Ian ducked behind Barnabas as the British approached. “Duncan will see me,” he hissed as the colonel entered the terminal, coming closer.
“We’ll block you,” Barnabas said. He stood beside the ferryman; Ian crouched in front of them.
The boat bumped the pier and the oarsmen tossed lanyards to the ferryman’s assistant. He tied off the bow and then the stern. Passengers massed at the boat’s exit. As soon as the planks were positioned, they would disembark.
“Make way for the pastor,” the ferryman called as the ramp was laid in place. “He needs to get on board before you get off.”
No one questioned the strange request. The sea of people parted, and Ian hurried onboard, easing through the crowd. Once on deck, he went behind wooden crates stacked six feet high, waiting to be offloaded. After
