in his pocket and the clerk in front of him began to fill out forms.
"You'll count the cases as they come onto the boat," Joe said on their way back. "They'll move fast. Mr. Murdoch was to hire a couple of men from the dock while we saw to this end. They'll help with the loading."
Another two dollars each, Kate learned unhappily.
***
All afternoon she stood in the sun ticking groups of five in a notebook as the twelve-bottle crates streamed aboard. Long before the first two hundred and fifty cases had all been loaded, she'd recognized the wisdom in hiring extra arms to lift and backs to carry. Coarse laughter and cursing erupted as strangers stamped up and down to the cabins below. Her legs ached from standing in one spot. A blister she'd raised on her hand pulling sailrope a thousand times more than she'd been accustomed to broke and began to sting. She wound a handkerchief around it in a welcome interval between departure of the third load and arrival of the last. Four hours after their arrival, at Joe's invitation, she stepped onto the pier and looked at her schooner riding low in the water, its cargo in place.
"A good wave will swamp us!" she said in dismay.
"An experienced eye can see we're loaded, that's for sure." Joe grinned and wiped his face with his sleeve. "Don't worry. She's got clearance to spare." He noticed the handkerchief knotted around her hand. "Cut yourself?"
She hesitated, loath to let him judge her too soft for the role she'd demanded. "Just a blister. It's nothing."
He squinted at clouds and made no response.
They bolted bowls of steaming chowder in a wharfside cafe and carried back tin pails of it for the old man and Billy.
"What's the current here in the harbor?" Kate asked as they cast off and began to unfurl sail at a time when other boats were coming to port for the night.
"The tides," Joe answered briefly. "And the flow of the river. They push one another." His attention was elsewhere. "We'll go out fast, but the winds will be against us going back. Every hour without fog is blessed, and we might not be so lucky tomorrow. We've got to squeeze every minute and every breath of wind we can tonight."
Wind was in good supply at the moment, Kate thought, teeth clenched to keep them from chattering, and they were still in the harbor. She and Billy worked sails. The old man had the helm. Joe was checking rigging with meticulous care, shinnying up first foremast then mainmast. He dropped back lightly to deck and frowned as he noticed her.
"You're shivering." He touched the back of his fingers to her cheek. "You're chilled to the bone." He shrugged out of the thick jacket flapping open around him. "Take this."
"No, I couldn't—"
"I've no need of it. Reckon I'm more accustomed to wind than you."
Its warmth was too welcome to argue.
"Thank you, then."
He smiled.
"You're a damned good sailor, Miss Hinshaw. I will take this, though." From the jacket pocket he produced a pint of rum. "I think we ought to toast the journey back."
Kate felt sudden alarm. She'd never anticipated the man she'd hired would be anything but sober while their lives rested in his hands.
"One drink each," he said dryly, offering it to her. "I'm as eager to get back in one piece as you are."
She flushed, wondering if he found her reaction insulting. The thought of the rum's warmth inside her was tempting, and as the wind whipped her hair a sudden feeling of camaraderie with the others made her light hearted. Breaking the seal and unscrewing the cap she lifted the bottle.
"To the pirate crew of the Folly ," she said with a grin.
The others cheered.
The rum washed down her throat like bitter honey. She passed the bottle to Joe Santayna as they left
"You'll count the cases as they come onto the boat," Joe said on their way back. "They'll move fast. Mr. Murdoch was to hire a couple of men from the dock while we saw to this end. They'll help with the loading."
Another two dollars each, Kate learned unhappily.
***
All afternoon she stood in the sun ticking groups of five in a notebook as the twelve-bottle crates streamed aboard. Long before the first two hundred and fifty cases had all been loaded, she'd recognized the wisdom in hiring extra arms to lift and backs to carry. Coarse laughter and cursing erupted as strangers stamped up and down to the cabins below. Her legs ached from standing in one spot. A blister she'd raised on her hand pulling sailrope a thousand times more than she'd been accustomed to broke and began to sting. She wound a handkerchief around it in a welcome interval between departure of the third load and arrival of the last. Four hours after their arrival, at Joe's invitation, she stepped onto the pier and looked at her schooner riding low in the water, its cargo in place.
"A good wave will swamp us!" she said in dismay.
"An experienced eye can see we're loaded, that's for sure." Joe grinned and wiped his face with his sleeve. "Don't worry. She's got clearance to spare." He noticed the handkerchief knotted around her hand. "Cut yourself?"
She hesitated, loath to let him judge her too soft for the role she'd demanded. "Just a blister. It's nothing."
He squinted at clouds and made no response.
They bolted bowls of steaming chowder in a wharfside cafe and carried back tin pails of it for the old man and Billy.
"What's the current here in the harbor?" Kate asked as they cast off and began to unfurl sail at a time when other boats were coming to port for the night.
"The tides," Joe answered briefly. "And the flow of the river. They push one another." His attention was elsewhere. "We'll go out fast, but the winds will be against us going back. Every hour without fog is blessed, and we might not be so lucky tomorrow. We've got to squeeze every minute and every breath of wind we can tonight."
Wind was in good supply at the moment, Kate thought, teeth clenched to keep them from chattering, and they were still in the harbor. She and Billy worked sails. The old man had the helm. Joe was checking rigging with meticulous care, shinnying up first foremast then mainmast. He dropped back lightly to deck and frowned as he noticed her.
"You're shivering." He touched the back of his fingers to her cheek. "You're chilled to the bone." He shrugged out of the thick jacket flapping open around him. "Take this."
"No, I couldn't—"
"I've no need of it. Reckon I'm more accustomed to wind than you."
Its warmth was too welcome to argue.
"Thank you, then."
He smiled.
"You're a damned good sailor, Miss Hinshaw. I will take this, though." From the jacket pocket he produced a pint of rum. "I think we ought to toast the journey back."
Kate felt sudden alarm. She'd never anticipated the man she'd hired would be anything but sober while their lives rested in his hands.
"One drink each," he said dryly, offering it to her. "I'm as eager to get back in one piece as you are."
She flushed, wondering if he found her reaction insulting. The thought of the rum's warmth inside her was tempting, and as the wind whipped her hair a sudden feeling of camaraderie with the others made her light hearted. Breaking the seal and unscrewing the cap she lifted the bottle.
"To the pirate crew of the Folly ," she said with a grin.
The others cheered.
The rum washed down her throat like bitter honey. She passed the bottle to Joe Santayna as they left
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