There was a sudden clatter of wings and a large macaw hurtled out of the darkness to land on the arm that Thomas Muffet had hastily raised up.
"Raleigh's coming!” the bird squawked. “Stay calm! Raleigh's coming!"
"You heard that!” Muffet shouted—unnecessarily loudly, since Drake was still close at hand.
"It's too late!” Drake told him, in a much quieter voice. “There's no way this situation can be quickly repaired. If the spiders can be commanded to desist—which I doubt—that will only give the islanders the opportunity to renew their own assaults. If Raleigh and his precious celestial spiders have left the valley, they'll either seem that much more dangerous, or that much more vulnerable to attack—and I presume that they'll defend themselves if they are attacked.” He raised his voice to shout to the boatswain in command of the pinnace: “Don't delay, Mr. Stephens! I want everyone back safe, as quickly as possible!"
Humphrey Gilbert had also taken matters into his own hands, and was shouting across the water to the watchmen aboard his own ships, instructing them to launch what boats they could to fetch men from the shore.
The sound of gunfire broke out ashore—a disordered crackling rather than disciplined volleys.
"What is it, Martin?” Drake called.
"The islanders have broken into the stockade, sir,” the boy reported. “They weren't let in, and some of the defenders have fired on them. They're attacking the musketeers now, sir."
"Ruhapali!” Drake said. “You must stop your people fighting ours, if you can! We're not your enemy!"
Ruhapali shook his head, to indicate helplessness rather than refusal. Drake turned around, intending to go up into the rigging to take the telescope from his kinsman and watch the disaster unfolding, but he stopped abruptly as he almost fell over Patience Muffet. She looked up at him, and said—in a voice pitched so softly that no one else could hear—"Please take me ashore, Captain. Hector, Achilles, and the others will need me."
Drake shook his head, to signify bewilderment as well as refusal. His head was aching, and exhaustion was beginning to inhibit his movements. Even so, he began to climb, going up far enough to be able to take the telescope from Martin's outstretched hand. He focused the instrument on the shore, but lights were going out now as the struggle within the stockade became evermore chaotic, and it was very difficult to make out any detail.
"How many cannon are manned and ready, Ned?” Drake demanded.
"Three port, three starboard, sir!” Hammond reported.
"Tell the for'ard gunner on the shoreward side to fire a shot into the shallows—but make sure it falls harmlessly, well clear of boats of any sort."
"Aye, sir!” the mate replied—and disappeared to make sure that the order was carried out to the letter. Drake hoped that the sound of the cannon firing might bring about a pause on shore, which would allow the defenders of the stockade and the islanders alike to realize that they had no quarrel with one another as urgent as their fear of the fire-maddened spiders.
When the cannon boomed, Drake saw through the spyglass that there was, indeed, a pause while everyone looked around—but the moment of stillness was short-lived. There were screams as well as shouts audible within the stockade now, and Drake guessed that the islanders’ pursuers had followed them through the broken gate. He redirected the telescope toward the pinnace, which had reached shore alongside the much smaller rowboat. He could only hope that his men would contrive to reach the vessels safely and begin the evacuation.
He heard the thud of a spear that hit the side of the vessel then, and the whistle of an arrow soaring over the deck. He groaned, knowing that the missiles must have been sent forth in blind panic rather than as aspects of an organized attack. He filled his lungs with air, ready to tell his men to desist from firing for a few moments longer, but it was already too late; a volley of shots returned the fire from the canoes, and there was nothing to be done thereafter but scramble down to the deck and fetch a weapon for himself, ready to repel boarders if the necessity arose. Ruhapali was still on the deck, shouting orders in his own language, but it was impossible to tell whether the orders were having any effect.
"Raleigh's coming!” squawked the macaw, again. “All's well! Raleigh's coming!"
"He'll arrive too late,” Drake said, wearily, fixing his eyes on Muffet rather than the bird. “I'll take him aboard if he can get here, but I won't take his accursed spiders—they must fend for themselves."
