The Enterprise of England Read online

  ‘Oh, I find that in our profession, the wisest course is to see both ahead and to both sides, if you wish to survive.’

  ‘And perhaps also behind as well?’

  ‘Aye.’ He looked at me gravely. ‘That as well.’

  Now that we were aboard, the ship’s crew began to make ready to leave. While we tethered the horses as best we could to keep them steady when the ship began to toss, and removed their tack, we could hear the sound of running bare feet slapping on the deck and occasional shouted orders, though it was clear these men knew their tasks with few directions from their officers. There were some bales of straw in the makeshift stable that we arranged around the horses to give them some protection, should they be thrown about once we were on the open sea. By the time we were finished and ducked out under the flap of canvas that closed the end of the stable, the ramp had been pulled aboard, the mooring ropes cast off, and the pinnace was being rowed out of the harbour.

  The Silver Swan could be propelled either by a single bank of oars or by sails, but here in the harbour it was easier to manoeuvre while rowing. Our pinnace was neither one of the very small ones which are used as tenders for the great warships and for carrying messages between them within a fleet, nor was it one of the largest which are in truth small warships themselves, armed with anything up to a dozen cannon. It carried six small cannon and must be deemed large enough to cross the Channel unaccompanied. Recalling the fishing boat which had smuggled the two conspirators ashore last year near Rye, I realised that this ship was almost twice as long.

  Once we were clear of the harbour, the ship’s captain gave the order to hoist sail. The mainmast carried a quadrangular spritsail, with a triangular staysail before it. There was rigging from the bowsprit to the mast for a foresail, but the crew did not at first hoist this. Although the wind had abated somewhat from its fiercest at the height of the storm, it was still blowing hard enough to whip the hood of my cloak from my head. I reckoned the captain would not risk full canvas while the wind was this high.

  ‘Master Berden and Master Alvarez?’ The captain had come over to where we stood on the rear deck, trying to stay out of the way of the sailors as they went about their business.

  ‘Aye,’ said Berden, extending his hand.

  ‘Captain Thoms,’ he said, shaking our hands in turn. He looked at me curiously. ‘You are Spanish?’

  ‘Certainly not,’ I replied, somewhat curtly. It was not the first time I had been taken for Spanish. ‘I am Portuguese and no friend of Spain.’

  ‘Ah.’ He nodded in comprehension. ‘Well, I am instructed by Sir Edward to take you all the way up to Amsterdam. I am afraid it will be a rough crossing.’

  Even as he spoke we reached the open Channel, out of the lea of the land, and the ship kicked like a wayward horse. I grabbed hold of one of the shrouds to steady myself, and so did Berden, though Thoms rode the tossing deck as though it were flat calm.

  ‘As long as we have this following wind,’ he went on, as if he had not noticed the movement of the ship, ‘we should reach the coast of the Low Countries before dark, but I will not sail up the canal at night. Too risky, both for the sake of the ship and in case the Spanish forces have moved closer.’

  ‘Are they that close?’ I asked. ‘I thought they were back near Sluys.’

  He shrugged. ‘Who knows what Parma will do? But it is wise to be cautious.’

  He called an order to the steersman to head further out to sea and turned back to us. ‘Dangerous sandbanks off the coast of Kent, the Goodwin Sands. Many a ship has been lost there.’

  I shivered. The thought of going aground in this bitter weather, out of sight of any help by land or sea, was the very stuff of nightmares. The captain took my shiver for cold.

  ‘Come,’ he said, ‘there is no need for you to stand on deck in this wind. Come into my cabin.’

  The stern of the ship held the captain’s cabin and two other smaller ones for his officers, while the men slept below decks. Not that there would be much sleep for anyone, I imagined, on this journey. Thoms led us into a comfortable room which – had it not leapt up and down and side to side – could have been any gentleman’s study on land. It was panelled in polished wood and had a wide window at the far end, looking out over the stern of the ship. On the right a bunk was neatly made up with colourful blankets, in the centre a table was screwed down to the floor, as were the four chairs around it. The rolled up papers stored in racks on the wall were probably charts.

