by Jenny Barden
She stared at her shoes and wished he would go so she could give way to the tears she was determined not to show him. She looked up to a small window. At least she could see the sky.
And she was bound for a new world.
9
Brave
‘O brave new world . . .’
—The Tempest by William Shakespeare, Act 5, Scene 1
Panamá, the Americas
April 1571
IT WAS SCORCHING hot. Ellyn’s nose and cheeks stung though she had only been ashore a few hours. She considered wearing Thom’s cap, but had no wish to spoil the effect of the dress she had spent weeks sewing. In any event, the feel of the sun on her face was welcome after being confined for so long in a tiny, dark cabin. She was acutely self-conscious – concerned about what others might think of her after her unjust incarceration. She was also thirsty and tired, while her vision swam as if she was still out at sea. There was nowhere for her to sit, other than on the washed up palm trunk from which her father could be heard complaining. The mariners milling about were giving far more attention to offloading provisions than to their passengers’ needs. Where would she sleep? The island appeared remote from any human habitation. She had been told they were near Panamá but she had no real idea where that was. Suddenly she longed for a house, somewhere with rooms and beds, proper chairs and a privy. She looked at the tangle of vegetation behind the white, sand beach. What might crawl out to confront her if she spent a night by the shore? Then a deep voice startled her.
‘I’d wear a hat, if I were you.’
She turned to find that Will was proffering his cap. The sight of him made her heart leap. For too long she had been shut away from good company, particularly his.
‘Thank you,’ she replied, ‘but I am enjoying the sun, and I have a hat if I wish to use one.’ Raising her chin, she wondered what he made of her looks in her new clothes. As it was, at that moment, she would have much appreciated a hat, but her appearance was more important. She wanted Will to see she was unbowed by her father’s treatment – more than that, she wanted him to find her attractive.
Will put back his cap.
‘As you wish.’ He smiled. ‘I hope you like this place. We shall be here for a while, out of sight of the Spaniards.’
She considered telling him that the place was too hot and full of insects, but decided against complaining. She had no wish for him to think she was not game for the challenge.
‘It is pleasant to be off the ship,’ she said, ‘but my father and I require proper shelter. What if it rains?’
‘You may get wet.’
She considered Will askance. Was he teasing her? She shot him a reproachful look.
‘My father must be kept dry.’
‘Our priority is to find fresh water and victuals. Once we have those, then a hut will be made for you.’
‘A hut?’ Her apprehension probably showed. What did he mean by that? ‘A hut’ did not sound like the kind of shelter she had hoped for.
‘If a storm gets up,’ Will carried on blithely, ‘you can always go back aboard the Swan.’
‘I am not going back in that cabin!’ How could he suggest such a thing when he must have guessed she was heartily sick of being cooped up on the ship?
Will inclined his head.
‘That will be your choice, dear mistress. Your father, at least, will be offered a bed aboard.’
‘But . . . Master Doonan!’ she called after him as he strode off, and she understood why he did not stop when she noticed Francis Drake not far away. Will’s behaviour still rankled. She brought her fingertips to the bridge of her nose and the contact was painful.
‘Ellyn!’ She heard her father’s fractious summons and wheeled round.
‘Yes, dear Father!’ she answered cheerfully, and hoped Will would hear her. Let him believe she was in high spirits and pleased with everything she found.
Will looked past Francis Drake to the curved oak braces that the carpenter was shaping. One lay like a whale’s rib on the white coral sand, the other was being planed beneath the scant shade of palms.
‘There will be more work needed when those riders are fixed: caulking the bolt heads and tarring within . . .’
He spoke of his concerns once the hull of the pinnace had been strengthened. Putting two heavy guns in front of a deck for twenty oarsmen made bracing the bows a wise precaution. The sections of the little Kestrel had fitted together nicely; her assembly had been quick, but her design was based on a galley’s, and not a fighting ship’s. The conversation turned to the practicalities of installing the two bronze half-culverins. The discussion absorbed him, but his eyes still turned towards the rough frond shelters that had become a tiny hamlet over the past few weeks. He had caught sight of Ellyn walking by, and she was not a person he could notice then instantly dismiss from his mind. He watched her strolling along the beach, wearing the pretty cream-coloured dress she had made herself from her father’s kersey cloth. Looking back at the Kestrel did little to restore his concentration.
