“Madre,” he said, “I want to go home.”
“Roberto, my precious,” I answered him, “we are home.”
He shook his head. “This is not home. Home is not here, Madre.”
“It is now,” I told him. “Home is where I am and that is where you belong.”
He conceded this.
“I want my father. Where is my father?”
“He is gone away, Roberto. He is dead. You have a new father now.”
“I want my own father, Madre. Who is my new father now?”
“You know.”
He shrank in terror. “Not the Man…”
“He will be your father now, Roberto.”
He shut his eyes tightly and shook his head. I had said the wrong thing. I had frightened him.
I took him onto my lap and rocked him. “I am here, Roberto.” That did comfort him. He clung to me. But he was terrified of Jake, and Jake, who had no understanding of children, did nothing to alleviate the situation. Carlos and Jacko had been taken over the Rampant Lion; they played wild games which involved ships and captains. Carlos was always Captain Pennlyon and this pleased Jake. He was proud of those two … his boys. He didn’t seem to care that one of them was the son of a Spanish lady of high degree and the other of a serving girl. They were Pennlyons and that was good enough for him.
How different it was for my little Roberto!
I was so concerned about the child that I spoke to Jake about him. I even went so far as to plead with him to show a little interest and kindness to the boy.
“Interest in that man’s son?”
“He is mine also.”
“That does not endear him to me.”
“It should. I have taken your sons and cared for them.”
“You’re a woman,” he said.
“If you have any decent feelings in you…”
“But you know I have not … only indecent ones.”
“I beg of you. Be kind to my son.”
“I must act as I feel.”
“Oh, so you have become honest, have you?”
“In this matter, yes.” He turned to me suddenly. “I tell you, I hate the boy. When I see him I think of you with that Don. I want to break every bone in his body; I want to destroy anything that reminds me of that.”
“You’re inhuman. To blame a child.”
“You should have let him go with your mother.”
“My own son!”
“Will you stop talking of your son? Soon you’ll have mine and then that dark-skinned brat can be sent away. I might take him with me when I sail and drop him off at his old home. How would that be?”
“You dare touch that boy.”
“And?” he mocked.
“I’d kill you, Jake Pennlyon.”
“So we would become a murderess.”
“Yes, if any harmed my son.”
“Oh, come, what’s a bastard now and then? You’re going to have that nursery so full of real boys you’ll not miss this one.”
I hit him across the face. This sort of encounter always excited him. He had me pinioned and forced me down.
There was the inevitable ending, but it solved nothing.
He hated my son because of his father and I was worried.
When Roberto became ill I was with him all the time. I think it was the cold east wind which blew up suddenly and which was too much for him.
Jennet and Manuela were worried about him and I spent a day with them in the nursery.
He was a little better as the dusk fell.
“He do seem comforted to have you with him, Mistress,” said Jennet.
It was true, when I sat beside his bed he slept a little, holding my hand; and if I attempted to release it momentarily his hot little hands clung.
I decided I would stay with him.
When night fell Jake came to the nursery. Jennet and Manuela hastily disappeared.
“What means this?” said Jake. “I am waiting for you.”
“The child is sick,” I answered.
“Those two women can care for him.”
“He is uneasy when I’m not here.”
“I am more than uneasy when you are not with me.”
“I am staying here for the night.”
“Nay,” he said, “you are coming to bed with me.”
“I shall stay with my son tonight.”
“You will come,” he said.
He caught my arm and I stood up and threw him off. “You will wake the child.”
“Why should I care?”
“I care,” I said.
I stepped out of the room with him, for I greatly feared the effect a scene would have on Roberto.
“Go away,” I said. “I have made up my mind.”
“And if I have made up mine?”
“You must needs unmake it.”
“You are coming with me.”
“I am staying with my son.”
We looked unflinchingly into each other’s eyes.
“I could carry you there,” he said.
“If you touch me, Jake Pennlyon,” I said, “I will leave this house. I will take my son to my mother and never see you again.”
He hesitated and I knew that I had won.
“Go away,” I said. “Don’t shout. If you wake the child, if you frighten him now I shall never forgive you.”
“Are you not afraid that if you deny me I might turn to others?”
“If you are so desperately in need you must do so.”
“You would not wish that.”
“I tell you I care for nothing tonight but that my son sleeps peacefully and I shall stay with him to make sure that he does so.”
“Cat,” he said. “I want you … now … this minute.”
“Go away.”
“So you don’t care what I do?”
“Do what you please.”
He caught my arm and shook me. “You know full well that I have a fancy for no one but you.”
I laughed at him. Exultantly, yes. I had won of course. I went back to Roberto.
In the morning the child was better, but I knew that he was terrified of Jake Pennlyon.
The summer came. Tenerife seemed a long way behind. I had settled in to life at Lyon Court. Soon Jake would go away on a voyage. He had postponed this because of our marriage and I knew he wished to be with me; but of course he could not stay ashore forever. I think sometimes he planned to take me with him, but I was pregnant and the sea was no place for a woman in my condition. He was a sailor who loved the sea and his ship was near to his heart as any living being I was sure, and yet he lingered on shore. I laughed at him. He could not leave me.
He could never shut out of his mind the memory of the raid which had taken place while he was away. He was afraid that it might happen again. He was torn between his desire for adventure on the high seas and his life with me.
Often I would see him down at the Hoe; he would be rowed out to his ship and spend some time on her. He finally decided that he could stay behind no longer.
A Captain Girling came to visit us from St. Austell—a man some twenty years older than Jake. He was a keen man, Jake told me, one of the few whom he cared to trust on one of his ships.
Captain Girling stayed with us for a month and he and Jake went out to the Lion every day; and there was a great deal of bustle on the Hoe while her stores were taken aboard. She was taking out a cargo of linen.
At dinner the conversation was generally of the sea and ships and I became increasingly knowledgeable in these matters, particularly as I had firsthand experience of two voyages. They used to question me at length about the galleon and I could never resist praising her and pointing out her superiority over the Rampant Lion and English ships I had seen, which exasperated and intrigued them.
Captain Girling was as fierce in his denunciation of the Dons and Catholicism as Jake was and they were at one on this as on most matters.
They hated the Inquisition, which had seized a number of English sailors, submitted them to torture and even burned them at the stake. John Gregory was an example of a man who had been captured and only freed on condition that he spy for them. Oddly enough Jake seemed to have forgiven him although he had helped in carrying me off in the first place. He had, however, made it possible for Jake to bring me back.