copper tub before the hearth, was distinctly unfair to those of the female gender.
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Dawes stayed to assist her into the bath. By the time sheâd scrubbed all the salt and sand out of her hair, the ladyâs maid turned up to help her out of the rapidly cooling water, letting the housekeeper return to her duties.
âSo sorry I was absent when you needed me, miss,â Tamsyn said. âOh, but what a brave thing it was you done! I could hardly believe it when I seen you wading out into the water, for all the world like you was going to swimââ
âYou saw me?â Honoria interrupted. Suddenly she understood the reason behind the maidâs absence and the lack of footmen: they must all have been assisting the free-traders in moving their cargo inland. âTamsyn, surely you have not been taking part in illegal activities!â
âOh, course not, miss,â the maid replied hastily, a telltaleblush colouring her cheeks. âI, um, heard all about it from Alan the footman, who met some fishermen whilst walking back from the village. But you must take care, miss! The water in the cove looks peaceful, but there be a powerful current where it runs between them rocks back out to sea. If youâd gone out much farther, you mighta been swept away!â
In the agitation of the moment, struggling in her heavy, wet clothing and desperate to reach the drowning man, Honoria hadnât particularly noticed. Now that she thought about it, she did recall how much stronger the outward tug had become as she reached deeper water. âLuckily I didnât need to go out farther.â
âIndeed, miss. But, oh, wasnât he wonderful! Leaping off the rocks and swimming across the strongest part of undertow to haul out that worthless revenue agent! I swear, my heart was in my throat, wondering if the both of them would be sucked back out to sea,â the maid exclaimed, obviously forgetting her contention that sheâd not personally witnessed the drama.
Amused, Honoria tried to resist the curiosity pulling at her as insistently as that treacherous current. Losing that struggle, she asked casually, âWho was the young man who made the rescue?â
The maid stared at her. âYou donât know? Why, âtwas the Hawk! My brother Dickin, whoâs a dab hand of a captain himself, says heâs the best, most fearless mariner heâs ever seen! Eyes like a cat, he has, able to navigate despite tides and rough sea even on the blackest night. Gabriel Hawksworthâs his real name. Heâs only been captain of the Flying Gull for a few months, but folks hereabouts already dubbed him Hawk for the way he can steer his cutter sharp into land and back out again, like some bird swooping in to seize his prey.â
âHeâs not local, then?â Honoria asked.
âNo, miss. Not rightly sure where he hails from, though with that hint of blarney in his voice, Iâd guess heâs Irish.â
âDo the Irish also fish these waters?â she asked. Though the Hawk seemed too confident and commanding a man to have spent his life on a fishing boat.
âDonât know what he done before the war. He was an Army mate of Dickinâs. While with Wellingtonâs forces in Spain, far from the sea, they used to talk about sailing, my brother told me. Even took a boat out together a few times when they got to Lisbon, and Dickin said heâd never met a man who could handle a small craft better. When the former captain of the Gull was injured, Dickin asked the Hawk to come sail her.â
An Army man. That would explain his decisive air of command. Her brother Hal possessed the quality in abundance. âIf he is so fond of sea, I wonder he didnât end up in the Navy.â
âDonât know about the Hawk, but Dickin had no wish to be gone for months deep-water sailing. Said if the navvies ever found out how well he could handle a tiller, heâd be