Chapters (50)
- Cover
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- The Pengarron Sagas
- The Harvey Family Sagas
‘You know her mother won’t hear of it.’ Kenver kissed the hands resting around his neck affectionately. ‘We must pray for a live birth, and that no one puts the law on to Philip. Clem’s not going to be at all happy about it, even if he’s finally presented with a healthy grandchild. I hope he doesn’t take his ire out on Catherine.’
‘Me too, but, when all’s said and done, beloved, and God willing,’ Kerris touched the smooth warm wood of the cradle with maternal tenderness, ‘it will soon be our baby sleeping in here.’
It was a grey, cloudy night.
Two-score men, wearing dark clothing, faces smeared with earth, hats pulled down tight and scarves up high around their necks, guided a long line of mules and borrowed ponies along a little-used track at the back of Polgissey land. The animals’ hooves were swathed in rags to muffle the sound of their steps and their backs were weighed down with bundles of lace, silk, tea, spices and half ankers of brandy and other spirits. Tense, sweating, each man carried a stave or weapon of some kind. Their leader, looming in width and girth, gripped a musket, primed and ready to fire.
The three-masted ship had anchored a safe distance offshore in a little nameless cove next to Porthcarne. The crabbing boats and other small craft that had been rowed out on the heavy swell to offload the contraband, had all safely made their withdrawal. Thanks to the efficiency of Hal Kinver, the immediate coastline was left only to rock and water, the unlit beacon built on top of the cliff as a danger signal, dismantled without a trace.
The lights of the big house were left behind and gradually the travellers veered towards the cliffs. Almost silently, they passed behind the recently burnt-out cottage; one of their regular hides now lost, the cleverly concealed trapdoor in the single downstairs floor made obvious. The thatched roof had been burnt away and the charred stones stood out as an eerie silhouette, and Hal had to dampen down a sudden urge to hurry. Too much haste could lead to too much noise or an accident – give them away if the Revenue men were about.