Chapter 20
Fox spotted the union jack fluttering astern and his heart started beating again.
A crew member hailed them.
“Shite,” Gaz mumbled.
Fox pushed Perry and Pip up. “We’ll come alongside,” Fox shouted. “Do it,” he told Gaz and Davy.
“Out for a row?” The uniformed officer peered down at the boat. “It is a fine evening.”
Another man, attired in dark coats, came up beside the officer.
Fox’s nerves prickled, and he pulled the coats higher over Perry. He didn’t recognize the man, but he knew the look.
And still, the role must be played. “I’m Goodfellow, from Gorse Cottage. Two of my servants were waylaid and robbed on their way back from Scarborough. Villains held them awhile. We found them just in time to fish them out of the water.” He shifted again and braced his arms on the sides of the boat. “Three men on their way to the point north of the cottage took them and left them for dead. They were in a great hurry to meet a shipment coming in further north. Didn’t want witnesses.”
“Your vessel looks like a smuggler’s craft to me. What else have you got in that boat?” the officer asked.
“Nought but these two wet bedraggled bodies needing dry clothes and medical attention. Drop a man over to search if you will, but hurry before a fever takes them.”
The two men conversed quietly.
“What are they bringing in?” the civilian asked.
“We don’t know.”
“You two at the oars. What are they bringing?”
Davy looked at Gaz. “Sir, we don’t know. My boy’s freezing and I’d like to get him home safe and dry him up.”
“Can your boys identify the smugglers?”
Perry swayed in her seat and began to gag. Fox steadied her as she leaned her head over the side, hair shielding her face. Nothing came of her dry heaving, and he wondered if it was a ruse.
“No,” Pip called. “It were nobody from here, I think.”
“What does the other one say?”
“This one was beaten almost senseless. For God’s sake, go north and check. Come round to the cottage after, if you will,” Fox said.Shoot at us if you will.“Gorse Cottage. Oars in, boys.”
“Assassins,” she whispered.
“Shhh,” he breathed into her ear.Assassins. She’d pronounced it the French way.
“Wait,” she croaked up at the boat. The plainly dressed gentleman took out a spy glass.
Fox pushed her down.
“They were meeting assassins,” she whispered.
“What is he saying?” the officer shouted.
“The cargo might be an assassin.”
At a word from the gentleman, the Captain turned to give orders.
The gentleman leaned over the decking. “Take care of yourservants, and get yourself into dry clothes,Goodfellow. Your work here is done.”
