Peril on the Sea (19 page)

The captain offered a dissembling laugh.

“Give me your word, Captain,” said Sherwin, “that you will not harm Lady Katharine or her father.”

This time Fletcher's laugh was stony, and he motioned Sherwin away with a curt gesture.

But now the captain sensed that somewhere a second Fletcher—a twin with a career parallel to his—was striding down a country lane, or opening a volume of creamy white vellum, or perhaps memorizing the lines to a great tragedy. Fletcher should have been an actor. Or a man of the cloth, delivering a sermon each Sunday, the silken matrons gazing with uplifted devotion.

He beckoned Lockwood.

Tom Lockwood was an experienced seaman, born and raised in Dover, and yet the man was like a yellow grasshopper, fore and aft in an instant, and he laughed too much.

Lockwood's eyes were eager, his boatswain's call already in hand. Sometimes, thought Fletcher, you had to forgive the living for having survived.

“Lockwood, or I should say Mr. Lockwood,” said Fletcher, “I am appointing you my new first officer.”

“You'll not regret it, my lord captain,” said Lockwood in a burst of high courtesy after a surprised pause. And then he laughed. The man was lousy with merriment.

It wasn't so hard, thought Fletcher, to love your enemy. The challenge, on the contrary, was to be unstinting in the love of your friends. But he laughed, too. Genuinely, happily. Perhaps Lockwood would prove to be a source of good sense and cheer.

The captain said, “We'll set a course west.”

 

SHERWIN JOINED Katharine at the ship's rail.

“I'll see you happy, and see Fairleigh safe,” he said.

Katharine wondered if, in his hopefulness, Sherwin understood Captain Fletcher.

“Your lifelong happiness, Katharine, I swear to you,” said Sherwin, “will be my desire.”

T
HE GRIFFIN BANNER was taken out of Katharine's trunk and brought with quiet ceremony to the deck by Nittany, the newly appointed boatswain.

“With your permission, my lady,” said Nittany, who had the voice of a capable house servant, polite and calming.

Sherwin was pleasantly startled at the length and breadth of the banner, a deep blue with the griffin looking back over his shoulder, as though to welcome a following throng. The shadow of the Fairleigh standard fluttered and straightened over the deck, with a rumble like faraway cannon fire.

“Isn't that enough to do us proud, sir?” said Sergeant Evenage, and Sherwin had to agree.

Sherwin was pleased to help the carpenter's mate repair a span of shattered railing on the quarterdeck. The craftsman was a skillful Scot named Magnus Hall, and he wore a belt from which dangled an array of files, hammers, wooden mauls, and clamps. He sang happily as he
worked, verses recounting the trials of lost lovers at last reunited. He and Sherwin used a preparation of glue and an artful placement of fastenings to hold a new railing in place, and three hours later it was impossible to detect any former damage.

The crew worked with the precision of adepts in the week after the collision with the great Spanish ship. The pine timbers they had recovered from the Dutch wreckage were put to use repairing harm along her superstructure, and as the
Vixen
coursed westward again, paint was applied to gashes in the spruce-wood timbers, new canvas was run up to replace battle-torn sails, and soon the vessel was very much the deftly outfitted craft she had been.

The cook was able to kindle a fire in his stove, and to provide the entire ship's crew with roast ham and slabs of broiled cheese, along with the best beer and most refreshing cider Sherwin had ever tasted, all served by the ship's steward and his mates, the men responsible for serving food to officers and crew.

But there was still potential trouble.

 

AN UNFAMILIAR SHIP had been sighted on the southwestern horizon off the Cornish coast, the first vessel in several days. The vessel could be the
Rosebriar
, but she could also turn out to be any of a dozen other cargo ships.

Katharine hesitated. She did not want to make another painful mistake.

This array of sails grew in definition from a mote on the
horizon to a notch against the blue sky. Now it was clearly a weathered yet robust English vessel, with the girth of a cargo ship, but heading at such a straight-on angle that her character, much less her name, could still not be determined. But this likely newcomer was one reason for the display of this reassuring flag. Katharine wanted Captain Loy—if that was who it proved to be—to see at a glance that the
Vixen
was a friend.

