Page 52 of A Castaway in Cornwall
After several failed attempts, Alexander spoke up. “Mind if I give it a try?”
“A cocky one, are’ee?” the man nearest him said.
Alex shrugged. He and his men had thrown many a grappling hook over the years. The hooks were used to catch an enemy ship’s rigging prior to boarding. He well remembered the dread of hearing the teeth of a grappling hook ensnaring his own ship. It had been the beginning of the loss of his belovedVictorine.
Alex carefully moved forward, took the other man’s place, coiled, aimed, and threw. His first throw slithered over the wet rigging but failed to catch. Determined, he retrieved the rope and threw the hook again, this time snagging the rigging successfully.
“Proper job,” the coxswain commended. “Not yer first time at this, I gather.”
“No, sir” was the only explanation Alex offered.
The crew from theSpeedwellattached a hook as well. Line secured, the boat managed to draw alongside the damagedKittiwake. Mr. Tresidder, engineer and shipbuilder, boarded first, making sure the vessel was relatively stable. Then the others joined him, searching the ship’s storerooms and holds for cargo.
The men succeeded in saving the mate’s chest and several barrels of salted herring, as well as a good quantity of corn.
The pilot gigs carried the salvaged goods to shore, where Jago and several other men and even a few bal maidens—women who worked for the mine—carried loads up the steep path to waiting wagons, guarded by a customs official and newly arrived officers of the North Devon Militia.
The Cornish gigs handled the waves with relative ease. If only the pilots had been able to reach theKittiwakethe night of the wreck, before Daniel drowned.
“Did you not hear our distress signal?” Alex asked the coxswain.
The man swallowed. “You were on the ship?”
Alex nodded.
“Ah. Yer the survivor....”
The man looked to his mates. “No. Guess we didn’t hear it. We were all in our cups.”
“A pity. I lost my closest friend that night, and more.”
The coxswain ducked his head, avoiding Alexander’s eyes. “I’m sorry ... for yer loss. Would have helped if we ... could.” He sliced a glance toward Tom Parsons and then turned away. “Well, time to call it a day, I reckon.”
After dinner that evening, Alex asked Matthew Bray about the pilot gigs, and if he had been surprised they failed to show up the night of theKittiwake’s demise.
The clergyman nodded. “I was. The gigs often carry local pilots out to guide incoming ships into safe harbour. Times are hard for local men, and competition for the pilot fees is usually fierce, so I was surprised none of them tried to reach theKittiwake.
“One theory I overheard whispered in the village shop was that Tom Parsons, hoping for a rich wreck, somehow preventedthe pilots from responding, perhaps even bribing them. Most people do not think the brave Padstow pilots would fall to such temptation, while others would not blame them if they had. If Parsons offered to pay each pilot the usual fee, why risk his life for only achanceat a reward? But this is only rumor, remember. I can’t believe it’s true.”
Alex, however, recalled the guilty look on the coxswain’s face, and his telling glance toward Tom Parsons, and could believe it. Did believe it.
He was preparing for bed that night when a soft knock came to his door. He went to answer it and found Miss Callaway standing there, hair in a long plait over her shoulder. For a moment, he was reminded of his childhood friend, the pretty girl next door who had eventually become his brother’s wife.
“I just thought you might want some liniment,” she said. “You worked hard today.” She handed him a jar. “My own father’s recipe. Camphor, comfrey, cayenne, and arnica.”
“Thank you. I think. Will I stink to high heaven?”
She shrugged. “I have always found it quite pleasant.”
“Well then, that’s good enough for me.” He pressed her hand. “Very thoughtful of you, Miss Callaway. I suppose I looked like an invalid today, hobbling back?”
“Not at all. You are obviously a very strong man.”
His heart thumped. At that moment, he would have given his every worldly possession to have her rub the liniment into his aching back and shoulders. Sadly, he knew he could not ask it of her, much as he might wish to.
Alex awoke feeling more sore than he could ever remember being, despite the aromatic liniment. He was determined notto give up, however, so he joined the other volunteers as they reassembled on the beach. Matthew Bray came down to encourage the men, while a few others watched the proceedings from the point above.
On their second day, they picked up several bales of wool wrapped in jute, as well as the ship’s bowsprit, yards, cables, and shrouds.
