He was in misery, thinking about the future. Well, at least my uncle is saved. That thought gave him at least a bit of comfort. But not much.
Two days later, Philemon was questioning Brandon about Dolores. They were up in the bow of the ship. Dolores had gone below.
Philemon said, “She’s quite a young woman, sir.”
“Yes, she is.”
“Don’t know as I ever saw a prettier one.”
“Very beautiful.”
Philemon turned to face Brandon. “She’s in love with you, isn’t she, Mr. Winslow?”
Brandon was startled, and grimly felt the heat of shame rise up his neck to his face. “I never wanted that. All I wanted to do was get her out of Spain and into England. I wouldn’t want her to be hurt.”
“No, you wouldn’t want that, but what about now? You saved her from a pretty bad life, and she’s leaning on you with everything she’s got. Why, her eyes follow you whenever you’re in sight, and she has a certain smile every time she sees you. What are you going to do about that?”
“I don’t know, and I wish you’d keep your own counsel!” Brandon stalked angrily away. Philemon wisely didn’t follow.
Captain Kirkegard was standing beside the wheel, staring at the horizon. “Well, the wind is picking up. That’s the good news.”
“That is good,” Brandon said. “I hope it picks up still more.”
“We have a shadow.”
“A shadow?”
“You can barely see it there, but take my glass.” He took a brass telescope from his pocket and handed it to Brandon, who followed his directions and swept the horizon.
“She’s a long way off.”
“But she’s fast, Winslow, and she’s making straight for us.”
“Well, aren’t there ships going and coming all the time?”
“I’ll know more in a few hours,” Kirkegard said, taking back his telescope. “I’m putting on more sail. To my way of thinking, we’ll need all the speed we can get.”
Brandon picked at his food. Sitting beside him, Dolores tried to get him to speak more of England. Brandon saw the love in her eyes, and he wanted more than anything to blurt out the truth. But he did not know how to say it without making her absolutely miserable. He couldn’t simply tell her of the Fairfaxes, her lost family. He could plainly see that he had become very important to her, her only hope.
They heard a shout from topside and Dolores said, “What was that?”
“That was Captain Kirkegard. Let’s see what it is.”
They went to stand beside Kirkegard, who gave them a rather serious look. “Well, she’s coming for us, and she’s armed much heavier than we are. I think it’s a pirate vessel.”
“May I see?” Dolores took his telescope and looked at the ship. At once she drew a sharp breath. “That’s the Mirenda, my father’s ship from San Sebastián.” She handed the telescope back to Kirkegard.
“Can we outrun her?” Brandon asked.
“No chance,” Kirkegard said. “We’re built to carry cargo, and she’s built to skim across the water. She’ll be up with us in four hours.”
“Can we defeat them in a battle?” Brandon asked.
“It would take a miracle. Her crew is likely trained to fight. My men can fire guns fairly well, but they’re mere sailors.”
Nobody left the deck. All eyes were on the ship that seemed to be eating up the seas between them. “Her guns are run out,” Kirkegard said, peering through his telescope.
Dolores said, “May I see?” With trembling hands she took the telescope again and peered through it. “That’s my father,” she said faintly. “He’s aboard that ship. He’ll kill all of you and take me back to Spain.” She glanced up at Brandon with fear-filled eyes.
He said quickly, “No, it’s not over yet. God can bring us through this.” But even as he spoke, he was aware that he was merely parroting the faithful. For what reason should God answer his prayers now? He put his arm around Dolores and felt a sudden fear not for himself but for her. He could think of nothing else to say, but his depth of concern for her rattled him.
An hour later the Mirenda had come just aft of the Flower. Captain Kirkegard had armed his men with pistols and swords. Brandon stood beside him. “What will they do, Captain?” he asked.
“They’ll board us. We’ll keep them off with the big guns as long as we can, but those men are practiced in boarding other vessels. And if they get aboard, my poor fellows can’t handle them.”
