She found him without difficulty—an elderly and dejected midshipman leaning over the slip rails, spitting into the murky waters of the harbor, and invited him very civilly to take a nip of brandy with her. The officer accepted without question. A nip of brandy was a nip of brandy, and his stomach was out of order, consequent on his having supped off rancid pork the night before. Teresa led him to a private room in the tavern, ordered the drinks and, when they arrived, locked the door. “Look ’e, captain,” said she, “do ’e want to make a couple of guineas?” The midshipman’s dull glance leapt to meet hers, agleam with sudden interest, as Teresa surmised it would. She knew the type—forty years old, without influence or hope of promotion, disillusioned, shabby, hanging body and soul together on thirty shillings a month; there was little this creature would not do for two pounds down. “What is it?” he snapped. “I’ll give you two pounds and a good sound man—if you’ll fetch en.” The midshipman shook his tarred hat. “Not inland; I won’t go inland.” Press gangs were not safe inland in Cornwall and he was not selling his life for forty shillings; it was a dirty life; but he still had some small affection for it. “Who said it was inland? To a small little cove just this side of Monks Cove; you’ll know it by the waterfall that do come down over cliff there. T’eddn more’n a two-mile pull from here, just round the point.” “Is the man there?” “Not yet, but I’ll have en there by dusk. Do you pull your boat up on the little beach and step inside the old tinner’s adit—kind of little cave on the east side—and wait there till he comes. He’s a mighty strong man, I warn ’e, a notable wrestler in these parts, so be careful.” “I’ll take four of my best and sand-bag him from behind,” said the midshipman, who was an expert in these matters. “Stiffens ’em, but don’t kill. Two pound ain’t enough, though.” “It’s all you’ll get,” said Teresa. “Four pound or nothing,” said the midshipman firmly. They compromised at three pounds and Teresa paid cash on the spot. Ortho, the free-handed, kept her in plenty of money—so different from Eli. The midshipman walked out of the front door, Teresa slipped out of the back and rode away. She had little fear the midshipman would fail her; he had her money, to be sure, but he would also get a bounty on Eli and partly save his face with his captain. He would be there right enough. She continued her search for a cook in Paul and rode home slowly to gain time, turned her horse, as usual, all standing, into the stable, and then went to look for her younger son. She was not long in finding him; a noise of hammering disclosed his whereabouts. She approached in a flutter of well-simulated excitement. “Here you, Eli, Eli!” she called. “What is it?” he asked, never pausing in his work.