Smuggler's Kiss

by Marie-Louise Jensen

  I nodded, not entirely reassured. The floor lifted, tilting so violently that even my clutch on the table didn’t stop me staggering sideways. Jacob caught at my wrist to steady me with one hand, while holding his rum safe with the other. He grinned a little. ‘Looking a bit green, girl,’ he commented.

  ‘Feeling pretty green,’ I admitted, willing my rebellious stomach to quieten. My head swam unpleasantly as the ship rolled and lurched once more.

  Jacob downed his drink and rose to go, but I caught his sleeve. ‘What about Will?’ I asked. ‘Is he safe on shore in this storm, waiting for us?’

  ‘Oh, Will always stays safe,’ said Jacob, patting my hand. ‘He’s got more lives than a cat, that lad. Don’t you worry. No storm or excise man will get him. Now you stay in here where it’s safe and out of everyone’s way.’

  He disappeared out into the howling storm, banging the door behind him. I shivered in the blast of cold air that had swirled in.

  The storm raged on and we couldn’t make the landing the next day either. I thought of Will waiting in the rain and the wind and the dark with a train of pack ponies for the second night running, watching this storm enrage the sea, transforming it into a white-crested roaring monster. I could imagine how the waves must be hurling themselves against the cliffs where he waited as if it wished to tear them down. But perhaps at least the Preventives would keep to their cosy firesides in such weather and he need not fear them tonight.

  The storm blew itself out some time late in the second night. The sea, swift to grow unruly, was also quick to calm itself again. The swell diminished and the white horses faded from the waves, leaving The Invisible wallowing in a heavy swell. We could once more unreef the sail and head for the next night’s rendezvous.

  ‘Where is it we’ll make shore tonight?’ I asked the pilot, going to stand beside him as he pored over his charts.

  Fred sighed and shook his head slightly. ‘Dancing Ledge,’ he said. ‘It’s never my first choice of landfall. It’s isolated, right enough, and well-hidden. Only the quarry ships use it and that by daylight. But it’s an evil stretch of coast, with rogue currents and a liberal sprinkling of rocks that would tear the hull open.’

  I’d never heard him express himself with less than absolute confidence before. ‘Surely there must be another choice, then?’ I asked, appalled.

  ‘It’s the spot we agreed for the third night,’ he said. ‘And though it’s tricky, the Philistines won’t guess that we’ll attempt it in big seas. So likely we’ll come off well. And it’s our last run this side of Christmas, so we could do with that. We’re all looking forward to seeing our families.’

  His words reminded me that I still didn’t know what I was to do with the week ahead. I thought of my family celebrating quietly without me, and my heart ached with longing. The fact that they thought me dead seemed suddenly infamous. Could I not seek them out, spend some time with them?

  But as always when this thought rose in my mind, I remembered that if I returned to my family, I would no longer be able to escape my duty. I hardened my heart and closed my mind to my past life.

  It was in considerable trepidation that I watched the shore draw nearer that evening. The wind had freshened once more with the coming of darkness, and the decks heaved beneath my feet.

  While we were still out at sea, Jacob took me up to the look-out to help him spot Will’s signal. It wasn’t often I climbed up here, nor was it my favourite spot on the ship, but I could manage the climb without paralysing attacks of vertigo now. I stood at the swaying look-out, feeling exposed and vulnerable each time the mast swung out across the sea, clinging on tightly as I scanned the horizon for the flash of blue we expected.

  ‘There!’ I cried at last, pointing to the spot where I’d seen it. Jacob followed the direction of my arm, and just caught the last of the blue fading away in the deep darkness.

  ‘It’s sharp-sighted you are,’ he said with satisfaction. ‘As for me, I must be getting old. Time was I never missed the flink.’

  The bearing was taken from the flink and we approached land. As we drew closer, I could hear the roar and drag of the open sea breaking against rock. My anxiety grew as we approached the landing place. Two spout lanterns had been lit to guide us, and the skipper was battling wind and waves to stay on course.

