There was one guest in particular whose piggy eyes lit up at the sight of me all silver, shimmering and half naked. His name was Rufus Telsor and he’d given me the most trouble from the start.

He’d come aboard with another man, called Williams, whom he seemed to know well, which at first made me hope he might be gay. No such luck! They were just hunting in pairs.

I discovered that when the two of them cornered me on deck. The ensuing conversation was of the ‘Come on, you know you want it really’ variety, and I won’t bore you with the details.

I managed to fight them off and escape with a torn dress, but I knew there was nowhere to hide on the yacht. I had to get off before they caught me again.

Going down the gangway was out of the question. Vanner was there and he would see me. Besides, go down to what? We were moored out in deep water. I’d need a boat to get to shore, and there was no way I’d be able to get one.

From the stern of the ship I had a view of him, leaning on the rail, brandy balloon in hand. Even from this distance I could see that he was red-faced and slipping out of control. I could expect no help from him. He was more likely to be furious that I’d fought back.

As I watched, Telsor and Williams appeared, heading for Vanner, presumably to complain about the lack of hospitality. I hadn’t much time. It would have to be the water.

I hoisted the dress up, climbed over the rail, and jumped.

Luckily I’m a good swimmer, and I can hold my breath for a long time. When I finally surfaced I’d put some distance between me and The Silverado. But I was getting too close to The Hawk for comfort, so I kicked out and headed for the shore.

When I reached the quay I’d have had a problem if someone hadn’t been passing and given me a hand up.

Briefly I toyed with the idea of asking him for help, but he wasn’t alone. His companion was female and suspicious. One look at me was enough to make her squeal, ‘Come on. We’re going to be late.’