Page 73 of A Castaway in Cornwall
When newcomers complained of deprivation, the militia guarding the barracks tried to ferret out those responsible. But no one would name names. Alexander wished he had evidence against the man, but he had none, as François had wisely left him alone.
“Why will no one say anything?” Alexander asked in frustration.
“They are afraid of LaRoche,” another prisoner answered. “He wields power here.”
Alexander couldn’t speak for the others, but he could guess why Daniel remained silent. He was afraid Alex would fight François and both would be sent to the Black Hole or, worse, to one of the hellish hulks instead of this relatively comfortable inland prison.
To get to the bottom of it, the prison officials eventually closed down the market. Their source of funds cut off, two of François’s victims finally stepped forward and named LaRoche as the provisions dealer. Guards immediately put him in the Black Hole, a windowless block of cells where prisoners were kept shackled on half rations as punishment for gross offenses.
Alexander’s relief at this justice was short-lived. The superintendent learned of it and had François released by morning, supposedly believing his claims that the men had sold their own provisions to fund their lust for gaming and blamed him as a scapegoat.
Witnessing François’s power in the prison, and concerned over Daniel’s growing fear and worsening health, Alexander changed his mind about parole. He signed a parole certificate,requested Daniel accompany him as his servant, and left Norman Cross for parole in Peterborough.
He’d hoped they’d seen the last of François LaRoche.
He’d been wrong.
Laura was on her way out the door to find out where Alexander had disappeared to when Eseld stopped her. “Miss Roskilly has invited us to go shopping with her in Padstow this afternoon. Will you join us?”
It was rare for Miss Roskilly to include her. Laura realized she should have been gratified but was instead distracted by more important matters. “I don’t think so, Eseld. But thank her for me.”
Eseld shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Laura was just stepping through the garden gate when Alexander returned, head hung low.
He glanced up, and she got a better look at his face. Seeing his swollen eye and cracked lip, alarm shot through her.
“What happened?”
“I went to Padstow to find a ship. Instead I found François and Tom Parsons.”
“Oh no. Are you all right?”
“I will be.”
“No luck finding passage?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. The sailors I spoke to seemed suspicious of me for some reason.”
“Perhaps because of this.” She handed him the newspaper and waited while he read it.
He looked up at her dully and handed the paper back without a word.
“I think it is time you told me the truth, Alexander. If that is your real name.”
He looked around and lowered his voice. “I am sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. As I mentioned, I have learned not to trust others.”
She huffed. “I have given you every reason to trust me, and I can prove it.”
“How?”
She led him away from the house so they would not be overheard by Wenna or Newlyn. “I have had ample opportunity to report what I suspected to the agent or customs officer, but I have said nothing to contradict you.”
His eyes hardened. “And what is it you might have reported were youlesstrustworthy?”
“I might have told them that I saw the initialsT.O.in the collar of your friend’s shirt and smallclothes. I am well read and know what those initials mean and where those clothes came from.”
His jaw tightened. “Do you indeed?”
