ROMANTIC VENTURE

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Sir Francis Drake paced the throne room floor. Having come to Richmond with bad news, he did not know how to acquaint his queen with it. Fortunately, Lady Violet, Dowager Countess of Audley, was in attendance. That good woman seemed to have a calming effect on Her Majesty. Drake ran his fingers through his head of thick curls and turned finally to face the two women.

"I am hesitant to tell you that the picture is more than bleak, Your Majesty." Drake cleared his throat. Forever the gallant, he balked at burdening women with unhappy news. " 'Twill grieve Your Majesty and Lady Violet to hear these unholy tidings, I fear."

Elizabeth eyed her friend, and they allowed each other a small smile. "Violet and I have known much grief, Francis. Now, if you intend on grieving us further, please do it apace. Unpleasant news is so much easier borne quickly."

"I would not hurt Your Majesty for the world," said the nobleman.

"Speak," said the queen sharply.

"Your men are at terrible odds with their leaders at present," Drake blurted. He hurried on. "The men do not understand the waiting, methinks. They are men of action and are unmanned at idleness. No happier day dawns than the one on which we inform them of a raid or some exercise against the enemy. They guard your shores with zeal, Your Majesty, but their zeal wanes with inactivity If my calculations are correct, and I believe them to be, the Spanish will not attack for some weeks, and I fear a massive exodus of worthy soldiers in that time. In truth, I do not call them up on it. I cannot fight that which is unnamed. I only feel the stirrings. I keep them busy on their sleek but idle galleons, and do what I can to encourage their continued enthusiasm, but the fact that they are beginning to feel a great lassitude must be faced. The disgrace of their abandonment of our cause, should it come, will not lie in any lack of patriotism but in the men's desire to act rather than to react."

Elizabeth regarded Drake through hooded eyes. "Can we not speed the Spanish in their exertions?"

Drake moved closer. "I have pillaged and plundered every village from here to Cadiz, as you know, and exploited every trick I can imagine to spur their action against us. 'Tis, in truth, a scandal that they have waited this long. What can they be thinking, I ask myself. What will force them to action? I would not have suffered the insults they have endured; I would have struck at the first affront or at least the second or the third. What must I do to rouse them from their dalliance at Calais. Can their reinforcements have been delayed this long?" Sir Francis hung his head and placed his hands upon his hips. "I am lost," he said resignedly.

"Those Spanish must be every bit as frustrated as yourself, my dear Drake," said the queen evenly. "'Tis the disgrace of his reign that Philip fumfers in this way. In truth, I knew before you spoke what you would say to me. I have had similar dispatches from Frobisher and Lords Gilbert and Grenville. They tell me what they have also told you, I reason.

"We cannot allow this scandalous state of affairs to force our hand, however. You know, as do we all, that 'twould be suicide for us to act the aggressor. This is, in truth, what Philip has been praying for. Our defeat would raise him to lofty heights as a monarch, and he is willing to sacrifice his poor scurvy-ridden men to attain his goal." She paused and looked away into a middle distance. Her disdain of Philip's methods was clear. "Give me leave to ponder this, Francis," she said softly. "Before you leave on the morrow, I shall have an answer for you."

On Drake's leaving, a heavy silence fell between Lady Violet and her friend. Elizabeth's jeweled hand hung heavily over the arm of her great throne. She sighed audibly.

"You know what you must do," said the countess.

"Has the answer escaped me, Violet?" said the queen.

"It has not, Elizabeth."

"I must go to them?"

"Indeed you must," stated Lady Violet. "And I shall go with you."

Elizabeth regarded her friend tiredly. "Bless you, dearest Violet," she said.

"I shall summon your ladies for you," said Lady Violet, moving to the doors. "You have made the right decision, you know," she added over her shoulder.

Elizabeth rose and moved to her friend. Embracing her fondly she said, "I have, have I not?" The two women smiled softly into each other's eyes as they parted briefly to prepare for their trip to the coast.

The day dawned quickly, the sun a yellow-gold ball in the white sky, as Elizabeth's train prepared to move. The queen sat proudly astride her imposing bay and smiled back at her entourage. Lady Violet sat in the first coach and beamed up at Elizabeth as she passed in review of her train. At least part of her elation, Violet knew, was based on the fact that she would be seeing her beloved Leicester again. That man, though by now very ill, was still the favorite of his queen. He waited, as did the others, for her inspiration.

By the time they reached Tilbury, rain was pouring from the sky. Elizabeth rode to a high tor overlooking the sea and sat her horse in grand dismissal of the downpour. All who watched the great monarch that day agreed that this was her finest hour.

