heaved a deep breath, then took the muskets Katherine was carrying and handed them to Mewes. "Katy, this is the last you're apt to see of Barbados for a long while."
"Please, let's don't talk about it." She seized her wet skirts and began to climb over the side, Winston steadying her with one hand. "I suppose I somehow thought I could have everything. But I guess I've learned differently."
He studied her in confusion for a moment, then turned and surveyed the dark shore one last time. "All right, John, prepare to cast off."
"Aye." Mewes loosened the bow line from its mooring and tossed it into the longboat. Together they shoved the bobbing craft and its passengers deeper into the surf.
"What's your name?" Winston motioned the infantryman forward as he lifted himself over the gunwales.
"MacEwen, Yor Worship." He took off his helmet and tossed it onto the boards. His hair was sandy, his face Scottish.
"Then take an oar, MacEwen. And heave to."
"Aye, Sor." The Scotsman ignored Morris' withering glare and quickly took his place.
"You can row too, Colonel." Winston waved the pistol. "Barbados is still a democracy, for at least a few more hours."
Morris said nothing, merely grimaced and reached for an oar.