dizziness at all. The craggy coastline was clear and sharp in the bright, early morning light; the sky above it a pale autumn blue.
‘What happens when real winter comes?’ I asked Will. ‘Is it not too cold and stormy to sail?’
‘We do most of our trade through the winter.’
I looked at him, wondering why. His gaze was fixed on the distant shore, his eyes crinkled at the corners against the brightness. He sensed me watching him and looked round, meeting my eyes. ‘There are crops to tend and harvest in summer. Sheep to shear, lambs to birth. There is plenty of work. This is the time of year men are laid off. This is when they need to find other work to support their families. And it’s in the winter weather that everyone wants a drop of good French cognac to keep out the cold.’
‘But what about the winter storms?’ I asked. ‘Aren’t they dangerous?’
‘Of course. But they are dangerous for the Revenue officers as well. The Gentlemen have the best pilots, the best ships, and the best sailors in the channel. So we are far safer than they. There is less risk of being caught. And the long, dark winter nights are our friend. In summer we would be far too visible.’
I nodded, my gaze drawn by the distant coastline, green slopes and varying shades of rocky cliff dappled with patches of pale sunlight and shadow. The land that held my family. I wondered how they were. Were they more comfortable now they had money once more? Had they found somewhere new to live?
‘While we’re up here,’ said Will, ‘I think it’s about time you began learning your knots.’
‘My knots?’
In reply, Will threw me a short length of rope. ‘Make that fast on this spar,’ he told me.
With hands that still shook, I wrapped the rope around the spar and tied it. ‘Like that?’
‘Not like that, no,’ he answered. He reached out and tugged it loose in one swift movement. ‘You see? If we couldn’t tie better knots than that, the whole rigging would fall apart.’ He looped the rope around the spar, twisting it deftly. ‘That’s a proper knot.’
He pulled it loose and knotted it again more slowly. ‘See?’
I had a go and the loop simply fell off. ‘Show it more slowly,’ I asked after another unsuccessful attempt. I couldn’t understand why my hands were so clumsy and unwilling to make the apparently simple moves his made.
Will climbed to stand behind me and took my hands in his, showing me which way to guide the loop, twist it and pull it taut.
‘Now let me try again,’ I asked after a couple of demonstrations. This time I succeeded. ‘There!’ I said triumphantly.
Will moved away, with a smile. ‘That’s a bowline,’ he told me. ‘A simple sailor’s hitch, useful for mooring a dingy, for example.’
I frowned. ‘You mean there are others?’
Will rolled his eyes. ‘Of course there are others. There’s a different knot for every job. I’m still learning them all after two years.’
I felt daunted, but Will laughed at my expression. ‘Master the bowline,’ he said. ‘Then ask Jacob to teach you more. All the men know the knots, but he’s the most patient teacher. And he’s left-handed, like you.’
A bell rang out below. ‘Ah, breakfast!’ exclaimed Will rubbing his hands. ‘Ready to climb back down?’
CHAPTER NINE
It was dark when The Invisible carved her way silently through the black waters into Poole Harbour. The wind was kind, allowing us to glide behind Brownsea Island. The moon was half hidden behind clouds, showing her partial face only occasionally. The ship was sluggish in the water, groaning with the weight of the ankers and kegs of spirits that had been loaded onto her in France.
‘The island shields us from view of the Revenue, you see,’ said Jacob softly, standing by my side at the rail. ‘They be over that side of the harbour keeping watch. Even if the moon shines full on us, they won’t see us till we leave the far side of the island. We used to unload in
‘What happens when real winter comes?’ I asked Will. ‘Is it not too cold and stormy to sail?’
‘We do most of our trade through the winter.’
I looked at him, wondering why. His gaze was fixed on the distant shore, his eyes crinkled at the corners against the brightness. He sensed me watching him and looked round, meeting my eyes. ‘There are crops to tend and harvest in summer. Sheep to shear, lambs to birth. There is plenty of work. This is the time of year men are laid off. This is when they need to find other work to support their families. And it’s in the winter weather that everyone wants a drop of good French cognac to keep out the cold.’
‘But what about the winter storms?’ I asked. ‘Aren’t they dangerous?’
‘Of course. But they are dangerous for the Revenue officers as well. The Gentlemen have the best pilots, the best ships, and the best sailors in the channel. So we are far safer than they. There is less risk of being caught. And the long, dark winter nights are our friend. In summer we would be far too visible.’
I nodded, my gaze drawn by the distant coastline, green slopes and varying shades of rocky cliff dappled with patches of pale sunlight and shadow. The land that held my family. I wondered how they were. Were they more comfortable now they had money once more? Had they found somewhere new to live?
‘While we’re up here,’ said Will, ‘I think it’s about time you began learning your knots.’
‘My knots?’
In reply, Will threw me a short length of rope. ‘Make that fast on this spar,’ he told me.
With hands that still shook, I wrapped the rope around the spar and tied it. ‘Like that?’
‘Not like that, no,’ he answered. He reached out and tugged it loose in one swift movement. ‘You see? If we couldn’t tie better knots than that, the whole rigging would fall apart.’ He looped the rope around the spar, twisting it deftly. ‘That’s a proper knot.’
He pulled it loose and knotted it again more slowly. ‘See?’
I had a go and the loop simply fell off. ‘Show it more slowly,’ I asked after another unsuccessful attempt. I couldn’t understand why my hands were so clumsy and unwilling to make the apparently simple moves his made.
Will climbed to stand behind me and took my hands in his, showing me which way to guide the loop, twist it and pull it taut.
‘Now let me try again,’ I asked after a couple of demonstrations. This time I succeeded. ‘There!’ I said triumphantly.
Will moved away, with a smile. ‘That’s a bowline,’ he told me. ‘A simple sailor’s hitch, useful for mooring a dingy, for example.’
I frowned. ‘You mean there are others?’
Will rolled his eyes. ‘Of course there are others. There’s a different knot for every job. I’m still learning them all after two years.’
I felt daunted, but Will laughed at my expression. ‘Master the bowline,’ he said. ‘Then ask Jacob to teach you more. All the men know the knots, but he’s the most patient teacher. And he’s left-handed, like you.’
A bell rang out below. ‘Ah, breakfast!’ exclaimed Will rubbing his hands. ‘Ready to climb back down?’
CHAPTER NINE
It was dark when The Invisible carved her way silently through the black waters into Poole Harbour. The wind was kind, allowing us to glide behind Brownsea Island. The moon was half hidden behind clouds, showing her partial face only occasionally. The ship was sluggish in the water, groaning with the weight of the ankers and kegs of spirits that had been loaded onto her in France.
‘The island shields us from view of the Revenue, you see,’ said Jacob softly, standing by my side at the rail. ‘They be over that side of the harbour keeping watch. Even if the moon shines full on us, they won’t see us till we leave the far side of the island. We used to unload in
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