Free Peril on the Sea by Michael Cadnum Page B

and that his attempt to cancel the post-mortem sprint with a further act was doomed. The shot had sent up a spray of soil, and then Sherwin could see the lead ball as it bounded, slightly deformed from the impact with the dirt, like a hazelnut tossed across the grass.
    But the goose’s body took that moment to collapse and utterly expire, as though the sound of the pistol shot hadtorn some fabric in what remained of its will. The thought was not pure fancy. People believed that cannon shots often caused rain, and during a drought farmers sometimes loaded their fowling pieces and set out across the fields to puncture the blue with gunfire.
    When Sherwin was able to hear at all, he made out the words of Katharine as she said, “Well done, Sherwin Morris.”
    Sherwin turned to Bartholomew and said, with words sounding strange in his still-ringing ears, “Get coin from Tryce to pay for this.”
    Tryce wrestled free of Bartholomew, but not before a leather sack was winkled from the interior of his tunic, and silver pennies taken, enough to pay for a burgeoning flock of prize geese. As Sherwin had suspected, a mountebank’s apprentice learned the fine points of theft.
    Sherwin pressed the silver into the farmer’s hand and then he turned to address Katharine.
    â€œMy lady,” he said, “I am sorry you had to see this.”
    Sherwin had known many women before, including an intimate entanglement with Lily Sprocket, the daughter of the owner of the Cock and Miter inn. He had thought himself in love with Lily, and ruefully advised himself to forever keep a closer guard on his affections when Lily took up with an ostler from Epping, found herself pregnant, and married him.
    Sherwin had never met a woman like Katharine Westing. She had a direct, lively gaze and a ready smile. But she also had that indefinable quality so often described as beauty.
    â€œMy dear Sherwin,” said Katharine with a smile, “I have seen many things worse.”
    â€œMy lady,” said Sherwin—feeling his earnest intentions never to love again slipping away—”I regret to hear it.”
    He took the offered gloved hand, the white leather of the glove well cured and not a mean piece of stitchery, either. But for all the expense of the silk lining of her mantle, lavender showing well against the heath-brown of the hood, there was a tear in her sleeve that had been daintily mended, and a fray along the instep of her shoe. She was well appointed, but not as wealthy as she had been in the recent past.
    â€œI suppose,” she said, “a felon such as yourself fires a pistol before breakfast every day.”
    â€œMy lady,” was all he could think of saying, “if it pleases you.”
    Â 
    BUT TRYCE did not leave at once.
    â€œI’ll not retreat to the ship,” he told Sherwin, “without the captain’s pig, as he requested, and payment from your lad for the money he took.” His leg was still bleeding, and no one had given another thought to his medical needs.
    Katharine had gone back toward the great house in the distance, taking her sword-wearing servant with her, and Evenage was trying to lead Tryce away with a soothing
Now, now,
like a dockside constable calming an angry drunk.
    â€œMr. Highbridge,” the sergeant said, “will find a way to pay you back for your trouble.”
    â€œI want payment now,” said Tryce.
    â€œAs for compensation,” Sherwin could not restrain himself from saying, “you owe us all for saving your life, covering your disgrace, and not delivering you over to those hungry dogs.”
    Tryce gave a shake of his shoulders, and Evenage released him.
    â€œDo I?” said Tryce, smoothing down his sleeves with a show of dignity. “Shall we simply forget all about this, then?”
    â€œAs you wish,” said Sherwin shortly.
    â€œUntil, as it happens,” added Tryce, “I beat the coin out of your little