Smuggler's Kiss

by Marie-Louise Jensen

‘You have a clear view from this cliff,’ said Will, indicating the bay and the farmland stretching behind it with a sweep of his hand. ‘This whole area is like a natural amphitheatre with the bay as its stage.’

  It was true. I looked inland and noted the way the land sloped gradually upwards from the bay in each direction, ending in high hills all the way around. It was open ground; pastureland with barely a tree.

  ‘The landers will meet you here. If you’re due to walk at four, be here by mid-afternoon to spy out the surroundings. Stay hidden, keep your eyes open. They’ll do the same. If there’s Philistines about, keep your cloak and yourself well out of sight. If not, you walk.’

  ‘And if it isn’t clear, how will you land the goods?’

  ‘Same thing the next day,’ said Jacob. ‘And if that’s no good either, we have a new rendez-vous arranged for the third night. The landers will get a message to you if need be.’

  ‘Very well,’ I agreed. ‘I’ll play my part.’

  ‘Good girl,’ said Jacob with a nod of approval. ‘I know Ann’s got some work for you before then too. I reckon you’ll enjoy it. We need to be leaving you now. Can you find your way back?’

  ‘I can,’ I said confidently. It had been very straightforward getting here: we’d followed the same cliff path most of the way. Jacob gave me a great bear hug, a whiskery kiss on the cheek, tousled my hair and told me to look after myself. He turned away and I was left facing Will, unsure how to make my goodbyes to him. Should I offer to shake his hand or give him a casual nod? Will surprised me again by following Jacob’s example and pulling me into a hug. I hugged him back, my heart unruly in my chest. I pressed my cold face against his warm, woollen coat as he held me close, and then it was over, no more words exchanged. I was standing alone on the high cliff, watching him stride away from me.

  I felt hot tears prick my eyes and a confusion of emotions within me as I watched the men grow smaller in the distance and disappear. Will turned at the last minute and raised his hand in farewell, but before I could respond, he’d vanished from sight.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The long, lonely walk home in the fading afternoon did not serve to resolve my tangled feelings into any kind of order. I’d led Will to believe I’d been driven to take my own life due to a broken heart. When the truth was … much more sordid. In the first weeks and months aboard The Invisible, I’d been too angry and confused to think things through and later, too content and too busy with my new life to face up to the mess that I’d left behind me. The thought tortured me. I resolved that next time I saw Will, I would confess everything to him. I would be truthful. No matter how hard it was.

  Perhaps he would think it was me that had behaved badly. Maybe he would despise me. I’d changed so much that it was hard to connect the girl who was the belle of the ballroom with the person I’d now become. My former life was remote and unreal.

  Ann greeted me with supper when I returned. Freshly baked bread, a piece of cheese and some ham pie were set out on the table. I stepped from the frosty dusk in through the kitchen door, and sighed with relief to be back in the warmth and glow of the firelight. Ann took my coat and asked after the day. It eased my heartache to feel her kindness.

  I slept badly that night. I tossed and turned on my narrow bed, shivering under the blankets and going restlessly over and over in my mind how I could explain everything to Will. I tried to imagine how I would tell him the dreadful, humiliating truth. Sometimes I thought Will would turn from me in disgust. At others, that he would understand. I would lose myself briefly in a happy dream of the future. But this always ended with one unanswerable fact: by my own actions, I had made sure there could be no happy ending for me.

  When I finally fell asleep, the dark door loomed before me, light seeping around the edges. I knew my usual craven impulse to flee; to run from what waited behind it. But this time, I didn’t. I walked up to it boldly, put my hand upon the door handle and turned it. But then as light flooded over me, I lost my courage, closed my eyes tight shut and screamed. I screamed so loudly that I woke myself and brought Ann running into my room in her nightgown and cap. ‘Whatever is the trouble, child?’ she asked, looking sleepy and confused.

  ‘Just a nightmare,’ I told her. If I couldn’t tell Ann the truth, how was I going to tell Will?