The cargo ship was slow, settled deeply in the water.

“Her delay is a hopeful development, Lady Katharine,” said Fletcher. “A heavy ship is a rich one.”

But as the privateer waited, attending to the ship's repairs, another ship had begun coming up from the opposite direction, from the bearing of Portsmouth, a grand English vessel with red and white paint along her gunwales and newly refreshed white and black gunports.

She had been in recent fighting, judging by the shot holes in her mainsail, but she had been polished and reappointed immediately afterward, to an extent that won the sergeant's admiring “She's been starched and steamed, not a wrinkle in her stockings.”

But the crew was apprehensive, too. There was no doubt about the character of this oncoming warship. She was the
Ark Royal
, Lord Admiral Howard's flagship. And as the crew of the
Vixen
looked on, beginning to hurriedly prepare for the unexpected, this notable vessel was keeping a course directly toward the privateer.

The Lord Admiral might be on a mission to chastise
Fletcher for his raids on English prizes, or he might be bent on arresting the captain for some matter of state. There was no limit to the troubled rumors that simmered among the crew, and Tryce hobbled about on his crutches murmuring that they would be justified in ripping a charge of grapeshot across the admiral's bow.

The crew put on their best clothing, carefully mended calico and Bristol cloth, looking in their motley outfits like boatmen on a pleasure barge, Sherwin thought, more than men who had recently battled an armada.

Sergeant Evenage had applied tallow to his boots and belt and looked polished and brushed to perfection. Cecil Rawes had likewise flowered, and the quiet Yorkshireman had purchased or wagered his way into a wardrobe of seaboots, a felt hat with a Cyprus-satin hatband, and a green velvet doublet. Sir Gregory, however, appeared further drained by his recent experiences, and leaned heavily on a pikestaff, looking longingly toward the hint of land to the north.

Sherwin himself was outfitted in a doublet of rare kid-skin leather, a garment Bartholomew had won playing dice in the forecastle. His sleeves were silk plush, indigo-dyed and full, and he wore his mantle like a cape so his sleeves could be admired. He wore the pistol Highbridge had loaned him thrust through his belt—Captain Fletcher had said that Sherwin should keep the firearm, and Sherwin felt both privileged and moved by this gift.

The captain had adopted something like the late Highbridge's
manner of clothing, and resembled, in his dark broadcloth tunic devoid of decoration, a scholar, or a man of God.

 

MORE THAN A FEW MEN eyed the approaching flagship's forward guns, and the darkly gleaming, tightly shuttered gunports, with apprehension. They calculated, as Sherwin surmised from overheard remarks, how many strides it would take to lay hands on their pikes and swords.

Fletcher's crew was prepared for tribute, but they were also ready for strife.

T
HIS IS DEVILISHLY AWKWARD,” said Fletcher. “Is it indeed, sir?” asked Sherwin.

He felt that he had taken on the role that Highbridge must have filled, responding politely, sometimes pointedly. But Sherwin realized how empty of knowledge and character he was compared with the veteran officer.

“You know it's disconcerting as well as I do,” replied Fletcher. “Just as Lady Katharine and I are about to carry out an act of maritime fraud, his lordship decides to pay a visit with an armed guard.”

A boat was lowered from the visiting warship, and set out across the easily rolling sea. Care was taken so the oars did not splash, and the rowers were expert, lifting the oars just out of the water, cutting them under the surface again, quietly and with powerful strokes. A gentleman was being conveyed, plumed and garbed in a rich crimson doublet and a buckle with bright gold fittings. The long plume in his cap, and his colorful attire, made him look like a celebrated fighting cock.

This famous maritime administrator, known by sight to everyone who had ever watched the royal barges along the Thames, was accompanied by his personal guard, armored men with halberds and bright headgear—helmets with a gleam rarely seen at sea.

“Have you met the Lord Admiral before, Captain?” asked Sherwin.

“I've avoided the encounter,” said Fletcher. “For a professional scoundrel like myself, Lord Howard is the most dangerous official in England.”

 

THE ADMIRAL climbed onto the webbed rope ladder along the side of the
Vixen
, having no trouble with the ascent. The boatswain's pipe sang out its distinctive signal, announcing the arrival of a visitor.

