We put to sea in company with a number of other vessels, many of whose names I never knew or heard but in passing. My life aboard ship was brief and hectic. The Spanish were coming, this much we knew. My informants along the Thames had known much from the gossip of fishermen and sailors of coastwise or across-channel boats, many of whom operated regardless of war or threat of war. Lying low in the water, their fast-sailing craft swept back and forth across the channel, many of them engaged in smuggling or other clandestine activities, but the servants of Elizabeth would have done well to have listening posts among them. Drake, I believed, did just that.
The Bonaventure was a good sailer, as for weeks she proved as we beat back and forth across the channel and sometimes off the coast of Brittany. But never a Spanish sail did we see.
We put back into port to renew our stores. There were stories that Sir John Hawkins was now to command the vessel. As soon as we dropped anchor I made it ashore to see Emma Delahay.
“Ah!” She looked up from her table as I entered. “It is you! Have you not heard then?”
“Heard? What?”
“There is an order for your arrest. It seems you have offended someone.”
An order for my arrest? For a moment I seemed to turn cold. It was what I had feared. Once they had me in prison they would somehow, some way, discover who I was, and I would be killed.
If not by the Queen’s men then by those of Leckenbie or his protector.
How much could I trust Emma Delahay? No matter, I had no choice. Only a moment passed, but I knew what I must do.
“What of the Good Catherine?”
“She lies yonder. She has discharged her cargo and is reloading.”
“My venture?”
“You may see the accounts. You have fifty-five pounds due you.”
“Your captain did well. When does he sail again?”
“Within the week.” She shuffled some papers upon her table. “There is a place aboard her if you wish.” She paused then. “It would be safer, Tatton.”
It was the first time she had called me by my given name.
“If you wish to make a venture,” she said, “you could go with it and learn the trade for yourself.”
He is a wise man who does not overstay his time. “I shall go,” I said.
“Be aboard by the Sunday coming, and be careful.”
I would, indeed.
23
What, then, to do? The Queen’s men wished to arrest me, something contrived no doubt by Leckenbie’s protector. Or had they discovered my true identity? There was always that danger, a danger I would never be without.
With honor I could not simply leave Sir George Clifford, yet to remain about when the order for my arrest was made out was to ask for trouble. I went straightaway to him.
He received me at once and sat back in his chair. “If you have asked to see me at this time,” he said, “it cannot but be serious. What is it?”
Risking arrest there and by him, if my crime, whatever it was, proved serious, I told him simply what had been done. I spoke of the broadsides and pamphlets I had written and now of the order for my arrest. Of course, I said nothing of my Irish ancestry, trusting not even him so much.
I knew somewhat of the man. The Queen’s champion he was, but he had also lived a wild, reckless life himself and at present had his own troubles.
He listened patiently. “They will not arrest you while they serve me,” he said, after a bit, “and no doubt you are safer here. Yet if you wish to go, then go you may.
“However, I would suggest you serve me yet awhile. You have spoken of your wish to make money with your ventures. It is my wish also, but believe me, Chantry, one good prize and we should all be rich. I need money as much as any man. And I mean to have that prize.”
Little I knew how much my life depended on the decision I was then to make, yet what might have happened if I had chosen otherwise? I only know my entire life was changed when I decided.
How often it is that a whim may alter the course of our existences! How often the simple decision whether to go right or left when one leaves a doorway can change so much! A man may turn to the right and walk straightaway into all manner of evil, and to the left, all manner of good.
It was ever my way to push forward, and ever my way to hold to a bargain. My word once given was precious to me, and I had promised to serve with him.
“Sir George,” I said, “I dare not be arrested. I do wish to serve you, and to serve England in this hour, yet to be arrested would be fatal.” I paused, not wishing to explain why it might be fatal. I trumped up a reason, and logical enough it was, too. “I am convinced that I am to be arrested only to be murdered, that once in prison I would be set upon, when unarmed, by Leckenbie’s felons.”
“Have no fear. You shall go aboard my ship, and no officer will reach you there, if I have to go to Elizabeth herself to protect you.
“Look you … I have many men, but most serve in hope of prize money, of gaming my attention and hence preferment. Some are mere loyerers, putting in their time. Some are lusty fighters who have often proved their courage and strength. But none has taken hold as you have done.
“Within the short time you have served me you have laid hold of problems and solved them. You know much of the ship’s care and husbandry. Any task I set for you I need never think of again, for it is done. You have proved yourself my strong right hand, and already I have mentioned you to Sir John Hawkins, if he should take command.”
“And he may?”
“It is possible. The Queen wants me nearby, although I should prefer to be at sea. Well, one more voyage, perhaps. At least one more.” He looked up at me suddenly, then glanced about to see if others were near. “Chantry, I shall give you this word and no other, because I wish you to remain with me. I have word … very secret word … of the sailing of a great Spanish vessel, loaded with treasure. I hope to seize that vessel.”
He took up a bottle and filled two wineglasses, putting one of them before me. “Chantry, I will tell you this much. I have an Irish friend … oh, do not look surprised! I have an Irish friend who now serves Spain. The information comes from him.
“We have much trouble with Ireland. Most of the Irish would gladly burn England to the dust. But—a very Important but—they do not wish anyone else to do it. As one of them once said to me, ‘The English are our enemies, but they are our enemies. We do not wish to share them with others.’ Amusing, is it not? Yet I trust this man, and he has told me of this great vessel corning.”
“When?”
He shrugged. “I know not. Only that she will come and we must be out there, waiting.”
“Will you have further word?”
“Perhaps. I doubt it. Word is not so easy to receive. Possibly you, with your river-front friends, might learn something. But the less it is talked of the better. Look what I have to contend with—not only the Spanish but so many of our own people who would love to find such a juicy plum ready to fall from the tree.
“I have a fine ship, but I am not Drake, nor Frobisher, nor—”
“But you may be Hawkins?”
He smiled. “That I may be, but even he does not know of this yet.”
“I will stay with you, Sir George.”
“Good!” He held out his hand. “I thought you might. Now go and finish up whatever it is you have to do and return swiftly, for I think we shall wait but little longer and then return to sea.”
Leaving my plumed hat aboard, I chose a dark cloak and a flat cap to wear ashore. Then, armed with my sword, a dagger, and two charged pistols, I went ashore again and made my way to the place of Emma Delahay.
Swiftly as could be I arranged my business with her. Sixty pounds in goods I trusted to her. “Do the best you can. When this is over, I shall be back. If I come not back immediately, do you administer my funds to my best interest and hold the profits for me, for eventually I shall come.”