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“Your mother sent me.” She extended a satchel that he hadn’t noticed slung over her shoulder. “Ye forgot this.”

“Thank ye,” he mumbled, accepting the satchel.

She lingered for a moment, then held out the basket. “And I thought…I thought your crew might like these.”

He took the basket with a shift of his eyes to his crew.

“They be sugar biscuits,” she said, motioning to the basket. With a quick glance around, she leaned close to him with a sly smile, whispering, “To win o’er their affection, see.”

Trevik forced a smile, the eyes of his crewmates searing into the back of his head. Even with his nerves and the judgments being cast toward them, he should have smiled, graciously thanked her, invited her to distribute them to the men herself.

Instead, he took a step away from her, mumbling a quick word of gratitude, then made to leave without another word—but not before seeing her own grin faltering.

His departure was stopped, however, as Gryffyn moved forward. “These be for us, then?” he asked, taking the basket from Trevik’s hands.

Miss Hollow nodded, eying those around her with a wary brow.

“Ah, bless ye,” Gryffyn said, taking a long sniff from the basket. “They be me favorite. The men’ll enjoy ’em greatly.”

Finally, Miss Hollow’s smile returned. Regret pinched at Trevik’s heart to know that smile could have been for him instead.

“I know it’s but a small gesture,” she said, “but I ne’er got to thank ye all for savin’ me from the sea and for welcomin’ me into your community. I hope to make myself as useful as I can throughout me stay here.”

“Accordin’ to me wife, ye already ’ave,” Gryffyn said. “Ye be a great ’elp in the cellars, accordin’ to ’er.”

Trevik remained silent, still feeling the watchful eyes of his crew, as if they were just waiting for him to reveal his feelings for her—as if waiting for him to fail.

“When do ye intend to leave Tristwick, then?”

Trevik nearly jumped at Edern’s voice directly behind him. When had the man left the lugger to stand with them on the dock?

“Oh,” Miss Hollow began with a hesitant glance at Trevik, “I don’t know yet exactly. I was perhaps goin’ to see about workin’ at Golowduyn or somewhere in St. Just, but the Honeysetts have allowed me stay at their home ’til I decide.”

Edern’s beady, untrusting eyes shifted to Trevik. “That be so, eh?”

Trevik knew he had to say something now to ease Edern’s suspicions, to prevent him from spreading more lies to the rest of the crew. The man was volatile, like an impending storm cloud, overflowing with moisture, just waiting for the right moment to ruin someone’s picnic or afternoon on the beach—or life.

“Ain’t nothin’ set in stone though,” Trevik said. “Ain’t that right, Miss ’Ollow? Ye could just as easily find work in Mousehole or Penzance. And ye said sooner rather than later, ain’t that so?”

Trevik regretted his words instantly. The hurt in her eyes glared so brightly, he wished he could crawl into the fish room aboard the Pilferer and welcome the same fate as the rest of the pilchards they would catch that night.

He hadn’t meant to offend her, but his insinuation for her to leave earlier and farther away was so obvious, silence fed through the crew. Even the gulls seemed hesitant, their calls distant from the muted shores.

Miss Hollow only missed a beat, blinking away her hurt and raising her chin with hardened eyes. “Yes, that be right. I think I’ll make some inquiries in Mousehole or Bodmin. It be for the better. After all,” she paused, waiting until Trevik finally met her gaze, “I wouldn’t wish to be a burden on anyone any longer than I already have.”

Warmth seeped into his cheeks.

She looked to Gryffyn then, placing a genuine smile on her lips. “Enjoy the biscuits, sir.”

Then without another look at Trevik, she walked away.

A few moments passed by before anyone spoke again.

“See, Edern,” Hedrek Roskelley said from over the bulwark of the lugger, “our Trevik be a man of ’is word. The sea-maid be leavin’ shortly.”

Trevik winced, and Edern snorted. “I’ll believe it when she actually leaves.”

Trevik didn’t notice Edern boarding the boat, nor Gryffyn following shortly behind. He was far too focused on Miss Hollow’s departing figure and the light she seemed to take with her.