“Yes? Well? What is it?”
“I beg pardon, sir. Don’t wish to offend, sir. But are you the gentleman, the gentleman, the, er, sea-captain. From Salcombe, sir?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Please, sir, I took the liberty. There was Mr. Russell, the magistrate, and a gentleman from the fort, sir. They came in about you just after you’d gone. They were going to inquire about, about the Salcombe matter, sir.”
“Yes. What did you tell them?”
“I said you’d gone to Penryn, sir, about some beer, sir, for your sailors.”
“That wasn’t strictly truthful, was it?”
“No, sir. I suppose not, sir. So they went off to Penryn, sir. And I told your boatmen to take the things aboard, and then wait for you at the docks.”
“Where are the docks?”
“Nearly a mile down the harbour, sir. Further on along the road here. I beg your pardon, sir, but the landing-stage has soldiers on it.”