Fair Blows the Wind (Louis L'Amour's Lost Treasures)

by Louis L'Amour

  I wanted my own Irish home. I wanted that coast again, and I wanted a love. I was lonely. Now I must go out with a ship, accompany my venture, do my own trading. If I could return with some small wealth I would go back to my own country and find an Irish girl.

  So I thought, and so I planned.

  London had given me time in which to grow. It had enabled me to learn. Now there was nothing for me here any longer. Fear did not drive me, for my victory over Tankard gave me added confidence, yet why remain where there would be endless attempts to kill me? And I knew they feared me for I had written of them once, and might do so again. I was not their creature, and what next I might do they could not know. But suddenly I knew one last thing I could accomplish.

  I would write a piece that would destroy Rafe Leckenbie, and then I would go.

  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 Cádiz, 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 pi
cture 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.

  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.

  CHAPTER 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 you 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 gaining my attention and hence preferment. Some are mere loiterers, 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 coming.”

  “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 Geo
rge.”

  “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.”

  I wonder what strange hint of disaster caused me so to phrase it? Surely, I knew nothing. To my thinking I was but being cautious, having no knowledge of all that would transpire before I came across this threshold again.

  The Bonaventure went again to sea, and I with her.

  Fair blew the winds, and the sails filled as we breasted the seas for the French coast. Some Spanish ships were reported there and beating their way north for England. But we found them not, so Sir George changed course and stood away to the south for the Azores, casting about for prey.

  Owner of vast estates, he was encumbered with debts, and a rich prize might make up for all he had wasted in wild living. As he grew older he had also grown wiser, and wished to establish himself once more. Vessels laden with treasure from the Indies or the coast of America might be along soon, and it was one of these we sought.

  We had been but ten days at sea when, just as dawn was breaking, I heard the cry from the masthead, “Sail ho!”

  “Where away?”

  “Three points abaft the beam!”

  Our bows came around and we headed down toward her. She was a fair tall ship, a Spanish galleon fresh from the Indies by the look of her.

  The decks were cleared for action and we rounded to. As we came alongside we let go with a broadside that toppled the foremast, and shot away a piece of the bowsprit. We closed in then and Sir George motioned me.