Read Online Ripples in the Sand (The Sea Witch Voyages) by Helen Hollick - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Helen Hollick
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sat down opposite Jesamiah.
The lieutenant joined the militiamen beside the fire, nudging them to move along the bench so he could feel the warmth.
“ Sea Witch all settled?” Jesamiah asked, sliding the cider across to Rue. “You drink this. I’ll get us something else when Pegget comes back.” He pointed to the door leading to the kitchen, grinned. “She’s fetching me fresh-baked apple pie. With Devonshire cream.”
“ Très bon , that will suit me also. Oui , the ship she is at rest. I ‘ave left a small guard aboard – young Jasper and a ‘andful of men. The others are makin’ of themselves a nuisance along the quay in the taverns. They ‘ave orders not to trouble you ‘ere.”
Jesamiah nodded his thanks. Rue was a good second in command. Reliable, honest and loyal.
“‘Ow is Mistress Tiola?”
“Well enough. If I’m not satisfied she’s improving by the morrow I’ll send for that physician Jennings recommended. Did you set someone after him by the way?”
Rue wiped cider from his lips. A Breton, he enjoyed the taste, the rich apple smell reminded him of his childhood and his grandmother’s orchards. “ Oui , ‘e went to that first farm‘ouse over at Instow.”
“The one beside the Taw?”
“ Oui .”
Jesamiah rubbed his chin. Was it worth sending someone to stay on Jennings’ track? Mentally he shook his head. To what point? Jennings could end up anywhere, and of what interest were his movements anyway? Satisfied with the decision, Jesamiah grinned wider as Pegget Trevithick appeared bearing a large dish of steaming apple pie.
“There, put that down ‘ee, Cap’n.” She smiled at Rue. “An’ can I get you summat, sir?”
“Give him what I had,” Jesamiah said through a mouthful of pastry, “and I’ll have a large rum if I may?”
Rue’s gaze followed Pegget’s rump as she turned her attention to the other tables, chatting to her customers, retrieving empty tankards, wiping a spillage from one of the benches with the cloth in her hand.
“Keep your lust t’yerself, mon ami .” Jesamiah chortled. “Did you not see she wears a marriage band?”
Rue helped himself to a morsel of apple, blew on it to cool it before popping it into his mouth. “She could be a widow. ‘Ow will I know unless I ask?”
“Fancy yourself as a taverner then, rather than my first quartermaster?”
The question caught Rue unaware. If, for whatever reason, he could not be a seaman what would be the next best thing? Landlord of a tavern might suit well. Maybe here, or in Brittany. Would it be good to go home after all these long years away? His reflective musing was interrupted as Mistress Trevithick approached the four militiamen.
Coming to his feet the lieutenant, a robust man with a scarred cheek and fair hair, grasped her wrist and bent it back so hard she cried out. “Where is your husband, madam? Where is Carter Trevithick? We know he was on that cutter. Was his brother there an’ all, eh? We’ll get ‘em both, believe me we will.”
Another of the men also stood, stepped to Pegget’s other side and pressed his face close to hers. “I reckon ‘er ‘usband’s among the drowned, Lieutenant. Or pissed himself with fear and run off. Ain’t much to hold ‘im here, is there?”
The lieutenant twisted Pegget’s wrist harder, she tried to muffle the pain but a squeak left her lips. “Is that it, woman? Has your thief of a man, caught with his breeches down, made a run for it? We’ll catch the rest of that scum crew and send them on their way to spend a while as guests of the King. They’ll rot in gaol until they try the fit of the noose.”
Jesamiah swallowed the mouthful of fruit and pastry, set his spoon down in the bowl and rested his hand on the hilt of his cutlass. Across the table, Rue loosened the dagger from the sheath at his hip.
The inn had fallen quiet, each man set into stillness waiting, breath held, for the spark that would ignite trouble.
“I repeat. Where is
The lieutenant joined the militiamen beside the fire, nudging them to move along the bench so he could feel the warmth.
“ Sea Witch all settled?” Jesamiah asked, sliding the cider across to Rue. “You drink this. I’ll get us something else when Pegget comes back.” He pointed to the door leading to the kitchen, grinned. “She’s fetching me fresh-baked apple pie. With Devonshire cream.”
“ Très bon , that will suit me also. Oui , the ship she is at rest. I ‘ave left a small guard aboard – young Jasper and a ‘andful of men. The others are makin’ of themselves a nuisance along the quay in the taverns. They ‘ave orders not to trouble you ‘ere.”
Jesamiah nodded his thanks. Rue was a good second in command. Reliable, honest and loyal.
“‘Ow is Mistress Tiola?”
“Well enough. If I’m not satisfied she’s improving by the morrow I’ll send for that physician Jennings recommended. Did you set someone after him by the way?”
Rue wiped cider from his lips. A Breton, he enjoyed the taste, the rich apple smell reminded him of his childhood and his grandmother’s orchards. “ Oui , ‘e went to that first farm‘ouse over at Instow.”
“The one beside the Taw?”
“ Oui .”
Jesamiah rubbed his chin. Was it worth sending someone to stay on Jennings’ track? Mentally he shook his head. To what point? Jennings could end up anywhere, and of what interest were his movements anyway? Satisfied with the decision, Jesamiah grinned wider as Pegget Trevithick appeared bearing a large dish of steaming apple pie.
“There, put that down ‘ee, Cap’n.” She smiled at Rue. “An’ can I get you summat, sir?”
“Give him what I had,” Jesamiah said through a mouthful of pastry, “and I’ll have a large rum if I may?”
Rue’s gaze followed Pegget’s rump as she turned her attention to the other tables, chatting to her customers, retrieving empty tankards, wiping a spillage from one of the benches with the cloth in her hand.
“Keep your lust t’yerself, mon ami .” Jesamiah chortled. “Did you not see she wears a marriage band?”
Rue helped himself to a morsel of apple, blew on it to cool it before popping it into his mouth. “She could be a widow. ‘Ow will I know unless I ask?”
“Fancy yourself as a taverner then, rather than my first quartermaster?”
The question caught Rue unaware. If, for whatever reason, he could not be a seaman what would be the next best thing? Landlord of a tavern might suit well. Maybe here, or in Brittany. Would it be good to go home after all these long years away? His reflective musing was interrupted as Mistress Trevithick approached the four militiamen.
Coming to his feet the lieutenant, a robust man with a scarred cheek and fair hair, grasped her wrist and bent it back so hard she cried out. “Where is your husband, madam? Where is Carter Trevithick? We know he was on that cutter. Was his brother there an’ all, eh? We’ll get ‘em both, believe me we will.”
Another of the men also stood, stepped to Pegget’s other side and pressed his face close to hers. “I reckon ‘er ‘usband’s among the drowned, Lieutenant. Or pissed himself with fear and run off. Ain’t much to hold ‘im here, is there?”
The lieutenant twisted Pegget’s wrist harder, she tried to muffle the pain but a squeak left her lips. “Is that it, woman? Has your thief of a man, caught with his breeches down, made a run for it? We’ll catch the rest of that scum crew and send them on their way to spend a while as guests of the King. They’ll rot in gaol until they try the fit of the noose.”
Jesamiah swallowed the mouthful of fruit and pastry, set his spoon down in the bowl and rested his hand on the hilt of his cutlass. Across the table, Rue loosened the dagger from the sheath at his hip.
The inn had fallen quiet, each man set into stillness waiting, breath held, for the spark that would ignite trouble.
“I repeat. Where is
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