the same as these pies, although Garran says that nowadays a wide variety of fillings are used. Some shops even make them with fruit filling. Anyway, the classic Cornish pasty is flat on the bottom so it could be warmed up, and they have a distinctive crimped edge. In the mines, the crimped part acted as a handle, and the miners would discard it, because they often had arsenic on their hands, but I’ve noticed that most people in Garran’s bar eat the entire crust.”
Sarah edged forward, her meal forgotten. “Sounds interesting. So the miners used it as a portable meal.”
“Exactly.” Jamie wiped up the last of his gravy and popped the bread in his mouth. “I don’t know why I thought of that.” He pointed to her plate. “Eat up.”
She pushed the plate away. “I’ve had enough. I suppose we should look for those items for Melissa and get back to the boat.” She stood reluctantly. “This has been a wonderful break, but I confess I’m ready to continue the voyage. How much longer do you think we’ll be?”
“A couple of months, more or less.”
Sarah nodded. “That’s what I thought.” Jamie insisted on paying for their meals and she reluctantly accepted his offer.
“Tell you what,” he said, sensing her hesitation. “Allow me to sample the first pastie you make, and we’re even.”
“Fair enough,” she said, as they started back toward the pier. “Although it might take some experimentation.”
Chapter Seven
WindSprite left Valparaiso shortly before sunset, pushed swiftly out to sea by the late day offshore breezes that funneled down through the valleys. The captain didn’t plan to stop again, and Sarah experienced a tightening in her stomach, which she recognized as nerves. Prior to rounding the Cape, San Francisco had been more of a far-off dream than a reality. Focused on the extreme weather and sea conditions, she had deferred thinking about practicalities until the dangerous part of the voyage had passed, but she couldn’t put it off any longer.
Lucy’s warnings about the difficulty of finding somewhere to live worried her more than she let on. She and her mother had tried to plan for every possibility, but it had never occurred to them that there would be no rooms available for rent. At least, no rooms that would be suitable for a woman by herself.
She followed the progress of the sun as it slipped below the horizon, painting the cloud layers in brilliant shades of orange, apricot and plum... a fruit salad of color. What would she do if she arrived and there was nowhere for her to stay? She let out a nervous laugh. There was nothing she could do about it now, out here in the Pacific Ocean.
“Is everything all right?” Jamie appeared, and took his usual place at her side on the rail.
“Sure. Everything’s fine.” Her voice sounded shrill, even to her own ears.
He watched her carefully, but said nothing. That was another thing she liked about him; he didn’t feel the need to talk constantly, and he didn’t demand answers.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, lighting one of the thin cigars he allowed himself. He had run out just before the Cape, but he’d replenished his supply in Valparaiso. “How was tonight’s sunset?”
“It was lovely,” she said absent-mindedly. Only faint streaks of color remained in the western sky.
A thin stream of smoke escaped his lips and she lifted her head as it blew in her direction. She’d become accustomed to the sweet scent of the tobacco, and knew she would miss it when she reached San Francisco. Not for the first time, she was reminded that every hour they sailed brought her closer to the moment when Jamie would go his own way.
She glanced at his profile and swallowed a sigh. Why couldn’t she have met someone like him back on the east coast? A silly question, but one she couldn’t help but ask. Of course if she’d met a man like him, she wouldn’t be here now.
“What is it, Sarah?” He kept looking out to sea, as though
Sarah edged forward, her meal forgotten. “Sounds interesting. So the miners used it as a portable meal.”
“Exactly.” Jamie wiped up the last of his gravy and popped the bread in his mouth. “I don’t know why I thought of that.” He pointed to her plate. “Eat up.”
She pushed the plate away. “I’ve had enough. I suppose we should look for those items for Melissa and get back to the boat.” She stood reluctantly. “This has been a wonderful break, but I confess I’m ready to continue the voyage. How much longer do you think we’ll be?”
“A couple of months, more or less.”
Sarah nodded. “That’s what I thought.” Jamie insisted on paying for their meals and she reluctantly accepted his offer.
“Tell you what,” he said, sensing her hesitation. “Allow me to sample the first pastie you make, and we’re even.”
“Fair enough,” she said, as they started back toward the pier. “Although it might take some experimentation.”
Chapter Seven
WindSprite left Valparaiso shortly before sunset, pushed swiftly out to sea by the late day offshore breezes that funneled down through the valleys. The captain didn’t plan to stop again, and Sarah experienced a tightening in her stomach, which she recognized as nerves. Prior to rounding the Cape, San Francisco had been more of a far-off dream than a reality. Focused on the extreme weather and sea conditions, she had deferred thinking about practicalities until the dangerous part of the voyage had passed, but she couldn’t put it off any longer.
Lucy’s warnings about the difficulty of finding somewhere to live worried her more than she let on. She and her mother had tried to plan for every possibility, but it had never occurred to them that there would be no rooms available for rent. At least, no rooms that would be suitable for a woman by herself.
She followed the progress of the sun as it slipped below the horizon, painting the cloud layers in brilliant shades of orange, apricot and plum... a fruit salad of color. What would she do if she arrived and there was nowhere for her to stay? She let out a nervous laugh. There was nothing she could do about it now, out here in the Pacific Ocean.
“Is everything all right?” Jamie appeared, and took his usual place at her side on the rail.
“Sure. Everything’s fine.” Her voice sounded shrill, even to her own ears.
He watched her carefully, but said nothing. That was another thing she liked about him; he didn’t feel the need to talk constantly, and he didn’t demand answers.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, lighting one of the thin cigars he allowed himself. He had run out just before the Cape, but he’d replenished his supply in Valparaiso. “How was tonight’s sunset?”
“It was lovely,” she said absent-mindedly. Only faint streaks of color remained in the western sky.
A thin stream of smoke escaped his lips and she lifted her head as it blew in her direction. She’d become accustomed to the sweet scent of the tobacco, and knew she would miss it when she reached San Francisco. Not for the first time, she was reminded that every hour they sailed brought her closer to the moment when Jamie would go his own way.
She glanced at his profile and swallowed a sigh. Why couldn’t she have met someone like him back on the east coast? A silly question, but one she couldn’t help but ask. Of course if she’d met a man like him, she wouldn’t be here now.
“What is it, Sarah?” He kept looking out to sea, as though
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