Remember Me - Lesley Pearse [188]
He picked up her hands and held them to his lips, his dark luminous eyes scanning her face as if imprinting it on his mind.
‘I have vowed love to so many women in the past that I hesitate to do so again for fear of trivializing what I feel for you, my dear,’ he said. ‘But true friendship, the purest kind, is sprung from love. It never dies, never tarnishes. It remains even after death.’
Suddenly a loud cheer interrupted the tender moment and both Mary and Boswell looked up to see the men in the bar greeting another two coming in. One was a small, wiry man of about forty-five, the other tall, fair-haired and perhaps ten years younger.
‘The older man is the master of the Anne and Elizabeth, by the name of Job Moyes,’ Boswell said. ‘I met him when I booked your passage. The other is his first mate. I shall invite them over for a bowl of punch. We mustn’t spend our remaining time together in sadness.’
*
Job Moyes and his first mate, John Trelawney, greeted Boswell and Mary with great warmth, and it was clear they knew all about her.
‘It will be a pleasure to have you aboard, Miss Broad,’ Job said, his blue eyes twinkling. ‘We know we’ll be able to call on your sailing skills if we run into heavy weather.’
John Trelawney looked at Mary with frank admiration. ‘You are a great deal smaller and prettier than I expected,’ he said. ‘I hope you’ll tell me of your adventures during our voyage.’
Mary felt a warm glow from his compliment. He was a striking-looking man, with amber-coloured eyes that reminded her of a cat’s, high cheek-bones, very white teeth and thick blond hair tied back at the nape of his neck. His voice was easy on the ear too, deep and resonant, with just enough of a Cornish accent to remind her of home.
The bowl of punch arrived at the table, and Boswell raised a toast to Mary’s future. As he asked Moyes some questions about his cargo, John was looking at Mary in a way that made her heart flutter.
She had fully believed she was incapable of feeling romantically attracted to any man again, and it seemed preposterous that she should feel it now on the eve of her departure from London.
‘What part of Cornwall are you from?’ she asked.
‘Falmouth,’ he said, and smiled, showing his beautiful teeth. ‘But I’ve no one there now, my parents passed on a few years back and my brother has gone to America.’
‘So where do you call home?’ she asked.
‘The Anne and Elizabeth,’ he chuckled. ‘But if I was to settle down in one place, Fowey is where I’d choose.’
‘No wife or sweetheart then?’ She raised one eyebrow questioningly.
He shook his head. ‘I never met a woman who was prepared to accept that the sea was my mistress.’
That phrase jolted something long buried within Mary. She looked at him curiously.
‘I stole that line from your uncle,’ John said. ‘Peter Broad. I sailed under him when I was a lad. He was a good man and taught me all I know.’
Mary gasped. ‘You sailed under my uncle?’
John nodded. ‘And your father too, Mary. He is another good man, and I’m proud to be taking you home to him.’
‘What’s that?’ Boswell asked, picking up the tail-end of the conversation.
‘Just telling Mary I sailed under both her uncle and father, sir,’ John said. ‘But then you know that.’
‘Bozzie,’ Mary said reprovingly, ‘is that why you were so adamant I had to go on this boat?’
His smile was a mischievous one. ‘Would I entrust such a precious cargo to just anyone?’ he asked. ‘I spoke to several ships’ masters before I found Job. I wanted one you would feel at ease with.’
They filled their glasses again and Boswell made the men laugh with a very funny account of what he called ‘his Cornish jaunt’ the previous year.
Mary was happy just to watch and listen. It was good to see the way Boswell sparkled as he told a tale. He had a gift of being able to describe a scene and the people there so well that the listener entered into it too. She was going to miss him, but her trepidation about going home was gone now. Cornwall was where she belonged.
It was after ten when