The Beloved Land Read Online Free PDF Page A

from the shrouds, and the halloos of others casting sounding stones as their ships were rowed toward a safe anchorage.
    From out of nowhere Nicole found herself almost overtaken by six horses. Their flanks steamed as they pulled a wagonload of hogsheads, those great iron-strapped barrels used for stowing water and supplies on board. She drew back in alarm as the drover’s whip cracked near her face. A few steps farther on and a pair of young apprentices came sweating toward her, each bearing a load of canvas upon his back. She recoiled, only to collide with a woman carrying a crate of shriveled winter roots. Nicole apologized and hurried away from the stallholder’s invectives, only to strike the stone wall marking the harbor’s main entrance.
    At least she knew now where she was. The central cobblestone way led down to the series of docks, from which rose the cries of men and animals. Nicole moved off to one side and began making her way along the rougher side track. She continued parallel to the water until the harbormaster’s cottage emerged from the fog.
    She stepped through the door to find Gordon behind his desk. He rose to his feet, delight in his face. “Dearest Nicole, you have brought sunshine to an otherwise gloomy day.”
    A bearded man in the salt-encrusted uniform of a seagoing captain stood to one side of Gordon’s worktable. After a quick glance her way, his eyes remained fastened on Gordon.
    “I hope I’m not disturbing,” Nicole said.
    “On the contrary, you have saved me the trouble of sending a man off to find you. If he indeed could do so in this fog.” Gordon offered a wave of introduction. “Captain Saunders, may I have the pleasure of introducing my fiancée, Nicole Robichaud.”
    “Your servant, I’m sure.” But the captain did not spare her a further glance. “I am telling you, sir, that I could use this weather to slip right through the British lines. Why, I could be clean away and making sail for Charleston before they find their true north.”
    “You might,” Gordon agreed mildly. “Only there are two problems with your assessment, Captain.”
    “And they are?”
    “First, there is no wind.”
    “I shall launch my longboats and row us.”
    “The tide is running hard against you.”
    “I am empty laden and running light.”
    “The last word we had was their line was in two rows, one five miles farther to sea. I remind you, Captain, the British are the world’s finest sailors when it comes to blockades. They’ll have their own longboats launched and hunting with guns primed. A single cough from one of your sailors, a squeak from the oarlocks, and you will be consigning your crew to seaborne graves.”
    The captain’s features above his gray-flecked beard began to color. “I am unaccustomed, sir, to being crossed. Particularly from a landlocked sailor whose own guns are most certainly not primed.”
    Gordon gave no indication that he had heard the man. “There is also the fact that the wind could well be on the rise.”
    “Wind? Wind? ” the captain roared. “There hasn’t been a breath in nigh on four days! I lost my way twice just finding this hut of yours!”
    “Nonetheless, Captain, my sea sense tells me there will be a south wind blowing solid by the start of the night’s watch.”
    “Your sea sense, is it?”
    “I’ve been stationed here for three seasons now, long enough to study the winds and currents. I would urge you to give it until the tide’s turning.”
    “That would put me outbound after midnight and lessen my hours of stealth and darkness by half!”
    “If the wind does rise, sir, you’ll know by then and be best waiting until the morrow, when it will blow hard enough to scatter—”
    “Are you intending to deny me the right of departure?” The captain’s sea-scarred hands curled.
    “That is not my place, Captain.”
    “Indeed it is not.” The captain rammed his hat down with such force he crumpled the crown. “I have wasted all the