  I expected the following weeks to be empty and dull and wondered how I would get through them. But Ann had some surprises for me. The third day I was alone with her, I came down to the kitchen to the aroma of bubbling sugar. A large cauldron of some sweet substance was hot on the fire, filling the kitchen with its caramel scent. Pouring this golden substance into two urns, Ann took one herself and gave another to me to carry. Wondering what this was, and what kind of work could take us out of the house on such a cold, dark winter’s morning, I wrapped myself up, and followed her.

  I learned that morning that the brandy we brought across from France was clear, but that the English liked it a golden honey colour. So the women on shore set up little workshops in barns, caves, and vaults and doctored the bulk of the cognac with caramel. I also learned that the near-proof brew we brought was so strong it could blind you. I helped dilute it, pouring it carefully into larger barrels to be taken inland to Bath and Salisbury by cart. The women explained why the Cousin Jacky was brought over so strong: even concentrated as it was, there was so much carrying involved in bringing it secretly up from the coast. It made sense, but I’d had no idea how many women were involved in the trade.

  The domestic life I experienced at Ann’s was also an eye-opener for me. It wasn’t desperate poverty. But it was poverty nonetheless. She made and scraped, saved and took great care to waste nothing. Even when my family had been in reduced circumstances, we’d not known the need for such economies. In fact, when I thought of the lavish meals that had been set on our table throughout my life, I squirmed. We’d always had far more than we needed and so much had always been sent away again uneaten. Presumably the servants had consumed much of it, but I didn’t know for sure. I’d never given the waste a thought until now.

  ‘If it weren’t for the trade,’ Ann said simply, ‘we’d starve come winter. Be thrown on the parish too, like as not, for poor relief. Oh the shame! And those as starve all winter, ain’t strong enough for work when it does come in spring.

  ‘But with Jacob bringing home money from the trade, and the hens, the pig, and our bit of a garden for growing some onions and so on, we can get by.’

  ‘But doesn’t he bring home a great deal of money?’ I asked, thinking of all those runs we’d made; great cargoes of brandy, snuff, lace, and other goods besides.

  ‘Not as much as he should,’ said Ann bitterly. ‘It’s the financier that gets the lion’s share. Ain’t that the way of the world? Them that’s rich gets richer and them that’s poor does all the hard work.’ She shook her head and then added, ‘And it’s even harder now they’re saving … but mum for that.’ She refused to say more.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The day of the run into Kimmeridge dawned cold and clear. Ann shook her head at the bright sky and muttered under her breath that heavy cloud would have been a deal more to her taste.

  ‘It’s new moon, though,’ I said comfortingly. ‘There’ll be little enough light to betray them.’

  ‘There’ll be enough,’ she said darkly. ‘We worry, Isabelle. Those of us left behind. We sit here helpless, and there’s little we can do to keep our men safe. Just keep our mouths shut and pray.’

  I nodded, but tonight I was doing something to help, and the blood pulsed quicker in my veins at the thought. I wondered at myself. It seemed strange for me to be delighting in the prospect of danger. But then, as I’d already acknowledged to myself, I’d changed.

  I parted from Ann with much affection, embracing her and thanking her for having me to stay. I wished I could have given her some parting gift for all the care she’d lavished on me, but Will had left me no money, and I hadn’t thought to ask for any.
/>   ‘You can say your goodbyes all you like,’ said Ann cheerfully, ‘but you may be back later for all that. The run doesn’t always take place on the first night, nor yet the second.’

  ‘I know,’ I agreed. ‘But I’ve a good feeling about tonight.’

  I set off full of eagerness. The bright day lifted my mood still further, and the walk was exhilarating. I had a packet of food and some water in a basket, together with my bright red cloak and a tinderbox. This last item Ann had come running after me with, telling me to tuck it into my basket ‘in case of need’. I hadn’t been able to imagine what I’d need a tinderbox for, but I’d accepted it without question, tucked it into the bottom of the basket and promptly forgotten about it. My thoughts were all on rejoining The Invisible that night.

  I reached Hen Cliff much earlier than was necessary, found a relatively sheltered spot from which I could see both the beach and the surrounding countryside and settled down to watch and wait. The brightness faded as I ate my meal and the sun dropped towards the west. Soon it would be time for me to walk back and forth along the cliff top, to signal The Invisible. All seemed quiet and safe. I’d seen no one but a shepherd pass by in the hour or so I’d been here, and no one could approach the beach without me seeing. I just needed to wait for the landers to contact me to let me know they were in place to receive the contraband.