And there he was, looking exactly like the portrait Sherwin had seen at Saint Paul's, where wreaths had been placed to celebrate Drake's raid on Cádiz. If anything, his lordship looked even more splendid than his painting, red-cheeked and keen-eyed. He looked like a man who always picked out the best seat in a tavern, and got it. He slipped off his glove and advanced toward Fletcher.

Lord Howard gave a courtly bow as he was introduced to Lady Katharine, who had put on a white lace collar, with a parcel-gilt griffin pin on her mantle.

“A lady can be aboard this ship to carry out one duty, if you will permit me,” said the admiral with a knowing but warmhearted smile.

“And what, my lord,” said Katharine, prettily but in a guarded manner, “can that one duty be?”

“Protecting, if I may say, her family investment.”

He said this with a quiet laugh, like a man who had uttered a witticism, but when he shot a glance toward the very slowly, distantly approaching cargo ship, Sherwin felt that the
Vixen
's game was up.

 

SHERWIN WAS INVITED into the cabin along with the two notables.

No one else was present, aside from Bartholomew, who wore a brushed leather doublet embossed with scarlet stars, a remnant, Sherwin thought, of his days serving as a mountebank's assistant. Bartholomew certainly poured wine with a flourish, and excused himself from the room with a showman's grace.

“I knew your father,” said the admiral, gazing at Sherwin with a smile. “He once proposed to me that a ship's dog should be paid a penny for every month at sea, to encourage captains to sail with their pet hounds.”

“My lord, my father loved animals,” said Sherwin, touched at the remembrance.

“Her Majesty declined to subsidize a navy of dogs,” said the admiral amiably, “but she remarked to me that the noted lawyer Morris was a man of good heart. I was sorry to hear of his death.”

“My lord,” said Sherwin, deeply moved, “I thank you.”

“Captain Fletcher,” said the Lord Admiral, like a man who changed subject brisky and at his own bidding, “I am happy to set eyes on you.”

“You honor me, my lord,” said Fletcher, “and my ship.”

“Sir John Burgh of the
Roebuck
,” said the admiral, “told me of the fearsome strife you undertook, facing down the Armada alone, you and your crew. Yours was the first vessel to engage the Spanish force, and for this Her Majesty is everlastingly grateful.”

Fletcher had been sipping his wine with an easy air, but Sherwin had observed the pinpricks of color in his cheeks.

The captain relaxed but little, even now. “My lord, we had little alternative but to serve our own fates and Her Majesty's at the same time. I have no high opinion of my own motives.”

The Lord Admiral gave a laugh, like a gentleman who admired a sense of humor. “You, sir, are too modest.”

“My lord misunderstands me.”

“There will be a knighthood for you, Fletcher, no question about it. You have my word on the matter. I could dub you myself today, but Our Gracious Majesty wants to do the deed herself.”

Captain Fletcher looked quietly amazed at the tidings.

“As for the debts—that old business agreement you have with Her Majesty,” continued the admiral, “I am ordered to tell you that any understanding or covenant you have with the Crown is hereby rescinded.”

Fletcher put a hand to his mouth, going ashen. “Surely this does not mean that I am to be arrested.”

It would fit the gloriously high-handed temperament of Her Majesty, thought Sherwin, to promise a knighthood to a man about to be put into chains.

“Arrested for what, Fletcher?”

“For my crimes, my lord,” said Fletcher, looking dignified but stricken.

“We are all thieves, dear Fletcher,” said the admiral with a cordial laugh. “Her Majesty is the Pirate Regnant, her throne the high command of knavery.” He caught himself, and put a confiding finger to the side of his nose. “Although this is not the publicly announced rule, if you understand.”

Fletcher chuckled politely and, Sherwin thought, with considerable relief.

“No, I bring you nothing but good tidings, Fletcher,” said the admiral. “You are free to get as rich as any man alive. But Her Majesty has a special request for you.”

Fletcher was momentarily speechless. “Her Majesty,” he said, “can command me and every soul in this vessel.”

“You surprise me,” said the admiral with a trace of liveliness. “I thought you were a solitary fox, hard to find and impossible to direct. I always believed it. You proved me wrong.”