The Princess of Denmark (9 page)

Gill looked away in disgust. ‘I deserve better than this!’

‘Then swim back to England,’ advised Elias.

‘I demand a cabin of my own.’

‘Then you’ll have to find another ship,’ said Nicholas, ‘for the
Cormorant
cannot satisfy you. Hold fast, Barnaby – and the rest of you. The squall will soon blow over.’

‘It sounds as if it’s getting worse, Nick,’ said Elias.

‘Oh, no. Trust me. The rain is starting to ease off.’

As if to contradict his prediction, the ship veered over sharply to starboard and sent a couple of them tumbling across the floor in a heap. One of the victims, Edmund Hoode, rubbed his bruised elbow.

‘Will we ever get out of this alive, Nick?’ he asked.

‘Yes, Edmund. It’s only a question of time.’

Nobody believed him. They resented the fact that Nicholas was completely untroubled by the squall or by the cramped conditions in which they sailed. He was patently at ease. Though it was years since he had been on a voyage, he felt at home aboard a ship. The only other person not struck down by seasickness was James Ingram.

‘Will this storm have blown us off course, Nick?’ he said.

‘I fear so, James.’

‘Are we likely to meet more bad weather?’

‘Very likely,’ said Nicholas. ‘The North Sea can be like a cauldron at this time of year. It’s all a matter of luck.’

‘Well,
we’ve
had none!’ complained Gill.

‘I disagree. We’ve been let off lightly.’

‘Are you mad?’

‘This is a nightmare,’ said Hoode.

‘But it’s almost over,’ Nicholas told him. ‘Listen, Edmund.’

‘To what?’

‘Just listen.’

They all pricked up their ears and soon realised something. The rain had stopped. The wind was less punitive, too, and the ship no longer rocked quite so wildly. She was still rearing and diving through the waves but with less discomfort for the passengers. The worst was definitely over. Within a quarter of an hour, there had been a marked improvement in the stability of the
Cormorant
. Some of them actually began to relax. Nicholas got to his feet and moved to the stairs.

‘I’ll see what’s happening up there,’ he said.

‘Be careful,’ warned Elias.

‘Yes,’ said Hoode. ‘We don’t want to lose you, Nick.’

Lifting the hatch, Nicholas let in a blast of cold air. He went swiftly up on deck and lowered the hatch again. The first thing he noticed was how much lighter the sky was. Dark clouds had given way to patches of blue. Since the deck was so slippery, he moved slowly to the bulwark, taking a firm grip on the timber rim. Two men were at the wheel and
Nicholas could see that they were no longer struggling to steer the vessel. Working his way towards the quarterdeck, he went up the steps and approached the captain, a solid man in his forties, wearing a cape and hat that were both glistening from the downpour.

‘Stay below, sir,’ he cautioned. ‘It’s safer there.’

‘I’m a seasoned mariner,’ said Nicholas cheerily. ‘I’ve been through many squalls. If you ever have need of me, captain, look upon me as another member of the crew.’

‘I’ll remember that, my friend.’

‘We came through it well.’

‘The
Cormorant
is a fine vessel. She’ll survive almost anything. The Dutch have good shipwrights.’

The captain broke off to bark some orders to the crew and Nicholas went to the stern of the ship. Somewhere below him, Anne was sharing a cabin with Lord Westfield and the others. He hoped that she had not been too jangled by the storm. There was no sign of land in any direction but his sharp eyes did descry a sail in the middle distance. Another vessel had ridden out the storm and was slowly gaining on them. Nicholas watched it for a long time until he was certain. They were being followed.

He drew the captain’s attention to the other ship. Putting his telescope to his eye, the captain studied the vessel for a several minutes before coming to a grim conclusion.

‘Pirates,’ he said.

After failing at the first attempt, the two men were eager to make amends by satisfying the demands of their paymaster. A personal interest was involved. They still bore the marks of the beating they had received at the hands of Owen Elias and they wanted immediate revenge. Offered a handsome reward for their murderous work, they were determined not to falter again. When they were given their orders, however, they blenched.

‘They’ve sailed to
Denmark
?’ cried Josias Greet, the elder of the men. ‘How ever can we reach him there?’