  The skipper spun the wheel, the men dropped the sails and the ship swept around in the swell. In the gloom, a bare ledge of rock loomed up, side-on to the ship. This landing place was wide open to the unruly sea. A huge fender of twisted ropes was strung across the rock to prevent ships being ground against it by the waves that pounded the shore.

  Beyond the narrow berth, I could make out the swell surging over other ledges that reached far out into the sea beside us. Even a landlubber like me could see why this was a dangerous spot.

  Mooring ropes were flung down to secure The Invisible and caught by men who emerged from the shadows. They looped them around great rocks that lay on the ledge for the purpose. The ship groaned against the fender. She still rose and fell in the great waves that washed up to the ledge, and on the far side of the ship they broke over the rail, sending water crashing down upon the deck.

  One moment the ledge was below us, the next we dropped so that we were looking up at it. We were at our moorings now, but still the unloading would be treacherous. And as for leaving the shore again; how possible would that be without being dashed upon these dreadful cliffs?

  I was right about the unloading. It was dangerous work. The kegs were slung overboard on ropes and the men needed to time the lowering of them very precisely so that the landers could grasp and secure them. I saw one anker crushed between the side of the ship and the fender. I watched from the rail as it burst, spilling its precious contents into the sea to shouts of frustration from the men.

  At last the cargo was all ashore. I had scanned the landers, hoping to spot Will among them, but the night was dark, and I had no idea which disguise he was wearing tonight. I thought I could make him out standing on the ledge, wrapped in a dark frieze coat. He was slighter than many of the landers and carried himself very straight, but that was my only clue.

  ‘We need men,’ someone was shouting across to us. The skipper stood at the rail as the ship rose and fell, one hand cupped to his ear, straining to hear his words.

  ‘Trouble … revenue … ’ we made out. Most of the words were tossed aside by the wind. ‘Plenty … ponies … four men, more … spare them … ’

  ‘He needs extra men,’ the skipper relayed to those who hadn’t caught the words. ‘Didn’t hear why, but they’re short of landers to lead the ponies. Any volunteers?’

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  There was muttering and shaking of heads. It was Christmas Eve on the morrow and The Invisible due to sail on to Poole harbour after the drop so the crew members could all reach their families in time for Christmas Day. Few wanted to risk a long exhausting journey inland leading pack ponies and dodging the Revenue.

  Harry, however, volunteered at once. His home was at Swanage, only a short walk away.

  My heart skipped a beat as I saw him prepared to be helped ashore. The memory of the shattered cask took on appalling significance as they looped ropes about his torso and he prepared to make the jump. Harry climbed to the outside of the rail and clung there precariously, two of his comrades holding him fast. They waited as the ship plunged sickeningly and then lifted once more. Just as it began to sink again, Harry shouted: ‘Now!’ He leapt, the men pushed and Harry flew towards the ledge. He was caught by two landers, staggering against them with the shock of the jolt onto the rock. He was safe.

  They freed him swiftly from the rope and it was pulled aboard for the next man. The skipper looked around the assembled crew. ‘No one has to go, but you know as well as I do that this venture is money in all of our pockets. The loss of the cargo would dig deep into our savings.’

  Jacob stepped forward. I felt sick with fear and had to fight an urge to beg him not to ris
k himself. It wasn’t the Revenue officers that troubled me. It was that leap into the abyss that was the transfer to shore.

  ‘I’ll go,’ Jacob said. ‘It’s only a step home from here after the job’s done.’

  The men were preparing to loop the rope about him when I grasped his hand. ‘Take care,’ I begged him.

  Jacob’s eyes twinkled at me and a smile crinkled his big beard. ‘I will,’ he promised.

  His crew-mates were clapping him on the shoulder and the back, showing their appreciation that he was willing to do this for the rest of them.

  The boat rose, the boat fell, and Jacob was perched on that slippery rail, waiting for the right moment. He leapt and I thought he was going to make it. But with a lurch of my stomach, I realized he’d jumped short. He was going to fall into that dreadful gap between ship and rock. I screamed in horror, clutching the rail. Jacob fell down, down, and then just as I thought he was gone, he grasped the very edge of the treacherous ledge of rock and clung on, though the water spouted up through the gap, drenching him.

