Chapter Twenty-Nine
A nna hurried downstairs to follow the children.
When the horse and trap were out of sight, she rounded the corner in time to watch Allan and Pru start down the stone steps, narrow and steep and a far cry from the Pigtail Steps.
They bounded down with no regard for danger or sprains or any other imaginary ills that a mother might fear.
That was it. She stopped, aware as never before that these were her children now, since she wanted to scold them to be mindful, take care and not frighten her.
You might not have started life as mine , she thought, but, by all that’s holy, you’re not going down these steps without me right behind , sounding like your mother, because I am in every way that counts .
She thought of Cathy’s picture again and sighed.
John was right. The distance from the admiral’s house to the small beach below was less vertical than from Port Mahon’s dock up to the village proper. She descended cautiously, raising her skirt to avoid tripping. At least there wasn’t anyone to stare at her legs except Allan and Pru.
Pru steadied her when she neared the bottom.
Anna put her hand to her heart and admired the view of the deep blue inlet, every underwater rock and plant so visible, so foreign to someone used to the cold and damp of England.
They were in another inlet, more narrow than the one at Port Mahon, where many ships could anchor, but cutting further into the island.
Seabirds wheeled on the air currents and swooped down to check them out.
The effect was both charming and enchanting.
‘If it were easier to get here, I could envisage a picnic,’ she said.
‘Pirates, even?’ Allan asked hopefully.
She laughed. ‘No pirates! I am taking my shoes off. Footwear is highly overrated on sandy beaches.’
Everyone’s shoes came off and, by common consent, were left at the foot of the steps.
It wasn’t much of a walk because it wasn’t much of a beach. Anna stood a long time at the water’s edge, looking out to sea, wondering when the tides actually changed, amazed at her nautical ignorance. She wondered if the Swallow had already sailed.
‘Missy, is that the Swallow ?’
She looked where Allan pointed, hopeful, because it mattered to her that John might be looking for them, too. She had reasoned he was too busy now to watch the shore, but she waved anyway, just as Allan and Pru did as they ran towards her, waving as they came.
To her heart’s delight, it was the Swallow , with its gunports closed and the smaller guns he called bow-chasers at the front. Not front, fore. And this was starboard and not port. She knew so little. ‘But I care so much,’ she whispered to the wind as she waved.
‘Look!’ Allan said, pointing again. ‘Do you think…’
They gazed, open-mouthed, as the Swallow tacked towards shore. ‘What’s he doing…’ Pru asked ‘…there?’
They saw a sailor toss a line into the water. He pulled it out, measured, and called out to the helmsman at the wheel.
‘He’s measuring the depth of the water,’ Anna said. ‘Look! The ship’s coming closer.’
‘Papa might call this a good anchorage for smugglers,’ Allan told her, his eyes lively. ‘Let’s name it Smugglers Cove.’ He shrugged. ‘You know, people claim things in the name of Spain. We can, too.’
‘Smugglers Cove it is. I think that is as close as Swallow is going to come.’
They watched. Anna put her hand to her heart when she saw John descend from the quarterdeck and come to the gundeck rail. He blew her a kiss, doffed his hat, then shouted, ‘Home soon, you rascals!’
Anna blew him a kiss back, then laughed as all the crew on that side of the ship did the same. She blinked back tears when his hand went to his heart.
She heard a shouted command from Mr Marsing on the quarterdeck. As they watched, the ship altered course and sailed from the inlet and into the sea, with all its danger.
They stood close together until the Swallow was out of sight, then stayed a little longer when the Reliant came next. ‘Admiral Collingwood and Bounce are aboard this ship,’ she told them. ‘Let’s wave to them, too.’
Smaller ships sailed after the Reliant . They watched from their marvellous vantage point, then turned towards the steps. The children climbed with an agility she could only envy, hampered as she was by a long dress and petticoat.
As she climbed higher, Anna saw something she hadn’t noticed on the way down.
It looked like a torch of some sort, stuck in the sand.
No, it was two torches. ‘Interesting,’ she said out loud.
Maybe this really was a smugglers’ cove.
She looked back at the sea, impressed with the idea.
It was perfect. Anything sailing by this little inlet before entering the larger inlet of Port Mahon would see a torch burning.
Hadn’t John said there were many such inlets on Menorca?
Don’t let your imagination run away with you, Anna, or you’ll start believing in Allan’s pirates , she told herself as she hitched up her skirt again and climbed the steps, wishing for a handrail. The children—her children—helped her from the last step to the back lawn.
She stood with them, then admired again the view of inlet and ocean. ‘We live in a beautiful place, my dears,’ she said and clapped her hands. ‘Now we must be practical and see if Port Mahon has a seamstress for you and me, Pru, and yes, there is a school for both of you.’
‘Me, too, Mama?’ Pru asked, her eyes not so much watchful as hopeful.
Mama!
‘Yes, my dear, you, too. Make no mistake: it will always be the two of you.’ What would a mother say now? That was simple. She held up a warning finger. ‘Neither of you two, singly or together, will ever go to…to…’
‘Smugglers Cove?’ Pru asked helpfully, her eyes lively.
‘Yes, indeed, unless you tell me first. Is that understood?’
‘Aye, Missy,’ they both said.
‘Good!’ She decided that was enough. The torches didn’t look recently used, but still… As they walked to the house, she decided to mention the matter to John, when next she saw him.