tight.
But the creaking stopped. They had almost made it through the narrow tunnel of jagged grey rocks and white foam.
From the rigging, Pucky shouted, “Rock dead ahead, sir!”
“Up helm,” Dyer shouted.
The bowsprit swung away, but the current pushed her stern around.
“Down helm!”
Alexander braced himself for the sound of cracking timber, for the ship’s hull to be crushed.
Seeing the first mate struggle, Alex raced across the deck and added his weight, shoving the tiller to larboard.
A second passed. Two. Alexander held his breath but the sounds of calamity did not come.
“We’re through, sir,” Pucky called from above.
Alex met Laura’s gaze across the deck and released a prayer of thanksgiving. The others threw fists in the air.
Captain Dyer closed his eyes in silent relief, while Treeve wore his as a foolish grin.
Having reached the other side, they saw no sign of the Dolphin, out of view somewhere behind the rocks and spray.
“Well done, men,” Treeve called.
Newlyn’s father made do with a nod, the tension in his jaw revealing the passage had been no mean feat.
The rigging strumming above their heads, the Merry Mary cruised on. At Dyer’s command, the men brought down one of the sails to reduce their speed. The heeling eased.
A short while later, Dryer directed the lugger into a small cove partially hidden by large rocks on either side of its entrance. Alex hoped the secluded harbour meant less chance of being spotted by a passing ship.
Laura sagged against the bulkhead with a sigh of relief. How welcome it was to go from the wild open sea, pounding waves, and flying spray into the calm safety of harbour. The skipper uttered more commands. Soon the other sails were lowered, and they were moored snugly in the tranquil cove.
She gathered up her few possessions and climbed up on deck, uncertainty and fear rippling through her. This had not been part of the plan.
“What now?” she asked. “Where are we?”
Captain Dyer squinted over his charts. “Porthgwarra. Nothing here really. A few cottages and one inn, if memory serves. Porthcurno is a mile and a quarter eastward. And Penzance another ten.”
Treeve hesitated. “Perhaps we can plan to meet you in Penzance tomorrow.”
Dyer shook his head. “It’s your ship, Mr. Kent, but I didn’t like taking a Frenchman and a female aboard the first time. I’m sure not ready to do it again.”
Archie nodded his agreement. “Let ’em find another way to Jersey.”
Treeve looked sheepishly from the crew to Laura and back again. “But I gave them my word. Miss Callaway is a family friend.”
“And my daughter works for her,” Dyer said. “But I don’t care if she is a crown princess—it’s too dangerous with the Dolphin on our trail.”
“It’s all right,” Alexander resolved. “I will find another way. Thank you for bringing me this far, Mr. Kent, men. I know you all took a risk to do so.”
They lowered the small boat, and Alexander climbed in. Laura followed him.
Treeve protested, “Miss Callaway, what are you doing? I can deliver you safely back home. We may need to hide here for a time, but then—”
“Let her go if she wants,” Archie said. “Like the skipper said, no good comes of having a woman on board. Nor a Frenchie either.”
Alexander frowned. “Laura, no. This has gone too far. We can’t go wandering aimlessly across the country together.”
“I agree. We are not going to wander aimlessly. We are going to Penzance. I know someone there who might help.”
A few minutes later, Treeve and Pucky rowed them ashore in the tender, then Treeve took her aside. “What do I tell your family?”
Her family was all gone, but she knew he meant the Brays.
“Tell them I am well and grieved to worry them—that I have gone to visit my parents’ grave and will return when I can.”
Eagerness widened his eyes. “You need only write and I’ll sail back for you. I regret I cannot take you there and back now.” He pressed her hand. “I am sorry we failed you, little turnstone.”
Hearing his sweet, silly pet name for her, nostalgia squeezed her heart. “Don’t be. I will forever be grateful for your help.”
He gave her a rueful grin. “Better wait and see how grateful you feel when all this is over. I hope you don’t live to regret it.”
Laura managed a wobbly smile in return. “Me too.”
From June 1810 to June 1812, a total of 464 officers broke their parole, of which 307 made it across the Channel aided by smugglers.
—PAUL CHAMBERLAIN, THE NAPOLEONIC PRISON OF NORMAN