The Swan was in hiding off the coast of Panamá, at least a day’s sailing from the nearest city, Nombre de Dios. The ship was tucked away amongst the uninhabited islands that trailed to the east like a stream of sparks. They had made a base on an islet named after the pinnace they were building. Will was anxious enough for Ellyn should they be discovered on Kestrel Island, but he was troubled more by the idea of her being with them once they left. She would be a hindrance if there was any action, and that was likely once they put the pinnace to use. With the Kestrel they would do as they had planned: attack the Spaniards by surprise using the boat’s shallow draught to sail close to the mainland shore, perhaps even venturing inland along the deeper rivers. He did not want Ellyn with them for that.
Why had she come? He could not understand her motives. It was simpler to picture the tackle needed to shift a culverin’s weight. Her actions made no sense to him. He accepted that Cooksley was in poor health, and that she believed he might need her, but plainly he disagreed. She had defied him flagrantly in a way no father could condone, especially in a daughter. She had been headstrong in the face of her father’s bullying, and he could equate with that. He might admire her pluck, but he could never approve of what she had done. The waywardness of her behaviour left him wondering about her good judgment. Sneaking aboard the Swan must have taken some courage, but it was also reckless. Her presence was a threat to the whole enterprise. The men would be constrained by having a woman to protect. How could they strike at the Spaniards and be sure to keep her safe? And he did not like the way she was always attracting lusting glances. Even amongst the crew her reputation was at risk. He enjoyed the sight of her no less than any man, but that did not mean he wanted her on the mission. She was already spoken for in her father’s mind, and the enterprise with Drake was no place for lovers’ games.
Yet he desired her no less; he felt it whenever he saw her.
The fact was he was annoyed with her, but he felt responsible for her, too. He could not easily dismiss the possibility that he might have unwittingly encouraged her to come – or perhaps that was to assume too much. Her hot-headedness could have been prompted simply by misguided loyalty to her father. Whatever the explanation, it did nothing to address the problem, and the only solution he could think of involved some cost to himself. The issue was vexing, but it had to be faced.
‘Concerning Mistress Ellyn, Captain . . .’
‘Ah, yes,’ said Drake with alacrity, as if a sudden switch from talk of loads to a lady was quite natural to make. ‘Mistress Ellyn, our mistress of the sea. I also am concerned about her, but let us not be too concerned, eh?’
Will ended Drake’s chuckling with the simple truth as he saw it.
‘She would be safest left here.’
‘For so long as any French privateer or Spaniard does not find her,’ Drake replied.
Will nodded; Drake had voiced the fear that troubled him most.
‘I would like to ensure tha
t does not happen, with your permission, Captain.’ There – he had said what he did not want to, but knew he should. He would give up the chance for vengeance and riches to watch over Ellyn Cooksley, a woman promised to another man, who had disappointed him deeply. He would even give up another small chance of finding Kit.
Drake raised his hand.
‘No, Will, I have need of you. I have already discussed the matter with my brother and he will stay with the lady. She will be well protected.’
Will was wrong-footed. Having prepared himself to make the sacrifice, he had not anticipated that someone else might see it through. But of all the mariners who could have been chosen to safeguard Ellyn, he could think of none better than the Captain’s brother. He could not imagine John Drake being any threat to her virtue. Even so, he preferred not to leave her.
‘Allow me then to assist him. One man alone is not enough—’
‘No, Will, as I have said,’ Drake cut in, and Will stopped short of persisting. It was plain the Captain had decided.
‘Six men will stay with him,’ Drake added by way of concession. ‘I have already chosen them.’
