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He hadn’t been fooled.
He knew something else. These men, though they seemed to like Jerry and take their orders from him, were not being paid by Swit. They were locals. They had been gathered into a crew by a local, and were paid by a local. Hunter had no doubt that it was the squire’s son, David Horwich.
He had watched these seamen at their tasks, and they were a skillful crew that worked as a team. Rope, lines, slings, and sinking stones had all been set in place ready for use if the Custom House vessels guarding the coast threatened. Hunter had no doubt that these men had been hand picked by David.
The weather was still favorable, a soft glow hovered in the sky. Hunter moved amongst the crew as he gazed through the darkness at the sea which was lit by a half moon and many visible, brilliant stars.
“You’re a strange covey,” Swit told him as he passed by.
“Am I?” was all Hunter could answer. “What’s next?”
“I expect we’ll soon be slinking into the harbor where we’ll mingle with the local fishing boats before docking. None will be the wiser.”
“It has been my experience…” his lordship cautioned, “…that we do not always get what we expect, Swit. Have ye ever thought about that?”
Swit shrugged. “Aye, there is a truth in that.”
Hunter noticed that the wind had picked up and the sea had become temperamental. “We won’t be bothered by the excisemen for the sea is tossing aboot up just enough to discourage the cutters.”
“Bloody windy!” commented one of the nearby seamen. “It’ll slow us down.”
“Aw, baby be scared,” said another who laughed over his large belly.
Hunter scanned the sky and stared hard at the scudding clouds. No real storm brewed here, but he leaned against the gunwale and folded his arms across his chest as he put his thoughts in order.
Exerilla was lingering in his brain. Her voice forever tickling his ears, her image stroking his shaft, but more than that…her manners massaged and soothed his soul. He wanted her, but he had a job to do. He had Ferrell to save and he had to discover who the bloody traitor in Wellington’s staff might be. Tonight brought him closer to discovering how it had been accomplished. He was halfway there, but for now he could do some tracking to the source.
He was surprised to see Swit working the sails beside him and was actually good at it. He seemed to enjoy what he
was doing. The men listened to him, took his orders, and he saw him in a slightly different light than he had before.
He was undoubtedly one of the most unprincipled men of his class that Hunter had ever come across, but there was no gainsaying that he was skilled at a great many sports.
They merged with the night as the time passed and their journey progressed. The men jested amongst themselves and worked tirelessly against the force of the wind.
Eventually they worked their way into the cove, cruising in quietly and still under the cover of darkness toward the shoreline.
In spite of the fact that Hunter was there for reasons of his own that had nothing to do with smuggling, he felt a thrill of excitement. Land became evident from the light of a lantern being waved for them.
The lantern signaled that all was safe by going dark to the count of one, two three, and then bright, for one, two, three. This signal was repeated over and over.
The crew heaved sighs of relief.
With sure conviction, Hunter knew what this night had been about. They had gone to great lengths to convince him that their operation was about one thing—brandy smuggling. However, he knew otherwise and tonight had confirmed it. He had heard one of the older sailors remark quietly to a younger cohort, that they hadn’t done the usual run. He seemed relieved by that.
Och aye, thought Hunter. David Horwich and Swit wanted him to believe that this was their dark secret, brandy smuggling. He knew better, and now all he had to do was prove it and hold it over Horwich’s head to get what he wanted. What he wanted was the man behind the operation, and he knew that wasn’t David Horwich!
~ Eighteen ~
PRINCESS TAT LIFTED her head in a willful display of temper. Exerilla laughed and maintained her command, bringing her to a halt with an amicable pat and stroke to the mare’s wide, lovely neck. “There, you silly filly.”
She nimbly dismounted and led the horse toward the stables. A soft voice at her back made her jump.
“Hand over the reins, lass. I’d be pleased to hot walk her for ye, if ye would like to go up to the house and enjoy a cup of tea with Mrs. Lyons and Mrs. Horwich.”
“Oh, my lord,” she said and realized she was smiling like an idiot. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“I wasn’t, love. I just got back and Jeffries is walking my horse. The least I can do is walk yours.” He took the reins and encouraged, “Go on then, sweetheart, join Mrs. Horwich up at the house.”
