Free Tide of Fortune by Jane Jackson

to ensure his trading agreements with Tangier would be maintained, despite the disruptive effects of the war with France. She turned the pen in her fingers. ‘What is the city like?’
    Swallowing his mouthful, Maggot grinned. ‘Many things same like Falmouth. Lot of churches, and a castle, very big, on top of hill. But is also very different. Tangier has wall all around.’ He shrugged. ‘Is very broken now. Some people building houses on it and make gardens. Much of castle fall down. There is small marketplace inside city and big marketplace outside. People from mountain tribes come to the big market with camels and mules.’
    Kerenza tried to picture the scene. ‘What do they buy and sell?’
    Maggot shrugged. ‘Many things. Meat, fish, soap, sugar, also sandals, bowls, pots for cooking, cloth, silver. Women sell fruit. They sit in middle and all around are melons, tangerines, dates, and raisins.’ He grinned again. ‘The women look very strange to you.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘They wear hats made from straw.’
    ‘What is so strange about a straw hat? I often wear one in summer.’
    ‘Not like this. This one is very big.’
    ‘How big?’ Kerenza was fascinated.
    ‘ Very big. Bigger than this.’ He stretched his arms wide. ‘Hat is turned down at edge so no one see woman’s face. And because hat is so big, is also making shade for the fruit.’
    Kerenza smiled. ‘What a very sensible idea.’
    Sounds of suppressed argument were swiftly followed by a rattle then a bang as the door was flung open. Betsy Woodrow stumbled in and clutched the frame for support. Maggot immediately rose to his feet and made a brief bow. Betsy ignored him.
    ‘Ah, Miss Vyvyan, I thought I heard your voice. I am astonished to find you here alone.’
    ‘But I am not alone,’ Kerenza pointed out.
    Shooting a glare of disapproval at Maggot, who had resumed his seat and was forking up the last of his meal, Betsy turned again Kerenza.
    ‘I mean, as I am sure you must be aware, that you are without female company.’
    ‘I came in to write some letters,’ Kerenza replied, indicating her writing case.
    ‘And Lady Russell?’
    ‘She is resting. Her condition –’
    ‘Yes,’ Betsy interrupted. ‘I’m sure there is no need to elaborate, especially in front of –’ She flapped her hand, disdaining even to glance in his direction.
    ‘Maggot,’ the second mate said helpfully. Standing up again, he pushed his chair under the table. ‘I go now. Miss Vyvyan, please you tell Lady Russell about the guns? Is not good for her to have shock –’
    ‘ Guns? ’ Betsy gasped. ‘What guns?’
    As she caught Maggot’s eye and saw the gleam of mischief, Kerenza quickly bit her lip, for to smile would only increase Betsy’s irritation and provoke further questions. ‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ she reassured as Maggot departed. ‘Apparently there are a number of new men in the crew, so Mr Penrose –’ Just saying his name kindled a rush of warmth. Please let it not reach her face. ‘Mr Penrose has ordered a practice firing of the guns.’ Rising to her feet, she picked up her writing materials. ‘I must go and warn Lady Russell.’
    Sitting around the table a short time later, the Woodrows, Judith, and Kerenza listened to the pounding of feet above their heads, the rumble of the wooden truck wheels, bellowed orders, and then the deafening thunder of cannons.
    After more noise and shouts the ship began to change direction. Blocks squealed as ropes were loosed and others hauled in. There was a brief sensation of weightlessness as Kestrel’s head came up into the wind, then, with a jerk, her canvas filled and she surged forward on the opposite tack.
    As the ship tilted over at an even greater angle the clang and clatter of pans falling in the galley was followed by a stream of curses. Betsy shrieked and clutched the edge of the table. Her husband cleared his throat before telling them all he was sure everything was just as it