An Introduction To The Eternal Collection Jubilee Edition

by Cartland, Barbara

  For the first time in her life Lizbeth was glad that her education had been so extensive. Her father had had her taught in much the same way as Queen Elizabeth had been instructed. At the age of ten she had been learning Italian, French, Latin and Greek, and when she was twelve a tutor in Spanish had been found for her. She alone aboard the Sea Hawk besides Rodney knew why the fishermen had changed their attitude so quickly when Rodney spoke to them. They thought that they had been captured by the Spanish!

  When they found that the ship was English and that her Captain had sailed with their friend Sir Francis Drake, they were only too willing not only to reveal any information that might be of use to the English Captain, but to offer their help.

  Quickly Rodney explained their need for a harbour. The three natives looked at each other; then the oldest, the Cimaroon who had spoken first, began a long reply. Immediately ahead of them, he said, was the coast of Nicaragua. Rodney started at that, because he had been expecting to reach land south of Panama. The night wind had blown them further than he had anticipated.

  He and his brother, the Cimaroon went on, were visiting an Indian settlement, but a week ago one of the gold ships from Panama, en route for Havana, had been forced to seek shelter in their harbour while a split rudder was repaired. The Spaniards had forced into slavery those of the Indians whom they had not killed, they had seduced the young women, and, rather than eat the provisions with which the ship was stocked for the journey back to Spain, they had ravaged the whole countryside in search of food.

  The chief of the tribe was afraid that, although the ship was nearly ready for sea, the Spaniards were in no hurry to leave because some of them thought they had missed the treasure fleet which was sailing from Havana with a powerful escort of warships, and fever had also broken out among the galley slaves.

  Fearful for their lives, the Cimaroons had escaped from the settlement and taken with them for safety the Chief’s son.

  “If the Spaniards are there, we cannot land,” Rodney said in despair.

  The Indian declared to the contrary. He knew of a smaller inlet not far from his own settlement where the Sea Hawk would be quite safe. The Englishmen could repair their ship in secret and the Spaniards need know nothing of their arrival. The real danger, however, the Indian warned them, was from the guarda costas, but many of these had gone to Havana to escort the other ships filled with gold which had been loaded at Nombre de Dios.

  The Spanish ship in their harbour was the last of the gold ships to leave Nombre de Dios, and in response to a quick question from Rodney, the Indian added that no guarda costa had returned to look for her and the Spanish officers had commented bitterly upon this, as they thought they should have been missed by now.

  A ship that had sailed from Nombre de Dios to Havana would be filled with silver and gold and much valuable treasure. Rodney felt a sense of excitement growing within him. Yet what could he do about it? His own ship was crippled and even with the help of the friendly natives, he estimated that it would take several days to repair her, however hard they worked. It was too soon to think of anything except reaching safety by letting the Indian guide them to a point on the coast where they could creep along under the shelter of the cliffs to the promised harbour.

  Being to the north of the Panama isthmus meant that there might be ships passing, but it was a risk to which he had no alternative. At the same time he had a feeling that his luck was going to change. Nothing could have been more fortunate than that they should have captured three friendly natives at this particular moment.

  Rodney remembered there had been a revolt of the Indians in Nicaragua against the intolerable oppression of the Spaniards about thirty years earlier. It had been hopeless from the start, for the Indians were unarmed and the Spanish rulers who had explored and taken over the country after it was discovered by Christopher Columbus, had treated the insurgents with incredible cruelty. Rodney could be sure that the Indians of Nicaragua would help him strike a blow against the might and power and brutality of Spain.

  It was only when the natives had finished speaking and he turned to take them aft so they could help pilot the ship that he realised that no one had understood a word that was being said. He saw Barlow’s face and felt he owed him an explanation, and then as he hesitated, realizing that time was short, Lizbeth came forward.

  “Shall I tell Master Barlow what has been decided?” she enquired.

  “You speak Spanish?” Rodney asked in astonishment.

