“But we’re not dead.” Lotti sat down beside Clara and patted her hand. “We didn’t drown. Clara, how did you know we were here?”

“We asked the harbormaster,” said Captain de Beauchesne, when Clara failed to answer. “It was not difficult to trace you. You already have quite the reputation in Calais.”

He had meant it as a compliment and was unprepared for the consternation which greeted the news that, once again, they had failed absolutely to be inconspicuous.

“What I actually meant,” said Lotti, “is how did you know we were in France?”

“Martha …” sobbed Clara. “Her sister, Molly …”

“Molly!” Lotti hissed.

She looked apprehensively toward the hatch. “Did Molly tell anyone else? Clara, have you told anyone else?”

Before Clara could reply, Captain de Beauchesne in a stunned voice said, “There are puppies. Rather a lot of them, on the berth in this room at the back. I heard growling, so I looked.”

The surprise finally made Clara stop crying. “Puppies?”

“Elsie’s,” said Ben. “And Federico’s.”

“But I didn’t know she was …”

“Neither did we,” said Ben.

“Clara!” said Lotti. “Answer the question! Have you told anyone where we are?”

“I have not,” said Clara. “Oh, Lotti, your hair!”

Lotti let out her breath. “So why are you here?”

Clara, finally, launched into her speech. She was still very emotional, and they had to concentrate hard to understand what she was saying. It involved cottages in Pembrokeshire, and guardianships and looking after dogs—although possibly not a whole litter of puppies, she said, floundering at this unexpected obstacle. But the general gist, as they understood it, was that Clara had come to look after them, and take them home.

“Because, Ben, dear, about your brother—you do know how difficult it will be, don’t you? How very, very difficult, I really mean impossible …”

She faltered under Ben’s glare.

“It is not impossible,” Ben said. “We’ve got a plan, haven’t we, Lotti?”

“We have.” Lotti got up to stand beside Ben. Federico, sensing a threat, left the galley, where he had been keeping a suspicious eye on the captain, and trotted across the cabin to join them.

“We are not going back to England,” said Lotti.

Henri de Beauchesne started. Until now he had been enjoying himself. The storm, the rain, Clara … Children lost, children found. Puppies, and this extraordinary boat, and its unlikely crossing …

But now, this talk of England …

Henri observed the scene before him. The girl and boy, ragged, damp, filthy, the absurd small dog. They looked, he thought, like a small but fierce combat unit. For his own private reasons, Captain de Beauchesne mentally joined their ranks.

If Clara went back to England now, how could he be sure to see her again?

“Please,” he begged. “Allow me to be of assistance.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Four years in the navy had turned Henri from a dreamy boy into a ruthless organizer.