Remember Me - Lesley Pearse [102]
Even Jamie Cox and Sam Broome, both quiet, thoughtful men who had appeared to be content to be led by the nose by the others, had asserted themselves a little. At one point Jamie had been brave enough to tell Will to stop bragging, and Sam Broome had told James Martin to mind his language because of Mary and Charlotte. Mary had no doubt that in the next few weeks she would find out even more surprising things about everyone.
Now and then the men would talk dreamily about what they would do when they got back to England. They all knew that it would be foolhardy to attempt going to their home towns, for fear of being re-arrested. London was the favourite destination, there they would be inconspicuous, and with a new name they could start all over again.
Mary couldn’t bring herself to think that far ahead, it seemed like tempting Fate to her. The reality of it was that they had no money, their clothes were in rags, and they’d need a tremendous amount of luck to avoid turning back to crime.
Yet despite her qualms sometimes she couldn’t help but lapse into a little day-dream in which she found herself walking up the cobbled street from Fowey harbour holding her children by their hands. She imagined standing at the open door and seeing her mother inside the house, bent over the cooking pot on the fire. She would turn her head, see them and almost faint with surprise and delight. It was of course an unrealistic and fanciful day-dream, but it helped Mary’s aching back and warmed her very bones.
The weather turned on the third day, with rain and a stronger blustery wind, and Will became concerned at the boat being rather overloaded. ‘We must find somewhere to land until it passes,’ he said.
A little later William Moreton, who was up in the bows, suddenly bellowed out that he could see what looked like a good spot.
Everyone looked to where he was pointing and saw a small cove with a pebble beach. Will went in closer to check for rocks under the water, and as there were none, agreed it was ideal.
‘Let’s hope there’s a tavern,’ James exclaimed.
That made everyone laugh, even William Moreton who hadn’t appeared to have been amused by James’s sense of humour up till now.
Will brought the boat in as close to the beach as he could, then James swam ashore with a rope to pull her into the shallows.
‘Natives have been here,’ James said, once they were all safely on the beach. He pointed to the charred remains of a fire and a great many fish bones.
‘Well, they aren’t here now,’ Will said, scanning the cove carefully. ‘Besides, I know enough of their words to tell them we mean no harm.’
The rain stopped, the sun came out again, and Mary chased Charlotte along the beach, laughing at the sheer joy of a night on dry land. There was a stream of fresh water from which they refilled their water cask and washed their salt-encrusted faces, and Mary found a plant that looked like cabbage. While Will, Bill and James took the seine net to fish, William lit a fire, Samuel Bird and Nat collected wood, and Sam Broome and Jamie Cox made a crude shelter under the trees.
The fishing was good, the men came back with a quantity of grey mullet, and along with some of the rice they’d brought with them, and the cabbage leaves, it was quite a feast.
‘But for the dire lack of beer and some buxom wenches, I could be happy here,’ James said, as he lay back on the beach after the meal.
Mary giggled. She hadn’t always approved of James in the past, but she was growing to like him more with every hour that passed. His sense of the ridiculous warmed her and he could make time pass so quickly with his stories. She had always thought him a strange-looking man before, with his very bony, lopsided face, large ears and nose, and thick dark eyebrows that met in the middle. Her mother had always said that was a sign that a man was ‘born to be hung’, and perhaps he was, for he had only escaped it by a hair’s-breadth. But his lack of good looks was compensated by his personality. She didn’t find it so odd now that many women back at the settlement