Lying in the shade of a palm tree on a bed of lush green seagrape, Matthew Roving squinted down the beach. In the foreground was a wiry little man in short pants, white knee stockings, and a blue tricornered hat who was trying, not very successfully, to chop up a coconut with a sword. Beyond him was bright stunning sunshine on white sand and blue water—hard on the eyes, but Matthew kept staring, searching the choppy blue sea for a ship. They desperately needed a ship.

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