all of them, slowly sucked his breath through his missing tooth, and nodded at the bowl containing the wooden statue.
Everyone turned to listen. He was no great friend to new ideas, and still dug with the lucky spade his grandfather had used. He was held in great respect by all the other farmers, and he knew the land inside and out. He smacked his lips thoughtfully.
âTell me, son.â He spoke slowly and deliberately. William held his breath. What had he forgotten? What had he overlooked? Old Jack nodded at the idol again. âTell me, did you do the dance?â
William laughed as a wave of relief swept over him. He flushed slightly.
âYes, Jack. I did the dance.â
âIn that case, son, Iâll take some of your seeds if you can get âem.â He paused and then added sternly, âBut donât go getting any ideas. Youâll bring us that statue too. Itâll take more than a bowlful of sprouts to change most of their minds.â
Chapter 5
William Marchant, 1693
It was a clear night as William and his mother pulled the little boat from its hiding place and pushed it into the water. He could feel her standing on the beach, watching him long after he lost sight of her in the darkness. The water was calm, but he knew she hated sending him alone, and would worry until he returned.
âThe sea can turn,â she always warned him. âIt can turn so quickly!â
He knew he could handle himself on the water, but he didnât blame her for worrying. His father had been able to handle himself too, and the sea had still taken him.
There was enough wind for the sail, but he couldnât risk raising it, not until he was well out ofsight of land. Night was a busy time at the shoreline. The game of hide-and-seek played out between the customs officers, the navy and the big smuggling gangs was barely less than a war. Either side would kill him before they asked who he was, and being a small, dark dot on a huge dark sea was the best defence he could hope for.
He dipped his oars silently into the sea, and pulled the tiny dory slowly and smoothly out towards deeper water.
The moment he passed the tall outcrop of cliffs that marked the end of the cove, he knew he was in trouble. He jammed his oars into the water and pushed hard to bring himself to a halt.
The naval lugger had its sails ready, but was barely moving. Not patrolling, not chasing, just waiting. For him? He didnât think so. It was a big, fast ship to send after a boy in what was little more than a rowing boat. But if they saw him, heâd have no chance. And the ship was very, very close. He could see the figures milling about on deck. He could see the buttons on their uniforms shining as it loomed out of the darkness above him.
He quickly and silently brought his boat around, and looked up at the sentries. They were scanning thehorizon for smugglersâ vessels. Luckily, nobody was looking straight down.
William thought quickly. If he could get back around the outcrop of rock without being spotted, he could loop around to the other side of the cove. By then heâd be too far away for his little boat to be seen.
Wincing at the sound each oar made and the noise of the water slapping against the hull, he rowed as quietly as he could back around the cliff. The moment he was out of sight of the naval lugger, he sunk his oars into the water again and rowed with all his might.
It was a race against time now. The ship was not in full sail, but it was catching some wind, and it would only be a few minutes before it rounded the cove and he came fully into its view. His boat had seats and oars for two more men, and was heavy enough to need them to get up any great speed, but on the way back, there would be no room for helpers, so he was on his own. His arms and legs burned with the effort as he raced the little boat across the cove.
Just as he reached the outlying rocks marking the boundary between the cove and the
Everyone turned to listen. He was no great friend to new ideas, and still dug with the lucky spade his grandfather had used. He was held in great respect by all the other farmers, and he knew the land inside and out. He smacked his lips thoughtfully.
âTell me, son.â He spoke slowly and deliberately. William held his breath. What had he forgotten? What had he overlooked? Old Jack nodded at the idol again. âTell me, did you do the dance?â
William laughed as a wave of relief swept over him. He flushed slightly.
âYes, Jack. I did the dance.â
âIn that case, son, Iâll take some of your seeds if you can get âem.â He paused and then added sternly, âBut donât go getting any ideas. Youâll bring us that statue too. Itâll take more than a bowlful of sprouts to change most of their minds.â
Chapter 5
William Marchant, 1693
It was a clear night as William and his mother pulled the little boat from its hiding place and pushed it into the water. He could feel her standing on the beach, watching him long after he lost sight of her in the darkness. The water was calm, but he knew she hated sending him alone, and would worry until he returned.
âThe sea can turn,â she always warned him. âIt can turn so quickly!â
He knew he could handle himself on the water, but he didnât blame her for worrying. His father had been able to handle himself too, and the sea had still taken him.
There was enough wind for the sail, but he couldnât risk raising it, not until he was well out ofsight of land. Night was a busy time at the shoreline. The game of hide-and-seek played out between the customs officers, the navy and the big smuggling gangs was barely less than a war. Either side would kill him before they asked who he was, and being a small, dark dot on a huge dark sea was the best defence he could hope for.
He dipped his oars silently into the sea, and pulled the tiny dory slowly and smoothly out towards deeper water.
The moment he passed the tall outcrop of cliffs that marked the end of the cove, he knew he was in trouble. He jammed his oars into the water and pushed hard to bring himself to a halt.
The naval lugger had its sails ready, but was barely moving. Not patrolling, not chasing, just waiting. For him? He didnât think so. It was a big, fast ship to send after a boy in what was little more than a rowing boat. But if they saw him, heâd have no chance. And the ship was very, very close. He could see the figures milling about on deck. He could see the buttons on their uniforms shining as it loomed out of the darkness above him.
He quickly and silently brought his boat around, and looked up at the sentries. They were scanning thehorizon for smugglersâ vessels. Luckily, nobody was looking straight down.
William thought quickly. If he could get back around the outcrop of rock without being spotted, he could loop around to the other side of the cove. By then heâd be too far away for his little boat to be seen.
Wincing at the sound each oar made and the noise of the water slapping against the hull, he rowed as quietly as he could back around the cliff. The moment he was out of sight of the naval lugger, he sunk his oars into the water again and rowed with all his might.
It was a race against time now. The ship was not in full sail, but it was catching some wind, and it would only be a few minutes before it rounded the cove and he came fully into its view. His boat had seats and oars for two more men, and was heavy enough to need them to get up any great speed, but on the way back, there would be no room for helpers, so he was on his own. His arms and legs burned with the effort as he raced the little boat across the cove.
Just as he reached the outlying rocks marking the boundary between the cove and the
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