  “Of course.” she replied, “and several other languages if they should be of any use to you.”

  It was a rebuke, but her lips were smiling and suddenly Rodney felt that he wanted to bury the hatchet. His anger and irritation with her vanished.

  “Thank you, Master Gillingham. Please tell Master Barlow what has been said, and these other gentlemen as well.” Rodney included the gaping Lieutenants in his gesture.

  Lizbeth translated the conversation that had taken place between Rodney and the natives.

  “A Spanish ship!” Master Gadstone exclaimed, his eyes alight with excitement. “We will capture her if it is the last thing we do.”

  “Which it may easily be,” Barlow said crushingly. “My thanks, Master Gillingham,” he added politely to Lizbeth, then hurried after Rodney.

  “I want to come to grips with these damned Spaniards,” Master Gadstone said to Lizbeth. “I have hated them ever since I was a boy when I heard of their treachery to John Hawkins at the battle of St. Juan de Ulua. I was very young at the time, but I resolved there and then that when I grew up I would make the Spaniards suffer for the cruelties they inflicted on their prisoners, for the agonies of those who died on the rack or who lay forgotten in the black prisons of Seville.”

  There was almost a fanatical light in the young man’s eyes as he spoke. Lizbeth put her hand on his arm.

  “I understand what you feel,” she said, “and yet hatred, like cruelty is a frightening thing.”

  Master Gadstone smiled at that.

  “I will teach the Spaniards about both if I get near to them with a sword in my hand,” he threatened, “and pray heaven, our Captain will give us the chance.

  “I hope so, too,” Lizbeth agreed.

  The young lieutenant was silent for a moment, and then he added,

  “I was angry with him for running away yesterday, and yet he was right – it was the only possible thing to do.”

  “Do you really think that?” Lizbeth asked, surprised.

  “But of course. You can see what the Spaniard’s guns could do to us. If we had tried to fight her, she would have pounded us into pulp before we could have got a shot home. And those luggers can do a lot of damage. Yes, the Captain was right, though I hated him for his decision at the moment it happened.”

  “I felt the same thing, Lizbeth said.

  They smiled at each other like conspirators.

  “He is a fine man,” Master Gadstone said. “One day I hope to be like him and I, too, will have a ship of my own.”

  There was a warmth of hero-worship in the young man’s voice.

  Lizbeth watched him hurry away to his duties. He was handsome enough, young, virile and doubtless extremely attractive to women, but she felt no secret stirrings within her heart as she talked with him.

  With Rodney it was different; never could she be indifferent to him. He made her furiously angry, he made her tingle with apprehension, he made her tremble, but never could she ignore his presence.

  She wondered why he was so different from other men, and remembered the fury in his face when she defied him he had looked as if he would strike her. Something within Lizbeth quivered at the thought – but it was not fear she felt.

  Lizbeth’s expression was serious and a few minutes later she slipped up on to the after-deck. Rodney was there with the three natives. The ship, now heavy and difficult to handle, was coming slowly to the lee of the shore. The water was calm, but it was only a question of time, Rodney knew, before the ship wou
ld be completely waterlogged.

  Slowly and with really brilliant seamanship he brought her through a narrow channel of rocks into a small natural harbour. There was a sandy beach, high overhanging cliffs, and partial protection from the open sea by a coral reef.

  They dropped anchor about noon and though everyone was tired from lack of sleep and Rodney felt as if his eyes were burning in his head, within an hour of their arrival they had the forge out on the beach and the smiths and the carpenters were getting ready to make the necessary repairs to the Sea Hawk’s side.

  It was not going to be an easy job, that was obvious from the first moment the damage was assessed, but skilled men could manage it. What was more worrying was that a great many of the ship’s stores had been ruined by salt water. Not all their provisions were down below for space had been reserved for the cargo of gold which they hoped to bring home with them, but some had been there and Rodney was wondering how he could possibly replace them. Actually he knew the answer to all his problems, but for the moment he dared not voice it even to himself.

