Outside the gray-shingled cottage, an unrelenting wind whipped through the branches of the live oaks, sending up an eerie moan. Waves, roiling and ominously black, crashed against the narrow beach. In the sky above, the moon shone as it had the night he'd gone, the bright white light dimmed every few minutes by invisible clouds scudding across the night sky.

Meredith let the lace curtain drop from her stiff fingers and glanced at the clock next to the bed. Her heart skipped a beat. Eleven fifty-five. It was almost time. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer, clutching the book to her chest.

"Please, please, let this work," she whispered, a desperate edge to her voice. "Send him back to me, safe and sound."

He wasn't dead. She'd spent the last month proving that to herself, searching every original source she could find-letters, journals, books-for any mention of his name. The day she found the name of the seaman mistaken for a pirate, she cried, for it wasn't Griffin Rourke.

Every night, from the night that he'd left, she'd stood on the beach and waited, hoping that by some miracle she would find him there. Some evenings, she would let the tears fall unchecked, allowing herself to fall prey to her emotions. On other nights, she would refuse to give in, knowing in her heart that they would be together soon. Sometimes, she'd even talk to him, as if he were right be-side her, telling him all about the baby and the wonderful future they'd have together.

With trembling fingers, she lit the lantern. Ben Gunn was already in his place in the closet, squawking in protest. She'd even put on the same clothes she'd worn the night Griffin arrived, just for luck. Meredith searched her mind for anything she'd missed. For all she knew, she might have only one chance to bring him back and she wanted to make that chance count.

All the lights in the house were out, the phone was unplugged. She reached over and flipped off the bedside lamp, then opened the closet door. "Come back to me, Griffin," she said as she stepped inside. "Come back to me now."

Meredith sat down on the closet floor, pulling her knees up to her chest to wriggle into the cramped space. Slowly, she ruffled through the pages of the book until she found the picture of the pirate. Drawing a deep breath, she focused her gaze on the delicate ink lines that made up his handsome face, a face that looked so much like Griffin's.

"Awk. Shiver me timbers!" Ben screeched. "Thar she blows!"

"Come back," Meredith murmured, running her finger lovingly across the page.

"Aye, matey." Ben flapped his wings, his shadow wavering on the closet wall.

"Come back."

"I takes my man Friday with me!"

"Come back to me, Griffin. Now. Please."

"Come back," Ben mimicked.

Meredith stared at the picture for a long-time, repeating her plea over and over again like a mantra. She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but suddenly she was acutely aware that the wind had stopped blowing. Holding her breath, she listened and waited. Then, with a cry of relief, Meredith stumbled to her feet and shoved open the closet door. Ben followed her with a flap of his wings.

"Griffin?" Her shout echoed through the dark, silent house. "Griffin!"

She ran through the rooms, the book still clutched in her arms, checking each shadowy corner before she headed outside. Though the wind had stopped, the waves still roared against the shore. For an instant, the moon appeared from behind a cloud and Meredith thought she saw a flash of white on the beach.

"Griffin!" She ran toward the water's edge as the moon slipped behind a cloud again. But when she reached the spot, there was nothing there. Turning frantically, she looked for any sign of him, but the beach was deserted.

"Griffin!" Her voice died against the roar of the waves. "Oh, God, Griffin, please. You have to be alive. Please, don't leave me here alone." A sob tore from her throat and Meredith dropped to her knees.

She opened the book and searched for the picture. A flood of moonlight spilled over the lawn, illuminating the page of the book. "You can't be dead," she cried. "I'd know it. I'd feelit." She drew a ragged breath and watched as a tear dropped onto the yellowed page. "I love you, Griffin. I will always love you, wherever you are. I will always-"

A sharp crack of thunder obliterated her words. Meredith looked up, startled by the sound. A violent shiver rocked her body and she cried out at the sight before her.

The sky had turned an eerie, luminescent blue and the water below looked like liquid silver, glowing with its own light. Transfixed, Meredith watched as the ghostly images of three square-rigged ships appeared before her eyes, then faded again, behind a shroud of vapor.

Thunder split the silence again and Meredith jumped, her breath catching in her throat. The acrid smell of gunpowder filled the air and she realized that it was not thunder she'd heard, but cannon fire. She tried to crawl to her feet, but her legs refused to move. A cacophony of sound descended around her-men shouting, pistols firing and the unnerving boom of cannons.