"They will, Captain,” Muffet retorted. “You may be sure of that."
* * * *
12
Drake snatched a cutlass from one of his musketeers, but there were no more spears and arrows hurtling on to the deck now; whether that was because of the volley of musketfire or Ruhapali's shouted orders he could not tell. He renewed his instructions to his own men, telling them to desist from any violence unless and until their lives were under threat. Then he put the telescope to his eye again, searching for the pinnace. He saw that it was moving away from the shore again, having picked up a considerable number of passengers. The vessel was moving away from the remaining lights on shore into deep gloom, but the hectic movement of the shadows told him that something was badly wrong.
It seemed at first that the people on the boat must be fighting amongst themselves, and Drake wondered whether the islanders might be trying to seize the pinnace for their own purposes—but then he realized that they were actually battling against two huge spiders that had managed to clamber aboard. Although three or four of the men had muskets, they had obviously discharged their rounds already and had not had an opportunity to reload, for they were using the guns as if they were clubs. Others were using the oars as staves to ward off the spiders—with the result that the pinnace was drifting in the shallows rather than making significant headway.
Drake rounded on Ruhapali. “Can your canoe get me to that pinnace? You may bring your fellow chiefs up here, if I can take their places with half a dozen men."
"No,” the Tahitian said, immediately. “We will take you. You give us guns to fire."
It seemed to Drake to be a very bad time for haggling, but Ruhapali obviously felt that he had been cheated of his bargain before and was not about to let an opportunity to recover it pass him by. “Ned!” Drake called to Hammond, who had just reappeared on deck. “Bring me four loaded muskets, now!"
Hammond obeyed, but when he saw what Drake intended to do he begged to be allowed to go in his stead, or at least to accompany him. “You're exhausted, captain!” the mate added, by way of justification.
"No time to argue, Ned—and no room in the boat!” Drake replied, before collecting two of the guns and lowering himself over the side. Ruhapali followed, carrying two more.
The paddlers were ready, and the canoe shot away from the flank of the Golden Hind, heading straight for the pinnace. There was no light aboard either boat, but the larger boat was still close enough to shore for them to obtain some benefit from the few lanterns still burning in the settlement.
The passengers on the pinnace had cornered the two spiders at one end of the vessel, and were holding them back with the oars and the empty guns, but at least two sailors had fallen down, presumably bitten.
Drake moved into the prow of the canoe, ready to slash with the cutlass at the creatures’ legs. He remembered what Raleigh had said about the difficulty of augmenting the load-bearing capacity of spiders’ limbs, and thought that a likely way to immobilize them quickly. It might then be possible for the oars to be used as levers to tip them overboard. Ruhapali had other ideas, though. “Get down, Captain Drake!” the chieftain called—just in time, for his inexperienced gunners were far too eager to fire. Four shots went off almost simultaneously, but one islander was knocked completely off balance by the recoil, only just managing to drop the gun into the boat before he toppled overboard.
One of the spiders flinched visibly, presumably having been hit, but the other bullets seemed to have missed their targets. The monster that
had been hit had not been killed, and it turned to face the approaching canoe. Drake had to stand up again and carry out his plan, slashing wildly at the legs of both creatures.
Now that he was within touching distance Drake was able to appreciate the true enormity of their size and ugliness; they were, indeed, as large as sheep, and as shaggy too, but their shape was very different and there was something intrinsically horrifying about the way they moved on eight legs rather than four, with a curious fluid quality. Drake could barely make out the features of their horrid heads in the poor light, and could not make out the merest glint of an eye, but he felt an unexpected surge of revulsion that must have been born of pure imagination.
But this is the world as it is, he thought. The sky is full of stars invisible to the naked eye, and the countless stars have worlds where creatures like these think, feel, and scheme like Earthly men. Whatever happens here, on this remote island, our entire world is caught in their web, helplessly.
