Yet, I asked myself, why did I wish him destroyed? Was it because he had bested me in our long-ago duel? Was it because the man was my announced enemy, and had warned me that he intended to kill me?
Reason enough, I told myself, but mine was not that. The man was evil, wholly committed to evil, and although I doubted that he would achieve what he had set out to do … he might.
So far as I knew, I alone knew his plans. So far as I was aware, I alone could stop him—or could at least make an attempt. I had the necessary information, I possessed the weapon. Oddly enough, I did not believe that it was he who had set Charles Tankard upon me. Rather I believed it was that white-haired man, the master of John. Rafe Leckenbie would wish to have the pleasure of killing me himself.
Yet I recalled the girl I had helped just a few hours past. How many such girls were brutalized, beaten and held in virtual bondage by him or those he protected?
If men of goodwill would not step forward to war against evil, then who would? The spotlight I had put upon Leckenbie had aided him, he said. Indeed, it had. Yet it must have left disquiet in many minds, some of them official. From such a man, who was safe? Where was security when thieves and outlaws could run at large, doing their will of the populace?
For a long time I lay on my back upon the bed, my hands clasped behind my head, thinking of what I might do, and how the last piece must be written.
To indict Leckenbie was not enough. I must support my claims with arguments, with facts, with names, dates, and places. I knew this sort of thing was little done, but it must be done in this case. I doubted I would have more than one chance, so all must be done at once.
Also, I must be about my business. Already I had been over long in London, my progress only adequate. Many men of my age were already captains of ships, commanders of regiments, and active in political life. Charles Danvers, at eighteen, had been elected to Parliament, and many another had done as well. I had no preferment, so must make my own way. But this was a time of change, when many yeomen and less were coming to high place through their energies alone.
Mentally, I began to calculate. My little ventures had all but one returned me a small profit. The major investment was aboard the Good Catherine, now due into port. Item by item I calculated what I possessed, and it came to a tidy sum. I had succeeded in saving something in excess of twenty-five pounds, and this at a time when a hard-working playwright might earn thirty pounds in a year. And this counted nothing of my current venture on the Good Catherine.
Carefully, I studied my situation and decided what I must buy. Now I knew the sources of the stuff of trade. I knew where to buy the brightly colored cloths, the copper bells and the edged tools, and where to obtain them at the least cost.
At last I slept, restless with thoughts of all that must be done, but eager for the morrow. Awakening suddenly, with the first light, it was in my thoughts that I must no longer live so solitary, but must make friends. For if trouble came I had none to speak for me, while Rafe Leckenbie could call his friends by the dozen.
No sooner did I come on the street than Padget was there. “You are famous,” he said, “the talk of London.”
“I?”
“Your victory over Captain Tankard. He was a man much feared, and one with many enemies. There is much talk of your gallant conduct against him:”
“I fought to save my life.”
“That may be, but you are much spoken of, and there is a man about, waiting for you.”
He was a servant in livery, at a glass of ale in the common room. He came to his feet when I entered.
“I am from Sir George Clifford, the Earl of Cumberland,” he announced. “I am asked to accompany you to him. He would speak with you.”
Yet it was to no great castle that I was taken, but to a place upon the riverbank where Clifford was seeing to the outfitting of his ship, the Elizabeth Bonaventure. He gave me a quick glance. “You are the man who defeated Tankard?”
“I am.”
“Know you aught of the sea?”
“Of small craft only. I am from the Hebrides.”
“Ah? Fine sailormen those. Well, wish you to serve with me? There is word of a great armada the Spanish are sending against us.”
“I know of it.”
He threw me a quick glance. “What do you know?”
“That Spain is preparing more than a hundred ships. Some have gathered in Cadiz, even now. Thousands of men are recruited, and more than two thousand brass cannon with much else.”
“How does it come that you know all this? There has been talk, of course, but—”
“I have ventured some small sums in trade. Thus I try to be aware of what is happening at sea. I have myself been contemplating a voyage to America, and to that end have spent much time talking with sailors and fishermen along the shore. There are no secrets there.”
“Would you serve with me then? England will need every man.” He paused. “And I want bold ones, for when the Armada is defeated—and we shall defeat them—I wish to sail for the Indies, for the Spanish waters.”
“I would be honored to serve with you in any capacity that befits a gentleman,” I replied.
“Could you command a prize vessel if need be?”
“I could.”
“Good! Provide yourself with what you need and report to me here. And,” he added sharply, “no more dueling. Her Majesty does not look with favor upon such things.” He smiled then, friendly enough. “Although I should like to have seen that duel!” He changed the subject. “You have written some booklets?”
“I have.”
“Then keep your eyes and ears open. I should like this story well told when it is over. I want a report to the Queen, but I shall want more, a pamphlet to go out over the city, recounting the story of the Elizabeth.”
“It would be a pleasure.”
As, indeed, it would. I had never written of a battle, and this would be one, perhaps the first of many, that I should not only witness but partake of. Yet I knew little enough of what my duties would be, nor of command afloat. It behooved me to learn as much as I could.
I hurried back to my room at the inn to make my plans. I should need pistols, some clothes fit for the sea, books for reading, and most of all the help of an old salt, if such there was about, who could talk to me of battles at sea and their conduct.
When I came down from my room, Tosti arose to meet me. “Do you have a patron?” he asked.
“A patron?” I laughed. “No, not I. Patrons are for poets or playwrights, not for mere scribblers. No, I am recruited to war against the Spanish dons.” I explained to Tosti what lay before me and he went with me while I purchased two excellent pistols and the equipment and materials for charging them.
For several days I was busy, yet I took the time needed to write the final piece on Rafe Leckenbie.
Being no literary craftsman, I did my best with what came to mind. I wrote it as a story from some ancient land, yet kept the subject so close that none could miss what I intended. I entitled it: A True Relation of How a Master Thief Became a Great Lord. Writing in words that implied a long-ago story in a distant land, I yet painted so close a picture that none could fail to recognize Rafe Leckenbie. I told of his plotting to become the thief-master and controller of bawds. Then, almost using Rafe’s own words, I told how he would become a knight and then a lord of the realm. At last I pictured him fat and gloating, so strong that not even the ruler could displace him.
During those last days I threw myself into the task of preparing for sea with all my energies. The problems were new for me, but I quickly perceived what must be done. And by discreet questions and observation, I learned much. I directed the loading of supplies, food, extra canvas, and I watched the storage of powder and shot. In every way I attempted to make myself useful. Clifford might wish for bold men, but useful men were just as necessary.