"Your name?"
"Barnabas Sackett, master of the Abigail. I'm fresh into your harbor with shingles, potash, and furs. I'd like to sell what I have, load supplies, and be off. It is," I added delicately, "my impression that I do not have much time."
"Sackett, is it? Are you the one they are hunting up down the land?"
"I am. I was told you were a fair man, and an independent one, and I have some'at to sell and much to buy. From you, if you'll but have it that way."
"They say you've found King John's treasure?"
"Balderdash, Captain Killigrew. Pure nonsense. I found some gold coins and discovered there was a market for antiquities. Here and there I'd stumbled upon ruins in the forest and up on the downs, so I got a manuscript by Leland ... he walked over the country hunting such places. ... Then I went to a place I remembered and commenced digging. I found some more, but it was pure chance."
Killigrew made a rumbling sound in his chest. Then he said, "Luck! I've no faith in luck, Sackett! Luck comes to a man who puts himself in the way of it. You went where something might be found and you found something, simple as that.
"All right, Sackett. I like the way you stand, the way you talk. What is it you need?"
I handed him my list. "I'll treat you fair," he said. "You'll pay 10 percent more than I'd sell for here, but that's some'at less than you'd pay in Bristol or London."
He pushed some papers on his desk. "I'll have lighters alongside within the hour. I'll pay the going price for your potash. The shingles and what timber you have left, I'll pay premium for. They are hard to come by."
He turned in his chair and rang a small handbell. When a servant appeared in the door, he said, "Send Willys to me ... now."
He pointed to a chair. "Seat yourself, Sackett." He stared at me from under heavy brows. "So you're going back to America?"
"It is true."
"Fine! You've a fine ship there. Load her with mast timbers and send her back.
I'll buy them, and whatever else you have to offer, and if you take any prizes, bring them to me."
"I will do that," I said quietly, "and I am grateful."
He got up suddenly. "Let us walk down to the inn. I'll have a drink with you there. Could have it here, but I need the air. Need the walk. Don't move around so much as I used to.
"Raleigh's land, is it? Well, well! Savages there? You've seen them? Are they truly as fierce as we hear?"
I shrugged. "Some are, some aren't. They are good fighters, and some are good traders as well. I hope to be friendly with them."
"It is well. Send your ships to Falmouth. We'll treat you fair and ask no questions, nor make a report. Why, 'tis foolishness, this talk of treasure! I believe no part of it, for you acted no part like a man with gold."
We sat over our ale and talked, of ships and the Queen, of Raleigh and Essex and Mountjoy, and of Kinsale that had fallen, and of the actor Shakespeare, and a likely man I found him, Peter Killigrew.
The Abigail lay still upon the crystal water of the bay when I returned, and the lighters were alongside, out-loading our goods, and Abby was at the rail.
She looked anxiously into my eyes. "Barney, I was that worried! I was afraid they'd taken you for the Queen."
"Not them." Suddenly, I remembered. "Abby, have you heard anything unusual aboard ship? Or seen anyone not of the company?"
She looked at me oddly, and I explained. "A boy?" she asked. "Who came aboard in Kinsale? Oh, Barney, let's find him!"
"We must. I'd not like to be taken up for kidnapping." I called to Jeremy.
"Stand by the scuttle, will you? I shall go below."
"What's up?"
When I explained, he shrugged. "It's just another lad, wishing for the sea, no doubt."
When I was in the darkness of the hold, I spoke out. "Lad, I saw you come from the boat last night. Come out now, for we're sailing to America in the morning, and there'll be no place there for lads whose family will be wanting them."
There was silence, then slowly from among some bolts of sailcloth, he stood up.
We eyed each other in the dim light.
A fine, likely-looking lad he was, slender, but with good shoulders upon him, and a clear, clean-cut face with a shock of handsome hair. The skin of his face and of his hands marked him for gentry.
"Who are you, lad?"
He stared at me, brave enough, but frightened, too. "I am of Ireland," he said, "and my kinfolk are killed. I am alone, wanting only to get to France where there are others of my kind."
"To France, is it? You'd fly away and leave your land behind? We've enemies in France, boy."
"You have, if you're English, as I've no doubt you are. I've none, for it's Irish I am, and they are friendly to us there."
"Aye, so I've heard. You are Papists, Irish and French. Well, come on deck.
You'll be hungry, and Catholic or Protestant, you'll be ready to eat. I'll have no lad hungry aboard my ship."
"It is very kind of you."
Yet he watched me . Warily, and I was sure he had no trust in me. So I commented, "Boy, you've the manner and style of a lad well-raised, so I'll trust that you've honor as well."
He turned on me, drawing himself up a little and looking directly at me. "I have, Captain. In my family, honor comes first."
"Do you know the name of Barnabas Sackett?"
"I do not."
"Well, the name is mine, and a good name it is as names go, but I am wanted by the Queen's men. It is a mistake, but the devil of a time I'd have proving it, so come the dawn I shall be away upon the sea to America."
"America?" he was startled. "I had thought-"
"Aye, no doubt you had expected aught but that. Well, America it is, and I shall not come back. Nor did I think that you'd such a voyage in mind when you came aboard."
"To get away, Captain. That was all I wanted. Had they found me they'd have slain me ... upon the spot. I am-"
I lifted a hand. "Tell me nothing. It is not needed. I know something of the troubles of the Irish, and have naught against you, m'self, nor does anybody aboard, but there's some as might in the towns about here. Was I you I'd get far from the sea."
"You do not go to France, then?"
"To America only, and we'll touch no land, God willing, until we reach there. If you go ashore, lad, it will be here, in this place."
He stared off into the distance, frightened a little, but not wishing to show it.
"Say nothing of who you are, lad. Tell nobody you are Irish for a great while.
There be many a lad adrift in England now. Mayhap you can get yourself apprenticed-"
"I am a gentleman!"
"Aye," I agreed grimly, "but would you rather starve a gentleman or live fat an apprentice? Lad, I know none here, but I'll set you ashore with a good meal inside you, a bait of food to last you, and enough money to buy an apprenticeship in a trade you welcome."
Startled, he looked at me. "You'd give me money?"
We went on deck and to the cabin then, where Lila fed him well, with some talk from Abby and me.
"My name?" He hesitated. "My first is Tatton. I'll not be telling the other."
A handsome lad he was, with clear hazel eyes, and a warm smile. Such a lad as someday I hoped my son would be, but we put him ashore in Falmouth with five gold coins sewed into his waistband and a packet of food.
He waved to us from the shore road before he started off, and we saw him no more, a fine, sturdy lad, walking away toward a future no man knew.
Chapter 22
Dark flowed the waters of the Chowan River, dim the shadows in forest and swamp, sullen the light upon the empty hill where once our fortress stood. The timbers we had hewn with our hands, the joints we had fitted with loving care, the huge gate with its repairs ... all were gone.
Burned ...
"Do you see anything, Jeremy?"
Ring was studying the forest and the riverbanks through his glass.