A memory suddenly seemed to explode in Brandon’s mind. He said to Kirkegard, “You know, Captain, once when I was in the army, we were about to be overrun by a heavier force. About the same situation that we have here.”
“What happened?”
“I decided we’d have to surprise them, so instead of waiting for them to charge us, I told the men we would beat them to it, and we made a charge. I thought I was a dead man. But they were taken off guard. They retreated, and we won the battle.”
Kirkegard stared at him. “I think I hear you saying that we need to take advantage when they come alongside.”
“Yes. Our marksmen will knock down as many as they can, but as soon as they touch, we’ll throw ourselves down on them.”
“And we’ll surprise them.”
“They can’t retreat. The battle will be immediate and soon decided. Let me lead the charge, Captain.”
Kirkegard bit his lip. “All right,” he said. “You want to talk to the men?”
“Yes.”
Kirkegard spoke to the first mate, who blew his whistle. The men gathered, and Kirkegard said, “Mr. Winslow is an experienced soldier, and we are soon to be under attack. He has a plan to tell you about.”
Brandon said, “We’ve got some heavy odds here, men, but I think we can win.” He went on to describe his plan. He said, “I’ll be the first one across, and I’ll lead you. Will you come with me?”
There was little hesitation. The first mate said, “It’s the only chance we got. I say let’s go with the soldier.”
A cheer went up. Captain Kirkegard said, “Everyone to his station. Lash additional ropes now, so we’re ready!”
The two ships moved closer together. Men with muskets were firing. One of the men on the Mirenda fell, but four men on the Flower went down and lay still.
“They’re not firing their big guns.”
“It’s Dolores. Her father wants her returned unharmed,” Brandon said.
Captain Kirkegard said, “I’ve given orders. We should hear a charge any minute now.”
The ships drew closer together. When they were even, the guns below deck went off. The Flower shuddered.
“Those guns were filled with pieces of old iron. Look, it took some of their fellows out.”
“They’re still coming on, though,” Winslow said. “I’m going, Captain.”
“God be with you, Winslow!”
The two ships slipped closer together. Brandon scuttled down the leeward deck beside the rail, hoping that all his men on deck were fairly hidden from view. “As soon as they’re close enough, we get them. All right, fellows?”
A yell met his cry. Brandon waited. All seemed quiet except for the waves slipping by and the groaning ship timbers. Peeking over the rail, Brandon could see the fierce faces of Mendoza’s men. He glanced at the quarterdeck of the Mirenda—and there was Jaspar Mendoza.
Mendoza saw him and let out a wild cry. “I’ll kill you, Englishman!”
At that moment the ships closed the gap. The crew of the Mirenda was ready to board, but Brandon screamed, “Come on, boys, let’s get them!” He took a leap, cleared the space of blue water, and landed on the deck of Mendoza’s ship. He had his sword in his right hand and his pistol in his left. Lying on his back, he fired the gun and blew a hole in the breast of a man who was coming at him with a pike. He scrambled to his feet, aware of the sound of battle all around. Men screamed with rage and pain and fear. He crossed swords with a huge, bare-chested sailor with one eye and a f
ierce leer who was strong but fortunately not talented. Brandon parried his thrust and swiftly cut his throat with one sweep of his sword. The man fell, and instantly two more leaped into his place.
Brandon fought his way along a deck already slippery with blood. He fought until his arm grew weary and suffered one cut along his side. Suddenly he saw Mendoza, who was steadily making his way toward him. His face was twisted with fury and he screamed something unintelligible. Moving to meet him, Brandon raised his sword, but Mendoza raised his pistol and pulled the trigger. Something struck Brandon in the thigh, driving him to the deck. He watched as Mendoza started screaming with his sword lifted high. Brandon had lost his own sword and struggled to get to his feet, but he saw that he would never make it.