‘By going after him,’ said Isaac Dunmow.

‘Across the sea?’

‘I know of no other means of travel.’

‘Why not wait until they return to England, sir?’

‘Because that might be several weeks away and I’ll not tarry that long. My anger needs to be appeased now.’ He looked from one to the other. ‘I can see that you are not the
men for me,’ he said curtly. ‘I’ll find someone with more mettle. Good day to you.’

‘Wait,’ said Greet quickly. ‘Let us think about this.’

‘Then do so quickly.’

They were in the taproom of the inn where Dunmow was staying. While the merchant sipped a cup of wine, the two men had tankards of ale on the table in front of them. They exchanged a glance. Greet was clearly perturbed but Ben Ryden, his confederate, was not so easily put off an assignment that could bring in a large amount of money. Shorter and stockier than his companion, Ryden had a flat face spreading out from a snub nose, with thick, black hair and beard. Because he had been a sailor in his younger days, the sea held no fears for him. He had other worries.

‘Denmark is a country of islands,’ he said. ‘I’ve been there. How would we know where to find Westfield’s Men?’

‘They’ll go first to Elsinore,’ explained Dunmow, ‘and are likely to stay a week or more as guests at the castle. The company is there to celebrate the wedding of their patron.’ He drained his cup in one gulp. ‘I want them to attend the funeral of Owen Elias as well.’

‘How will we be paid?’ asked Greet.

‘You’ll have some of the money now but most of it when the deed is done. That will encourage you to dispatch him quickly. It will also prevent you,’ he added pointedly, ‘from simply taking your payment and vanishing before you have earned it. I’ll not allow that.’

‘What about the cost of travel, sir?’

‘I’ll arrange passports for both of you,’ said Dunmow, ‘and put money in your purses to pay any charges you may
incur along the way. You have a score to settle with this man. Remember that.’

‘We do,’ murmured Greet, rubbing his sore chin.

‘We’ll burn him to a cinder,’ said Ryden with a smirk. ‘My only worry is that we may never catch up with him. By the time we reach Elsinore, he and the others may have left.’

Dunmow shook his head. ‘I doubt that. They sailed on the
Cormorant
and she is due to call in at Flushing and Amsterdam on the way. That will delay them. In a few days, the
Speedwell
sets out for Elsinore, her first port of call. You’ll be on board. It may well be that you overtake them and reach the town first.’

‘If they stay at the castle, they’ll be out of reach.’

‘You bide your time.’ His face darkened. ‘I loathe plays myself,’ he said with scorn, ‘and I’ve even more cause now to loathe the actors who put them on. But the theatre is ever popular with many people. Westfield’s Men are certain to be invited to perform in the town. Make sure that you are there when they do so. All that you have to do is to wait, watch and choose your moment.’

‘We’ll know where to find them afterwards,’ said Ryden.

‘And where’s that, Ben?’ asked Greet.

‘The nearest inn. The breweries of Denmark are famous for the strength of their beer. I’ve tasted it, Josias.’

‘Then I’ll test its power as well.’

‘Make sure you do not drink any of it before you strike,’ warned Dunmow. ‘Keep your heads clear. Bring me back certain word of his death. Only then can my son be truly laid to rest.’

‘Owen Elias is a good actor,’ said Ryden grudgingly. ‘We’ve seen the Welshman on stage at the Queen’s Head more than once. When they lose him, Westfield’s Men will suffer badly.’

‘That’s only the start of their suffering.’

‘How so, Master Dunmow?’

‘There’s more to come. Whatever it takes, I mean to bring the whole company down for what they did to my son.’ Dunmow gritted his teeth. ‘They do not know what misery lies in store for them.’

The main deck of the
Cormorant
was a scene of frantic activity. The crew had clapped on full sail and the vessel was surging on through the North Sea with an urgency she had never possessed before. Her canvas flapped noisily and the eerie creaking of her timbers was louder than ever. Being at the mercy of a storm was a regular occurrence and the sailors had learnt to take it in their stride. Finding themselves pursued by pirates, however, induced a real fear. If captured, they would not merely sacrifice their ship and her cargo. Their lives would be at risk as well.

