“Didn’t think we’d need’em, not for this lot.”

“But…” Kit had always thought smugglers had ponies. “What were you going to do with it then?”

“We normally put stuff like this in a cave up beside the knoll yonder.” The big man nodded southward.

Kit knew the cave. She and her cousins had played in it often. But the Revenue troop was between the smugglers and the cave. Moving the goods in the boat was impossible; with the moon out they’d be seen.

On the other hand, a boat could be a perfect distraction.

“Two of you. Take the boat out to sea. You’ve got nets in it, haven’t you?” To her relief, they nodded. “Get the cargo out. Put it close to the cliffs.” She glanced at the cliffs, then up at the moon-a large cloud swept up and engulfed it. Thanking her guardian angel, Kit nodded. “Now! Move!”

They worked fast. Soon, the boat was empty. “You two!” Kit called to the pair elected to remain with the boat. The surf was pounding in; she had to yell to be heard. “You’re out fishing, understand? You pulled in here for a break, nothing more. You don’t know anything about anything except fish. Take the boat out and act as if you really are fishing. Go!”

A minute later, the oars dipped and the small boat struggled out through the surf. Kit wheeled Delia and made for the cliff.

The large man was waiting for her there. “What now?”

“The Snettisham quarries.” Kit kept her voice low. “And no talking. They must be close above us. Head north and keep in the lee of the cliff. They’ll be expecting you to go south.”

“But our homes are south.”

In the blackness, Kit couldn’t tell who’d said that. “Which would you rather-being late home or ending in the cells beneath the Custom House?”

There was no further argument. Huffing and puffing, they followed her. Once they were clear of where she’d seen the Revenue, Kit found a path to the cliff top. “I’m going to find out where they are. There’s no sense in walking into an ambush with your arms full.”