"I know of no such treasure ship," I replied.
Jeremy Ring and Jublain had come to stand beside me.
"Aye, well, mayhap you've your own reasons for not sharing your knowledge with us," he said, still smiling. "But mayn't we hunt on our own?" His sharp little eyes probed mine. "Unless you would try to stop us."
"Why should I do that? Go ahead. You've my permission, if it is needed. Only those who go do not return."
He chuckled. "Like that, is it? Well, it's not likely we'd need to return.
You'll give us food then?"
"For six days only. We can afford no more. After that you'll be on your own.
I'll give you rifles and ten balls per man, and the powder for it, and where you go after that is wherever you like, but I'll have no quitters with me."
I looked him square in the face.
"You'll stay now, or you'll go and not come back. You came knowing what lay ahead, and now at the smell of gold, which probably isn't there, you'd go. Well, go and be damned!"
"You talk very big for a man who'll soon be alone."
"He'll not be alone," said Jublain. "I'll be with him."
"And I," Ring added.
"You're fools then," he said. "There'll be few else."
"That may be," I replied, "but there may be more loyal men here than you think."
For the first time I saw doubt in his eyes, but he shook it off. The dream was more pleasant to believe than to doubt.
The taunting expression came to his face. He wanted to get back at me, to hurt me, worry me, anger me. "Well, Barnabas, if there's no gold I can always join Nick Bardle."
"Why not? There's always room on a gibbet."
He turned sharply away, and Jublain made as if to start after him. "He needs killing," he said, when I stopped him.
"No doubt, but here is a good time to be rid of any troublemakers. I want nobody with me who will not go the distance."
Yet there were steps I could take, and I took them. Recharging several pistols and a musket, I kept them at hand, and suggested to Jublain, Jeremy, and Pim that they stay close about.
Delve went to the edge of the wood with a dozen others and there was much talk going on.
"Pim," I said, "do you go to the Abigail. Tell Tilly what goes on, and tell him to stand by for trouble and allow no one aboard unless with an order writ by my hand."
Aboard the Abigail, I felt sure John Tilly would stand.
Pim was back within the hour. "They'll stand for you," he said, "every man of them."
"Good! Now let us close the gate."
We did so, and Jeremy went to the walls where he could keep a lookout, and a weather-eye on the dissenters.
When they were up and coming to the gate in a group, Ring called softly and I came up to the wall with him. Wa-ga-su came to me and wished to know what it was that had happened, and I explained to him. He shook his head in amazement, but went back to squat against the wall and watch.
Jonathan Delve was in the lead. When they came up to the gate and found it closed, they stopped, obviously surprised.
"Well, men, what is it?"
"Open the gate!" Delve shouted. "We want our belongings. We are going for the gold."
"It shall be as agreed," I said. "I think you go upon a fool's errand. Yet you shall have what I promised."
Then we lowered over to them the muskets and the food, and with much angry grumbling and shouting they marched away.
Some we did well without, yet others were good men led astray by a promise of gold. We stood together upon the walls, making a brave show of it, but we knew all too well that we were too few to defend the fort against a strong attack as Bardle might make. Not to mention the Indians.
"Do you think they know how many have gone? The Indians, I mean?" Jublain asked.
"If they do not know, they will. There will be tracks left, and they will follow and observe. I think our friends have not chosen wisely."
I was already thinking of what was to come. We had a winter to get through before we could march to the mountains.
In the following days we stayed close by, gathering food, drying the meat from our hunting, gathering clams along the shore, fishing. Always, two of us remained within the fort, and now the great gate was always closed, and we used the smaller gate. It was easier to open and shut as well as to guard.
"I fear for them." Tilly had come to the fort to eat, leaving Blue in command of the Abigail. "They will find much trouble at Roanoke, unless they have great luck."
The lost colony. Would the same fate overtake us?
There was time then to get out the maps and charts and pore over them, to speculate on what lay beyond the blue mountains and the best way to reach them.
