Leaving Terpsy.

Realizing that it was useless to argue with these men, Perry went into a silent sulk, wiping his damp cheeks against his shoulders. He would have words with the captain, severe words, once they got on board. That young midshipman and all these men would rue the day!

"No, Young. Leave it. Man the boat, lads." Kinsella turned and saluted their former passengers. "Best of luck, sirs."

Reluctantly, Chase and Young returned to the boat, leaving the wine casks untouched. The rest of the boat crew were preparing to unmoor and shove the boat back into the river.

"Thank you, sir," said Stephen, and Yates waved at his former berth-mate.

[The boat returns to the Terpsy here: Coming aboard.]

Padstowe kept his silence until the boat had pushed off again with its prisoner, watching with a neutral expression as the Navy took its new prisoner away to the accompaniment of the man's so-called wife sobbing on the shore.

"We should be on our way," he said, then turned and started up the beach.

"Where do we go?" asked Stephen, unable to look away from the weeping woman.

"Inland - to be precise a mile hence. There is a small village which we can find shelter in, doubtless the Senhora's home."

He reached the rise of the beach and took a glass from his pocket, training it on the small path that led up to the grassland above.

"I have arranged a rendezvous there should we fail to be greeted here. At the village we can at least arrange for transport, if we remain uncompremised."

He gave a meaningful glance to the distraugt senhora, who was too lost in her apparent grief to give any of them attention.

"Senhora Santana?" Stephen asked slowly, confusion evident on his face.

Padstowe lowered his glass and frowned at Stephen.

"No. This senhora." He indicated the weeping woman. "She cannot have come far from here, I do not think."

"We cannot ask that poor woman for help, Captain," said Stephen, aghast.

"I was not suggesting we were to," Padstowe said coldly. "We can escort her back if it is indeed her village."

He looked at the four chest deposited on the beach, along with a couple of other bags and random belongings.

"Though we are going to need transport. One of us can escort the senhora back and fetch a cart whilst the others stay here."

"If you think-" Stephen looked back at the woman, and then to the ground, hugging his leather bag to his chest. "We should help her."

Padstowe put his glass away, satisfied that they were in no immediate danger, softened his features and his voice and came to stand by the woman.

"Senhora," he said, addressing her in Portuguese. "Tears shall do you no good here, not anymore. We must get you home safely to your father."

She jumped, startled by his nearness. "Don't you come near me! You filthy wretched wicked hateful scum! Give me back my husband!" She had moved several paces away and picked up a rock, holding it threateningly in one hand.

Stephen stepped forward as the woman threatened Padstowe with the rock.

She turned to run then, dropping the rock on the ground, but she stopped a few yards away and eyed the men warily, still standing in the same spot. Perry had told her to run home, but she was reluctant to abandon the boat and all of its cargo. If she could just wait until another friendly rabelo passed, she could call for someone to help her shove off.

Seeing the rock drop Padstowe edged a pace closer to the woman, holding up his hands to show her he was not intending to hurt her.

"We mean you no harm, senhora. We are only looking to go further in land to meet with others from our army."

He looked speculatively at the boat she was standing not far from - loaded with small barrels and fishing traps.

"Is that your boat?"

"Captain, I suspect she thinks you wish to steal her goods," Stephen said quietly.

By the looks of things the doctor was correct, as at the woman seemed to be moving closer and closer to the small boat, a defiant but fearful look evident on her face. Unsure what he could say to pacify her, he dropped his hands and turned helplessly to Stephen.

"Perhaps it would be better if you were to talk to her? I think our uniforms are only upsetting her further."

Stephen was wearing his civilian's coat, and thus was the only man in the party not wearing a uniform. "I would not know what to say, Captain, or what you hope to gain."

Flicking her eyes to the river, she saw another boat passing at last - too far out to recognize anyone, but near enough that they would doubtless her her shouts.

"To know where she has come from? To calm her down?"

Padstowe looked back to where Raoul and the midshipman were watching them expectantly. He wanted to get on, to move off this beach and find where his contact had gone to; yet he did not know what Stephen wanted him to do or say in regards to what happened next.

"Or we can just ignore her and carry on regardless."

And she could bear back the news that the English Navy had abducted her husband without apparent reason. That would get them a very good reception if she did indeed originate from the village they were headed for.

His eyes flickered towards the water where the woman was starting to wave at. His face darkened even further.

"And it was reported that the French were in possession of all the boats along this stretch of the river."

Stephen looked at the river, and covered his eyes with his hands. "Christ alive." He trembled, and felt light-headed, but the woman was about to hail the boat - the idea of being captured now, after all they had done to avoid it... "Senhora."

She looked at the little man with the wig. Apart from the boy, he seemed the least threatening, the most sympathetic.

She had stopped waving at least, which had Padstowe relieved, but had the craft seen them? The chance was more likely they had not, as the boat was small, and an outcrop of rock gave them some protection from view.