  It was only as the afternoon passed and evening came that he took the Cimaroons and the Indian aside to talk to them where no one could overhear. No one in the ship’s company could speak Spanish, but Rodney felt that caution was very necessary, especially now. Although the Spaniards were five miles away according to the Cimaroons, the men had been told to keep their voices low and make as little noise as possible, and not, under threat of dire punishment, to go beyond the bay itself.

  They were prepared to obey for the moment, but Rodney knew full well that, when they were less tired and their work had advanced a little, the more adventurous of them would be up to mischief.

  Here was yet another reason why there was no time to be lost. About an hour before dusk he gave Master Barlow special instructions and with a dark cloak over his shoulders and a dagger in his belt he came into the after cabin. Lizbeth, who was in there, gave him one glance and knew where he was going.

  “May I come with you?” She knew it was a forlorn hope, but she had to ask the question.

  “I am going alone with the Indian boy,” Rodney answered. “He suggests it is not wise even to take his friends with him. I am just going to spy out the land, that is all.”

  “I would still like to come,” Lizbeth said, “but I understand.”

  She hesitated for a moment and raised her eyes to say shyly,

  “I think I ought to apologise for what I said yesterday. You were right not to risk the lives of those you command. At the time I wanted to do battle with our enemies whatever the cost to ourselves.”

  Her voice was low and, with an unexpected flash of intuition, Rodney realised what it must have cost her to apologise to him. Sometimes she might seem an irresponsible child and at others a woman. It was the woman who must humiliate herself, must bend her pride and say she was sorry to a man who had not treated her with much courtesy and certainly with little consideration. Impulsively Rodney took a step towards her.

  “I am glad you understand, Lizbeth,” he said. “I hated you to think hardly of me, but I knew it was the right thing to do. And now perhaps I, too, should apologise for some things, and thank you for others. I am grateful to you for caring for my sick, for it is not a woman’s work and I hate to see you stoop to such a filthy task.”

  “Nothing is more important than the health of the crew,” Lizbeth answered. “I am going down to the wounded now. You will not forget the man whose foot is shot off.”

  Rodney felt guilty. He had forgotten him.

  “I will give instructions to Barlow before I leave,” he said. “There is no need for you to go below again. Speacock, the man you were instructing, will do all that can be done.”

  “I think I am in a better position that Speacock, to judge what is best,” Lizbeth smiled, “and besides, those who are in pain will need laudanum and I do not think I would trust Speacock to measure it properly. Tomorrow, if you will allow me, I will ask the Indian to find me some of the herbs which have healing properties.”

  Her eyes were soft and gentle as she spoke and Rodney, watching her, realised that she was very pale and knew that she, too, was as much in need of sleep as he was. He wondered how Francis would have stood up to the voyage so far and realised with a sudden hint of annoyment that he would far rather have Lizbeth with him than Francis.

  Impulsively he bent forward and taking her small hand in his raised it to his lips.

  “I thank you,” he said softly and was gone from the cabin before she could speak again.

  7

  No one slept much on board the Sea Hawk that night. Lizbeth, moving restlessly in her cabin, could hear the men pacing up and down the deck and whispering to each other when they spoke, for Rodney had commanded silence before he left.

  Ashore the blacksmiths were still at their forge under an improvised tent to hide the glow of the fire. It made them so intolerably hot that every so often they must step outside to draw breaths of fresh air and wipe the sweat from their eyes.

  They had been working without a stop the whole day, but no man had asked to be relieved, for each knew without being told that the life of every man aboard the Sea Hawk depended upon the speed of the repairs. At any moment a Spanish ship sailing near the shore might spot them or the Spaniards in the harbour further along the coast might spring upon them from the cliffs above.

