“Certainly,” James said pleasantly, and led the way into the room, looking around quickly to ensure that although it was a poorhouse, serving fishermen and the harbor traders, it was not bawdy or unsafe for the boys.

Walter and Rob took their seats at a small table in the corner while the men stood at the doorway to the kitchen to order their drinks. Zachary entered into a brief whispered discussion with the landlord that James cut short by saying, “Tell him I will clear your slate.”

“Kindly of you,” Zachary said, instantly suspicious.

“I may have work for you,” James said.

“Happy to help a friend of the Peacheys. Or perhaps you’re a friend of my wife?”

James was stony-faced at the slur on Alinor. “This is for the Peacheys,” he said. “I think I may be able to put some business your way.”

“Oh, aye,” Zachary said, agreeably. “Boys, would you take a slice of beef and bread? I know boys are always hungry.”

Walter, uncomfortable, shook his head.

“We just dined,” James explained. “They’ll take a glass of small ale and then they’ll go back to our inn.”

“Fair enough,” Zachary said. “I’ll take a measure, since you’re buying.” He nodded to the landlord, who poured a spirit from a blackened bottle under the table. Zachary raised his earthenware cup in a toast to his son. “It’s good to see you, my boy,” he said fondly. “And looking so fine!”

The boys were awkward at the table. Rob did not take his eyes from his father’s face but asked no more questions. After a while, James told them that they could make their way back to the inn and go to bed. “I will make arrangements with your father,” he promised Rob.

“Will you, sir?” Rob’s brown eyes were trustingly on his face. “Shall we see him tomorrow?”

“I’ll ask him to breakfast with us.”

“Thank you, sir, because . . . I have to ask him . . . I have to be able to explain to my mother how it was.”

James thought of Alinor’s poverty and the terrible risk to her reputation since this man had abandoned her and their two children. “I’ll speak to him,” he promised, and was ashamed at his own duplicity when the boy’s face cleared.

The men waited until the boys had left and the door had closed behind them.

“What d’you want with me?” Zachary said bluntly. “You needn’t cony-catch me.”

“I need your ship,” James said. “I agreed with a coastal trader to meet me here, but he has failed. I need to commission a voyage out to sea.”

“Which way?” Zachary asked sarcastically. “For this is an island. It is out to sea in every direction.”

“South, towards France.”

“That’s what I do, once a week.”

“You’re the ship’s master?” James confirmed. “You can sail when and where you want?”

“Provided I have a load and can turn a profit,” Zachary said. “My owner trusts me to manage the business.”