Will nodded, as satisfied as he supposed he could hope to be, and broached another subject that he considered almost an equal difficulty, and not far removed. It was possible, for the time being, that the same solution might serve both.
‘There is her father also . . .’
‘Master Cooksley and Mistress Ellyn, and Master Dennys as well.’ Drake gave a short laugh. ‘We are concerned for all three. We have a triangular uncertainty with the points yet to plot. But I have no doubt a course can be navigated.’
Will’s brows rose as he followed the Captain’s meaning, though he had no idea of the ‘course’ Drake had in mind that would involve both Cooksley and Dennys, and no time to speculate.
‘Hello!’ Drake exclaimed with a look of surprise. ‘Here comes a point now.’
Will turned to see Ellyn, to whom Drake immediately bowed.
‘Dear mistress,’ said Will, bowing also, though Ellyn appeared indifferent to the deference he showed her. She shaded her eyes and peered up at the Kestrel, beginning a circuit around the hull in just the same way that Will and Drake had done moments before.
‘Your little Kestrel looks almost ready to fly.’
‘She is,’ Drake responded. ‘I hope we shall sail her in a few days and see how the land lies.’
Ellyn scrutinised the pinnace keenly. She took off the high, crowned hat that Will was sure he had once seen her father wearing, though without the parrot feathers that now adorned it. She tipped back her head and eyed the bows, and there her focus settled: on the low forecastle at the beak, near the point where the bowsprit was lashed to the prow.
‘Will she be carrying canon at those gun ports?’ she asked with an edge to her voice.
‘Gun ports?’ Drake cocked his head to examine the same place. ‘Ah, yes,’ he said, as if the openings had only just been brought to his attention. ‘The usual purpose of a gun port is to accommodate a gun.’
Ellyn frowned. She caught Will’s eye and immediately looked away. To Will, she seemed to be wrestling with a worry much as he had done earlier, one that she wanted to share, though she was uncertain whether she should.
‘I am troubled for my father,’ she sighed. ‘I fear that if he is put in any danger, or if there is any threat . . .’ Her words tailed away and closed with a simple fact. ‘He is not a young man.’
‘Just so,’ Drake confirmed.
‘He needs rest and must not be made anxious,’ Ellyn added. And Will was sure of her sincerity, though he could not help but recall the moment that ‘Ellyn, the cabin boy’ was revealed as ‘Ellyn, the daughter’, and he did not remember Nicholas Cooksley being particularly calm on that occasion.
‘Captain,’ Ellyn addressed Drake in a tone close to beseeching, ‘I wish to suggest that my father remains on this island and is not taxed so soon with any more sailing.’ She put her argument with conviction, though Will sensed it was also with an effort. ‘I shall watch over him until you return, and I am certain your enterprise will fare no worse for being without him at this juncture.’
‘Yes, Mistress Ellyn.’ Will threw in his agreement before she could vacillate. This was an appeal he most wished to encourage.
‘I am sure you are right,’ Drake replied, and his whole manner conveyed earnest sympathy. ‘But will your father be content with such an arrangement?’
Ellyn raised her head and eyed Drake sharply.
‘You must convince him that he will be.’
‘Ah!’ Drake acknowledged, with a frown that suggested deep thought.
‘Please, Captain Drake.’ Ellyn touched his hand, at which Drake took and kissed hers before she could object.
‘Be at ease, sweet mistress. I shall do my utmost to see your wishes are carried out.’
Will could see that Drake was flirting but assured himself that nothing was meant by it. The Captain had shown a skill he esteemed, though Ellyn might yet be sailing on the Kestrel unless her father could be persuaded to stay as well, and Will was in some doubt as to how that could be achieved.
Drake resumed his perambulation around the little ship, and Will followed after watching Ellyn depart. The talk returned to practicalities, this time concerning the materials they would take should the Kestrel need repairing, at worst should she be holed. They were so deep in conversation that Nicholas Cooksley was only noticed once he was close to approaching. He appeared as if battling through quicksand, arms flailing and scarlet-faced. Will rushed to help him to the strip of shade beside the hull. Once there, Will and Drake had little choice but to hear him out.