  The men holding the rope strained to hold him, to help him hang on to the ledge. Then the landers ran forward and grasped him, hauling him back from the precipice and to safety. I was trembling with shock. The strength of my feelings caught me by surprise. I’d grown to care for this gentle, lumbering smuggler. How had that come about?

  No one else wished to volunteer. I couldn’t find it in me to blame them. Who in their right mind would risk that dreadful leap, and a night creeping through damp undergrowth, when they could be heading for a snug berth in Poole and a Christmas at home with their families?

  Will, at least I thought it was Will, was standing onshore holding up his index finger and then performing a pleading gesture, hands together.

  ‘One more,’ the skipper told us. The men shook their heads. I was wondering what he would do if they all refused. Then his eye fell on me. ‘Isabelle!’ he said. ‘You can go.’

  ‘Me?’ I gasped. Panic tore through me. ‘No!’

  ‘You’re strong enough to lead a pony,’ the skipper said. ‘The tubs don’t need carrying. And you have no home to go to for Christmas. You can spare one of the men from missing out on seeing their families.’

  My protests went unheeded. I was pulled to the rail and the soaking rope was passed around me.

  ‘Please,’ I begged. I didn’t mind helping to lead the ponies. If that had been all, I’d have been happy to go. It was that jump.

  But before I could say more I was being helped over the rail, held fast by strong hands. I trembled as I stood there on the brink, sure I was going to die. I no longer even had a voice to plead. I would be crushed like the barrel. I knew it.

  A rope was passed through my harness and thrown ashore. I could see Will had caught it and was holding it fast. His eyes were fixed intently on me, a frown on his face. Jacob stood at his side looking anxiously up at me. The ship dipped. As it rose again to its peak and began to drop, the men holding me shouted: ‘Jump!’

  I bent my trembling legs and half leapt and was half thrown out into the abyss.

  I must have closed my eyes as I plummeted. I certainly stopped breathing. For a moment everything fell silent. It was almost as if the sea ceased to churn and the wind dropped to nothing. With a jolt that knocked the breath from my body, I landed heavily. I felt pain from the impact shoot up my ankle, but I also felt strong arms around me, supporting me before I fell. For a moment, I didn’t dare look, so certain had I been that I would fall into the gap and be squashed. When I opened my eyes, both Will and Jacob were holding me, and I gasped out loud with relief. I’d made it.

  Jacob put his arm around me and supported me away from the edge. I leaned heavily on his arm, still trembling. ‘I thought I was going to die,’ I said with a slight sob in my voice.

  ‘Nay, we caught you right and tight. It’s almost easier to catch a slight lass like you than a grown man. But what were you doing volunteering for such danger?’

  ‘I didn’t!’ I said indignantly. ‘The skipper ordered it.’

  ‘That wasn’t right,’ said Jacob, shaking his head.

  ‘I’m here now. The worst bit is surely over?’ I asked hopefully. I walked a few steps along the slimy pitted ledge and winced a little at the pain in my ankle.

  ‘Injured yourself?’ asked Will, joining us. ‘You’ll be in the way rather than a help, as usual.’

  I sent him a hurt look, but he was preoccupied with watching the ship. Behind me, The Invisible was casting off. I turned to watch too. She swung slowly away from the berth, dipping and bucking in the big sea, and headed away from the ledge. I was relieved to see her clear this treacherous coast.

  Once she was safely heading out to sea, the men all turned, began to sling the last of the kegs over their shoulders and carry them to the back of the deep ledge. Some had already been hauled up by rope to the shelf above.

  There was a path up, or something that resembled a rocky stairway, to the right. Will sent me up there while he helped rope the rest of the barrels.

  The second ledge was deeper than the lower one, and much smoother. It went right back into the cliffs, where I could see dark, gaping holes in the sheer faces. It looked like a working quarry, with blocks of stone stacked up in piles. I looked up the cliff and realized the next climb up was going to be much steeper and longer than the last; especially difficult with a painful ankle.

  The barrels were hauled up the second cliff too, but we climbed up a narrow, uneven track on the left of the ledge. I found myself glad of the time I’d spent in the rigging, learning never to look down.