Wa-ga-su had a quick intelligence, and grasped at once almost any idea that was not totally beyond the range of his experience. Our needs he understood at once.
He would guide us to his home country. He would show us a way into the mountains, but when we offered him a chance to go along, he refused.
"Have you thought of a voyage first?" Tilly suggested. "We have many timbers cut for masts, many skins, and much potash. It would be a valuable cargo."
"I cannot risk England," I said.
"Then what of the Spanish islands? Or France?"
Uneasily, I considered the subject. It was true we had a full and heavy cargo.
Our work would be for naught if we left it on the ground and went away to the mountains.
The decision would have to be mine. To go meant to move, to move meant to risk the sea, conflict, and possibly capture and death.
John Tilly wished to go. There were good reasons for it and Abby, I knew, would leave the choice to me.
The rain fell softly, whispering gently down upon our roofs, beating a soft tattoo upon our walls. It would be wet in the forest, wet upon the trails, and out beyond the Banks would be the cold gray wintry sea, rolling its combers down from the northland. The great breakers would be snarling along the sand. Again I seemed to feel the tip and bow of a deck beneath my feet.
Once more the lights of a harbor seemed to beckon to me, once more the sound of music and laughter.
Tomorrow, I promised myself, I would decide ...
Our walls were strong here, our food supply good. Out there? No wall could stand against the sea, and good ship though we had, there were ships that were faster, more heavily gunned.
The weight of the burden lay heavy upon me. Now that I must decide for others, my decisions came not so quickly, for any move might mean the death of my wife, of a friend, or the loss of our ship.
Yet each move one makes is a risk, and if one thinks too long one does not move at all, for fear of what may come, and so becomes immobile, crouched in a shell, fearful of any move.
I would sleep the night, I would think much upon what I might do, but I think the decision was already made.
We would go to sea once more.
Chapter 20
Our first task was to bring closer to the fort the Abigail, and to careen her there so her bottom might be scraped free of encrusted barnacles. If this was not done, not only would her bottom soon be damaged but her sailing speed would be slowed, and this we could not have. In many a situation to be encountered at sea, only speed could lead to safety.
By night I sat over my table, working upon our meager supply of paper to see what could be done as to armament and cargo. Again and again I went over the stowage of that cargo to keep our vessel seaworthy and in balance, for the stowage of cargo is no simple matter.
Tilly, Ring, and Jublain were often with me. Tilly was the most knowing as to stowage and the management of such cargo. Jublain knew the most of the use of ordnance, and Ring, to my surprise, knew much of marketing.
On the latter, I consulted often with Abigail, too, for she had made many voyages with her father and had heard him talk of trade and the market in many lands, and also the talk of those who consorted and traded with him.
Meanwhile I
went over my charts and considered much as to exactly where we should go. England would have been my first choice, but England meant almost certain prison for me. It would likely be fully as dangerous for us to approach any other port in Christian Europe. Yet I thought much of the harbors of Brittany, where many ships were built, where we of the fens were known, and where there was ever a dearth of timber for the masts of ships. Yet Brittany was no market for potash, and I hoped to dispose of our cargo at one move. Into port quickly, a quick sale, a quick escape and back to our fort, should best suit all our purposes.
The coasts of Barbary were another thought, but they were notorious for pirates, who had little timber and who would be likely to take both our cargo and ship.
Yet I liked not the thought of supplying masts for pirates who had enslaved many an English seaman.
"What then of Ireland?" Abby suggested, and it gave me good pause.
What, indeed? There had been some building activity there, or so I had heard, in those parts not affected too much by the fighting.
Thus Ireland was a chance ... and Brittany, another.
Any voyage was a risk, for with every day of sailing we would be coming closer and closer to the shores of England and the danger from English ships.
Yet our ship was a fluyt, of a neutral country, a type of ship they would have little reason to attack or disturb. We might just bring it off.
"What do you think of England?" I asked the others.
