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The feelings were always mixed. A great feeling of patriotism while fighting her country's enemies and the sorrow that this had to go on. She was a strong Gunny, but she never forgot she was fighting living, breathing, human beings. The battle ended as it always did out here in the gulf. The pirates fled, leaving their dead in the water to sink and feed the sharks. The Marines began policing their position, picking up their brass, and, when it had cooled down, cleaning their weapon. Gunny Atwater moved to begin working on her reports due after any action. Her platoon sergeant did the same. Reports helped them all to become better Marines after any action. As she made her way to her office space below decks she happened to see the Chief she had been eyeing earlier. He was placing his men back to work after the small battle had ended. They still had deck duties to accomplish. She looked him up and down, then noticed he was doing the same to her. Unconsciously, she blushed. Her face. They walked back to the big house together. They were happy. They had explored, and found that which they sought. It was as though a quest had ended. For the rest of the day, and for the night, no one saw either of them again. The slave girl was dazed by her discovery of herself and of the bond which her mistress had woven. She lived in the moment, refusing to think back or to gaze ahead. When she was taken to the dungeon the following morning she was happy enough to place her ankles and watch them locked into the familiar grooves of the stocks. She was not bound. She sat upon her bench and dreamed of slavery. No one disturbed her. That night she was returned to her mistress’s bed. She wore her handcuffs. Harriet´s boat was not the size of Mike’s, but it was big enough that it could not be beached. From its deck Dorinda recognized. The Island. Her heart thudded, almost painfully, as her wrists were handcuffed behind her back. It was with a sense of unreality that she stepped into.
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