  At the top of the climb, a path ran along the cliff tops in either direction. I stopped to catch my breath, peering into the darkness.

  ‘This is where the customs men patrol,’ Will told me as we reached it. ‘This is one of the few places we can land a cargo on this stretch of coast.’

  ‘How do you know they aren’t watching now?’ I asked.

  ‘Because there is a look-out on the spyway above us,’ said Will with a grin. ‘Wait till we get up there; you can see for miles in either direction. We’re quite safe for now. Can you walk all right?’

  ‘Of course,’ I said at once, determined not to slow the train down. The pain was already lessening as I moved about.

  The ponies were waiting beyond a cliff path. Many were already carrying kegs, and the rest were being loaded up now. I was given a pony by a large figure in a dark coat. ‘Bless me, it’s just a lad,’ he said to himself in a hoarse whisper, as he handed me the leading rein.

  Before we set out, I was assigned a second pony to lead. Several had three to manage. I saw many of the men had their faces blacked so as not to stand out in the darkness. All wore dark clothes. I realized I must stand out with my pale face, and resolved to keep it hidden if we were pursued.

  All the organization was done in near silence, voices low and cautious, the loading and manoeuvring smooth and practised. Only a few minutes later, the train turned and set off across the short springy turf. We climbed straight up the steep hill ahead of us. The grass was nibbled short by sheep and covered in droppings. Its very smoothness made it difficult to climb, and I was glad of the ridges in the turf that I imagined had formed through land slippage and of the occasional big tufts of rougher grass too.

  The two ponies followed me willingly enough, climbing the sheer hill with short, jerky steps, their shaggy heads bobbing up and down with the strain of bearing the casks on their backs. They were soon puffing harder than I, and straining to keep climbing as the slope grew ever steeper. I noticed their harness neither creaked nor jingled. I stared at it in the dark, and from what I could see, it had no metal in it at all. Had it been made especially for smuggling?

  Suddenly, with a last, exhausted scramble, we had reached the top, and the fields sloped only gently upwards from here. Drystone walls that ran in long straight lines along the contours of the hills, divided the slopes into fields. I was relieved to be putting less str
ain on my aching ankle.

  There was a brief pause while a gate was opened ahead of us. Behind me, I heard Will whisper: ‘Isabelle!’

  I turned, and understood at once what he wanted me to see. The view was magnificent. The hills sloped steeply away behind us to the cliffs and by the light of the moon I could see for miles in both directions. The moonlight gleamed on the vast expanse of the sea too, as it stretched out into the distance. I could still make out The Invisible, sailing away towards Poole.

  Neither of us needed to say anything. We just stared, and then the train was moving on again, the only sounds the soft thud of hooves in the turf and the occasional snort of a tired pony.

  We crossed two fields, paused at a barn to unload a couple of kegs and leave a pony behind, and then crossed two fields more before we reached a village, lying dark and quiet in the moonlight. No smoke rose from any of the chimneys and no light shone from any of the windows. We led the ponies straight through the sleeping village to its stone church. Here more kegs were unloaded and left in the porch, and we moved on, leaving one or two kegs at the inn and other houses.

  I was afraid the clattering of hooves on the stony road might wake the sleeping villagers, but when I whispered my fears to Will he laughed softly in the darkness. ‘Only women and children are sleeping tonight,’ he whispered back. ‘And they know not to look. Their men are all here with us.’

  Our long line drew clear of the village into silent fields. It was a breathless, silent trek through the darkness, all of us aware of every sound around us. Even my ponies sensed the tension; their ears were pricked forward eagerly as we made our way into the denser darkness of a small wood, their hooves silent on the thick bed of leaves and moss.

  It was as we emerged from the wood that we heard hoof beats ahead. The line broke up around me and melted back into the trees. With difficulty, I turned my ponies and followed them. Every man had concealed himself and his beasts as best he could behind trees and bushes or in small hollows. I withdrew quietly, but wasn’t experienced at this work, and was relieved when Will came to one pony’s head and helped me lead it quietly out of sight.