Page 94 of A Castaway in Cornwall
“I’ll row,” Alex offered.
“No,” Laura said. “Someone might see you. Martyn is strong enough. Aren’t you, Martyn?”
“Aye. I row regular-like for Pa.”
Alex frowned. “Very well, but I don’t like it.”
When they reached the Padstow harbour a short while later, Martyn hopped out, very fleet of foot, and secured the rope.
Laura was not happy to see a few men loitering about. Did they never sleep? She said under her breath, “Time for your acting debut, Captain.”
He rose to step from the boat to the quay, swayed, and nearly fell backward. She braced his back and gave him a shove forward, and in her best impression of Wenna said, “Out with’ee, old man. Ye bethatblind.”
Alex mumbled something incoherent, or perhaps stifled a laugh.
She kept her face down, back stooped, and stepped out after him, Martyn reaching down to offer her a hand. “Thank’ee, lad.”
Martyn quickly climbed back into the boat, apparently eager to return to his warm bed.
Laura put her arm through Alex’s, oddly glad for the chance to do so. The two leaned on each other, walking up the quay in a stuttering gait that hopefully passed for the aged or intoxicated or both.
One of the seafarers stared at them through bleary eyes.
“What’ee doing out so late, old maids?”
She felt Alex stiffen beside her, but he surprised her, singing a few bars of an old sailor’s ditty in a warbling tone. “‘Of all the wives as e’er you know, Yeo ho! Lads, ho! There’s none like Nancy Lee, I trow—’”
“Hush, man,” she chastised. “Ye’ll wake the dead.”
Back of her neck prickling, Laura resisted the urge to look over her shoulder as she led Alex around the harbour, past the custom house and the shipwright’s, then along the coast out of town. She was relieved to hear no footsteps following them.
Continuing along the bank of the Camel Estuary, they made their way to secluded St. Saviour’s Point, half a mile away.
“How much farther?” he whispered.
“Just down there.” She pointed to a moonlit cove visible between the scrubby trees and rocks. “See?”
“All right. I can go the rest of the way on my own.”
Her heart pounded. “No. They don’t know you. That is, I made the arrangements, so I—”
“I will explain,” Alex assured her. “I met Perry’s brother on several occasions, remember.”
“No. I—”
“Laura, I don’t want to put you in more danger than I already have. Crossing the river was one thing, but meeting known smugglers when the militia are nearby?” He shook his head. “It’s too risky. I don’t like that you’ll have to walk back alone, but—”
“I can’t go back. Martyn has already gone.”
His brows lowered. “Thunder and turf. Why didn’t we tell the boy to wait?”
“Because I didn’t want him to wait. I am going with you.”
He frowned. “Laura, you can’t go off on a ship with rough men. It isn’t seemly.”
“Seemly? I don’t care about that. Besides, my uncle trusts Treeve. He doesn’t know what he’s involved in, but Treeve is not rough nor a stranger. He won’t let any harm come to me.”
“He can’t promise that. No one can. You know better than most how merciless the sea can be. How it breaks hulls and bodies and lays them to waste.”
