Noah sat at the tiller after hoisting the sail. The pinnace skimmed through the choppy, glittering water, waves splashing into the boat as they approached the point of the headland with sheer cliffs soaring above them. Either he or Hal had remained at the house each day to guard Sam while the Mirabel was made ready to sail. Michael accompanied him today to oversee the last of the cargo loading. He had proved remarkably capable of judging how the holds may be filled to optimise their capacity.
Michael adjusted the sail himself without Noah having to tell him as they rounded the promontory to enter the harbour. He certainly learnt quickly. Perhaps Sam was right, and he had underestimated him? ‘This is the last one. You’re sure it’ll load?’
Michael shook his head, exasperated. ‘What do you
