Remember Me - Lesley Pearse [98]
‘That’s better,’ he said, and smiled. ‘I will not be able to see you again before I leave. You must return this washing to one of the crew.’
Mary nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Whatever his motives for helping her, he had been entirely honourable. No blackmailing her into his bed – he had treated her as a lady, not a convict. She would be forever in his debt.
‘I am so afraid for you, and your children,’ he said, lowering his voice to a whisper. ‘I hope to God you make it.’
‘If determination counts for anything, we will,’ she said, then hesitated. She so much wanted to convey the depth of her gratitude to him, yet she knew if she attempted it she might start to cry. ‘Bless you, Detmer,’ she managed to add.
‘And may God bless you,’ he said softly. ‘I won’t forget you. I’ll make inquiries to discover how you fared.’
They exchanged the parcels, and his hand covered hers for a second. ‘I must go now,’ she said, taking a step back away from him. ‘I’ll return the washing tomorrow.’
At two in the afternoon of the 28th, Mary and Will stood on the shore together silently watching the Waaksamheyd sail down the bay towards the Heads. Seabirds flew in its wake, and they could hear the wind in her sails.
Up on the wharf almost the entire settlement was watching her departure, Mary could hear their cheers and shouted farewells in the distance. Captain Phillip would be among them, and for the first time Mary felt a pang of sympathy for the man.
He must almost certainly wish he was sailing home with Captain Hunter. They had been friends, and had been through a great deal together. In many ways Phillip was as much a prisoner as Mary was, chained to this desperate place by a sense of honour and commitment. Now that her escape was so close she could see clearly that he was in fact a good man. He had been humane, fair and dignified at all times, mostly under the most impossible conditions. She could even find it in her heart to wish him well.
‘Just seven hours and we’ll be on our way,’ Will said with a faint tremor in his voice.
Mary knew he was thinking of what would happen if they were caught. They might very well be hanged; they’d certainly be flogged and put back into irons too. However good their plan was, however careful they’d been, there was always a chance that someone with a grudge had got wind of it, and would give them away.
Mary slipped her hand into Will’s and squeezed it. She was scared too, not for herself but her children, for she knew only too well that she was taking a gamble with their lives.
Yet she had to take that gamble. If they stayed here the chances were that the next epidemic or the next cut in rations would carry them off, just as it had so many other children. It was surely better to take their chances with the sea. At least if they drowned, they would all go together. A quick, clean death.
‘The cutter is in fine shape now,’ Will said, as if to reassure himself. ‘Even the weather is on our side.’
Mary looked up at the sky. It was cloudy, and unless it suddenly cleared it would obscure the moon tonight. The breeze was very light, but that hardly mattered as they would be letting the tide carry them out of the bay – oars would make too much noise and sails would be too conspicuous.
‘We’re going to do it,’ she said firmly. ‘I know we are.’
It was dark by six, and in the next couple of hours, the men arrived one by one and left silently, each with a sack of goods to be taken further down the shore to the agreed departure point.
Emmanuel and Charlotte were both sound asleep in bed. Mary had no fears that Emmanuel would wake when she picked him up, but Charlotte was a different story. She had been tiresome all day, whining and throwing tantrums. Clearly she had sensed that something was going on, and if she woke to find herself in a boat, she might start screaming.
Mary’s mouth was dry with fright as she saw the last sack taken