The injured spider lunged at him as he struck out, and when the two vessels scraped sides it contrived to scramble from the pinnace into the canoe, where it fought for balance. Once it had found its footing, the monster would surely have hurled itself upon its attacker—but the pause was just long enough to allow Drake to slash cruelly at two of its legs, cutting them simultaneously, with enough force to break them both. A third leg must already have been injured, for the spider now found itself quite unable to follow through with its attack. While it floundered on the floor of the canoe, Drake thrust again with his blade, and then again, making sure that the monster was dead.
He felt a surge of triumph then, which overwhelmed the residual effects of his earlier frisson of terror.
In the meantime, the islanders had pulled their fellow out of the water, and the oarsmen in the pinnace had managed to tip the second arachnid invader—which was also badly wounded by now—into the seething wake of the lighter vessel.
Drake turned to Ruhapali, intending to order him back to the Golden Hind, but he felt suddenly giddy, and his limbs seemed about to give out. In any case, Ruhapali was already giving orders in his own tongue. The canoe turned, and came alongside the pinnace.
"Go with your own people,” Ruhapali instructed Drake. “Go now!"
There was nothing to be gained by argument, and Drake now felt drained of every vestige of his strength. He allowed himself to be transferred to the pinnace, leaving the four muskets behind.
Drake presumed that Ruhapali would find some black powder left behind in the settlement—but even if he did not, mere possession of the guns would increase the chieftain's status among his own people, and his determination to use the weapons against the celestial spiders. Drake knew that he was in no position to offer the Tahitian sound advice as to his future policy or strategy.
With the oarsmen now able to work unhindered, the pinnace sped back to the Golden Hind and unloaded its human cargo, including the two injured men. Drake found the strength to climb up to the deck, but Edward Hammond and Sir Humphrey Gilbert had to grab his arms and pull him over the rail. “Have we any men left ashore, Mr. Stephens?” Drake muttered to the boatswain.
"No sir,” Stephens replied. “We have three of Gilbert's men aboard, but the rest of ours were taken aboard the rowboat.” He pointed toward the shore, but Drake could not see the smaller vessel in the darkness.
"No more spears or arrows have been launched against us, sir,” Hammond reported. “Your guest put an end to that, I think."
"Bring the pinnace aboard but keep the rowboat in the water attached by a painter, and its oarsmen ready,” Drake ordered, hoarsely. “Keep an armed lookout—but no more shooting, unless it's necessary. We'll sit tight till dawn, and reappraise the situation when we've more light."
"May I borrow your rowboat to return to my own ship, Sir Francis, along with the men the pinnace brought?” Gilbert asked.
"Aye, Sir Humphrey, if you wish,” Drake said, wearily, “but you might do better to come back when you've delivered your men and issued your orders. We'll need to decide what to do tomorrow, and it would be better if some of us, at least, were prepared to agree on a course of action."
Gilbert made a vague promise to return when he could, and lowered himself over the side. His men did not seem overly enthusiastic to leave the relative safety of the Golden Hind, but they complied with their master's orders.
"All's well!” proclaimed Agamemnon, who was now perched in the rigging. He was not alone; a dozen more birds had flown to join him, and the flock seemed as ready to wait out the night aboard as the ship's human crew.
"Let's hope so,” Drake murmured, as he slumped against the mast. Hammond and Stephens had to pick him up, and help him below to his cabin. There they laid him on his bunk and promised that everything would be held secure until morning.
* * * *
13
Drake did not wake until some time after dawn, and would have slept longer had Martin Lyle not crept hesitantly into the cabin.
"What is it, Martin?” Drake demanded, knowing that the boy would not have ventured to disturb him unless he was needed.
"There's a native canoe off the port bow, sir—but the men in it are darker-skinned than the islanders. One of them speaks English, and says that you know him."
"Raleigh?” Drake asked, rubbing his eyes. “Get me some water, will you, Martin?"
