Betrayal (11 page)

Almost instantly, it seemed, it was morning! A bell was clanging, and I felt just awful. I hurt all over. I seemed to have lumps and bumps on every bit of me, and my hands and shoulders ached.

Masou woke then—and he seemed to be in better shape. I suppose he is more used to climbing and brawling than I!

Cook came to make breakfast—which was the most horrible grey salty porridge, with more ale and bread. This time I ate the bread, which was like leather, and gave Masou my porridge. Then there was a clanging and a banging, and all the sailors rushed up the ladder.

Cook pointed at it. “All hands on deck,” he said. “Captain wants to talk to the men. You want to know
what we’re doing—now’s your chance to find out. Up you go.”

Masou and I went up to the main deck and stood at the back, behind the tallest sailors we could find, in case the Captain saw me and recognized me. From here, we couldn’t see Drake at all, but Masou was happy just to listen to his speech. I wanted to see Drake so I peered round the sailors and managed to get a glimpse of him.

There he was, standing on the very top, aftmost deck, his handsome face both happy and serious. He should be happy! Probably he was going to marry Lady Sarah now. I scowled at him heavily, even though he couldn’t see me. How dare he do it? What an evil man—and I’d thought he was kind.

“Well, men,” he said, and his Devonshire voice carried the length of the ship without his seeming to shout. “I don’t doubt you’re wondering why we put to sea in such an almighty hurry!”

There was a rumble of answering “Aye, sir”s.

“I’m not sure what’s afoot,” Captain Drake went on, “but I know that Captain Derby put to sea a day early, and I’d like to have a sniff of whatever he’s after. Could be a nice fat Spanish Netherland merchant, could be sea beggars, could even be a Spanish treasure ship gone astray.”

Most of the men cheered.

“So we’re making the same heading as he. I know the places where he likes to cruise and if we keep a sharp lookout, we might see his prize afore he does.” Drake smiled—well, he showed his teeth, really—and smacked his fist in his palm. “Then we’ll snap her up!”

All the men cheered and waved their fists at that.

“I’ve a letter of marque from the Queen—that’s Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, her very self!” he shouted, waving a piece of paper. At the Queen’s name everyone cheered again. “So we can take any ship we don’t like the look of, so long as she ain’t English nor Hollander nor Allemayne.”

Really loud cheering.

“Now, I’m telling you what I heard,” Drake added. “I heard there’s a Spanish man-of-war out in the Narrow Seas, carrying the foul Duke of Alva’s letter of marque, and he’s been a-taking of our ships, what’s more. Now we can’t be having that, can we, boys?”

Roars of “No, sir, we’ll have they Spaniels to our breakfast!”

“So keep a sharp lookout and be ready, and there’s prize money fat and bright just waiting for the taking!” Drake finished.

Wildly enthusiastic cheering.

Masou and I looked at each other. What did Drake think he was doing, going on a privateering expedition with Lady Sarah on board? When was he going to marry her?

“What happened to that pretty Court fish you pulled out of the water the other day, Captain?” asked the Carpenter with a knowing grin, as if he’d read my mind.

Captain Drake paused and frowned. “I’ll have none of the likes of you making no comments about any fair lady of Her Majesty’s Court, Jim Woolley, you hear?”

“Aye, sir,” said the man, sounding abashed. “Sorry, sir.”

“I’ll tell you the truth, men!” shouted Drake. “I’ll not deny I laid suit to her for she’m the fairest I’ve ever seen, with all her red hair and her pretty ways. But just afore we sailed, she wrote me and told me, I’m not rich enough for her—and that’s fair enough, for she’s gently bred and expensive for to keep, what’s more. So we’re out to get rich this voyage, lads, fast as we can, and then I can go courting again with a hatful of gold!”

They all hooted and cheered at that, while Masou and I gaped at each other.

Captain Drake turned away and went to talk to Mr. Newman.

Masou and I got shouted at to go below and help Cook. While I cleared away the officers’ mess, scrubbing the tables with silver sand and lye, I tried to think. It didn’t make any sense. What was Drake talking about, going courting with a hatful of gold? He didn’t need to if he already had Lady Sarah on board. …

Then Tom came and grunted at us. “Mr. Newman wants you,” he said. “Best go quick.”

Up on the deck, Masou and I knuckled our foreheads to Mr. Newman.