As Mendoza closed in, Brandon Winslow cried out, “Oh, God, be with me and help me in this hour!” And even as he prayed, he saw a small black hole appear over Mendoza’s left eyebrow. The last thing he saw was Philemon lowering his pistol, and smiling in his direction.
Captain Kirkegard had tied the two ships together. The surviving members of the pirate crew had been put below in the brig, and the fighting crew of the Flower were coming back on board, many of them wounded. Dolores saw Brandon, his arm looped over Philemon’s shoulders, his clothing soaked with blood, his face pale. She ran to help Philemon with him.
“He took a musket ball in his leg, but it ain’t bad,” Philemon said. “He’s got to have that musket ball out. Come along, sir.”
Captain Kirkegard called for the member of the crew in charge of wounds, who ripped away Brandon’s clothing. “This won’t be much fun,” he said. He pulled what looked like a pair of pliers from his pocket and probed for the ball. Dolores was hanging onto Brandon’s hand and watched as he clenched his teeth and bared his lips but uttered no sound.
“There. That wasn’t hard at all. He’ll be right as rain.” The sailor grinned. Sweat ran down in rivulets from Brandon’s forehead.
Kirkegard had come to watch. “Another miracle, eh, Philemon?”
“I’d say so, Captain.”
Dolores held Brandon’s hand. “What about my father?”
Brandon was weak, but he managed to whisper. “He’ll never trouble you again.”
“Did—did you kill him?”
“No, I didn’t.”
Dolores kissed his hand. It was bloody, but she paid no heed. “I’m glad. He was not a good man, but it would have been something between us.” She kissed his cheek, and Brandon’s eyes closed as he fainted.
19
Philemon was carefully changing the bandage on Brandon’s wound. He had proved himself to be quite efficient in such matters as this. Now he looked up and saw that Brandon was smiling at him. “You feeling better, are you, sir?”
“Much better.” Brandon hesitated then reached out his hand. For a moment Philemon stared at it, then he grasped the hand. Brandon said, “You saved my life, Philemon.”
“Oh, probably not. You would have recovered in time to have fought that man off.”
“No, I was helpless. If you hadn’t been there and put a ball right in his brain, he would surely have killed me. What can I do to reward you?”
Philemon said, “Why, let me serve you, sir. That’s all I ask.”
Brandon studied the faithful little man and smiled. He said, “That’s no reward.”
“Well, perhaps it is. We can help each other, sir. I can be your servant and your friend at the same time.”
“I would like that very much. Now I think I’ll go up on deck.”
“Are you sure? Do you feel up to it, sir?”
“Oh, yes. I feel very well.”
“Well, let me dress you.” Philemon scurried about, trying to find his master proper dress; they had had to leave their clothing in Spain. He’d been forced to buy clothing from crew members. “When we get back to England, sir, it’ll be an enjoyment to dress you again as a gentleman should be dressed.”
Moving rather slowly and cautiously, Brandon made his way up the steps. The wound he had taken was not serious, but loss of blood had weakened him. As soon as he got to the deck, he saw Dolores speaking with Captain Kirkegard. For a moment he stood and studied her. She was looking at the captain and did not see him. The wind was stronger now. It ruffled the wealth of dark golden hair that framed her face, and he noticed the touch of red in it. She was serene one moment, laughing the next, and it came to him that he thought she was altogether quite charming. She turned as he approached, and he saw her whole expression light up. “Brandon,” she said, coming to him. “You shouldn’t be up.”
“I’m fine. The air will do me good. The wound really wasn’t all that bad.”
“Well, the Lord was with us,” Captain Kirkegard said with a smile. “I’m always happy to be a part of one of God’s miracles.”
“You really think it was a miracle, Captain?” Brandon asked curiously.
“What else could it be? We were lost, I tell you. My men would have been defeated had we allowed those villains to get on our ship. They would have cut us all down. We’d all be dead by now. Don’t be short with God, Winslow. When he does something, praise him for it.”