"He didn't give his name, sir,” Martin replied. He fetched a jug of water, from which Drake drank avidly.
"I'll be on deck directly,” Drake said. “Ask our visitor to wait. Is Muffet awake?"
"No, sir. He and his daughter are asleep. The birds are still perched in the rigging, but Mr. Hammond ordered a search to be conducted for spiders as soon as it was light. None have been found, of any size.” The boy left after making this report, and Drake followed him some five minutes later, having made what adjustments as he could to his appearance, so that he might better play the part of a gentleman and captain of an English ship.
The canoe carrying Walter Raleigh and five optimized islanders was idling in the water some ten or twelve yards from the Hind's bow. It was being watched by half a dozen of Drake's sailors, all armed with muskets, but there was no evident alarm on either side.
"I'm glad to see you well, Walter,” Drake said, not having to raise his voice unduly to be heard. “I feared that you might have been killed by that spear."
Raleigh parted his shirt so that Drake could see the wound, which seemed half-healed already. “It would have killed a man like you, Francis,” Raleigh said. “I'm glad you can see that it was only a minor inconvenience to a man like me. I'm sorry that we were interrupted—and sorrier still that Dr Muffet's work has been disrupted. That might cost England dear, if you and Gilbert are not inclined to stay here any longer."
"What do you expect of us, Walter?” Drake said, with more than a little bitterness. “I fought one of your giant spiders last night, at close quarters, and there can't be many of Gilbert's men who haven't seen them at their worst. If I ordered all Englishmen ashore, with abundant armaments, to support Ruhapali's campaign, they'd probably go—but I surely couldn't persuade them to stay on any other basis, and wouldn't want to. Captains, like kings, reign on sufferance."
"If we'd only had time,” Raleigh complained, “Muffet and I could have helped you see reason. You, of all people, should understand the necessity of what we're doing."
"If the only way for humankind to escape being held in a menagerie by a legion of giant ants and slugs is to submit to transfiguration and be held in thrall by arachnid alchemists,” Drake said, “I think I'd rather choose between the Devil and the deep blue sea."
"John Dee will understand,” Raleigh said. “He knows more of alchemy than any man in England."
"If I ever see him again, I'll tell him what I've seen,” Drake said, glad to find a concession he could make without effort. “I'll be exceedingly careful in telling anyone else, although I can't speak for others in that regard."
&nb
sp; "You'd do well to stay here with us, Francis,” Raleigh said. “If your crewmen won't, that's their affair—but you can get down into the canoe now, along with Muffet and Patience. Were you to call for volunteers to accompany you, I dare say that you might find a few."
"I couldn't do that even if I wanted to, Walter,” Drake told him. “My first duty is to my ship and my men. I have to see them safely home, if I can, and to find them a better reward for their long expedition than I've so far contrived to do—something more easily tradable than potions distilled from spider venom."
"Can you really intend to return to South America and raid Spanish ships and settlements, after what you've discovered here?” Raleigh demanded.
"It's a trade I know,” Drake told him. “But I also know that there's an Austral continent west of here, with two large islands in between, set some way to the south. Were I to go that way, I could sail around the world before going home, as Magellan's crew claimed to have done following his death."
"That's a pity,” Raleigh said. “Will you fetch Muffet and Patience, then? I'm sure they'll be anxious to return to shore."
"Is it safe for them to do so?” Drake asked.
"Ruhapali's people are counting the cost of their adventure at present,” Raleigh told him. “If they're wise, they won't attempt to renew their assault—but if not, we can defend ourselves. Muffet and Patience will be far safer here than they would be aboard your ship, whether you decide to sail east or west—and the same goes for you. Shall I gather supplies for you, and make sure you're well-provisioned before you sail?"
"That's very kind, Walter,” Drake said, “but there are other islands in the cluster, where we can make our own arrangements to take on food and water."
Asimov's SF, March 2007 Page 20
