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“You can’t give me the one thing that I want,” she said in almost a whisper.
He felt like a boor as he responded, “I have my reasons.”
“I understand.”
“It has nothing to do with you, Emme,” he pressed. “You must believe me.”
Her eyes left his, shifting towards the water, and he could see her blinking back tears. He wanted to pull her into his arms, to comfort her, but he knew it wasn’t his place.
They stood in silence for a long moment, and Oliver knew it was time for him to tell his wife that he was leaving soon. He had already come up with a believable lie.
“I wanted to discuss something with you,” he started. “I am going to be leaving—”
Emmeline cut him off as she pointed towards the water. “What is that?”
Oliver turned and saw a barrel floating in the water, the metal bands reflecting off the moonlight. His alert eyes scanned the water, and he saw multiple barrels floating in the small waves.
Smugglers.
He grabbed Emmeline’s hand and led her towards an outcropping. As he ducked behind the rocks, he said in a low, hushed voice, “You need to run back to Lockhart Manor as fast as you can.”
“Why?”
“You must trust me.”
Emmeline tilted her chin stubbornly. “Not until you tell me what is going on.”
Knowing time was of the essence, he quickly explained, “It is common for smugglers to drop the barrels from their ship into the water and let the current bring them to shore. Then, they follow behind in rowboats.”
Oliver slowly raised his head above the rocks, and he could hear the sound of oars slapping against the water before he saw the two rowboats in the distance.
“Blazes,” he muttered.
“What is wrong?”
“If you ran back to Lockhart Manor now, there is a chance that the smugglers will see you,” Oliver said. “We have no choice but to remain where we are.”
He was grateful that he had his muff pistol in his right boot, but he knew it would do little against a band of smugglers. Besides, he had to keep Emmeline safe. He couldn’t very well confront the smugglers without putting her in danger. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew he could do little at the moment except keep an eye on the scene before them.
It felt like hours but was probably only moments before the rowboats came closer to shore. He watched as the smugglers jumped out of the boats and dragged them onto the sand. He counted a total of six men, all dressed in dark clothing.
The men stepped into the water and retrieved the barrels. They tossed them up on their shoulders as if they weighed no more than a bag of feathers and headed towards the cliff. To Oliver’s surprise, they disappeared for a moment and reemerged with empty hands.
The smugglers repeated their actions until eighteen barrels had been removed from the water and stored somewhere along the cliff’s wall. Then, they pushed the rowboats back into the water, disappearing into the night.
Oliver turned towards Emmeline and ordered, “Stay here.” His tone brooked no argument.
She nodded her understanding.
He remained low as he left the safety of the rocks and headed towards where he saw the smugglers disappear near the cliff. As he approached, he saw a small crevice in the cliff’s wall and stepped inside. It was dark and damp, but he could make out the outline of the barrels stacked up against the wall.
He hurried back to Emmeline and shared, “There is a small cave in the cliff’s wall where the smugglers put the barrels.”
“What do we do?” Emmeline asked.
“There is nothing we can do now,” he said. “But tomorrow we will ride into the village and inform the constable of what transpired here.”
Emmeline’s wide eyes watched him, but she remained quiet.
