn’t enter. The captain’s wife had been in her berth for over two hours, suffering of seasickness, while Bulma was keeping her company.

"I’m so ashamed, Bulma. I’m a sailor’s wife! Please stay here. I’d like to hear you talk. It‘ll keep me from thinking to all these jolts."

"What do you want to hear?"

"Talk about yourself and your handsome young man."

"He isn’t mine yet!" Bulma quickly clarified.

"But I sense he will be. He seems to be perfect for you. If only you weren’t so close relatives. A first cousin!"

"But he isn’t, really. We are not related. Yamcha is born from Aunt Harriet’s first marriage. He was just a baby when his father died, and once papa told me it’s been a good thing, because it seems that Yamcha’s father was addicted to drinking and gambling. At the end a fallen woman shot him during a ball... can you believe it! It must have been horrible for Aunt Harriet, but luckily two years later she met uncle Ox and married him. Chichi was born after a year."

"Well, how is Mr Cordel? Is he romantic? Oh, I hope he didn’t take from his father!"

"Oh, no" Bulma replied, scandalized "Not in the least, I assure you! He has taken from Aunt Harriet, and her father was a pastor. He may look romantic, seeing him; actually he is very sensitive and not at all frivolous."

"Well, good to hear it, dear" Ellen commented, sleepy. Her eyelids closed and, after a while, she was profoundly asleep. Leaving her, Bulma went to her cabin, hoping to get a much needed night of rest. But the night that followed was anything but peaceful for the Matsonia and its occupants.

The following day the sky was covered by black clouds, and there was a violent rain that reduced the visibility to few yards. The stormy sea wiped out all the objects on the desk. The tempest didn’t seem close to end, and Bradbury wondered how much the ship had deviated from their route.

The passengers, with a solitary exception, remained prudently in their cabins. The exception was represented by Miss Briefs, who had been able not only to dress thoroughly ( not an easy task with all the movement caused by the storm), but even to have breakfast in the empty dining room. After that, she returned in her cabin, but it was too dark to read or embroider, even if all that jolting would have allowed it. She couldn’t stand to be so idle, and the air in the cabin was stuffy, so she decided to go towards the deck.

She had to fight with the wind’s force to open the door leading to the deck, and, once she was at the open, she became drenched with rain, too late realizing the foolishness of her idea. She turned to the door, only to see that the wind had closed it again. Moreover, its violence was preventing her from re-opening it. She pressed herself against the closed door, while the storm continued all around her.

Suddenly a huge wave of foam invested the ship. Her long gowns, soaked, bound her movements, while her hair, freed from the hairpins, whipped around her. A flash of lightning broke the dark sky and, in the same instant, she saw it...

There was another ship. It was coming straight towards them. A schooner on the crest of a wave. She heard voices, coming surely from the sailors of the Matsonia, but she couldn’t take her eyes away from the schooner that was about to crash on them. She was sure it represented their death. Another second and it would collide. ...It seemed she didn’t need to decide anything about Yamcha, after all. She didn’t need to decide anything at all, at this point. There was no more time... time...

By a miracle, the schooner managed to change direction at the last moment, but a terrific amount of water moved with it, investing the deck of the Matsonia with an unbelievable force, taking Bulma in its wake. She tried to grab on something, but to no avail. She felt herself falling down, deaf and blind, surrounded by foam and water. A mountain of water took her below the surface, while she tried to emerge and take some air. She managed to breathe again for a few seconds before another wave invested her, throwing the poor girl on something floating on the waters. It seemed like a tangle of fishing nets, and circled her arms and body; desperately Bulma held on it.

For a moment that seemed endless, she remained there, trying to keep her head out of the water. And then she felt herself being lifted, an inch at time, like a fish in a net. She found herself bruised, bleeding and almost suffocated on a deck that, although swaying, was miraculously solid.

Helping hands took her and, among a chaotic bawling and the sounds of the storm, she caught a bizarre sound. A laugh... someone was laughing. Another voice (or maybe the same?) said: "A mermaid, incredible!" and laughed again. She opened an eye and beheld a figure with hair like a flame and two intense black eyes.

And, once again, suddenly, they slipped along the deck with the arrival of a new, foaming wave, while the world, wet and floating, became dark and vanished. Miss Bulma Briefs fainted for the first time in her life.

* * * * *