‘I trust that my Ellyn has not made it her business to interfere with yours,’ Cooksley puffed. ‘I noticed she was with you, and I hope she has not intruded. Women can never stop meddling, but she is my daughter.’
Cooksley waved a hand amidst a profusion of lace: a boon for keeping the sand flies at bay, Will thought, though of little use for cooling. He wondered what Cooksley might be working up to.
‘I am accountable for her, answerable and duty-bound to care for her,’ Cooksley went on, ‘to say nothing of my love as a father which remains steadfast, no matter how much she may shake it with her maid’s silliness. I must constantly watch over her, and this burden is compounded by my duty to others. She is all but betrothed to Godfrey Gilbert, you know.’ At this, he shot Will a grotesque smile and, despite all his inclinations, Will forced a grin back. ‘What would he say if she were to come to any harm?’ Cooksley did not wait for a reply. ‘She must be shielded and protected, despite my desire to engage in bold commerce at the earliest opportunity, I can neither desert her, nor allow her to be put in jeopardy.’
Will and Drake exchanged bemused glances.
‘For certain,’ Drake interjected.
‘She must remain here,’ Cooksley said, at last coming to a conclusion, ‘and I have no alternative but to stay with her. She must be safeguarded.’
Will exhaled.
Drake assumed a concerned expression.
‘’Twould not be right to attempt to dissuade you,’ Drake admitted with an air of gravity. ‘However much I might wish to.’
‘My only reservation is that if there is any trading . . .’ Cooksley began a peevish counter-argument, but Drake cut it short.
‘Most unlikely at this juncture.’
‘All to the good.’ The relief in Cooksley was obvious. He put a finger between his neck and his ruff, as if to let out the heat that had been building beneath. ‘But I would be more comfortable if that fact could be made known to Master Dennys, and if he were to appreciate that at present there could be no possible advantage in his going with you, and much possible disadvantage if he does.’
‘A case could well be made,’ Drake said, managing to give an impression of mulling over a difficult task while ardently wishing to help.
‘Make it, Captain,’ Cooksley demanded. He slapped at his neck and t
hen examined his hand with disgust, took out his kerchief, mopped his face and nodded. ‘I shall place my faith in you to do that. Adieu!’
With Drake still beside him, Will watched the old man shuffle off. They looked again at the pinnace, and then back at the vegetation flanking the beach. Will hesitated to refer to the last vague assurance that Drake had given, though he very much hoped that Drake was not intent on leaving Richard Dennys behind as well. He preferred to have Dennys where he could see him.
‘About the stores,’ Will began, wondering how he could broach the subject of Dennys without stepping out of line, but when he glanced round he realised he had already lost Drake’s interest. The Captain was staring at something beyond Will’s right shoulder.
‘Ah ha!’ Drake chortled. ‘I believe I can see the third point on your starboard side.’
‘Good day, good sirs,’ came an airy greeting.
Will recognised the cultivated court English that Richard Dennys persisted in using. He considered it affected, since everyone knew that Dennys had been raised in Devon. Will scowled as the merchant returned a cursory blow.
‘You will be sailing soon?’ Dennys asked lightly.
‘The day after tomorrow, most probably,’ Will answered tersely.
‘Will you be joining us, sir? Drake enquired.
The question put Will more at ease; it was not what he considered ‘persuasive’. But then Dennys narrowed his eyes, and held his well-made face motionless, much like a ferret sniffing a promising scent.
‘That rather depends on who will be going. I assume you will not be taking our fair Venus revealed?’
If the description was meant as a homage to Ellyn, or to demonstrate some sophistication in learning, then Will considered that Dennys had failed on both counts. He had no tolerance for the sly smile that played across the merchant’s lips, and would have ended it with a curt remark except that Dennys spoke first.
‘It will distress me to see her put in any danger.’
‘Be not distressed, Master Dennys,’ Drake assured him. ‘Mistress Ellyn will remain here under her father’s protection.’
