They had talked so much this way. Aboard the Hugh Gallant. David thought of her now, sunk deep beneath the Pacific swells. "God bless her, Havers," he said.
Havers nodded his recognition.
"I shall never remember her with any but the most sincere affection," David said. "D'ye realize, Havers, how much I learned from her?"
"I do," said Havers.
"Havers, you're far from a simple man. You think too much. We have a motto, Tom and I, 'Let good luck follow courage.' What do you think of it?"
"I like it," Havers said.
David said, "I like it too. There's something I'm wanting to do, Havers. Something I'm wanting to do very much."
Chapter XI
The hold of the Santa Anna stank of bilge, Cavendish was used to the stink, but he was glad that he had finished there, this morning, for it was almost twelve noon.
"Master Pretty," he said, "open me up these eight chests here, and I'll have finished for today."
"Aye, aye, sir," said Pretty, unlatching the first chest and throwing open the lid. He had been with Cavendish most of the time that they had inspected the five hundred tons of merchandise in the Santa Anna, choosing carefully what was most valuable, because they could take only a part of the huge cargo.
The chest stood open. "Chinese damask," Cavendish said. He felt the heavy silken material in his fingers. "Heavy and strong," he said speculatively. "Very strong."
"Aye, sir," Pretty said automatically.
"The tally shows hundreds of yards; the exact amount escapes me," Cavendish said, thinking aloud. He paused a minute. "I want all this stowed where it will be least likely to get water-soaked, sir. Now open me those others."
Another lid flew back. A loud bump from above made Pretty jump. "Cloth of gold, sir," he said. "And this one, too." He worked swiftly. "Nine chests of cloth of gold, sir."
"We'll stow them aboard too," Cavendish said, coming to stand by Pretty and looking into the chest. "Jesu, that's lovely."
"It is, isn't it?" asked Pretty appreciatively.
The cloth was lustrous and shimmering. It made Cavendish think of Catherine.
"Cut me off a length of that cloth, sir," he said.
Pretty obliged; he started to unroll the cloth, pulling out his dagger to cut it with. Then he rolled up the length of cloth neatly and handed it to Cavendish.
"Thank you, Pretty," Cavendish said. "Now, when you have these chests hoisted out of here, you've finished for the day."
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He stepped out of the glow of the lamp, and made his way through the half-open chests. He heard the lids close back as Pretty got them ready to be stowed aboard the Desire. In the darkness, Cavendish found the narrow ladder; above him were voices. He heard plainly:
"If Rogers had been from the Desire, he wouldn't have had it so bad!"
The denial was short and foul. Words flew. Cavendish listened.
"You bastards have more gold stowed aboard than we have!"
Cavendish started noisily up the ladder again. By the time he reached the top, the owners of the voices had disappeared. But he had recognized them. He went out on deck.
There were ten men from the Content working among his own crew this morning. He watched the neatly lashed chests swung over the side and lowered into the waiting boats. He watched the men closely. How many of them thought they were not getting their rightful share of the gold, to stow aboard their own Content? Ahead was a long and arduous voyage. Three oceans lay between them and England. Already they were a year and a half out of England. But his command had been held as tight and rigid as one man could hold. He frowned. He walked over to Brule, who stood alone.
"Brule, how's the morale of your company?" The question was put, plain and unexpected. Brule looked amazed.
"Splendid, sir," he said. "There's naught on their minds save the Spanish fish dinner ashore tonight."
Laughter sounded suddenly from the group of men. Brule thought it proved his words. He smiled at Cavendish. "Why did you ask?"
Cavendish prevaricated, because he knew only too well that the reason for discontent was often not the reason voiced, and because he had overheard and eavesdropped. It would scarcely be fair to tell Brule that a certain William Byet, who worked just a few feet away, had complained that the Desire's company was favored.
"Brule," he said, "I am never unaware of the possibility of mutiny."
"You, sir?" Brule asked, amazed again. "I know the danger, sir— I've seen it happen."
"There is temptation here, in the New World," Cavendish said. He believed it truly. "To stay here, I mean, Brule."
"Aye," Brule said, sighing a little. But he was obviously unworried about his crew.
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"Good-bye, then," Cavendish said. He left Brule. He let himself be rowed back to the Desire and he climbed aboard and mounted up to his own high deck.
"Good morning, Havers, David."
Havers was puffing on his pipe. "Good morning, Tom," he said. He had not seen Cavendish earlier. He recognized that Cavendish was in no mood to talk, and he and David were silent for a minute. Cavendish leaned against the rail and looked toward shore. David and Havers resumed their lazy conversation. Tobacco smoke wisped past Cavendish's nose.
"David, tell Cosmos to fetch me my tobacco and pipe."
"Aye, sir," David said.
Cavendish still looked toward shore. The colony was settled, now. It was five days old. Washing hung outside the tents on lines stretched between the pines. Cauldrons swung over the fire pits. The Spanish were having their midday meal, and the women's clothes made bright bits of color against the beach.
Nothing had marred the truce. Amity, real friendliness existed between the English and Spanish. Cavendish's men went ashore with gold in their pockets; they bought their favors.
During the days they worked, fished, swam, and hunted. The Santa Anna's most precious goods, spices and gold, were being stowed aboard the Desire and the Content. The water casks were being cleaned and filled. They were revictualing, salting fish and game. The Content was already wearing a new suit of sails.
"Your pipe, sir," Cosmos said.
"Thank you," said Cavendish.
"Your tobacco."
Cavendish carefully pressed the tobacco into the bowl of his pipe. There should be no reason for trouble now. He was probably a fool to worry about the words he had overheard this morning. Just as he was a fool to worry about David.
Cosmos, who was watching his Captain, held a light ready. Cavendish sucked on the stem.
"Your dinner is ready soon, sir," Cosmos said.
"I want none," Cavendish said.
Cosmos looked troubled. The Captain always ate heartily. "None?"
"None!"
"Aye, aye, sir," said Cosmos hastily. He drew back.
Cavendish sucked in the smoke. It tasted good. He sighed. The
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Desire rode close enough to the beach so that he could distinguish the men and women who came in and out of their tents, who walked and ran, laughed and worked along the narrow strip of sand. While he watched, the woman for whom he looked detached herself from the group of men and women eating at the long table. She started along the beach, walking slowly, her little girl with her.
The color of their hair was exactly the same. They passed the fire pits, and were going toward their own tents. Cavendish watched until they disappeared into the next to the last tent.
Cavendish stared at the gray-white tent. Within it, she was probably putting her little girl to sleep for an afternoon siesta. Perhaps she would take one herself; sometimes she did.
He swore under his breath. For five days now he had not seen her alone. Always she was with Havers, or de Ersola, or David. Master Pretty, gentleman from Suffolk, followed her everywhere; she had given him a small sketch of the Desire that she had done the second day they had been here at San Lucas.