Jublain shrugged. "I think it would be a mistake. It is too close, too dangerous. Mountjoy's ships would be around the coasts, for there was talk of Spanish soldiers helping the Irish. They would suspect every ship."
"Why not to England?" Pim Burke suggested cheerfully. "Barnabas need not appear.
We could sail right into Bristol harbor, sell for a good price where the masts are most needed, and the potash can be traded, and then be out and gone."
"It is too risky," Jublain objected.
Pim was always the daring one, willing to skirt the very edge of danger, yet his idea had merit.
"Why not Ireland?" asked Jeremy Ring. "I'd rather see the timbers go there than to Spain or to the Moors. We could take them to the Indies, but they would bring much less."
"That's true," I agreed. "I had been thinking of that."
Jublain was typical of the professional soldier. He fought always to win. No unnecessary risk, although he would hesitate at nothing when in combat, always playing the percentages. He was one to want the margin of safety always on his side, to take every precaution, then go ahead.
"Ireland it will be," I said, "for a first attempt. I know a bit of the Irish coast now."
"Where in Ireland?" Ring asked.
"Glandore is small. There would be no market there, but there's a place nearby ... called Kinsale. Do you know it?"
"Aye," Jublain said, "and a likely place it is. Well, why not? It is your neck they have measured for the hemp, not mine. Although crossing the ocean to any port at this time is a chancy thing."
"We'll sail to the Azores," I suggested, "by a warmer if longer route, and then to Ireland."
A word here or a word there, and the choice might have been otherwise. Upon such slender threads are the lives of men suspended.
Now there was much to be done. The hull of the Abigail had been well scraped and treated by the time our decision was made, and the loading of cargo begun: mast-timbers, shingles, potash, the few furs and hides we had taken, and a few freshwater pearls.
We had a supply of food, far more than needed to supply our ship, so like the squirrels we dug holes and buried some food in the cool ground-mostly nuts, that would care for themselves, buried in barrels and casks.
At last, we cast off from the moorings made to trees, and floated slowly downstream, putting on more canvas to catch the wind.
When I glanced back, the fort stood silent and alone upon its low hill. Wa-ga-su stood beside me. I wondered at his thoughts, this strong, quiet savage going out upon the water and sailing to a land he had never seen and could scarcely imagine. Yet he seemed calm.
"We will come back, Wa-ga-su," I assured him.
He said nothing, merely stared at the receding shores. This was not his country, yet it was a land he knew, and from it he knew the way to his own people.
John Tilly took over the watch and I went below.
Once more I got out my charts of the Irish coast, yet even as I stared at the chart I was not seeing it, for my thoughts had turned to Ireland itself rather than the chart before me.
In 1597 the Irish had rebelled against the English, and led by O'Neill, Earl of Tyrone, as well as Red Hugh O'Donnell, they fought a shrewd and cautious campaign, attacking moving columns, staging ambushes and sudden raids upon camps. It was the kind of warfare for which the Irish fighting man was suited, and with which the Earl of Essex was unable to cope. Finally, a truce was declared and Essex returned to England to find the Queen in a fit over the truce. He was replaced by Lord Mountjoy, and beheaded not long after ... or so we had heard while in Wales.
What might have happened since then, we had no idea. Months had passed, and we had no recent news. Our best opportunity was to work in toward the coast of Ireland and try to bespeak a fishing vessel or a trader for information.
Glandore was no fit harbor for our commerce. Cork was too big, and the danger of being trapped in that harbor was greater, due to its conformation. Studying the chart and talking with Tilly and Ring, who both knew the coast, we decided upon Kinsale.
We set our course for the distant islands, and the seas were gentle, the winds not strong, but steady. Twice we sighted other sails, and once a ship headed to us, but the fluyt was a good sailor and we hoisted all her canvas and pulled swiftly away.
Gulls accompanied us, and porpoises dove and played around our bow, seeming to enjoy the company of the fluyt. Nearing the Azores we sighted too many vessels for comfort, and pulled away from them and set our course northerly.