  ‘Will you take a glass of wine?’ Thoms said, and without waiting for an answer took a flagon and three glasses from a cupboard.

  We sat round the table like any civilised company on shore, except that both the flagon and the glasses had heavy bases for stability, and when I raised the glass to my lips, the motion of the ship knocked it against my teeth. Mercifully I felt no seasickness. On my only other journey by sea, from Portugal to England, I had also been spared that pernicious affliction. Berden looked a little queasy. I was glad that in this, at least, I would not be the weaker of the two of us.

  ‘Do you make this crossing often?’ Berden asked. ‘Over to the Low Countries?’

  ‘Aye,’ said Thoms. ‘Ever since we have been helping the Dutchmen against the Spanish we have been back and forth, carrying supplies and men. And bringing the casualties home. I was second officer on the warship that brought Sidney’s body home.’ He shook his head. ‘Less than a year ago now, though it seems like a lifetime. Poor Lady Sidney, she was wild with grief, and her not much more than a girl herself.’

  ‘And carrying a child,’ I said. ‘I saw her at her father’s house not long afterwards.’

  ‘They say the child was born delicate,’ Berden said.

  ‘It is not to be wondered at,’ I said. ‘And the other little girl fatherless now.’ I had a sudden vivid picture in my head of the child being led into St Paul’s for the funeral.

  ‘Were you on one of the ships that evacuated the survivors of Sluys in the summer?’ I looked at Thoms, whose calm demeanour was reassuring on this storm-driven ship. I could imagine Andrew and the others in his care.

  ‘I was. By then I was in command of the Silver Swan and we carried thirty of them back from Sluys and up the Thames to London.’

  ‘Thirty!’ Berden looked about him, as if he could see the prostrate forms of the injured soldiers heaped up.

  ‘Aye. We pressed into service every ship we had nearby, to fetch the men away before Parma changed his mind. We had to lay them out in rows on the deck, like cargo, and run them home. Fortunately the weather was good, else I don’t think we could have brought them home alive in rain.’

  ‘Kit here is a physician.’ Berden inclined his head towards me, ‘as well as working for Walsingham. He tended some of them at St Bartholomew’s.’

  ‘Four hundred, there were,’ I said. ‘We also had to lay them out in rows.’

  ‘I never want to carry out such an evacuation again,’ Thoms said, refilling our glasses. ‘It might never have been needed, if we had gone in sooner and broken the siege, saved Sluys and driven Parma away. He wouldn’t now be in possession of the good harbour there at Sluys.’

  I realised what he had said. ‘You mean you were sent to Sluys with Leicester’s fleet?’

  ‘I was.’ He smiled grimly. ‘It was not a pleasant experience, sitting idle just offshore, watching until the guns inside Sluys fell silent. We knew they were running short of gunpowder. And we made a pathetic little sortie with fireships, that was turned against us, so we had to retreat with our tails between our legs. Drake would have gone straight in, as soon as he reached the Low Countries.’ He gave an impatient sigh. ‘Well, ’tis all over and done now. After I carried the wounded back from Sluys I was ordered to join the squadron at Dover. We are building up the naval defences for when the Spanish come in the new year.’

  He rose to his feet. ‘Please feel free to use my cabin as your own. I must go back on deck. We will dine later.’

  When he ha
d left and closed the door of the cabin behind him, I studied Berden, sitting across from me. He had not touched his second glass of wine.

  ‘Best if you don’t drink that.’ I nodded toward his glass. ‘If you are feeling nausea, you had better lie down.’

  ‘Ha, coming the physician, are you, Kit?’

  I shrugged. ‘Take my advice or not, as you please, but you will feel it less if you lie down and close your eyes.’

  ‘On the captain’s bunk?’

  ‘Why not? He is not using it.’

  He shook his head, then clearly regretted it. ‘Perhaps you are right.’ He stood up, staggering a little, and made his way carefully over to the bunk, where he pulled off his boots and lay down. I unfolded one of the blankets and spread it over him.

  ‘Close you eyes and try to sleep,’ I said. ‘It will help.’

  He did close them and muttered, ‘Never have been able to endure the sea, and this is worse than usual.’

