Occasionally the canvas snapped as the wind veered slightly. She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can. My son went down after his death. My mother died the day I was born; that’s what they tell me. She had worn a long skirt that morning, and a roomier sweater that was slightly easier to handle than Shari’s low cut numbers. “I have always,” she admitted calmly, “taken a certain amount of interest in Annabel’s future. Immediately the soldiers of the major will come from the gate. Loose the wherry, and stand to your oars—quick—quick!" These commands were promptly obeyed. I’ll need you to go back to the barracks and fetch more men up to town.
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