Nicholas Bracewell remained on the quarterdeck and watched the chasing vessel getting inexorably closer. Up in the crow’s nest, the lookout was trying to pick out as much detail from the other ship as he could. When he had counted her guns, he called the number down.

‘Twenty or more, captain!’

Even though the pirates had less cannon aboard, Nicholas was disturbed. Evidently, their vessel was smaller than the
Cormorant
but she was also faster and easier to
manoeuvre. Since they made their living by preying on other ships, the pirates would be expert gunners. Nicholas did not think that his own crew would be so experienced and well trained. If the
Cormoran
t were boarded, the pirates were bound to have the advantage in hand-to-hand fighting.

The captain stood beside him and used his telescope again.

‘I think she’s Spanish,’ he decided.

Nicholas was positive. ‘She is, captain.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because she’s like other Spanish galleons, built high so that she can grapple with more effect. I’ve seen dozens like her and had the pleasure of helping to sink one or two of them.’

‘When was that?’

‘When I sailed on the
Golden Hind
,’ said Nicholas, seeing a look of admiration in the captain’s eyes. ‘If it comes to a fight, I know how to fire a cannon so I’m at your disposal. I’ve counted only thirty-four in your crew. That’s well short of the number you’d need to sail the
Cormorant
and man all the guns.’

‘We are glad to have you aboard, sir.’

The book holder flashed a smile. ‘I’m not sure that I’m glad to be here at this very moment.’

‘Your name, sir?’

‘Nicholas Bracewell.’

‘I am Captain Skrine,’ said the other. ‘I sailed on the
Revenge
with Sir John Hawkins so I am well used to action. My hope is that we can outrun them but our heavy cargo is slowing us down. If she attacks us, we’ll need every man we
can get. Is there anyone else who might help?’

‘None who’ve been sailors, captain, but I can think of three at least who could man a cannon if they were taught how. And most of them can handle a weapon if we are boarded.’

‘Instruct your three friends now, Master Bracewell,’ said the captain, ‘but do not tell the others of our danger. We may yet escape. There’s no point in spreading alarm too early.’

‘Time is against you.’

‘In what way?’

‘If she maintains her speed,’ said Nicholas, ‘she’ll overhaul us before long. Then everyone aboard will know that we have a fight on our hands. I think it best to warn them now.’

‘You heard my orders,’ asserted Skrine.

‘I’ll obey them to the letter.’

‘You’re on the
Cormorant
now – she’s mine to command.’

Nicholas took no offence at the crackle of authority in his voice. Captain Skrine was confident and decisive. Those qualities would be needed in the engagement that lay ahead. Excusing himself, Nicholas went below to seek out some of the actors.

When the storm abated, Lawrence Firethorn thanked their patron for his hospitality and left the cabin to join the others. Anne Hendrik felt that it was her turn to go as well.

‘I’m very grateful to you, my lord,’ she said, about to rise, ‘but I think that you’re entitled to have the cabin to yourself now.’

‘Stay as long as you wish, dear lady,’ Lord Westfield told her, gesturing for her to remain. ‘You are delightful company and it’s far more comfortable in here than anywhere else.’

‘I’ll not deny that.’

‘Though not without its hazards,’ noted Rolfe Harling wryly.

During the inclement weather, he had fared badly. The others had been queasy but Harling came off worst of all and he had been obliged to rush out of the cabin at one point. Firethorn was amused by his sudden departure. It somehow relieved the discomfort he was feeling himself. When he returned to the cabin, Harling had been deeply embarrassed. He was still uneasy.

‘I’ve sailed across the North Sea a number of times,’ he said, ‘but I can never get used to its vagaries. I’m a land creature.’

‘So am I,’ confessed Anne.

‘That makes three of us,’ said Lord Westfield.

‘Crossing the Thames by boat is the only voyage that I enjoy.’

‘I hope that you stop your ears against the blasphemy of the watermen. It’s not fit for a lady to hear. I sometimes think that sailors and boatmen were put on this earth to mangle the English language. Unlike Rolfe here,’ he continued, indicating Harling with a gloved hand, ‘who can talk politely in several foreign tongues.’

