“You could head me up in a cask,” said Stukeley.
“Well,” said Cammock. “I say, go and eat a good big dinner. We shan’t be in till afternoon; till two or three, perhaps, if the wind drops. If there’s to be an arrest, you’ll know of it soon enough. It’ll settle itself. Don’t cross no river till you come to the water. Why? Cos you may get drowned anyway.”
“But about my wife?”
“Oh, she’ll be well looked after. We’ll look after her.”
“Damn you.”
“Captain Margaret,” said Cammock, “just come aft with me, while I take some bearings.”
When they had walked out of earshot of Stukeley, Cammock added that it would be a good thing to let the man suffer for a spell.
“But how about Mrs. Stukeley, captain? And her little one?”
“I wasn’t thinking of them, sir. I’m thinking of you and Mr. Perrin. And the ship, too. We may be a political matter, sir. The Lords who fitted us out; they’ve got enemies—political enemies. They may say, ‘Oh, you’ve sent out a gang of pirates, who rescue escaping felons.’ There may be the devil’s own row at home about us. Law is all right and fair. But there’s no law nor right in politics.”
“We shall know soon.”