Page 61 of The Cornish Widow

She shook her head. “Of course not. Captain Jack will have us home and safe soon. But just in case he wants us to do anything, we have to stay awake. Well, I do. You lean your head on my shoulder and close your eyes.” A lie, but she didn’t want to worry him. He was too young to realize just how dangerous their situation could turn out to be.

He leaned his head on her shoulder as she suggested, and very soon slipped down until his head was in her lap, fast asleep. She tucked the blanket more closely around him. How lucky he was that he could just shut the tension of the night out and fall sleep. Probably better that he did. Sleep had never felt further away for Harriet.

Jack was standing in the bows still, staring out into the darkness, every inch of him alert. As the moon peeped out from behind a cloud, the pale oval of his face glimmered a little, a worried frown marring his brow. How often did a revenue ship come after them? She had no way of knowing and wasn’t about to disturb his vigil. She stiffened her back and remained silent.

They’d sailed on in this new direction for some time before Jack and Will ordered another direction change, with the sails swinging above her head into their new position. By now, Harriet was growing more accustomed to the commands in use on board ship. “Prepare to come about. Keep your head down, Mrs. Penhallow. Spars comin’ over.”

With alacrity, the men swung the spars over and, in what felt like only a short minute, The Fly was headed in a different direction yet again. Perhaps they thought they’d gone far enough out of the way to avoid the revenue sloop. She hoped so. But as all around them the darkness of the night pressed in like a heavy, suffocating cloak, how would they know they’d escaped her? The waves reflected the dim glimmer of the occasional stars, and the moon when it peeked out from behind the clouds, but other than that, no light prevailed. Even the lights on the other ship had vanished, so perhaps her sailors had wisely put them out. Or perhaps they were already miles apart.

Tiredness ate into her limbs, and Theo weighed heavy on her lap, making it impossible to shift her position. Her back ached, but there was nothing she could do about it. She pulled the slipping blanket closer around Theo and it slid off her shoulders, bringing a chill with its loss. If only she could put on her woolen dressing gown.

Time dragged by, the rushing of the waves against the hull, the flap of the sails, and the quiet instructions from either Will or Jack the only sounds she could hear. Fear ate at her insides. Fear that they’d be caught, even though, surely, finding them out here on the wide expanse of the sea must be like looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack. Fear also that if they were caught, no one would believe her story. And fear that if they were caught, Jack might be the recipient of rough justice.

The fact that up until tonight she would probably have heartily agreed with the dispensing of justice to smugglers brought a smile to her lips for a moment, to be quickly dashed away when she remembered the danger they were all in. Now she was one of them. She and Theo were part of the crew.

She almost jumped out of her skin as someone draped a coat over her shoulders.

Jack stepped back. “I’m sorry I startled you. I saw you’d lost the blanket.”

She had herself back under control in an instant. “Thank you. Yes, I have been feeling the cold a little. The breeze is fresh.” His warm familiar scent clung to the coat, as though he’d just taken it off, reminding her of when he’d taken her in his arms only last night. How long ago that seemed. What she wouldn’t give to be safe in that bed at Mrs. S’s inn with Theo asleep beside her. She looked up at Jack.

He stood in front of her with his feet planted wide, the better to balance himself on the rolling deck. “You should have called to me. I’d have made sure to find you something to warm you.”

She shook her head, breathing in the coat’s distinctive scent. “It’s nothing. But one thing I would like is to move a little. I’ve grown quite stiff with Theo in my lap.”

“Easily remedied.” He called softly to the boy, Clemo, to fetch some more blankets. These he laid on the deck. “Now, give Theo to me.” As though Theo were feather-light, he extricated him from her arms, scooped him up and laid him on top of the blankets, then tucked another around him. “There. Now let me tuck this one in around you.” He sat down beside her. At their feet, Theo didn’t stir on his blanket bed.

“No one ever done that fer me,” Clemo whispered, but he didn’t sound as if he minded all that much, and departed into the cabin perhaps for a sleep himself.

“Have you lost our pursuers?” Harriet asked.

