Page 65 of Dark Tides

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“Yes. But I suppose a ship can often be late?”

“It can be many days late,” Alinor confirmed. “Many things can delay it.”

“Like what?” Livia demanded in pretend alarm.

“Contrary winds, or a delay leaving port,” Alinor listed. “Or—what is worse—it can be on time; but the cargo spoiled in a storm at sea or robbed.”

Livia gave a little pretend moan into her hands and then raised her laughing face to her mother-in-law. “Ah, now you are teasing me! You are frightening me!” she said. “My antiquities are too heavy to be stolen at sea, and they will not spoil from salt water. As long as they have not sunk, I am a wealthy widow.”

“Not until they sell,” Alinor reminded her. “All that the ship brings you is your goods and costs.”

Livia clattered her cup down on the table, staring out of the window, her hand to the lace at her throat. “Look! Isn’t that it? There’s the galleon. Is that our galleon? Captain Whatever-his-name-is galleon? That ship mooring in the channel? Isn’t that our ship?”

Alinor leaned forwards to get a better look. “I can’t see the name from here. But it looks like it might be yours.”

Livia was halfway to the door. “May I?”

“Go!” Alinor said to her with a smile. “Go! I’ll watch from here.”

The young woman flew out of the room. Alinor could hear the patter of her rapid feet on the stairs, could hear her calling: “Alys! Alys! Come! Come! I think it is my ship.”

Alys dashed out of the counting house, letting the door bang behind her, and Livia dragged her out to the wharf to see the galleon dropping her sails and letting down the anchor, as the young woman danced with impatience on the shore. Alys had to take hold of Livia round her waist to keep her from the edge of the wharf. Together they watched the lightermen gather around the galleon in their flat-bottomed rowing boats, bidding for the work. The Captain shouted that he was going upriver, to queue for the legal quays to unload his goods. All he had here, were some crates to deliver to a lady: her own furniture coming to her from Venice.

“But heavy!” he warned the men.

Three lightermen agreed a price and the division of the work, and the precious cargo was lowered, piece by piece, into the rocking craft.

“I can hardly bear to look,” Livia moaned.

“They won’t let it fall,” Alys assured her. “They make their living on the water.”

Arm in arm the two women watched as the lightermen brought their boats alongside the wharf, tied up, and then the dockers laid hold of the Reekie pulley rope and hauled one heavy crate after another from the rocking boats up to the wharf.

“Don’t let it bang on the quay, don’t let it knock!” Livia instructed frantically.

Again, Alys lay hold of her. “Let them work,” she advised.

Behind them, the Captain climbed down into the ship’s dinghy and was brought to the stone steps before the house.

“Have you got everything? Did you bring it all?” Livia demanded before he had stepped onto the cobbles.

He looked past her to Alys, who shook hands with him.

“Good day to you. Did you have a good voyage, Captain Shore?” she asked with careful courtesy.

“Fair, Mrs. Stoney. It was fair.”

“Do you have all my antiquities?” Livia repeated, a little more shrill.

Now that he had been greeted, he turned to her. “In the heavy crates? Aye.”

“Not dropped, not shaken. All safe?”

His narrowed eyes in the scarred face looked past Livia to Alys. “Aye, all safe,” he said quietly.

“We’ll put them in the bottom warehouse,” Alys decided.

“You must take great care!” Livia said. “They must not be dropped, not even rolled along.”