‘I’m going down to see if I can help the survivors.’ ‘I’m with you …’ Jacques leaped to his feet, closely followed by Morwenna and Bess, and the kitchen became a hive of activity as they gathered ropes, hooks, grappling irons, lanterns and their weapons. A shipwreck would bring the villagers to the beach and sometimes fights broke out over the spoils. It needed a firm hand to control them and on occasion, Michael had been forced to fire a musket over their heads. ‘Not you, Morwenna,’ Michael said as she reached for her shawl. ‘There’s no need for you to come.’ ‘I shan’t be in your way, Michael.’ ‘Do as you’re told,’ he snarled. ‘Stay here and make yourself useful. We’ll need hot food and drinks when we get back.’ Morwenna’s hand dropped to her side. She saw Jacques glance at her and smile, giving him a proud look in return. Waiting until the sound of the men’s voices had gone, she picked up her shawl and wrapped it over her head. ‘Where are you going?’ Bess asked.