Brandon dropped his eyes and shook his head. “That’s what my uncle would say too.”
“You need to get right with God, young man. You could have been killed and would have gone directly to the pit. Aren’t you afraid of that?”
“I—I try not to think about it too much.” He glanced at Dolores, who was watching the conversation unfold with great interest.
“Oh, that’s foolishness.” Kirkegard shook his head impatiently. He put his hand on Brandon’s good shoulder and squeezed it. “Give your heart to God, man! Give your heart to God! It’s the only way to live. Well, I’ll leave you two alone. I have a ship to run. We’ll be in England tomorrow, God willing, and then you two will no doubt get married and as in all the romantic tales live happily ever after.”
Brandon glanced quickly at Dolores and saw her eyes light up and a smile touch her lips. Quickly he said, “Thank you for your offer, Captain, but I want to be strong when I take a wife.”
“He’s a wonderful man, isn’t he, Brandon?”
“Yes, he is. I like him a great deal.”
“He’s very outspoken about his religion. I don’t have that kind of faith.”
Brandon turned to face her. “Are you satisfied with your Catholic faith?”
“To tell the truth, Brandon, I never gave it much thought. I just did what I was told to do by the priests and by my father. I went through the routine, but I never felt like Captain Kirkegard does, that God is present inside you and directing you. And Philemon—he feels the same.”
“Some people seem predisposed to it. My family is.”
“I’d like to be like that too. Maybe when I meet your uncle, since he’s a preacher, he could help me.”
“I’m sure he’d be happy to. Come along. Let’s walk around the deck. I need to build my strength up.”
The Flower plowed through the whitecaps that were tossed up by the brisk speed of the ship. Night had fallen. Already the stars overhead were flickering. Brandon looked up and said, “My uncle told me once that there are billions of stars and God knows the name of every one of them.”
“I think that’s wonderful. I don’t know the name of any of them.”
“Well, I don’t know many of them.” He leaned on the rail. She stood beside him. She took his hand; it had become her habit. He noticed that she seemed to need to touch him constantly—almost as if to reassure herself that he was there for her.
“I’m so happy,” Dolores whispered. “You saved me from a lifetime of misery, and we’re going to have a beautiful life together, aren’t we?”
At that moment Brandon was torn internally by two opposing forces. The first was a deep sadness and grief for what he was doing to this young woman. He knew she had fallen in love with him and for him to tell her the truth would be a terrible thing. The other, which disturbed his mind
, was that he found himself drawn to her as a man is drawn to a woman he loves. He stood silently leaning on the rail and listening to her speak of the wonderful life they would have, and suddenly he knew that the time had arrived. They would be arriving in England tomorrow, and she would find out then, anyway. He had to tell her the truth.
He said, “I’m—I’m not the man you think I am.”
“Why do you say that?”
Haltingly Brandon said, “Well, sometimes a man does a wrong thing to—to do right.”
“I don’t understand that.”
“I have to tell you something, Dolores, and I want you to listen carefully.”
“You’re frightening me, Brandon. Is there something wrong?”
“I’m afraid you’ll think so.”
“What is it?” She leaned against him, and he felt the warmth of her body and smelled the fragrance of her hair. But this was not the time for that. He cleared his throat and spoke slowly, halting at times.
“I have to tell you what’s happening in England. Queen Mary was raised a Catholic by her mother, Catherine of Aragon, who came from Spain. She was a godly woman, and she instilled Catholicism strongly into her daughter. When Mary became queen, she was kind and wanted to please everybody, but her mother’s teachings had stronger roots than she thought, Dolores, and she began to insist that people accept the Catholic religion and give up the new faith that had come under the reign of her father, King Henry.”
“I have heard some talk of this. But what does it have to do with us?”
“Some time after she came to power, she began demanding that people become Catholics, and when they refused, she had them punished.”
When the Heavens Fall Page 21
