“I like the smell of the coast. My parents were given to taking the family in both warm and cold weather. Mother is convinced that there are healing properties to be had from swimming in the ocean,” Max observed. When the farmer had passed, he turned to Harlow. “My apologies. It was the only thing I could think of when I saw the farmer and wanted to make sure you noticed the white horse,” he said as he gestured with his head to emphasize the horse now behind him.
“Your sudden excursion into the realms of memory stirred me from my reverie. Thank you,” he responded sarcastically. “Since you bring up the topic, are you familiar with the contraptions employed by women to swim in the ocean?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Men can strip down and at once immerse themselves in the waves. Women, however, wear enough clothing to sink a small vessel. To be required to be pulled out to sea in a bathhouse on wheels seems over done,” Harlow added. “Has your mother ever tried that?” he asked.
“Good God, Harlow, this is no time for such notions. “I do not even want to think of my mother in a bathing-machine, rolling into the sea. Besides, it is doubtful we will see anything like that off the Cornish coast. The ocean floor is too rocky,” Max retorted.
“Are you saying you wish they could remove all their clothing and jump straight in the water?” Harlow persisted, full of mirth. “That would certainly have a few healing properties for me. What say you?”
“Enough. I wish I had not said anything. Keep your mind on our task,” Max countered. They turned off the road onto the gravelled one before the building that shared the post office and the local draper’s shop. “It looks abandoned. I imagined people would be here,” he added as they dismounted and walked their horses towards the back of the property.
“Today is Saturday. I do not believe it is open every day. However, I cannot agree no one is here. It is a walkable distance. Anyone could arrive.”
They tied their horses in the shade of a large oak tree and waited. When they were involved in a commission such as this, they watched the opposite sides of the property. Max tapped his friend when he spotted DeLacey step from behind a massive mulberry bush, leading his horse behind him.
“A praiseworthy entrance,” Harlow remarked. “I had not considered hiding in a mulberry bush until now. They make excellent cover.” He strode over and pulled off a twig of black fruit. Mulberry bushes and other shrubs made up a garden area that appeared long since abandoned. “An excellent resource,” he said, popping one of the mulberries into this mouth.
“I rather like them myself,” DeLacey retorted wryly. He looked around and motioned them together. “I think we discussed the farmer’s signal, did we not?”
“The white horse and the farmer we spoke of with Cressey in Town?” Harlow tested, making sure they were the same. “I think we met him just now as we rode through town.”
“The very one. He rode back earlier this morning, along the ridge. It fits. The Prince Regent told me he expects a large shipment of confiscated brandies and laces from France to pass through. A small payroll was also rumoured to be included on the boat. It is manned by Lieutenant Pelham, whose star is rising in the British Navy since he has been reclaiming goods for the government. His ship just took down two pirate ships while on patrol. These are goods that were confiscated.
“So, this ship sails through tomorrow night?” Harlow declared more than asked.
DeLacey nodded.
“I assume Pelham knows the importance of this operation and is in on the deceit,” Max said in a questioning tone.
“You have the right of it. The free traders dream of finding a bounty of supplies such as this. The Prince Regent wants to save this ship and its cargo and intends we trap the traitor. Only two other people within the navy know the route Pelham will take—the Admiral and his secretary.”
“The Rear Admiral?” Harlow put his question matter-of-factly and glanced at Max. This was not the first operation where they had suspected someone in high authority of alerting the enemy.
“I notice this surprises neither of you. The secretary, however, is unaware of the trap,” DeLacey acknowledged in a low voice. “His guilt seems conclusive if the signal I described turns out to be true. If this ship is lured and attacked, we snare both the snitch and the head of this smuggling ring. That is the most important outcome. Alert your associate within the Dragoons and bid them be hidden, ready to attack, before nightfall,” DeLacey ordered, marking off each instruction with his fingers. “You have both met my contact.”
Harlow looked up, startled. The only people they had met were the ostler and the innkeeper’s family, although they had also caught a glimpse of the widow.
“Of course. Michael,” he said, inclining his head.
“Yes,” DeLacey replied in a smug tone. “Tip him the nod when you need to get word to me. We can trust him. He has proven himself invaluable to me. The smugglers falsely accused his uncle of collaborating with the Revenue men and killed him. I liked the man. He was a good man and the only father Michael has known. He seeks to avenge his uncle’s death.
“I see,” Harlow responded. He hoped Michael’s loyalty, based as it was on revenge, would prove solid. This was a perilous mission.
“Have you become familiar with the caves along the coast—the caves under the castle?
“Somewhat. We have been watching the area off and on for a year, now, using your father’s property to gain access,” Max responded.
“Excellent! I found a little-known cave located close to King’s Cave. Large boulders and shrubs hide its narrow opening, and there are no signs of use for many a long year. I will meet you there
