Marietta clung to Claudine in the darkness. The deck of the Spanish trading ship, their rescuer, pitched under their feet, slippery and treacherous.

Exhausted and half frozen, Marietta watched sadly as the little ship which had been speeding her homewards from Nantes, sank without trace under the heaving waters of the Bay of Biscay. The storm raged still. The rescue ship seemed small and fragile, surrounded as it was by the roiling waves. She was shivering so much that she could barely stand.

'Where is Sister Anna?' Claudine said. 'I cannot see her with the others.'

Marietta shuddered, remembering how she had seen the nun swept overboard. 'She is gone. Drowned I fear, poor thing. We are alone now. Come, we must go below. Find shelter.'

Together they fought their way forwards. The sailors paid them no attention, intent on helping the other passengers. Marietta felt a strong hand take hold of her arm. Above the crashing of wind and waves, came a deep voice close to her ear.

'Come with me. You may have the use of my cabin. The hold will be crammed to bursting with people and baggage. Young ladies of breeding have need of their privacy.'

She stammered her heartfelt thanks. Claudine was beyond speech. Her face was white, her lips blue with cold. Marietta leaned on the stranger's arm as he half-carried, half-dragged them both below deck and along a narrow corridor.

'Best to strip those wet clothes off before you take a chill,' he said, throwing Marietta two large towels. 'There are dry clothes in that trunk. I'll leave you to change. My help is needed on deck. Make yourself comfortable. Use whatever you wish.'

'Thank you. You are very kind. May I ask your name--' Marietta began.

But he had gone. The door slammed shut behind him.

Gratefully she stripped off her sodden dress, bustle and petticoats, then rubbed her limbs until they glowed. Claudine wrapped herself in a towel and did the same. They sat side by side on the narrow bunk. Both were subdued by the loss of their chaperone. Marietta spoke a silent prayer for the soul of Sister Anna but she could not help feeling a sense of relief.

'I'm glad she's gone. The cold fish!' Claudine said suddenly.

Marietta looked at her friend in shocked amazement. Then suddenly they both began to laugh. Sister Anna had been a stern and humourless woman with repressed sexual hungers. Marietta remembered all the times the nun had ill-treated her. Even now the thought of what she'd made her do brought a blush to her cheeks. She had told no one of these encounters. Not even Claudine.

Claudine apparently, hated Sister Anna for her own private reasons.

'Is there... any brandy?' Claudine said now, her teeth chattering. She was sitting swathed in the towel, her long red hair hung in tangles over her creamy bare shoulders.

Marietta looked around for any alcohol. The cabin was large and luxurious and a charcoal brazier gave out warmth. An oil lamp, swinging violently from the ceiling, cast a reddish glow and lent the wood panelling a polished depth. There was no brandy, but she found a pot of water and coffee.

'Our rescuer is no drinker,' she said, 'but he must be a cultured man. Rich too.' She spooned ground coffee beans into a long-handled pot, added water, and set it over the brazier. 'There is fresh fruit on the table and that bowl is gold. And look at these embroidered silk bed hangings.'

Claudine sank to her knees and opened a trunk. 'He was well spoken, with a charming accent. Is he a merchant do you think? Perhaps he is the owner of this vessel. As to his wealth, I think you are right. Look.'

She delved into the chest and scooped up armful after armful of rich and exotic clothes. There were pastel-coloured silks, velvets, gauze veils, figured brocades. She smiled, cheered as she always was by the sight of beauty or luxury. Marietta recalled that there had been precious little of either for the two of them in the past six years.

Marietta grinned. 'What clothes are these? Theatre costumes surely.'

'Does it matter? He said we could make use of anything we found in the trunk. And we need dry clothes.'

Claudine pulled out a silken tunic of pale yellow, a deeper yellow skirt, and an embroidered and jewelled sash. She pulled the tunic over her head, then wriggled out from the towel, keeping her bare back turned to the cabin wall. While she dressed she kept her eyelids lowered.

Marietta was surprised by her modesty. Claudine had no need to be ashamed of her lovely body. They had been friends since childhood and had seen each other naked many times. They were alone now, but Marietta supposed that convent habits died hard.

Claudine dug back into the chest. 'Let me choose for you. Ah, yes. Plum-coloured velvet, a wide-necked silk tunic and loose full trousers, gathered in at the ankle. How daring! Wear these, do. The colour contrasts so well with your pale colouring and light hair. There is jewellery here too.'

Her enthusiasm was infectious. Marietta laughed at Claudine's childlike delight and pulled on the outfit, feeling strange without her usual layers of petticoats and the bustle pad on her hips. The silk felt cool and exciting against her bare breasts. There was a looking-glass in the cabin and the two young women admired their reflections, revelling in the lovely fabrics and the way their limbs gleamed through the thin silk. They giggled, twirling so that the fine silk billowed out like fairy wings, thinking how shocked the sisters at the convent would have been if they could have seen them.

Copyright © 1993 by Cleo Cordell