"I am come amongst you," she said in a clear, proud voice, "at this time, not for my recreation and disport, but being resolved, in the midst and heat of the battle, to live or die. Amongst you all, and to lay down for my God, for my kingdom, and for my people, my honor and my blood, even in the dust. I know I have the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a King-and of a King of England, too!" A great cheer rose at the end of her speech. She moved among the men, and regarding them keenly, she measured the effect of her words.

Later in her tent with Lady Violet and Robert Dudley, Elizabeth smilingly removed her gloves and, in the dim lamp-lit enclosure, asked her two most trusted friends what their reactions were to her speech. Both approved with hearty congratulations the text and the spirit with which it had been delivered. The men were clearly a force to be reckoned with once again. If the Spanish had thought to weaken the English forces with delay, their tactic had been a mistaken effort.

Both women expressed their fear for Dudley's health in the damp and cruel sea air, but he would not hear of leaving with them on their return journey to Richmond Palace.

"The Spanish will attack any day now, and I intend to meet them," he stated comfortably.

When Elizabeth and Violet were snugly ensconced in their coach for the journey home, Elizabeth finally spoke of the fact that she would not see her Robin again.

"The Spanish will attack soon, Violet; Robin is correct. And that pride-filled oaf will be there to meet them, as he says. But ... 'twill be his last battle." Her amber eyes shone in the pale sunlight that leaked in to the carriage. "I shall miss him, the old bastard."

Dodman Point was awash in red sunlight of evening. Against the flaring ball the black castles of the first Spanish galleons appeared. All that could be heard in the anticipatory silence was the splash of water against the hulls of the gargantuan vessels. The silhouettes loomed dark against the setting sun and slowly vanished in the impending darkness. Throughout the night, the sidling ships waited.

As the castles reappeared in the predawn gloom of the summer morning, the men went into action. Orders were shouted and guns groaned into position. The first shot echoed through the paling darkness. Through the day, the noise of guns and the inhuman cries of the wounded men combined with the raw abrasive grind of the clashing hulls of the huge vessels.

Dominic Warbrooke rode the deck of the Raven. He felt his ship shudder sickeningly as a fiery orb flew through the air and landed amidship. Men scurried and lost their footing as they fought the flames that threatened to engulf their floating world. Dominic beat at the blazing timbers, his face aglow in the flamelight. Lambent tatters of wood and cloth flew up into the smoke blackened sky only to plunge into the seething waters and boil rampantly against the mighty hulls of the embattled galleons. Around him the hulking Spanish ships cracked and splintered, then crashed violently into the swollen abyss of the fiery water only to shudder in violent thrusting flames and sink, scaring and hissing, into the sea.

Time and place lost all reality for the men. They acted purely on instinct, positioning heavy guns and loading and reloading the blackened cylinders. The long day of battle saw isolated volleys of gunfire replaced by a rampaging roar of guns. There was only the volcanic eruptions of the pulverized ships. There was only the raging, flashing, thunderous blaze of the cannon. There was only the sights and sounds and smells of destruction and death.

That night in the dark the huge warship, the Thomas, groaned stealthily into place beside the raven. Its hulking size overshadowed the sleeker ship in the silvered moonlit night. A plank was slid between the two vessels. It had been decided that Dominic, Geoffrey, and Rodrigo would man the Thomas while Terrence stayed to captain the Raven. The three dark shapes moved across the expanse of wood that loomed over the sinuous murk of the swelling, battle-scarred water. The plank between the two ships was then removed, and it slithered ominously into the water. In silence the three men began their work.

Dominic poured pitch while Geoffrey and Rodrigo filled the blackened guns with double shot. The sails were raised and set The Thomas, with Dominic at the helm, was maneuvered into place in tight formation with the other huge vessels, eight in all, that would form the core of the English defense.

Just before midnight, the pitch was ignited. The full-masted ships began their assault. The Spanish saw the huge, blazing balls of fire bearing down on them and attempted to intercept the onslaught with a protective screen of pinnaces and ships' boats. The smaller boats had been equipped with grapnels, and their crews had been instructed to engage the hulking hell-burners and tow them into the shores where they would explode harmlessly. Their efforts, in the face of the brazen English assault, were hopelessly undermined. The English warships, including the Raven, had formed close behind the fire ships and kept the pinnaces within shot.

Dominic and Geoffrey and Rodrigo prepared to dive from the stern of the flaming ship. They placed their hands together in a clasp of camaraderie and patted each other's backs in the hope that they all would be safely aboard the Raven within the next few moments. In the blazing heat, their smoke-charred faces shone with the sweat of their labors. Separating finally and with a last, silent indication of friendship, the three dove over the tailpiece of the flaming warship into the raging surf of the black waters far below.