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“But what are you planning?”
“I need to know everything that has been going on at Berkley and then, I mean to find her, pin Farley against a wall and kill him in slow degrees.”
Jules’s brow was up, “Aye, I don’t doubt it, and so…that is how it is?”
Sir Edward turned and looked at him hard, “That is how it is.”
Jules smiled, “I am glad of it, Edward. You and Star, I think, are meant. But come on then, we must not allow anything to hold us up.”
“Nothing will hold me up,” Sir Edward growled. “Nothing!”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“FAMOUS! EXCLAIMED VERN as the wind took The Vision speedily toward their destination. “Here, Miles, come over here and help me read these maps, I can’t make any sense of them.”
Miles laughed and came over, “Aye, Aye, Captain. This is all so grand, isn’t it?”
“If you say so,” Vern grimaced. “Not my cup of tea, though.”
“I must get a boat…something a bit smaller than this…” Miles said.
“First things first,” Vern said frowning at him.
“Which is?”
“The map, Miles, the map.”
“Oh right,” Miles said and laughed as he took to studying it, looked around for a marker and contemplated the coastline before saying with confidence, “We are right on course. Now, going to fetch a bumper of ale for each of us, damned thirsty.”
“Yes, indeed…I am as well and bring up that fresh bread and cheese. Damned glad we let that hawker talk us into it, hungry.”
A few moments later found them in perfect harmony, tearing off chunks of bread from the loaf, stuffing it with cheese and making short work of it as they sipped their ale.
A sudden lurch of the boat made Vern spill some of his ale into Miles’ lap which made Miles curse his friend soundly before he poured some ale over Vern’s head. A food fight of no mean order followed this until they were laughing long and hard over their foolishness.
A screeching sound, unmistakable screeching of renting sail brought their heads around and up. To the screeching was added a groaning sound that makes even the least knowledgeable sailor sober. Miles looked contemplated at the sail with a sinking heart as he turned to Vern and cursed softly.
“What? What now?” Vern cried.
“This is bad,” Miles answered gravely, “But not all that bad…it is the triangular sail—see it flapping? It’s torn free of its mast. It will need to be repaired.”
“What?” Vern demanded worriedly. “Can we do that?”
“We’ll have to sail into the shallows, anchor, and repair the damage before we can proceed,” Miles said thoughtfully. “Though I seem to remember you said something earlier about your father always storing spare sailing supplies. Do you have a spare jib?”
Vern gave this some thought. “I seem to remember Papa counting a spare jib amongst the things he had stored below. This is my fault. Star told me before we left that she remembered the last time she sailed with Papa that the jib looked badly worn. Damn, but she will never let me live this down.”
Miles grinned, “Even if she forgets, I won’t.”
“Devil,” Vern said and smiled as he made his way down the companionway stairs.
Miles took the helm and steered toward the shallows, calling out, “Did you get it…do we have it?”
“Still looking!” Vern called up.
* * *
Star was not thinking about the jib or The Vision a