  I unpacked my red cloak and laid it on the ground beside me. Wrapping my arms about my body, I rocked myself back and forth, hoping I could start to walk soon. It was cold and exposed up here.

  I stroked the cloak, and as I looked back up again, I caught a slight movement out of the corner of my eye. I stared down at the beach, puzzled. Something had moved. What was it? A crab? A dog? I was certain I’d seen something.

  The beach was a long stretch of rock and shingle, empty and deserted in the pale winter light. A fresh wind was blowing and there were white-crested waves rolling onto the beach. But I was almost certain it wasn’t the waves that had moved. I ran my eyes slowly along the beach, noting the large patches of seaweed and driftwood lying strewn across the shingle. The seaweed all lay in a long strip, marking the high-tide line. Except that now I looked more closely, it didn’t. Some was heaped further back in piles. That was where I’d caught sight of the movement.

  Footsteps behind me and the sound of someone clearing their throat made me jump out of my skin, and slip dangerously close to the edge of the cliff. The man behind me grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back to safety.

  ‘Cousin Jacky’s arriving,’ he said with his eyes on the red cloak lying on the grass beside me.

  ‘I’m here to meet him,’ I responded as I’d been told. He nodded, apparently satisfied. I took stock of him. He wasn’t anyone I remembered seeing before, but then landing almost always took place under cover of darkness. He was a broad stocky man, not tall, but undoubtedly strong. He had a beard and wore a cap pulled down low over his eyes. I knew better by now than to ask his name or give mine.

  ‘Been here long?’ he asked.

  ‘An hour or so. You?’

  ‘Just got here.’ He nodded his head to a line of men walking down from the far side of the bay. ‘Those are our men. You seen anyone?’

  I shook my head. ‘Only a shepherd. But just now, I thought I saw … ’

  I looked back down to the beach, remembering that puzzling certainty I’d had that there was something out of the ordinary down there. Nothing stirred except a gull, walking along the beach.

  ‘What?’ asked the lander.

  ‘What could be making the seaweed move?’ I asked him.

  He peered short-sightedly down into the bay and then shrugged. ‘The gull?’ he asked.

  I sighed, an uncomfortable feeling still knotting itself in my belly. ‘Perhaps,’ I agreed. I got up and shook out my cloak. ‘Is it time?’ I asked. The day was already dimming. Soon they would no longer be able to see me from The Invisible.

  The man nodded and made off to ready his men. I slung the cloak about my shoulders and began to stroll casually along the top of Hen Cliff. The wind caught at my cloak, making it billow out behind me like a flag. I smiled in satisfaction. I must be easy to spot through a telescope. I walked the full length of the cliff, turned and walked back. As I drew nearer the beach again, I looked down closely at it, still wondering what it was that had moved. I had no real apprehension that it was human, and therefore a danger to the venture. There were quite clearly no people on the beach. I stared at it for a long time, but saw nothing. And then, at last, when I was about to give up, a pile of seaweed twitched.

  I frowned, staring down at the place where I’d seen movement. Could a seal be hiding on the beach among the seaweed? The hairs rose on the back of my neck. Not seals, but … could there be customs men hiding down there under the seaweed?

  They would have had to have arrived hours ago and dug themselves down into the beach. All those hours lying in the cold damp shingle? Surely not. Was there a customs man in existence that was that dedicated?

  I stood frozen with indecision on the cliff. What should I do? Raise the alarm? It was a drastic measure on so slight a suspicion. Everyone would be so angry with me if I were to postpone the run for nothing.

  And yet. If there really were king’s men lying there, Will and Jacob and the others could all be caught. They could be hurt or imprisoned. And the valuable cargo lost.

  At the thought of Will being shot or injured, I began to run. I ran in the direction the lander had taken, hoping to find him and to persuade him to search the beach. My feet flew over the sparse turf of the stony ground and my heart hammered in my chest.

