Page 23
“Some guid men work fer that yard.”
Robbie attempted a grunt of agreement, relieved the man did not ask for a name.
The proprietor poured the ale, then looked over his shoulder at the ship. “That’d be the Panmure, built right ’ere in Arbroath by Alex Fernie. Named fer the Earl of Panmure, who lost his title efter the Fifteen. She’s in the harbor now if’n ye want tae get a look at ’er. She sails fer France end of the month.”
“She’s a bonnie ship.” Robbie speculated this could be the ship on which George Kinloch intended to sail were he holed up in Arbroath and looking for escape. “She tak’ passengers?”
“’Tis a merchantman, but, aye, sometimes the master’ll tak’ a few. Lookin’ tae sail south?”
“Mebbe.” Robbie downed the rest of his ale.
“Cap’n Gower’s a former mate o’ mine,” he offered. “Ye might ask if’n he has room in the crew’s quarters.”
Robbie made a mental note of the shipmaster’s name, thanked the proprietor and, with as few words as possible, indicated he might return in a day or two.
Anxious to see the Panmure for himself, Robbie tugged his cap down on his head and launched into the cold wind blowing onshore. He set a brisk pace as he strode to the quay, setting in his mind the two taverns he’d visited, the men he’d encountered and conversations he’d had so he could report all to Nash. To act for each other, they had to possess the same information.
Several ships were in the harbor. He had passed them before without much notice since his focus had been on the taverns. Now he carefully scrutinized them.
The three-masted Panmure, the largest, was tied up at her moorings, her sails harbor-furled, rolled up tight and tidy as he would expect in a squared-away ship. The few sailors on deck stood out of the wind in huddled conversation, not busy with repairs or loading. The ship would not be sailing anytime soon. Most of the crew were likely in town or with their families.
Taking the gangway in a few long strides, he looked to the officer of the watch. “Cap’n Gower around?”
“No, he’s gone into town, but he should return tonight.”
Robbie couldn’t wait that long. The noon meal might be in process at the Stephens and he intended to return for the afternoon. “I dinna suppose Cap’n Gower takes passengers?”
“Aye, he does, but the passenger cabins have been booked for the next sailin’.” He lifted his gaze to the ships lined up at the quay. “You might try one of the others in the harbor.”
Robbie tipped his cap. “Much obliged.”
As he headed back to Stephen’s shipyard, he wondered if the cabins were reserved for George Kinloch and whoever might be traveling with him. The coincidence of the ship’s destination and Kinloch’s former association with that country were too great to ignore.