From out of nowhere, the wind began to blow, swirling and screeching around her until her eyes watered and her ears rang. The book blew from her hand but she managed to grab it before it had blown too far. Meredith curled into a ball and covered her head with her arms, screaming in terror against the chaos.

And then the ground lurched beneath her and the noise grew more intense, more distinct. Panic was upon her, so overwhelming she felt as if she might be sick. And then the wind stopped as suddenly as it had begun.

Hesitantly, she lifted her head and risked a look around, squinting against a bright light. She still held the book clutched against her chest, but it was no longer night, it was day. And she was no longer in her backyard, but inside a small rowboat. Her gaze followed the length of a tall mast above her and her heart stopped as she came upon a familiar flag snapping in the breeze.

A horned skeleton, white on a black background, held an hourglass in one hand and a dagger in the other. "In league with the devil," Meredith whispered numbly, "and your time is running out." And beneath the dagger, a red heart and three drops of blood. "Surrender," she continued, "or blood will be drawn."

Shoving the book under a mildewed canvas at the bow, she got up and peered over the edge of the rowboat, only to find herself on board a larger ship. Blackbeard's ship!

And from what she could tell, she was caught in the midst of a battle.

All around her, a ragtag army of pirates swarmed the deck, gathering near the cannons that lined one side of the sloop. Many of the men held small wooden kegs under their arms and others hurriedly lugged cannonballs from one side of the ship to the other.

"We've cut the villains in half!"

Meredith turned toward the booming voice. A towering hulk of a man stood in the center of the deck, a man she'd only seen in her mind's eye and old illustrations. But now, the pirate Blackbeard stood before her. And he was alive!

Edward Teach cut a fierce figure, tall and broad-shouldered, his waist-long beard twisted into strands, his bushy black mustache covering his mouth. Over a ragged coat, leather belts crisscrossed his chest with a brace of pistols looped in each. He wielded a cutlass in his left hand and a cocked pistol in his right.

"Damnation," Teach shouted. "The cannons have put us aground!"

Meredith watched, concealed in the ship's tender as the battle of Ocracoke Inlet began to unfold before her eyes. The events were happening exactly as she knew they would. As the crew scurried to refloat the ship, Lieutenant Maynard's two sloops were reeling from the pirate's eight-gun broadside attack. Half of Maynard's Royal Navy contingent was already dead or wounded.

Frantically, Meredith scanned the deck for Griffin. Was he on board the pirate ship? Or had he sailed with Maynard's crew? All she knew was that she had to find him, for she had been dropped into this place and time for a reason. And in her heart, she believed it was to save his life.

Slowly, she pushed to her feet. But before she could get a good look around, the ship lurched again and she tumbled headfirst out of the tender and into a musty pile of wool blankets. The deck rolled beneath her. The Adventure had broken free of the sandbar.

With her head down, Meredith crawled to the rail and wedged herself into a secluded spot behind a coil of rope. Blackbeard's ship lay just off the southern tip of Ocracoke. And out in the Sound, on the other side of the sandbar, Maynard's two sloops were struggling to free themselves from a shallow shoal. The Rangerlooked badly damaged, but Maynard's other sloop was now afloat and closing the distance between it and the Adventure.

Meredith squinted across the water at the oncoming sloop. She could clearly see the men on deck, could even hear their shouts. Had there been no danger to her own safety, she could have called Griffin's name, but she remained silent, watching, waiting, fearing discovery.

And then her gaze fell on a familiar figure, standing at the rail of Maynard's sloop. She rubbed her eyes and looked again, then offered up a silent prayer of gratitude. He was still alive! Thank God, Griffin was still alive!

The breeze whipped his long dark hair around his face and fluttered the full sleeves of his white linen shirt. He, too, gazed across the water, his eyes fixed on the bow of Teach's ship. Did he know she was here? He couldn't possibly see her, but could he sense her presence?

With growing trepidation, Meredith watched as history happened before her eyes. Most of the men on board Maynard's ship had mysteriously disappeared, leaving only a few to be seen. Meredith knew they were waiting below deck, on the lieutenant's order, for Blackbeard's men to board. Only then, would they spring from the hold and attack. After what seemed like hours, the Adventurebumped alongside the deserted sloop.