“Captain wants a sharp lookout kept,” he told us. “You go up to the foremast top and stay there, until I tell you to come down or you see anything at all—a sail, a sea monster, anything.”

As we went over to the rail, I turned to Masou. “I don’t believe it, he—”

Somebody shoved us.

“What are you doing yapping away?” snarled the wide man who had first discovered us on the ship. “You get aloft and keep watch, and you’d better do it right.”

“Aye, sir,” I said, swallowing hard. I was almost
pleased we were to go up the mast again, so I could talk to Masou in peace! But Hell’s teeth! Those awful ratlines again …

There was no help for it, so we climbed up and up and up—and I struggled up and backwards and over the side of the top again, grabbing for ropes to hold onto.

When I’d got my breath back I could see that Tom was over on the mainmast fighting top, shading his eyes to keep a lookout. We squinted into the distance, too, me facing one way, Masou the other. At last we could talk.

I spoke first. “I think that perhaps Captain Drake does not have Lady Sarah at all!” I said.

Masou looked as if he’d been thinking just the same thing. “Well, we’ve seen no sign of her anywhere on the ship, have we?” he muttered. “And after what Drake said in his speech …”

I nodded miserably. It made my stomach swoop to think we’d got ourselves trapped on a privateering ship for nothing! “So where can she be?” I asked, full of frustration.

Masou shrugged and spread his hands wide.

I took out the forged letter, which I still had in my doublet, and squinted at it. Somehow, I had read
the evidence wrongly. But if Captain Drake hadn’t taken Lady Sarah, who had? I sighed heavily. “I must tell Captain Drake what has been going on,” I admitted. “Maybe he can take us back to Tilbury and there will be news there of Lady Sarah.” I stuffed the letter away again, went to the side, and started sliding backwards over it, feeling for the ropes with my toes.

“What if he throws you in the brig?” Masou demanded anxiously.

“It can’t be helped. I’ve still got to try,” I puffed, letting myself down carefully. “You keep watch, so we don’t get into more trouble.”

I climbed the rest of the way, sliding a bit because I was in such a hurry. Mr. Newman was busy with a big sail at the front of the ship, so I dodged two sailors and ran to the back deck (sorry, aft), where I wasn’t supposed to go at all. Facing the door of the Great Cabin, feeling sick with fright, I knocked.

“Enter,” came the Captain’s voice.

I opened the door and peered inside apprehensively. “Captain, sir, please may I talk with you?”

Drake was bending over charts on the table, but in fact he wasn’t looking at them, he was staring at a letter. He glanced up and frowned at me.

I grabbed my hat off my head, came into the cabin, shut the door, and bowed low. “Sir, I really must talk with you,” I said.

“Who are you, boy?”

He hadn’t recognized me! I hesitated. Should I tell him who I really was? No, not yet. He would be surprised half to death—and he had to concentrate on what I had to say. “I’m Gregory, sir.”

“Ah yes, the stowaway who’s a painter,” Drake remembered. “You did well on the paintings, lad. I’ll have you do some more for me once we’re out of dangerous waters.”

“Thank you, sir.” I thought fast. “But, begging your pardon, I’m really a page. Lady Sarah Bartelmy’s page, sir …”

At the mention of Lady Sarah’s name, Drake’s blue eyes bored into me like needles.

“She’s missing, sir,” I continued. “And I thought at first that she might be on this ship, so I came to find her. …”

Drake frowned, and those fiery blue eyes chilled to ice. I felt terrified. Being frowned at by Drake was like being hit in the forehead.

“And then the ship set sail, and … um … here I am …,” I finished. “Only Lady Sarah sent this letter to the Queen, sir. …” I hurried forward,
deciding it wouldn’t hurt to be a bit courtly, as if I really were a page, and went down on one knee to give him the letter, as if he were an earl or a duke.

He snatched the letter from me in irritation, but as he read it, his ruddy face paled.

“It’s a forgery, sir, I know that much,” I told him. “My Lady Sarah pens her
y
s quite different.”

Drake’s face was a mixture of puzzlement and fury. I thought he might start shouting at me, but instead he handed me the letter he had been reading when I came in.

I read it quickly. This is what it said:

I squinted at the
y
s—and sure enough, they had no curly tails. “This is a forgery, too,” I declared.

