Mistress of the Sea (15 page)

‘Kill me quickly.’

He supposed that if he did not flinch it would soon be over. The man stared at his hand, seized the pouch and looked inside. Laughing, he threw it wide into the river. A raider approached. He had a club at his hip, and his lips had been disfigured by the scorch of a brand. He took Kit’s head in his hands and held it close, so that Kit could see nothing but the scarred face of the man, and the brown flecks fraying in the whites of his eyes. But Kit sensed that the African with the sword was walking behind him. Voices were raised in a language he could not follow, though he imagined what was meant. He would get the sword in the back, and he prayed the strike would be high, not a thrust below the ribs that would leave him to die over days.

It was all he could do to stand and not struggle, breathing deeply to fight his dread, inhaling the smell of the man who would not let go of his face. Then he heard a sharp, loud, ringing blow – the sound of rock striking metal: the iron of his chains. He pitched forward freely and fell against the black man’s chest, warm and wet with rain and sweat.

The man’s arms were around him, tight and strong, and there was no pain at all.

10

Danger

‘. . . As to danger, and the damage and destruction done by corsairs along the coast, and by outlaw negroes on land, the situation grows worse daily, for neither the barks of the Chagres River trade to the House at Cruces nor the overland pack-trains have been able to make their journeys without being assaulted and robbed . . .’

—
From a plea for assistance made by the factor Cristóbal de Salinas, officer of the Crown, to King Philip II of Spain, written at Nombre de Dios, 20
^th
May 1571

ELLYN LOOKED OUT
from her hut. Surely an enquiry about dinner would give her reason for walking along the beach? She could make certain that a broth was prepared to her father’s liking, and, in the process of seeking out the cook, she might come within view of those at work on the
Kestrel
.

She put on the hat that she now wore everywhere outside, and chose a course by the provisions destined to be ferried to the
newly
launched pinnace. Her route would bring her to within a few yards of Will, and, if he wished to speak with her, then he could, and at the least he would be bound to be aware of her. She walked on and responded politely to the mariners who stopped and hailed her, keeping her face turned towards the cooking area, while catching sight of Will out of the corner of her eye. He had seen her, she was certain; she could tell by the turn of his head, though she made sure not to show it. Then, with a pang of frustration, she realised he was not about to come after her. But she would not show any concern. As she made her way along the beach she could hear him giving orders.

‘Bring up that keg.’

‘Aye, Will.’

‘Let’s have the water skins next . . .’

She expected Will to hail her at any moment, and was left disappointed when he did not. Why not? He should have been attentive. John Drake had announced that Richard Dennys would be remaining with her and her father on the island, so whatever the exploits that required guns on the
Kestrel
, Will would be able to pursue them without being impeded by the gentlemen. She would occupy the merchants and leave Will to do his adventuring – he owed her some thanks.

Having neared her objective, a cursory search convinced her that the cook was not to be found. So she retraced her steps, deciding that a visit to John Drake’s hut would be in order, while at the same time taking her past Will once more. She needed to speak to John Drake about the leaks in the roof; her father had said as much that morning. She looked back along the shore while heading circuitously for her next destination. Will was
conspicuous
because he was tall. With his loose shirt untied at the neck, and the broad belt he wore at an angle over his hips, he looked far more lithe and vigorous than ever she could have imagined Peryn Fownes or Godfrey Gilbert. In the context of the enterprise, she was beginning to see qualities in Will that had passed unnoticed when they had both been in Plymouth. She saw how the men followed him, except for Francis Drake, of course, who was an experienced captain and older than most. Captain Drake must have been about thirty years of age, whereas Will was not much above her own age of twenty. Even so, the Captain conferred with him, and Will commanded the respect of the mariners; she thought more highly of him as a consequence.

She sensed he was watching, and she walked with deliberate poise, but he did not even acknowledge her. Instead, he picked up a rope as she sauntered by. She could not pass him again and say nothing.

‘Master Doonan, I need to speak with you.’

Will put down the rope and strode towards her.

‘What is it, Mistress Ellyn? As you can see, we are very busy.’