"Do you know Kinsale, Jublain?" I asked.
"I know it. A good little place on the river Bandon with a fine, safe harbor."
He looked at me. "It is worse than Cork, if you're thinking of a trap."
"Aye, but quieter than Cork, I think, and an easier place."
He agreed, but with misgivings. Only Pim took the voyage lightly, for all were afraid for me. This I sensed, knowing the Queen wanted none of them but Black Tom Watkins, to whom the voyage was a very real danger.
Wa-ga-su had developed into an efficient seaman, intrigued by all the activities aboard ship, and aware of our apprehension as we neared Ireland.
It was my hope to come up out of the sea and sight the Old Head of Kinsale first. As it was a bold headland, with sharp cliffs, I'd no idea I could miss it. And I did not, for we sighted it at dawn and moved in at once toward the entrance. I could see the dark outlines of De Courcy Castle, and I had a man aloft and two in the bow to watch for rocks. There was one that lay two cable-lengths southwest-by-south from Hangman's Point, covered with three feet of water at low tide, and we slid past it easily on the west side.
Suddenly, Jublain hailed me. "Barnabas! Look!"
Look I did, and beheld a half-dozen ships lying at anchor before us ... and every one of them flying the flag of Spain!
More than that, the flag flying above the town of Kinsale was Spanish, too.
In the distance we heard the boom of cannon.
Jublain came quickly to the deck.
"Barnabas, I like not the look of this! It were better by far that we leave now.
At once!"
"How?" I protested. "Those are warships. If we attempt to leave, they will follow."
"What do you propose?" Tilly asked.
"That we brazen it out. That we approach boldly, as if all was planned. This would seem a bad time to be here, however, and a poor time for marketing timbers."
"May another man speak?" Jeremy said. "Look yon ... a fire has broken out in the town. I think Kinsale is under atta
ck. But under attack by whom? The Irish, who are Catholic? I think not. Essex was here. He failed. Then Mountjoy was sent. It may be that the Spanish have sent a fleet to help the Irish, and they have landed here."
"A foolish place to choose," I said. "The fighting is to the north, I think."
"Who expects all men to move wisely?" It was Jeremy again. "And I doubt that these knew aught of Ireland. Spanish ships are here. The town is in their hands, and the town is under attack. Obviously it is under attack by Mountjoy and the English."
He paused. "Do you speak the Dutch tongue, Barnabas?"
"A few words. I fished once with a Dutch sailor who lived briefly among us."
"I speak it," Jublain said. "Tongues are as easy to me as blades, and when a man fights on the continent he speaks many tongues."
"Then we must convince the Spanish we are Dutch, until such a time as we can escape."
There was a shout from the bow: "A boat is coming!"
We were abreast of the Upper Cove, and the marking on my chart was for four fathoms. "Let's go forward," I said to Tilly, "and drop a rope ladder for the boat."
The officer who came aboard was elegantly dressed, but one glance at his cleancut jaw and his quick steps assured me that this was no perfumed popinjay.
"Captain Alonzo de Valdez," he said "What is your ship? And what do you do here?"
Jublain introduced himself, then said, "Our captain and owner is Barnabas de Sacketi. We were bound for La Rochelle and heard the Spanish fleet were needing supplies and spars. We directed our course to this place."
He looked from one to the other of us, his eye sharp and curious.
"The name of your vessel is what?"
"Abigail," I said, speaking in the Welsh I had from my mother. "It is named for my wife."
Abigail, looking lovelier than I'd seen her of late, came from the cabin. She held out a slender, white hand to Valdez, who bent above it gracefully.
After a few minutes of polite conversation, he said to Jublain. "Inform your captain that he comes at a bad time. Kinsale is beseiged by Lord Mounrjoy and the British."
"And the Irish?"
"Coming up behind him. There will be a battle shortly." He shrugged a shoulder.
To the Far Blue Mountains (1976) s-2 Page 17