  If I was right and there was an ambush down there on the shore, then it would have been I who had drawn The Invisible straight into it. I had signalled to the ship that the coast was clear. But perhaps it was not.

  I slipped and scrambled down the steep path that led from Hen Cliff to the bay itself. Once or twice I nearly missed my footing and tumbled, but I recovered and kept hurrying. At the bottom of the path, I ran along the back of the beach until I almost tripped over the landers who were lying in the long vegetation.

  I cried out with shock, and one of them grabbed hold of me and clapped a hand over my mouth. I fought him. The light was fading fast now, the setting sun firing the sky in the west with reds and oranges.

  I stopped struggling and the hand eased cautiously from my mouth. ‘What’s wrong?’ asked the man.

  ‘I gave the signal,’ I replied frantically. ‘But I don’t believe that the beach is safe! I saw movement.’

  ‘There’s no one there. We’ve checked,’ he said impatiently. ‘You’re putting us all in danger running around and screeching like that!’

  ‘I believe they’ve hidden themselves in the seaweed,’ I cried. ‘Will you not at least let me go and look? Otherwise you could all be caught and the cargo lost!’

  ‘Hidden in the seaweed? Are you mad?’ chuckled a man in a smock and straw hat.

  ‘Excise men are far too stupid for such a ruse!’ scoffed another, a tall thin man in baggy clothes.

  ‘There are too many of us,’ growled my captor. ‘We’re a match for them whatever they do.’

  ‘But they’ll be armed. They could have soldiers with them,’ said another. ‘Men could be lost.’

  The man I’d spoken to earlier who seemed to be the leader looked around his men doubtfully. ‘Someone should go and look, to be sure,’ he said at last. ‘We need to warn The Invisible off if it’s true.’ A man looked out to sea, shielding his eyes with one hand and reported: ‘She’s in sight.’

  In the end they let me go. I wrapped my cloak close about me and pulled my hood over my head to hide my features. Then I crunched out onto the shingle beach, my basket on my arm. My heart was hammering. If there really were excise men down there, what would they do when they realized I had rumbled them? Would they capture me or leave me be?

  Trying to behave as a beachcomber might, I paused to turn over driftwood and seaweed a
nd pretended to be hunting for items of value. I looked up once and saw The Invisible sailing straight towards the bay, her sails bellied out before her. I could clearly recognize her at this distance. Hurriedly, I bent and turned over another piece of driftwood. All the time I was drawing closer to those suspicious piles of rubbish above the tide line.

  Before I even reached them, I trod on some shingle that gave way and grunted under my feet. Horrified, I stepped back. The stones had slipped where I’d trodden and I thought I could see a patch of blue uniform poking through. Was it merely a piece of old fabric? Or a dead body?

  I stepped carefully around whatever it was, and crouched at the first patch of seaweed, carefully turning it over in my hands, piece by piece. I felt sick with fear.

  I pulled away a strip that exposed a pair of dark eyes staring back at me in the gloom. I caught my breath and flinched back in shock, but not before the pile had erupted, a strong hand had shot out and grabbed my wrist.

  I stifled a shriek of terror and tugged vainly. ‘Hush! You’ve no need to be frightened,’ said a hoarse voice rusty with disuse. He cleared his throat and spoke again. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.

  ‘Lookin’ for stuff,’ I said, imitating the voices of the village girls I’d heard over the past weeks. ‘I ain’t doin’ nothin’ wrong.’

  ‘Well, it’s far too late for you to be out. It’s getting dark! There could be trouble here very soon. Go home and say nothing to anyone! Do you understand?’

  ‘Yessir … ’ I said, backing away, the moment he loosened his grip on me.

  ‘Not that way!’ he hissed as he saw me retracing my steps. ‘Go further up the beach!’

  I obeyed him, feeling sick with fear. It occurred to me there could be soldiers about that he didn’t want me to run into. If they’d got here before me, they could be concealed somewhere.

  I struggled across the shingle as swiftly as I could, my feet slipping in my hurry to leave the beach. I found a path that led up behind it and began to run. I needed to tell the others there was danger. They might not have seen what I found. I reached a small hummock and climbed it, panting with exertion now.