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The last of the weak winter daylight died away while the schooner, Tamarith, creaked and groaned against the hard timbers of an icy wharf. The slight roll of the ship in concert with the fast falling tide, the comforting sounds and fish market smells that changed little from port to port did nothing to reassure Kit Vanson. Above him, a flurry of snow danced to the tune of a light breeze.
“You’re gonna be alone in Cornwall. No shipmates to get you outa any tight corners,” Ben Worth said in his usual brusque manner. The old sea captain jabbed his pipe stem at Kit’s chest, adding emphasis to his Alabama drawl. “You still sure about goin’ through with this?”
Kit shrugged, feigning nonchalance. Of course he wasn’t sure, but he was not about to admit it. “Got no worries, Ben.” Averting his eyes, he determined instantly the lie was wasted because Ben had treated him like a son over the years and understood him better than anyone else…
Kit dusted snowflakes from his jacket, pulled up his coat collar to his ears and shouldered his worn carpetbag, then strode down the gangway without looking back. Lingering doubts still haunted him as he crossed the slushy grey quay cobbles, aiming into a narrow alley that led towards Plymouth town. Snow settled quickly onto his hair and an icy chill soon ran through his frame.
Ben was right; he was on his own now. He couldn’t turn back without loss of face and he was nothing if not a proud man…
BeWrite Books
www.bewrite.net
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