Lola and David were very happy. They were so happy together that sometimes their happiness thrust a stinging pain through him.
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Yesterday he had to go out; he had ridden to the sea. Yesterday, the water had been deep blue, the deepest blue that colored the water when the northern sky was cloudy except for small patches of blue sky. When the water changed from gray to blue, because the sun had pierced through, then it became that wonderful shining deepest blue.
The baby slept. The house was still quiet. David would be with the bailiff, and Kate was with Lola.
He had not heard Tina's soft steps. "I waited for you," he said.
His voice wakened the baby. She opened her eyes, and Tina reached out for her.
"Your dinner is ready, sir—in five minutes."
He bent down himself and lifted the baby in his arms. "You're going to feed her?" he asked. The baby looked into his face with the puzzled faraway expression she still had, and he put his lips to the side of her face. Then he laid her in Tina's arms and went from the room.
At dinner, the polished table shone. The candles were set in silver sconces about the walls, and the paneled room was ruddy with firelight. The food was excellent. He sat at the head of the table, with Lola at the other end, and David between them. One of the plum puddings that had hung from the rafters in the room atop the long kitchen was served hot for dessert.
"The house couldn't have a better mistress," Cavendish observed, and Lola smiled, pleased.
She was working at her handwriting. After dinner she sat frowning over a list of household orders that Cavendish had written out for her; she had insisted on copying them herself, because that was right. She concentrated on her task.
"Every guest room," she wrote laboriously, being careful to space the words evenly as Cavendish had done, "should be cleaned, aired, and supplied with fresh sheets and linens, in no less than four hours after the departing guest has left."
She finished that, and looked at the next instruction. She read it, and then she asked, "Tom, what does this mean?"
Cavendish looked up from his place by the fire. He was lounging idly; David was reading.
Lola read, "Any man who uses the courtyard to make water will be fined two shillings."
Cavendish grinned. He started to explain, just as Lola realized what the words meant.
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David smiled and put aside his book. Cavendish seldom read; and David felt a trifle guilty because he and Lola were both occupied and Cavendish was not. He started to speak, but Cavendish interrupted him.
"I'm going to Plymouth tomorrow, David."
David was not surprised; he glanced at Lola as if to remind her that he had been right, and had anticipated this. "Tomorrow, Tom?" he asked.
"It's been a month since I was there," Cavendish said. "I haven't told you before, David, but I am building a new ship. I started to build her last September."
David was surprised, now. "You are? A new ship?"
Cavendish nodded.
"It's time for me to go, soon."
"Oh, no!" Lola said. She had forgotten her writing; she was leaning across the table, her eyes on him. "Oh, no, Tom!"
Cavendish shook his head.
He got up and stood with his back to the fire. "I want to go to sea again," he said simply. "I want to go."
"No!" Lola cried.
David caught Lola's eye. She was silent, and David said, "How soon, then, Tom?"
"Not till spring," Cavendish said. "My new ship will be christened Galeon."
David thought a moment. "Stillness of the sea, calm," he translated. "I'm surprised you remembered your Greek. You always surprise me, Tom."
Cavendish smiled, affectionately. "Captain John Davis will command the Desire; the Desire is ready to sail now."
"You couldn't have a better man," David said.
"Except Havers," Cavendish said. "Or de Ersola."
Lola interrupted. She rose and went around the table to stand before Cavendish.
"Tom!" she said.
But he wouldn't let her speak. There was no use. "There's a moon tonight, Lola," he said. "I think I'll ride out for a while." He went to the door, he closed it, and his voice was raised in a call for Tyler. Lola stood in the center of the room, looking at the door Cavendish had gone through. Slowly David came over to her. He turned her to face him.
"What he says is true," he said. "He wants to go."
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"No!" she said desperately.
He tipped her face up to his; his smile was tender. "Lola," he said, "there are some men born with a gallantry that leaves them no rest until they have pitted themselves against insuperable odds."
"I don't know what you mean," she cried.
David said, "What Tom said was true. He must go."
"I know he loved Catherine!" she said. "But—"
"That is not the point," David interrupted. "Tom is not running away from sorrow. He told us he started to build his new ship before he knew Catherine was not coming to him. He would have left her. Lola, he lives with a dream. He knows it. His dream is the conquering of the seas, the expanding of the world, the building of America, the making of an empire. He would die for it."
"Die for it?" she said. "Oh, David, do not say that!"
PART FIVE
Chapter XLI
"The town of Santos lies here." Cavendish's finger jabbed at the map of the coast of South America.
"Aye, sir," said John Davis, and Captain Cocke nodded solemnly. Pretty rubbed his hand over his face to conceal the stifling of a yawn. He was very sleepy and he knew he would have nothing to do with the action Cavendish was outlining for the other two captains. John Davis commanded the Desire, and Cocke, the bark named the Blake. Pretty yawned openly.
Cavendish said, "We will provision here at Santos. It will be a very simple matter to take the town. Very simple." Again his finger jabbed at the map, pointing to the long sand bar that lay across the harbor.
"Anchor outside this bar," he said, looking up from the map at the two Captains. "Anchor Saturday night after dark. Use two longboats and the pinnace. Sunday morning the people will be in church. At nine, church time, surround the church and keep the people within its walls as hostages. We want food, and only food."
John Davis said, "As you say, sir, it is very simple."
Pretty yawned again, throwing a glance at Cocke, who looked a little surprised at the strategy. Pretty knew it was good strategy, good Cavendish strategy.
In the meantime, Cavendish was saying to Davis, "It may be simple, but it is vastly important." He frowned a little. In his restless haste to reach the Pacific, he had put off reprovisioning until now; rations were dwindling. "I want you to take the town at church time on Sunday morning. I hope to be there myself, but the Galeon is not so good a sailer as the Desire, and time is important. Sunday morning we catch them unawares. We must have food."
"Aye, sir," said Captain Davis.
Cavendish smiled at him. He trusted Davis absolutely. In his hands the expedition should be well executed.
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"Good night, then/' he said, for there was no time to lose.
"Good night, sir," said Davis, and he and Cocke went up on deck with Cavendish, Master Pretty trailing behind the three captains. In the darkness, the lights from the Desire and the bark Blake flickered faintly across the water. Cocke commanded the Blake, Davis the Desire, and Cavendish waited on the deck of the Galeon to watch their boats pull away toward each of their ships. It was the fourteenth of December; they were anchored at the Isle of San Sebastian. The next night should see the two smaller, swifter ships anchored outside the bar of the town of Santos, ready for the action of Sunday morning. It was then Friday night.