“You’re my Tom again now,” she said lowly. “I’ve forgotten all the rest, dear.”
“Right,” he said, kissing her. “I was a beast. Good-bye, dear.”
“Not a beast,” she said. “Never that.”
Margaret turned aside, crushing his hat-brim, wondering what new misery was in store for her. He walked softly out on deck, leaving the two to their farewell. Perrin said something to him. Cammock was not in sight. A little knot of men stood in the waist, idly watching the sloop.
Presently Stukeley came from the alleyway with a grin upon his face. “Anything for a quiet life,” he said. “Down into the boat with you, Maggy.”
As they shoved off from the Broken Heart, Olivia waved to them from her state-room port. Margaret felt a pang of remorse that he had not shaken hands with Perrin, nor spoken with Cammock, before leaving the ship. He was nearly alongside the sloop when he saw Cammock’s hat above the poop nettings.
“He’s hailing you, Captain Margaret,” said the stroke oar.
“Oars a moment.” The men lay on their oars, watching the drops fall from the blades into the sea. The roar of Cammock sounded.
“What does he say?” said Margaret. “I can’t make out.”
“Something about a map, I think he said, sir.”