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 a chance at 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 not to 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.
Soon, every muscle in Alex’s body burned. Every pull on the oar seemed more taxing, every trip up the hill more arduous than the one before. He was paying a price for his days lying flat in bed.
Wearily climbing aboard the Kittiwake and going below for another search of the ship, he found something light in a dark corner. Something that made the pain and exhaustion all worthwhile.
After Laura finished breakfast and started down the corridor, she heard their cook-housekeeper calling to her, sounding none too happy. “Miss Laura!”
Laura turned and made her way to the scullery. “Yes, Wenna?”
The elderly woman pointed to the shelf with a frown on her lined face. “Could I ask’ee to remove yer things from my scullery? That hat smells fouler than a wet dog.”
“Oh. Sorry. Right away.”
Laura sheepishly gathered the hat and flask. After polishing the flask, she had decided it was indeed silver. But she had been so busy with their houseguest that she had not taken the time to clean the hat properly, and it was now in a sad, odiferous state. She had neglected it too long.
With a sigh, Laura carried the two things out to the icehouse and added them to her collection.
After that, she and Eseld walked out to Trebetherick Point together.
From there, the two watched the salvaging efforts below. The volunteers picked up wrapped bales of some kind as well as wooden pieces of the ship and thick coils of rope.
Laura’s eyes were continually drawn back to Alexander. He worked hard, straining at the oar, climbing into and out of the Kittiwake, loading crates and bales, helping the other men hoist the anchors from the depths, and tossing down sails and cordage into the waiting boats.
Each time they brought a load back to the beach, she studied him. His face gleamed with perspiration, and now and again he rested his hands on slim hips to catch his breath or stretch his back. Knowing of the deep cut in his side and the still-healing ankle, she winced in sympathy, thinking of the pain and exhaustion he must be feeling, though he endeavored to conceal it, determined to earn his wages like everyone else. Determined to get home.
By contrast, Tom Parsons paused often to chat with the other men or to lean against the wagon, smoking a cigar.
Just before the men broke for a noon meal, Alexander waved to her, gesturing for her to come to him. Laura hoped he had not injured himself anew.
As she hurried down the slope, she heard Parsons call, “What have’ee