"A woman?"
"You think me a liar? Well, I am neither a liar nor drunk ... a woman, I say!
And such a woman as you never saw!"
So now it seemed we were close, and all my troubles might be resolved at once, yet I was not one to count money before it was paid me. I bade good-bye to the fisherman and we had up some canvas and took our way south, with me sore afraid the fluyt would have flown before we had sight of her. Yet for once good fortune was with me, and we rounded into the cove to see her lying there, waiting.
We came in close enough and let go our anchor, and a boat to the water almost as quickly.
She was at the rail when I came alongside.
"Is it you then?" she asked. "Full long enough you took!"
"What in blazes happened? Where's Peter Handsel?"
"He's below ... confined in the rope-locker. The crew liked my cooking better than his sailing, so I've been sailing-master and cook as well."
She looked closely at the Flemish craft. "A good ship," she decided, "but I like this one better."
We wasted no time with further talk. If it pleased the Lord that I come well home again to Raleigh's land, I'd be happy, and if it were soon, happier still.
It was true I had done well with my fishing in troubled waters, but more by good fortune than by my own efforts, although I had not hesitated when it was time to act, and sometimes that is the whole face of it.
With Pike and Blue in the cabin, I spoke them fair. We'd rich cargo below, and I'd taken them to it, and so I told them I should take the powder, lead, round-shot, and the beads and trade goods. The richest of the cloth they might have.
So I divided the cargo there, and they had no word to say against it, and my portion was shifted to the fluyt. Much of what I wanted most for Raleigh's land they could easily come by in Newfoundland, but the cloth was a rich thing.
"And the Flemish ship, then?" Pike asked.
"I give her to you," I said. "Sail, sell, or sink her, she's yours, but if you decide to sail her, come along down to Raleigh's land with such cargo as I am taking, trade goods for the savages, and powder, shot, and some food for us, and we'll make trade together."
"I never thought to have a ship nor become a merchant," Pike said, "but I shall do both."
So we parted there, clasping hands at the last, and I went about the galleon and shook each hand and thanked each man for his help, and we parted, one sailing south and one north with the first light.
Some of my men went with Pike, and some of Pike's with me, I taking only those who dared the new land.
We sighted three ships that gave us chase, but we, perceiving their intent, clapped on all sail and fled away to the westward, and having the wind of them we were well away and they gave up the chase, not knowing what we were or whether worth their effort.
Dearly now, I needed sight of the land. My charts were out upon the table, but what use a chart without a sighting? We had come from Newfoundland over to the coast, and followed it down some distance, but not nearly so far as Raleigh's land.
So we edged in close, and I caught a cape in my glass that had a familiar look, then a rivermouth and a queer tuft of trees, all marked on one of my charts. So I made us several days sail to the north of my thin sandy islands that divided the sounds from the sea at the place I sought.
Meanwhile, Lila made nothing of her story. She had barricaded herself in the galley with the keys to the storeroom in her pocket, and denied anyone entry or food until Handsel was in shackles and the key in her hands. Meanwhile she set to work to cook, letting the aroma of her cooking drift over the ship.
It has been said there were iron men aboard the wooden ships, and well there should have been-and for the most part they needed iron stomachs as well, to handle the cooking. Salt meat as hard as iron and biscuit full of weevils. Lila had cooked much for strong, hearty men and knew the weapon she possessed.
Two days it needed, and then they had brought her the key, led by a man named John Tilly, a fine seaman who liked not Handsel nor his kind. Although young, he had already been long at sea.
I was on the afterdeck, watching the sea, my glass ready to pick up any unusual thing upon the far waters, when Tilly came to me.
"Captain," he said, "we've a man aboard to whom you must speak. His name is Jago, and he comes from Anglesey as does the lass."
Something in his manner was odd, so I asked him, "Who is this Jago? Does he have a complaint?"
"None at all! From the first he stood beside me for taking Handsel. He is a fine seaman, Captain, and a good fighting man, but there is a strangeness on him at times and now there's a fear on him."
"A fear?"
"Of the waters ahead. He knows the coast you speak of, the place where we go. He has been in both the sounds and up one of the rivers, but it is the sea itself that he fears, the sea that lies off the coast of the place called Raleigh's land."
Of sailor's tales there is no end, nor of enchanted islands, vanishing ships, or mysterious places in the sea, and of this we who are of the Celtic race have understanding, so I had this Jago up to the deck and he was no kind of a priestly man, nor a poet, either, but a strong fellow of middle size with a square head upon a solid neck, and two fine, strong hands.
"You are Jago?" I said.
"So they have said since I was old enough to listen, and I've no choice but to believe them. However, one name is as good as another, and if you've another you like, call me it and I will come."
"Jago is a fine name, and it pleases me. Do you know these waters, Jago?"
"No, nor any man for long. They be not twice the same. But you are safe enough this week. Next you will be south too far. You must steer clear of fogs and land on no strange islands. You know there are islands?"
"I do. I spoke of them with a friend of mine named Peter Tallis. They were discovered by Juan de Bermudez in 1515, and are said to be enchanted isles."
"Well they could be. Where else does coral be found so far north? Where else so many dangerous reefs? Enchanted the isles may be, but they be a hell for mariners, with their ugly reefs rising unexpected-like from the depths.
"There and south of there is the sea of which I speak. Beware it. Many ships have vanished ... There's an opening there sometimes, it comes and goes, sometimes it is in fog, and sometimes a spot of bright sunlight, but those who sail through never come back. Beware of a day when there's no fish around, for then it's to open, and well they know it and off they swim."
"I'll take your advice, Jago. Now tell me, do you know a stretch of coast with long thin outer islands? Banks that form a natural breakwater for two great sounds into which rivers flow?"
"I know the place. 'Tis west and south ... two days more, I think."
"You've been there?"
"Twice, and once on a Spanish ship. I was a prisoner of them but spoke their tongue and am a good Catholic, so they used me as a seaman and I had freedom, of a sort ... until I escaped. If it is there you'll go, I can be taking you, and to whichever river you wish, for each has a different smell. One smells of freshness and the mountains, and two of swamps, and one of fish."
Far into the night I studied my charts.
It would be my second voyage to the sounds, and pausing in my study of the maps I thought again of that buried hulk in which I had taken shelter and where I had fought the alligator.
Whose ship might that have been? And what of its crew? If ships disappeared in these waters, as Jago said, then men vanished also. The Roanoke colony and Grenville's men ... gone.
Many were the tales that came from the sea, but I had little faith in enchanted isles or haunted ships or the like. Those were sailor's tales to be told in port to goggle-eyed landsmen, and rarely believed of themselves. Yet ... what Jago had told, Jago believed, and he was a no-nonsense sort of man, and a good seaman.