Discreetly, I made inquiries of Fergus MacAskill, but could learn nothing. If he had been lost in the Hebrides I did not know, or killed in battle.
My first small venture at sea was a success and my money was tripled. Adding two pounds more I then divided my investment between two ventures to lessen the risk.
I was quite sure Emma Delahay was Irish, but she spoke not of that, nor did I, for to be Irish in England at the time was to be suspect. No good could come of it being bruited about.
Certainly, I was making my way, yet what I had put by was so little that life was ever from hand to mouth. My clothes were neat but not rich. I ate with some regularity and had a bit over for the theater from time to time. My second attempt at a play was also a failure. Nonetheless, I sold a ballad on the hanging of a highwayman, and another about a pirate.
In all this time I had altered much from the boy who left Ireland behind, for I had grown several inches and was close on to six feet high, tall for my time. My hair was dark almost to black and my eyes of a gray kind. But my skin was darker than many, for I was of the Black Irish on one side of the family.
I maintained my skill by fencing two or three times each week with any man I could find who wished to cross a blade. Often on the greens I would have at Tosti Padget with the quarterstaff, for I found him uncommonly good. And also with another man, a burly fellow who was an apprenticed bricklayer named Jonson. Many a good bout we had, and all to keep my skills sharpened, for I had no doubt the time would come when I would have need of them.
Knowing that someday I must test my strength against Rafe Leckenbie, I worked constantly to increase my skill and agility. Once after leaving the warehouse of Emma Delahay I was set upon by thieves and used them quite roughly, breaking the jaw of one with my fist and ripping up the second with a dagger.
Whether Leckenbie was warned by the white-haired man to have no dealings with me, I knew not, but I saw no more of him.
By lingering along the river front I soon became familiar with various mariners, men of the sea and those who dealt with them. And with some of the members of the Muscovie Company.
Of these I made inquiry to discover what manner of goods would fare best in trade with foreign lands, for it was here I hoped to make my fortune, if such I was to have. All talk was of piratical raids, the taking of treasure galleons and such-like, but it seemed to me too chancy to warrant the effort and the risk.
Trade with America, I learned, was best. Listening to the talk of the savages that lurked in the forests of America, I deemed it wise to acquire a stock of edged tools, needles, copper bells, and brightly colored cloth.
At that time I also chanced a small venture of my own, exclusive of Emma Delahay. It was a ship to the Baltic lands and I spent a little on gloves of knit and leather, linens, and spectacles of the common kind.
From these loiterings along the river and talk with mariners I obtained material for a short piece entitled A True Relation of a Voyage Along the Shores of Muscovie, And What Took Place There. It was only a few years since the return of Anthony Jenkinson from Muscovie and there was much interest in those lands. A paper paid me a few shillings, and the trade after a few months returned fourfold. I had done well. Carefully, I put by such small sums garnered here and there.
I could never be sure of what would transpire in London. Being Irish, I might be at any time found out and forced to flee. Jacob Binns had vanished as mysteriously as he had come, and I was not surprised. I suspected he was a Freemason, although I knew naught of them, only that theirs was a secret society.
Unusual sightings, miracles and prodigies of all kinds were exciting to me and I listened avidly for news of them. There had been extraordinary appearances in October of 1580 and again in the spring of 1583. Strange apparitions were seen in the air and evil things appeared in storms. I thought much on these happenings, believing little yet willing to speculate.
Several times I turned these happenings into items that could be published, and from each made a few shillings. From a seafaring man in the White Hart I obtained a story which I soon published. A True Relation of the Frightful Experience of Shipwreck by Hans Goderik, And the Results Thereof. Then from a Spanish prisoner I obtained a hint of a story which I pursued for some time, resulting in two pamphlets, one after the other, entitled A Recital of Events Following Cruel Murder of Inca King and Vast Treasures Then Buried.
Only a day after this last publication I was leaving the house of Emma Delahay in company with Mr. Digby when a young girl ran past us, pursued by two rough-looking men. They caught her only a few yards on and commenced to beat her, but before they could strike more than a pair of blows, I was upon them. Seizing the first by the shoulder, I jerked him away and flung him against the side of the house. The other then dropped his hold of the girl and turned on me. He had a sword in his hand in an instant, and he had at me. In no mood to trifle, I parried his blade and ran him through the sword arm.
He dropped his blade, cursing me with vile words while the first man straightened up. “Ah, what a fool you are to interfere with us! We have those above us who brook no such trifling.”
“Are you Leckenbie’s men?”
They were suddenly wary. “And if we are?” said the second.
“Tell him he would be better attacking men than girls. As for you … if you bother her again, I’ll slit your gullets.”
“Hah! It is your throat that will be slit. I know you now, and I will speak to those who will have a care for you.”
“Get on with you!” I replied shortly.
They walked away, the one trying to bind up his arm, which was bleeding badly.
Mr. Digby shook his head. “Lad, you’ve but one choice. Be off from London within the hour. The girl was a bawd, one of those forced to pay monies to Leckenbie and his like. They will permit no interference.”
“If they wish to find me, they know where I am,” I replied quietly. “But what I meant to ask Emma Delahay I can ask you. What news of the Good Catherine?”
“She was sighted not long since, and should be coming up the Thames within the day.”
Arriving back at the tavern, I ordered a slice or two of beef, a bit of cheese and bread with a glass of wine, and waited for Tosti Padget. He had scarcely come when another man entered. A tall man, lean and strong. He looked sharply around, then crossed to me.
“You are Chantry?” His tone was a challenge.
“I am.”
“I have read your paltry tales of shipwreck and treasure. They are trash, and they are lies, and you yourself are a liar!”
Suddenly my initial surprise was gone. Strangely, I was cool. “And your name?”
“Tankard,” he replied, “Captain Charles Tankard.”
“Of course,” I said, “I have been expecting you. What took you so long? Or were you afraid?”
“I? Afraid?” He was both astonished and angry. “I am Charles Tankard!”
“Indeed? If I were you I should be ashamed to speak the name. I know of you as a paid murderer, as a creature in the employ of Rafe Leckenbie … and perhaps of others.
“They tell me also,” I stood up, “that you are a swordsman. Now I have no doubt that you came here to kill me, sent by the masters for whom you run your foul errands. Is not that true?”
He was angry—coldly, furiously angry. I wanted him so. He was reputed to be dangerous, and no doubt he was. His rage would do him no good, and might make him rash.
He started to reply, but I was before him. “Please!” I interrupted. “If we must fight, let us do so! Your breath is as foul as your manners, and the sooner we have done the better!”
I gestured. “There is an inn yard close by. It will be convenient. Be hasty now, for your masters will be awaiting the report from the dog they sent to do their bidding!”