‘I’ve devoted my life to their study,’ said Harling.

‘Do you speak Dutch?’ asked Anne.

‘Very well.’

‘It took me some time to master it.’

‘I once spent three months in the Low Countries. By the end of that time, I was fluent.’

‘You’ll have to teach me a few words in Danish,’ said Lord Westfield. ‘I would like to show consideration to my bride.’

‘You do that by marrying her, my lord,’ observed Anne.

He beamed. ‘Yes, I suppose that I do. But I would still like to greet her in her own language and to have a telling phrase or two at my command. Will you be my tutor, Rolfe?’

Harling nodded, clearly still troubled by seasickness. ‘I begin to wish that I had found your new wife in England, my lord,’ he said. ‘Then I’d have been spared this voyage.’

‘I endure it willingly as proof of my love to Sigbrit.’

‘Is the lady ready to leave Denmark?’ said Anne.

‘She will go anywhere with her husband.’

‘I felt the same when I was married.’

‘Yet you stayed in England.’

‘Jacob – my husband – set up his business there.’

‘From the way you talked about him earlier, it sounds to have been a happy marriage.’

‘Very happy, my lord.’

‘That reassures me,’ said Lord Westfield. ‘I know that our kings have married foreign brides – Henry VIII did so more than once – but only for political reasons. I am prompted by the heart.’

‘And so is your bride,’ said Harling.

‘My princess of Denmark.’

‘You’ll not be disappointed, my lord. In every way, Sigbrit Olsen will be a good wife.’ He noticed the sudden concern in Anne’s eyes. ‘Is something amiss?’

‘I hope not,’ she said.

The two men were sitting with their backs to the window. Occupying a chair opposite, Anne could look over their shoulders and see the water being churned into a bubbling whiteness in the wake of the vessel. She could also see the ship that was following them. Lord Westfield and Harling glanced over their shoulders.

Anne was fretful. ‘Are we being chased?’

‘That’s no English ship,’ said Harling. ‘I dare swear that.’

‘She’s probably another merchant vessel,’ said Lord Westfield airily, ‘trying to overtake us. There’s no call for anxiety.’

‘I’m not so sure, my lord.’

Anne shared his apprehension. She sensed trouble.

Nicholas Bracewell worked quickly. Having taken the three men up on deck, he told them about the likelihood of an attack then instructed them in how to load and fire a cannon. Lawrence Firethorn, James Ingram and Frank Quilter had been selected because they were the most able-bodied members of the company. Owen Elias would also have been a natural choice but he was handicapped by his injuries. Shocked at the news that they were being pursued, the actors were keen to do anything within their power to repel an attack.

‘What of the others, Nick?’ said Ingram.

‘They’ll all be needed,’ replied Nicholas, ‘even the apprentices. If they hit us with a broadside, there are bound to be fires. The lads can help to throw buckets of water over it.’

He ran quickly through the names of the company, allotting tasks to them in the event of combat. If they were boarded, every one of them – including their patron – would need to defend himself with a weapon. Nor would Anne Hendrik be content to stay hidden below deck while the battle raged above her. Nicholas knew that she would insist on being involved. Anne was not squeamish; she would readily tend the wounded. In a crisis, nobody could be excused.

The other ship was getting closer all the time, its sails billowing, its prow carving an undulating path through the waves. Firethorn waved a fist at it and emitted a roar of defiance.

‘Spanish curs!’ he yelled. ‘We defeated your Armada and we’ll send you to the bottom of the sea to join them!’

‘Brave words,’ said Nicholas, ‘but you speak too hastily. There may be no Spaniards at all aboard.’

‘You told us that it was a Spanish galleon.’

‘No question of it. However, that proves little. The
Cormorant
is a Dutch ship yet Anne is the only person here with links to the Low Countries. No,’ he continued, ‘piracy attracts men of all nations and they’ll commandeer the finest ship they can find. The crew could be French, Portuguese, Dutch – even English.’

‘English!’ shouted Firethorn. ‘They would kill their own kind?’

‘They are not interested in our country of origin. All that they see is a rich prize, there for the taking. It’s only a question of time before they try to take it.’