‘If I take him down to the creek about midnight, there’ll be nobody about; not any of the other Paull Shrimpers, they’ll all be abed by then, and I’ll get him into the smaller boat, lie him for’ard and cover him so nobody’ll see him should anybody be awake and chance to see a boat drifting by.’ She considered the tide and thought it would be running towards the Humber mouth; the wind was freshening, she could hear it, but from which direction? I don’t want the boat hitting the lee shore and getting caught up, or somebody will find him come morning.
She poured another cup and sat pondering. It had been a long time since she had sailed; not since she had married Deakin and set sail away from Brixham to a new harbour. It had been hard work, she remembered, especially once they’d reached the sea, but Deakin was strong and she’d been a good sailor, and the weather had been in their favour.
‘But can I hoist the sails on my own? I’m thirty years older than I was then. Mebbe – mebbe …’ She was beginning to have doubts. Once the boat met estuary waters there wouldn’t be any difficulty, the tide would carry the boat and its cargo, but – ‘I’ll need to go aboard and bring her out of the creek,’ she mumbled. ‘Can I handle her? I wonder if … could I … yes, that’s a possibility.’ She was talking to herself and providing the answers. ‘If I row her out of the creek into the Humber, keep to the lee side and pull towards the Pier House jetty where the ferries dock … or mebbe the landing near the Humber Tavern, yes, you’re right, that might be another option. If I grab hold of one of the staves of the jetty I’ll leap out of the boat, shove her off again and set her free.
‘Aye, that’s what I’ll do. Then I’ll come back here and hide all of his ill-gotten gains until I can find customers for it. I’ll have a couple of days’ grace before I report him missing. If anybody sees the mule and cart they’ll not think anything of it. He often leaves the mule to graze when he’s gone fishing.’
She had several hours to wait so she made herself some food, hid the money bag in a cupboard and then sat down to await the midnight hour when she would bring the mule into the barn, hitch him to the cart and move off. She soon nodded off into a doze, for she had built up the fire and put a blanket over her knees and for once was cosy and warm. When she woke it was half past eleven. She looked out of the window and saw that it was raining hard.
She dressed in one of Deakin’s rubber waterproof coats and his cap. She wrapped a scarf round her neck and turned up the coat collar, then lit an oil lamp to take into the barn. She locked the cottage door and put the key under a stone.
The mule brayed at her from the paddock fence and she realized he’d be hungry, but decided not to feed him as she wanted to entice him with carrots. She opened the barn door wide and hooked it back to the wall, then put the lamp down near the rully and took a handful of carrots from a sack.
‘Come on then, you old rogue,’ she muttered, holding out a carrot. The animal lunged for it, but she was quicker than he was and she moved backwards so that he would follow her. He kept braying at her and she hoped the neighbours wouldn’t hear. She got him into the barn and gave him the carrot. With another dangling above his nose she managed to turn him round so that she could hitch him up to the cart. She then put several on the ground for him to munch whilst she made the cart and traces secure.
For several minutes she stood whilst considering other options for her own well-being, and decided to take a half-anker of brandy with her. She’d put it beside him in case anyone should find the boat, for instance stuck on a sandbank further down the estuary at Sunk Island or Trinity Sand. There were many treacherous sandbanks in the Humber and good navigational skills were required.
She nodded to herself at her ingenuity and foresight. This way, if he should be found shot dead with the brandy beside him, the customs men would conclude there had been a fight amongst the free traders and Deakin had got the worst of it. ‘They’d think it was some foreign seaman,’ she muttered. ‘Not his little wifey at home.’ But then she reconsidered. Wouldn’t the other smugglers take the brandy with them? She spent a few precious minutes undecided about what to do, but as she’d already loaded it next to him, she decided to leave it there.
‘I’m ready, I think.’ She urged the mule out of the barn and across the yard and held him by the snaffle until she’d unfastened the gate, but then couldn’t close it after her as the mule set off at such a fast trot that she had to grab his neck collar to stop him before climbing on to the wooden box that served as a seat. It was then that she remembered that she hadn’t closed the barn door or doused the lantern. ‘Oh, well, can’t be helped,’ she muttered. ‘I’ll not be long. An hour at most.’
The mule knew his way to the creek and set off down the track towards the village. Mrs Deakin pulled the coat collar up so that it hid her chin and the peak of the cap shielded her face; not that anyone was about on this dark wet night, but she thought that if anyone should see they would think it was Deakin out on his
