Bess was sitting where Smith had left her. She looked up when Smith arrived. “Well?”
“I need a ship,” Smith said.
“Where will you get one?”
“The French will help,” Smith said, “and Sir Francis will provide one.”
For all her lack of height, Bess matched him stride for stride as they paced the length of the village. “The French are our enemies,” she reminded.
“The French are King George’s enemies,” Smith corrected. “I’m not King George.”
Bess sighed. “Have you got an evasive answer for everything?”
“If I had all the answers,” Smith said, “I’d be living in a palatial mansion with a thousand acres of land.”
Bess gave him a sideways look. “That’s a different world,” she said.
Smith led her to the harbour, where three coasters lay along the quay, one loading and two unloading.
“Nice lo