“But the pearl bracelet I gave her was returned with the letter,” Drake said slowly. “And now she’s missing, you say?”

“Yes, sir,” I confirmed. “My friend Masou saw her being helped on board a boat at the Greenwich river steps.”

“Where is this Masou?” Drake demanded.

“He’s up the mast, keeping watch, sir,” I replied. “We came on board the night before last, sir, trying to find Lady Sarah—only we got locked in the sail locker by accident, and Mr. Newman thinks we’re stowaways so he sent us up the mast—”

“Stay there!” Drake commanded, already striding out of his cabin.

Just at that moment I heard a faint shout.

“Sail!” It was Masou’s voice. “Sail, ho!” he shouted again.

I rushed out on deck, too.

“Where away?” shouted the Boatswain.

“That way!” came Masou’s faint reply. He was much higher than the top—he was right up where we’d freed the banner, clinging like a monkey and pointing.

“Mr. Newman, make more sail!” Captain Drake bellowed.

I was puzzled—surely they didn’t have time to make sails, and anyway, there were plenty in the sail
locker. But then I saw that Drake meant the crew to open up more sails on the masts, to catch more wind and move the ship faster.

He jumped up to the rail and started to climb the ratlines, smoothly and surely as if he were just climbing some stairs. I scrambled up after him, after tucking both letters in my doublet.

Puffing and clawing over the side of the fighting top, I saw Drake’s boots, and then felt him lift me up by my jerkin. He didn’t seem to mind that I hadn’t stayed where I was told. He was staring into the distance, where there were two white notches on the horizon. Masou was sliding down from his high perch, looking scared and worried.

“Tell me exactly what you saw when you watched Lady Sarah get in the boat at Greenwich,” Drake ordered Masou. “Whom was she with?”

“You’re Captain Drake, sir?” Masou asked, sounding very surprised.

“Aye, son, that’s my name.”

“Well, she was with a taller man than you, sir, with light hair,” Masou told him.

I stared at Masou, incredulous. He hadn’t recognized the man helping Lady Sarah into the boat as being someone other than Captain Drake? Then I realized that Masou had never seen Drake before
now. It had been
I
who had told
him
that the man in the boat was Captain Drake. Because Mary and I had assumed it to be. …

“Straw-coloured hair? Green woollen suit?” demanded Drake, his face intent.

“Yes, sir.” Masou nodded. “No chin.”

“Hugh Derby,” Drake concluded grimly.

Horrified, I realized what had really happened:
Derby
had abducted Lady Sarah, and had tried to make it look like Captain Drake had!

The Captain leaned casually over the edge of the platform to bellow some orders at Mr. Newman, who was staring up at us. I wasn’t sure what the orders were about, because they were entirely in Sailorish—something about putting bonnets on the sails and then something about a direction. …

“And Mr. Newman …,” Drake added.

“Aye, sir?” Mr. Newman asked.

“Clear for battle stations,” Drake finished coolly.

Mr. Newman’s face lit up. “Aye aye, sir!”

The ship below us erupted like a stepped-on ants’ nest—people were running everywhere—but it was a very organized sort of chaos. Soon more sails were unwrinkling themselves, and the yards—they’re the wooden beams that support the sails—were being pulled into different positions by ropes—called lines.
The
Judith
began moving faster through the water, and changed direction towards the two distant ships that Masou had spotted.

“So Captain Derby took her,” murmured Drake thoughtfully. “And tried to lay the blame on me.”

Both Masou and I nodded.

Drake looked up. “I want the topsail set,” he said. “We’re here so we’ll do it. Up you go.”

My heart lurched. “I don’t know what to do, sir,” I told him. “I’m a page, not a sailor.”

“I know that. I’ll tell you what to do,” Drake assured me.

He followed us up the ratlines to where the top-yard crossed the mast. Then he told us to get our toes on the toe-rope and lean over the yard and shuffle along. Masou did it first. It’s a tree, I told myself; it’s a tree branch and there are cherries in an awkward place. I love cherries. So I gulped again, leaned over the yard, felt for the rope, and sort of slid along on my stomach. Everything whirled for a moment.

“Don’t forget to breathe, lad,” I heard Drake’s voice say—and it sounded as though he were sauntering in a garden. He was next to the mast, busy with ropes. “Now you’ll see a reef knot in front of
you. Untie it, loosen the rope, and let the sail drop.”