The sea mist rolled in covering the shore.
The boat crept in ever closer with the slight creaking of oars.
The men and goods carried within gave the cause and hint of the increasing tension.
An arm raised stopping the oars, as one man stepped overboard,
Indicating they had reached the still-hidden shallow shore.
An arm raised again for silence, as they strained to hear a hint of movement ahead.
Reassured, with speed they pulled the boat onto the shingle, disgorging boxes of various sizes away from the wet sea line.
Every now and then the arm was raised for silence and ears strained to listen.
As the final box landed, footsteps were heard approaching the shingle.
They fought frantically to tug their boat to deeper water and the protection of the mist.
Not knowing if the approaching footsteps were from friend or foe.
Rowing hard they made a safe distance out to sea, before congratulating each other, relaxing a little, with shared sips of cognac from a flask.
Another trip under their belt, with payment waiting for their pockets on landing.
Dare they make another, would their luck last?
When offered an unknown cargo, will the tension rise again, as they take up the fear of a smuggler's life, with ill-gotten gains and the knowledge they could be thrown for an unspecified length of time into a putrid, uncomfortable Jail?
Or would they say on contemplation enough is enough and feel the tension seeping away?
2022 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen
Photo: Pixabay License
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