‘This will only take a moment.’ Her indignation rose at his hint that she was interrupting him. After the advances he had made towards her in England, she felt he owed her more consideration. She could not believe he was no longer interested – even if she was with him on Drake’s enterprise when clearly he didn’t want her to be. His coolness was galling. She spoke tight-lipped. ‘My father is not in the best of health, and there are leaks in our roof.’

‘Are the leaks over your beds?’

‘No, but the damp makes the hut smell, and the floor is becoming muddy; my father’s cloth is getting wet.’ Will frowned,
and
that encouraged her to go on. ‘Please do not suggest that we move aboard the
Swan
since the ship is about to be careened and we have been told it must be cleared.’

Will cocked his head.

‘Is there anything else?’

‘Since you ask, we are also short of water. One small barrel a day is not enough for us to clean and wash, as well as drink.’

‘Mistress Ellyn.’ Will took her arm and guided her a few paces away from the nearest men. She allowed him the liberty since the contact was pleasurable. It suggested a desire for more intimacy, just as she had suspected – a desire that she shared. What would he do next?

When he spoke again, his voice was low.

‘If you require a roof without leaks and water for washing then you should have stayed in England.’ He made to turn from her but she caught hold of his arm.

‘That is no way to answer! The fact is I am here, and we cannot live in squalor!’

‘You can live with smells and a bit of mud, and you can live without washing. We need fresh water aboard the
Kestrel
. Once we are gone, you will have more water from the mainland.’

‘That is not good enough!’ She sensed her voice rising and tried to moderate her tone. ‘The roof needs to be repaired.’

‘The roof will have to wait.’

‘Are you refusing to help?’ She looked at him incredulously. Surely he did not mean to brush her grievances aside? But he simply gave her a nod.

‘Good day to you. I must be going.’

She drew a sharp breath and swallowed the urge to respond
curtly.
Turning, she walked away as sedately as she could. Not long afterwards she became aware that one of the mariners was in her wake. Glancing round, she saw the man called Simon. Despite the patch over his eye, he had features she found appealing: soft, brown curly hair, and a bashful smile. He drew alongside.

‘’Tis a fine day, Mistress Ellyn.’

She was still smarting after the hurt of Will’s rebuff, but she kept her reply light.

‘Indeed, yes, though rather hot.’ The fact that such a rough seaman should want to exchange remarks about the weather had the effect of making her feel much better. She beamed at him. ‘I hope the calm will aid your sailing.’

‘Aye, thank’ee. We should be goin’ soon . . .’

‘Simon!’ An abrupt shout brought the young man’s patter to a halt. ‘Over here.’

She knew immediately that Will had called him away. With a mumbled apology Simon left her alone, but she resisted the temptation to look back over her shoulder.

She smiled and carried on walking.

One cannon shot was all it took – one blast from the fortified bulwark that protected the treasure house at Nombre de Dios, and Will knew that the Spaniards were not interested in peaceful trade, even trade kept secret. The warning confirmed what everyone aboard the
Kestrel
suspected: the Spaniards along the coast had no more need for English supplies; the treasure fleet had arrived bringing goods from Spain. There would be no more selling of smuggled Devon kerseys.

None of Drake’s men were dismayed. It suited the Captain’s
purpose
to have the Spaniards show their colours. Hostility would be met with hostility. Will was glad to have left Ellyn at their hidden island base, even with Dennys as her companion – though whenever he reflected on how she might be faring, he was needled by an urge to return to her fast.

‘The Chagres!’ Drake had declared, jabbing his finger against a stolen chart at the point where that river met the sea to the northwest. ‘Since the Spaniards will not invite us to their table, let us see what pickings we can find.’

‘Rich pickings, I’ll wager,’ one of the mariners remarked. ‘All those fineries and fancies from Spain for Peru.’

The Captain chuckled, and the rest grinned. They all relished the prospect of hunting for booty.

‘Here, somewhere—’ Drake made a sweep with his hand around Cartagena to the east ‘—Captain-General Flores de Valdés waits to entertain us with his Indies fleet.’ Drake glanced up, and there were nods of understanding from those gathered round, Will included. It was a risk they all accepted. With the treasure fleet would be protection, perhaps as many as five Spanish warships to guard both shipping and the coast.