  I did not answer, but left him quiet and went back out on deck.

  Although no snow was falling, the heavy clouds sagged overhead as though they would sink down and smother us with the weight of their unshed burden. The captain had still not given the order to hoist the foresail, but even without it we were speeding along. There was no land to be seen in this murk of night darkness in the daytime, so it was impossible to judge how quickly we were moving relative to land, but the bow wave rolled and creamed along the sides of the ship, then streamed out behind in a double ribbon of foam as far as the eye could see, which was not far before it vanished into the gloom. How fast we were really going would depend on the movement of the tides, which I had no way of judging.

  I went into the canvas stable to see how the horses were faring. They were stirring uneasily but both turned their heads as though grateful that they were not alone on this fearful ship. We had left them some hay, which was nearly finished, and their water bucket had fallen over, spilling what was left of its contents and rolling away into a corner. I decided against fetching more water, which would certainly spill again as the ship rolled. Instead I felt in my saddlebag for the apples and gave each horse one, then sat on the upturned bucket and ate a piece of the cheese. Anxiety had robbed me of my appetite in the morning, but now fighting my way across the deck against the wind had made me hungry. Besides, two glasses of wine on an almost empty stomach was beginning to go to my head.

  The apples and my companionship seemed to calm the horses, so I stayed where I was for a long time, leaning my back against Hector’s forequarters and even dozing a little. One of the sailors found me there, come to summon me to the captain’s cabin to dine.

  I followed him along the deck and saw that the foresail had now been raised, which explained the busy sounds I had heard outside the stable as I was drifting in and out of sleep.

  ‘Has the wind dropped?’ I asked the sailor. ‘I see you have put up the foresail.’ It did not feel to me as though the wind was any less.

  He shook his head. ‘Nay, there’s no slackening of the wind, but t’captain wants our best speed till we’re near land. We’ll furl it soon as land comes in sight.’

  I peered around. The ship seemed to move inside a dark bubble, with nothing to be seen beyond a hundred yards or so all around. ‘How can we see the land? It’s almost as dark as night.’

  ‘Captain knows this coast. He can feel it, like a cat with its whiskers.’ He grinned and lowered his voice. ‘Thom Cat, we call him. He’ll feel the land before we see it. Cunning as a cat too. Best sort of captain to serve under.’

  I was prepared to take him at his word, and stepped into the captain’s cabin when he opened the door for me. Berden was up, sitting in one of the bolted chairs. He had lost some of his earlier pallor. The captain was studying a chart he had laid open on the table.

  ‘We thought you must have gone overboard,’ Berden said, but not as if he meant it.

  ‘I was with the horses. They seem to be taking it better than we might have expected. How are you feeling?’

  ‘Much better. I’ve apologised to Captain Thoms for lying on his bed.’

  The captain looked up. ‘No need for apology. I used to get sick myself when I first joined the navy, but I soon found my sea legs.’

  I sat down on one of the other chairs.

  ‘How old were you when you joined?’

  ‘Ten. I was a boy on one of Drake’s ships, the year he and Hawkins made their first voyage to the Americas. Rose up from that to this.’ He waved his hand, indicating the comfort that surrounded us. I had heard of the small boys who fetched and carried below decks, bringing gunpowder and cannon balls and wadding to the gunners. They led a grim life.

  ‘Where did you go with Drake? Berden asked.

  ‘The Isles of the Spanish Main, mostly. Chasing treasure ships and sometimes overpowering them. I was with him in San Juan when the Spanish broke the agreed truce and attacked our fleet of ships, trapping us in the harbour, where we had gone in for water and repairs. Only two ships escaped and dozens of our men were taken prisoner, then tortured and murdered most cruelly by the Spanish. Luckily I was on Drake’s ship which managed to break out and sail home. He has hated and mistrusted the Spanish ever since.’

  ‘He’s right to do so,’ I muttered. I knew of this episode in Drake’s past. Probably everyone in England did, for there had been broadsheets and ballads a-plenty about it, which had helped to fire up the general English hatred of Spain.

