Smugglers' Moon

The wind blew across the moor, it could be best described as lazy as for the line of men walking across the moor is seemed to blow straight though them too lazy to go around. Each man had a lantern and as the moon hid behind a cloud each let his lantern shine out for they know the revenue men are elsewhere tonight and hopefully their trade won‘t be interrupted. Far across the valley toward the sea a associate sees the line of lights and signals out into the bay.

A galleon at anchor, sails reefed against the storm, her lookout perched precariously in the crows-nest fighting the feelings of nausea, sees the flash of light. He shouts down to Boson.
Five minutes later the splash of oars can be faintly heard. The captain is happy is now going to get paid, and relieved the contraband is off his ship.

A hour later the oarsman rowed in the harbour and landed the brandy.
In the dark town somewhere nearby a dog barks, the men disappear into the shadows of an old building, they look up and down the winding street but, see nothing, waiting in the silence a little longer, they then go back to the business and loading the cart, covering the loot with hay. They set off north keeping to the secret paths know only to a few of the more villainous professions. Travelling though the dark tree covered lanes and keeping close to the river they travel on, as they are close to river, if they are disturbed they can quickly abandon their cargo into it.
Ever alert to the noises around them, the sound of the wind in the trees blocks out any warning but they keep going. Past a manor house, nearly there now.

The sun starts to rise bright after the storm, they hide the horse and cart in a barn and head into town.
It’s market day, so business can be done, in the hustle and bustle they soon make a deal. Its to a pub for a lunch and the back to the barn to wait till night to recover the goods and close the deal.