‘We must show General Valdés that we can provide amusements of our own.’ Drake smiled as everyone else laughed. They would have sport with the Spaniards, and it would be on Drake’s terms. They would come to be feared, but not as barbarians. The Captain required discipline, and they were all agreed: they would not use violence unless given good cause. Provided the Spaniards acquiesced, then no harm would come to them, but if any resisted, they would be shown no mercy.

At the first opportunity, Drake cautioned the Spaniards. On the
way
to the Chagres, a frigate was taken, but only after a trumpet-blast had called the ship to parley, and the Spaniards had erred by trying to stop the English boarding. Defiance carried a price; it had been met with gunfire and a hail of bolts and arrows, enough to bring a few Spaniards down and put the rest to flight. And since the Spaniards had chosen to scuttle away, Drake made certain their return would be equally inglorious. He ordered that the frigate be stripped and gutted, its sails spoiled and its boat stoved in. Then he wrote the Spaniards a polite note:

‘
Done by the English, who are well disposed if there be no cause to the contrary; if there be cause, we will be devils rather than men.’

They had triggered alarm along the treasure coast, and they would strike next where they were least expected.

Will heard the cry: an owl-like screech. It meant Drake’s group had surrounded the warehouse and were set to attack. That left the Spaniards inside the inn to be dealt with, and he hoped they would be sound asleep, lulled by the belief that they had little to fear so far up the Chagres, deep inland. He opened his covered lantern a slit, enough to see that a bar had been left beneath a window nearby. The Spaniards had been careless. The window was open in the sweltering heat. He gently closed the window shutters, and then slotted the bar across. He looked round. Behind him, Hix beckoned with a shadowy fist. Now only the inn door could be used for escape, unless the Spaniards tried to jump from the balcony above, and Hix would be waiting for them if they did.

Will gave his answering call: a sharp whistle between his teeth. With lantern flashes he signalled to the men by the corral, further on up the path. Glints flashed back. The three others sent with him were huddled by the door, and in their shadow-shapes were the traces of match cords glowing: pin-pricks of light – signs that their firearms were primed and prepared. He knelt beneath the window, and set the darkened lantern down.

Everyone was ready.

Cicadas thrummed. Frogs along the riverbank made strange clinks and whines. Somewhere in the jungle an animal howled. The forest was black – a vast blank wilderness in which Kit could be near or far or nowhere at all.

Will breathed deeply.

Suddenly a shot cracked out, sharp as a thunderclap, triggering a frenzy of flapping in the treetops above, and then a rush of stamping from the direction of the corral. The drum of hooves rumbled towards him along the path. He reached for his cresset: a fire pike topped with tar-soaked rags. Shouts rose from inside the inn. He heard a mule galloping past, hurtling down towards the river jetty. Others followed, milling wild. There were rattling sounds, becoming louder, behind the inn door. The next instant it swung wide, releasing a glaring stream of orange light. Mules flashed by him. A Spaniard dashed from the inn wearing only a shirt. The man brandished a sword, shouting as he waved to try and slow the stampede. ‘
Mira! Las mulas!
. . .’

‘Go!’ Will yelled.

His three friends roared and charged for the doorway. Another shot cracked out, hammering against stone. Will heard broken cries and the clang of metal. He opened his lantern and lit a rag
end
from the cresset. The fire pike flared as he swung it round, both hands on the shaft, to see the Spaniard outside the doorway turning, and Hix running to head him off.

Will lunged, sweeping the cresset up and then down at the moment the Spaniard weaved to get past. The man slashed out at Hix, but the fire-head caught him, glancing across his legs. The Spaniard staggered and Hix struck, knocking the sword from the man’s grasp. Hix wheeled. Will ran nearer. The Spaniard sprawled in the dirt with his shirt tail in flames.

‘
Dios! Socorro!
’ The man screamed and writhed. He jumped up, then fell again as Will thrust at him with the pike. Hix jabbed his sword against the Spaniard’s chest, pinning him to the ground. The man’s wailing became a piercing shriek. Despite the pressure of the sword he beat dementedly at the flames. Smoke rose from his hips. Hix laughed.