I thought I saw a flash of light in the dark shadows ahead but when I looked again the distant beach had been swallowed in a blanket of swirling mist. I crouched back against the gunwales and pulled the heavy rug more tightly around my shoulders to ward off the chill of the morning. Encouraged by the fog, the oarsmen ferried the boat quietly towards the shoreline.
I studied my companion, silhouetted against the moonlit sky. Her body, tense and upright, reminded me again of her courage and loyalty in the face of danger. She sensed that I was watching her and turned her face toward me.
In the darkness I recalled our first meeting. I was ill and exhausted when my friends had carried me into her home on the island. I sensed that she and her father were not true supporters of my cause but she had immediately taken control and ordered my companions to carry me to an upstairs bedroom. She had followed us with a bowl of hot broth, dispatched her maid to light the fire in the room and sent my companions away to rest. She maintained a quiet vigil by my bed throughout the night. After weeks of being on the run, I had at last found a place of refuge.
Gradually my strength returned as a result of her ministrations. I convalesced in the warmth of the summer sun, knowing however that I was destined to move on. I was a wanted man with a heavy ransom on my head. I knew of the gathering disquiet amongst the residents on the island, the fear that I would be found, that there would be severe repercussions on those sheltering me.
It was her idea to convey me to the safety of the neighbouring island where I had a community of sympathisers willing to take me home. To confuse the soldiers who would surely be waiting for my arrival, she had suggested I disguise myself as her maid. I was furious that I should have to suffer such indignity. She dismissed my bad-tempered response and began organising our journey.
I was brought back to my senses when I heard the rough scraping of the boat on sand. The order was given to abandon the boat and make for the shore. I lifted my skirts gracelessly and clambered over the side into the icy water. Chivalrously, I turned back to help my companion out, embarrassed that in the circumstances I could not carry her to shore. As we waded to the beach I was shocked by the coldness of her hand in mine. She was shivering.
My worst fears were realized when we saw the soldiers waiting beside the rocks above the beach. My heart froze as we approached them. They looked suspiciously at me. I felt their scrutiny through every pore but held my eyes demurely on the ground.
The story that my companion told so boldly persuaded them of the innocence of our journey. I was thus delivered safely to my trusted friends.
Alternative titles:
Contraband Delivered
A Wanted Man
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3 comments:
Heather says:
A great yarn, Kerry. Although the background is very subtle/sparse, we get to know your character well enough that we really want him to succeed in his mission.
The romantic in me would have liked a few seeds planted in the relationship between fugitive and nurse, or at least SOME indication of a special understanding between the two. I wasn't sure why her hands were shockingly cold and thought I'd probably missed a message there.
I await Chapter 2!
Another story of risking life for one's ideals. Well delivered. Given that "she and her father were not true supporters of my cause" I am lead to conclude that there is some other attraction to the man, perhaps romantic? She is obviously of wealth so why is she risking so much?
No one in this story has a name. Is that deliberate?
(Stupid computer. Add this comment to my other one. I accidentally published my post too early.)
Given the chill of the morning and the circumstances, I would think it natural to feel a cold hand and shocking to feel a warm hand and see her flushed rather than chilled. This would give off a message incongrous with the circumstances.
You have a flair for the romantic Kerry. More please.
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