  The Sea Hawk had been brought as near in-shore as it was possible to anchor her and the crew had worked all day at the pumps to empty the water out of her hold. Even Lizbeth, ignorant as she was of seamanship, could feel that the ship was riding more lightly now and there was once again a feeling of buoyancy about her.

  It was very hot in the night without a breath of air and, even apart from her anxiety over Rodney, Lizbeth thought it would have been impossible to sleep or rest in such a stifling atmosphere. She was sorry for the men still working, but she knew that any work, however tiring, however intolerable, was preferable to a Spanish prison or to being chained to a galley until one died of exhaustion.

  “Rodney! Rodney!” She wanted to call his name out loud.

  In a panic, she thought that she might never see him again. The Spaniards might have captured and killed him. The idea stabbed her with a physical pain and she shut her eyes against the agony of it – Rodney!

  She saw the strong, clean line of his chin, the square forehead, his heavy eyebrows, straight nose and the sensitive fullness of his lips – And she saw, too, his eyes looking down into hers with an expression which brought a burning flush searing its way up her body to her cheeks. Words he had spoken had suddenly a new significance.

  “Dying does not matter, but it takes courage to look death in the face.”

  She bit her fingers to prevent herself crying-Rodney must not die, he must not! He must live, he must come back to the ship – to her I Rodney! Rodney! If only she could pray, but the very prayers she had used all her life were strangled by the tightness of her throat.

  “Dear God, bring him back.” It was torture to enunciate the words but they brought her a little solace.

  Rodney! Rodney! Even the darkness of the night seemed to stifle her, so that she must die herself from this agony of anxiety.

  The hours passed slowly. When dawn came, there was still no sign of Rodney. He had placed sentries on the cliff before he left so that they could watch for the approach of the enemy from whichever side they might come. The men were lying half-hidden under the coconut palms amongst the luxurious vegetation with which the land appeared to be covered.

  Lizbeth, from below, could see them quite clearly and she knew their heads were turned continually in one direction the one from which they expected Rodney to return.

  With daylight those on board the Sea Hawk under Barlow’s command sprang into an accelerated activity which appeared to keep them all breathless, not only from the heat, but from the speed with which their orders must be carried out.

  And then, just when Lizbeth felt she cou
ld bear it no longer, when her eyes ached from watching for the man who did not come, Rodney returned! He came so swiftly that he was down the cliff side and crossing the sandy beach almost before she was aware of his presence.

  But even had she not seen him, she felt that she would have known by the attitude of everyone aboard that he was there. It was not that they stopped work; it was not that anything was said or done, but in every man there was the same reaction – a sudden relief from tension which swept through the ship as obviously as a cry.

  There was a boat waiting for Rodney where the waves lapped languidly against the sands and it took but a few seconds for the seamen manning it to row him to the ship. The bo’sun’s pipes shrilled as he came aboard and then, regardless of discipline, of custom and correct procedure, Lizbeth reached him first.

  “Thank God you are safe! she cried.

  His face was pale she noticed, but his eyes were shining with some inner excitement. His doublet was dusty and he looked as though he had lain all night in the earth or in some sandy place and had not bad a moment since to brush himself clean.

  Rodney looked at Lizbeth when she spoke to him, but his first words were for Barlow, who stood a little to one side as if waiting for instructions.

  “Everything in order, Master Barlow?”

  “The repairs should be finished by noon, sir. We can put to sea tonight.”

  Rodney smiled. This was what he wanted to hear.

  “Thank you, Master Barlow. I wish to speak to the entire ship’s company.”

  “Now, sir?”

  Barlow glanced for the first time at Rodney’s clothes.

  Lizbeth knew that he was thinking of the breakfast that Hapley had waiting in the cabin. Rodney also needed a shave, but with his usual impatience with such trifles he said sharply:

  “At once, Master Barlow!”

  “Aye, aye, sir.

  The command was given for “all hands on deck” and the men came tumbling up from below with a haste which bespoke their eagerness. Only the blacksmiths, the men working with them, and the sentries on the cliffs were missing.