  Before we could question the captain further about his adventures in the New World, a sailor came in carrying a tray. He wore a dirty apron wrapped around him and tied in front, bringing with him a kind of radiated warmth from the ship’s kitchen and the rich smell of mutton pottage. I realised that I had become very cold sitting with the horses. When he handed me an elegantly fluted pewter bowl filled to the brim, I cupped my hands around it at first for the benefit of the heat. The bread was fresh, perhaps brought from Dover. But perhaps not. There is no end to the ingenuity of sailors. Perhaps they had baked it on board. I refused more of the captain’s excellent – but very strong – French wine and confined myself to small ale. I noticed that Berden did the same, though he managed to eat both some bread and some pottage, with no visible ill effects. Maybe he too was finding his sea legs.

  Berden and the captain talked of the many countries they had visited while we ate. I kept silent. Partly because I was familiar with only Portugal and England, countries they both knew well, but partly because I was growing sleepy. I had slept somewhat fitfully the previous night, anxious about our mission, and now that I had no responsibilities but to sit still and be conveyed in this ship on to the next stage in our journey, fatigue was beginning to creep over me.

  By the time we had finished our pottage and sampled the bowls of fruit and nuts the sailor brought us, there were sounds of running footsteps out on deck and the captain was sent for. I could feel the change in the ship’s motion when the foresail was lowered, so I decided to go out on to the deck to see whether I could gain any sight of land and to try to chase away sleep, for despite the early November dark it could not be later than perhaps five of the clock. We had finished our meal by candlelight, so when I went outside I could see nothing at first but a surrounding snow-filled darkness, which seemed to have thickened while I was in the cabin. Gradually my eyes adjusted themselves to the lesser light.

  The foresail had indeed been lowered and the two remaining sails were trimmed to a different angle. I sensed that the wind was now striking my right cheek instead of coming from the stern of the ship, so either the wind had changed direction or the ship had. The sailor I had spoken to before came past and I put out a hand to stop him.

  ‘I can see nothing, but you said the captain would take in the foresail when he spied land?’

  ‘Aye, it’s over there.’ He gestured ahead and to starboard.

  ‘I still cannot see anything.’

  ‘Look. Follow my arm. There, where the darkness thickens. That’s land.
The Low Countries. And that’s what they are. Low. They don’t rise up like our white cliffs at Dover. Hardly more than a hillock of mud a few feet above the sea.’

  I squinted along his arm. Now that he had pointed out where to look, I could just make out a slightly thicker, darker smudge amidst the surrounding grey of the day. And perhaps, just faintly, a light.

  ‘Is that a light I can see? To the left of where you are pointing?’

  ‘You’ve found it now? Aye, there’s a church there where the minister puts a lantern in the tower every night to guide the fishermen in to shore. We’ll anchor near there and carry on up to Amsterdam in the morning.’

  He hurried on toward the main mast, where several of the sailors were adjusting ropes. A young boy had been sent up the mast as a lookout. He scrambled up as if he were climbing a small tree in his father’s garden, but I had to look away, dizzy at the very thought of it.

  I fixed my eyes on that tiny glint of light which marked the shore. I no longer felt sleepy. The closer we drew to land, the closer I came to my uneasy mission. It was the ship that had changed direction, I realised, not the wind, and the result was that waves were striking it crossways, causing it to pitch and twist, so that I had to seize hold of the railing that ran along the ship’s side to avoid being thrown across the deck.

  Gradually the light in the church tower grew larger and clearer, the loom of the land more substantial, though, as the sailor had said, the land was so low it barely rose above the level of the sea. As the ship dipped and rose, fighting against the sideways slap of the waves, it seemed as though we would be driven away from land, out into the trackless sea again. But Captain Thoms knew his ship and knew the ways of wind and sea. After what seemed like hours, as my fingers stiffened with cold on the railing, our ship slipped at last into the lea of a curved harbour wall and stopped bucking, like a horse suddenly tamed. Even the voice of the wind, which I realised had been booming in the sails all day, was suddenly quiet. There was a flurry of activity as the sailors lowered the sails and bundled them together. The anchor rattled out on its chain. The boy slid down from the mast. We had arrived.