Noticing the wind rising, he capped his last tale with, “So those are some of the adventures my generation had, but while your generation will doubtless have adventures, too, as the times have changed, those wanting adventures will need to look in other arenas. The exciting new challenges will assuredly come from some different, unexpected direction-that, my lads, is the nature of adventure.”
Edmond and Ben grinned, then scrambled to help as he moved to ready the sail. Although Harry also smiled, Gervase noted his more pensive expression, and was satisfied. He hadn’t had a chance to probe the cause of Harry’s underlying restlessness; he hoped Madeline had acted on his advice and taken steps to include Harry in the work of the estate.
With their anchor raised and sail unfurled, the canvas filled, billowed, then snapped taut. The hull lifted and sliced southward through the choppy waves. Once they were under way, Gervase located Ben crouching before the mast. “Ben-why don’t you come and take the tiller?”
Ben’s eyes lit. He glanced at his older brothers, but both only nodded him back toward Gervase and shifted forward to sit on either side of the prow, enjoying the bounce and spray as the boat beat swiftly down the coast.
Scrambling to join Gervase at the stern, Ben sat on the bench Gervase vacated and wrapped both hands around the wooden handle. “I haven’t done this much before.”
Gervase smiled at the breathless confession. Once Ben had a good grip, he switched to sit on the other side of the tiller, resting his hand along the upper edge-for Ben’s reassurance more than his. The seas weren’t high, and they weren’t so close to the shore or the outlying reefs that he wouldn’t have plenty of time to seize the tiller and get her back on course should they go astray.
“You’re doing well.” He relaxed against the stern. “Just keep her nose in line with the cliffs-the wind’s sitting just right for us to beat straight down to Black Head. I’ll tell you how to manage when we get there.”
Ben didn’t reply, just nodded.
Gervase glanced at his face, saw the light shining in his eyes. Smiling, he sat back, entirely content.
Knowing one sure way to Madeline’s heart, after lunch he set out on Crusader to visit his smuggling contacts. Not to ask about smuggling, but about whether there’d been anything to suggest that the wreckers had plied their trade during the squall that had struck during Lady Porthleven’s ball.
This morning he’d distracted the Gascoigne trio, but tomorrow would be another day, and from their direction when he’d come upon them, and the few references they’d let fall during the morning’s sailing, they were plainly still intent on searching for wreckers’ treasure, not a safe pastime if there had been recent wrecks.
He stopped in Coverack to speak with the innkeeper there, then rode north to Porthoustock, then on to Helford and Gweek, eventually reaching Helston itself, and Abel Griggs.
“Nah.” Abel hefted the foaming pint pot Gervase set before him and took a deep draft. Lowering the pot, he wiped foam from his upper lip, then settled to chat. “Ain’t been no action-not for us, nor for them. That squall was a bad one, right enough, but it didn’t sit right for them. Far as we’ve been able to make out from the whispers and the remains of false beacons on the cliffs, they’ve only been using the reefs to the west, mostly laying in for the coves from Kynance to Mullion.”
“Not to the east?”
Abel shook his head. “There’s just the Manacles that side, and while they might be right jagged teeth lying there ready to rip out a ship’s hull, they’re difficult for the wreckers, leastways with the currents ’round that way.” Abel studied his beer. “Besides, with the wind as it was in that squall, it’d only be a ship beating north for the Helford estuary that’d be at risk, and no captain on this coast would do that in a blow.”
Gervase nodded. “True enough.”
Reassured that there was-still-nothing for Madeline’s brothers to find in the caves that dotted the western coves, he chatted with Abel about this and that, after his reminiscences of the morning reliving and recounting certain shared adventures from decades before.
He left Abel in the tavern on the old docks that had always been his “office” and headed back to Coinagehall Street and the Scales & Anchor where he’d left Crusader. He turned in under the arch of the inn’s stableyard-to find Madeline striding toward him.
She checked at the sight of him, but then she smiled and came on, joining him where he’d halted under the arch. “I’m glad I found you.”
He smiled back. “Good afternoon to you, too.”
She pulled a face at him. “Indeed-good afternoon, and I hope it will be one. I’m on my way to the Stannary Court.”
He raised his brows. “Do tell.”
Her lips quirked, but she immediately sobered. “I had a visit this morning from one of our tenant farmers. He and his brother were approached with an offer to buy their tin mining leases by the same agent as before. Both Kendrick and his brother have heard rumors-fresh rumors-that the mines are in financial trouble, but Kendrick had the nous to come and see me before they accepted.”
Eyes narrowing, she shook her head. “This can’t go on. Some farmers will sell simply because they’ve been frightened into thinking they should.”
“But why hie to the Stannary Court?”
Madeline met his eyes. “Because it occurred to me that whoever’s behind this might have succeeded in buying a few leases-ones from holders we don’t know or who haven’t asked around. If that’s so, then the clerk of the court would know of it, for he would have had to register the transfer of ownership.”
Gervase stared at her for a long moment, then he took her arm. “Brilliant.” Turning, he started along the pavement toward the court building beyond the inn; she fell into step beside him. “You’re absolutely right-excellent deduction.”
They walked a little way, then he looked ahead to where stone steps led up to the double doors of the Stannary Court. “Of course, the clerk isn’t supposed to happily volunteer information regarding a new owner.”
“No, he isn’t.” Glancing at him, she met his amber eyes. “That’s why I was so glad I found you.”
His lips curved. “You think, between us, that we’ll be able to convince the clerk of where his true loyalties lie?”
Reaching the steps, she drew her arm free to raise her skirts. “I’d be very much surprised if, between us, we couldn’t.”
She climbed the steps and marched into the foyer, entirely confident with him at her back.
On the other side of the road, Malcolm Sinclair remained facing the bow window of the apothecary’s shop. Via the reflection in the glass, he followed the progress of the couple into the building opposite-the Stannary Court.
He was rarely shocked by anything, but seeing that particular gentleman there-that, very definitely, wasn’t something he’d expected. He didn’t appreciate the sudden clenching in his chest, but innate caution warned against not paying attention, not properly assessing this unlooked-for, and undesirable, development.
He didn’t know the lady, but she was unimportant. It was the man…the last time he’d seen him had been in London, and under circumstances that might well prove inimical to his current plans. But before he acted-reacted-he needed to know more.
Glancing sideways, he saw two old men, retired sailors by the look of them, sitting at one of the rough tables outside the tavern two doors along the street. Summoning his most amiable expression-he could charm birds from trees if he wished-he strolled along the pavement, pausing before the men’s table to tip his head, smile and exchange comments on the fine day. They were a gregarious pair, making it easy for him to ask, “That building over there.” He nodded across the street to the court. “What is it?”