Jack shrugged. “That’s the plan. The English Channel is a big place and the night’s pretty dark. We’ve diverted a good few miles east of where we saw them, but now we’re heading north for the coast, and we’ll skirt it with caution heading back for home.” He tapped his foot on the deck. “And as for the cargo we’re carrying, I’ve decided it’s a bit risky to try to get it ashore at Bessie’s. We’ll unload it at another little landing site we sometimes use, around Helston way. Porthkeverne. It’s mainly used by fishermen, but they’ll be ready and willing to unload an unexpected cargo and take the money for their help.”

“Will you put Theo and me ashore there as well?”

“Do you want to go ashore? It’s a long way back to Bessie’s. And even if we run into The Dolphin, there’ll be nothing on board to incriminate us.” He laughed. “In fact, I’d like it very much if we do meet them. I’ll be happy to stop and let them search my ship. It’d be worth it to see the looks on their faces.”

“We’ll stay, then, and you can deliver us home.”

He nodded. “If I fetch you some blankets, do you think you can take a nap?”

“No. I’d rather stay awake.”

“Suit yourself. I’m going below to get some food. Shall I fetch some for you?”

She nodded and he departed, leaving her sitting wrapped in his coat, but at least now able to stretch her legs and shift her position. Theo slept on, like the proverbial baby.

She glanced towards the entrance to the cabin, waiting for Jack to return. His manner now had changed entirely. No suggestion of him stealing another kiss. A little part of her was disappointed. If only she didn’t have Ben’s shade forever on her shoulder, but he was something she’d never get away from. He’d always be there, whatever she did to escape him. Like Banquo’s ghost at the feast.

*

They made itinto Porthkeverne Cove just as the sky was beginning to lighten in the east. Jack, on Harriet’s insistence, had carried Theo down into the cabin and stowed him in one of the hammocks, where he continued to sleep undisturbed, and Jack was rather wishing she’d join her son and stay out of the way. The less she knew, the better. It went against the grain to have anyone know where his hidden drop-offs were located. Who knew what pressures someone like Fitz Carlyon could bring to bear on a witness to make them talk?

The tide was mostly out and the stony beach strewn with small fishing boats pulled out above high tide level. Several rowing boats took to the water and, as Jack’s crew dropped anchor, they bumped up against the side of The Fly. Just the reception Jack had anticipated.

“Why, Cap’n Jack and Cap’n Will. What brings you up here this mornin’?” the grizzled oarsman in the first rowing boat called up, hanging onto a rope on the side of The Fly to steady his little boat. “Got somethin’ for us, have ye?”

“Morning to you, Robbo. The St Ives preventitives’re what brings us here,” Jack called down. “We’ve been dodging them all night. We need to use your smoking sheds again.”

“Best get the goods unloaded quick then, afore they come sneakin’ along the coast after ye.” The old man said. “Long Pete’s gone off to get some help. We thought as you’d be in need of it as you was puttin’ in here so early in the mornin’.”

Will leaned over the gunnels beside Jack. “Thought you might guess that.”

Harriet appeared on his other side, and Old Robbo’s eyes widened. “You shippin’ petticoats now, Cap’n?”

Jack laughed. “There’s a long story to that which I won’t bore you with now. We’d best get a move on.”

Unloading in a hurry was the forté of not just his crew but also the fishermen. More small rowing boats arrived, and Harriet was moved out of the way up into the bows again while the crew, helped by a number of the hoary old fishermen, hauled the barrels of brandy up on deck and lowered them into their new transport. In a very short time everything was unloaded and being carried up the beach to the smoke house in a couple of two wheeled carts drawn by sturdy cobs. Jack had used this drop-off on several other such occasions, and his cargo would be safe here. Best not to have all your bottles of brandy in one barrel, so to speak. He had several other such emergency drop-off sites all along Cornwall’s southwestern coastline, and men eager to do his bidding and take a small cut in the profits for their trouble.

There was to be no waiting around to talk though, with the tide still falling. With the anchor hauled up and the sails unfurled, Jack turned The Fly westwards towards home.