Pity washed over Laura. She thought of her poor aunt Anne, who had died in similar circumstances.
“At all events,” he continued, “I was determined to help Alan and see my ailing father, and to return Daniel to his beloved wife. So he and I made our plans.”
His wounds tended, Laura repacked Miss Chegwin’s supplies.
Alexander rose and began pacing the room. “We broke curfew, and my neighbor sneaked us out of Peterborough in her coach. We made our way to Yarmouth. There, we hoped to find a ship to take us to the south coast or even farther, but the only southbound ship we were able to find that day was the Kittiwake. We didn’t want to wait around and increase our risk of recapture. We knew the Kittiwake wouldn’t take us to France, but it would get us far away from the local militia pursuing us and to the southwest coast, where we thought we’d find plenty of ships crossing the Channel. The captain welcomed us and our money and gave us a small cabin, and we went in, praising God we’d made it.
“But moments later our cabin door burst open and there stood François, triumphant. He said if we objected to sharing the cabin, he would tell the captain we were escaped prisoners of war, and I believed he would have, even if it meant implicating himself.”
Alexander slowly shook his head. “Such uncanny bravado. He didn’t seem to worry about being caught. It convinced me he really did have British connections who would come to his aid if worse came to worst.”
“He stayed in that small cabin with us throughout the journey. Shared our food and sprawled across one of the two bunks, leaving Daniel and me to take turns on the second.
“One day he again boasted about the important letter in his possession. . . .”
In their small cabin, François pulled a folded page from his pocket with a flourish. “You, Alexandre, would find this especially intéressante. If only your brother possessed such a letter. Mais, non. Tant pis pour lui.” Too bad for him.
With a self-satisfied grin, François tucked the letter into his pocket, out of sight.
Might that paper, whatever it was, truly exonerate Alan? Alexander wondered. Or was François merely taunting him to provoke a fight? Alexander’s fingers curled into a fist, ready to oblige him. But remembering how François had tormented Daniel in the prison camp, he feared his smaller friend would end up being hurt if violence broke out in that confined space. Alexander clenched his teeth until his jaw ached and he’d mastered his anger.
“What is your plan once we reach Portreath?” Alexander asked him. “If you think we will take you with us to France, you are badly mistaken.”
François shrugged. “I have no wish to go to France. Jersey is my goal.” Again he patted the letter in his pocket.
A crewman delivered a simple dinner of boiled salt beef and biscuits, his expression more harried than usual.
“Anything amiss?” Alex asked.
“Heavy seas, sir. Captain says it ain’t safe to enter the harbour at Portreath. We have to go farther. Sure to be a long night.”
Alex sent Daniel a concerned look, wondering how this delay would affect their onward travel plans. Unwilling to discuss it with François present, the men settled into tense silence broken only by idle conversation.
Hours later, François restlessly stood. “Excusez-moi, garçons. I think I will go on deck to speak with the captain.” He opened the door and, before he closed it, smirked, saying, “Don’t talk about me while I’m gone.”
When his boot steps faded, Alex sat on a low stool facing Daniel on the bunk. The two shared a long, sober look.
In a low voice, Daniel asked in French, “What should we do about François?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think he will betray us to the authorities when we land in Cornwall, him with his powerful letter and us with nothing?”
“It is a possibility.”
“He is up there ingratiating himself no doubt to the captain and crew.”
Alexander had not thought of that. “What can we do? It will be our word against his.”
“But you sound like an Englishman. He does not.”
“Nor do you, mon ami,” Alexander reminded him. He might be able to talk his way out of arrest, but his friend with limited English and no passport could not.
“True.” Daniel winced in concentration. He glanced at the coil of rope on the floor and asked, “Could we restrain him here in the cabin? Just to give