Edward Marston - The Princess of Denmark

‘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.’

‘We’ll be ready for the rogues!’

‘Yes,’ said Quilter, slapping the cannon. ‘Let them come on. We three will prove doughty gunners. We’ll blow the black-hearted devils to smithereens.’

‘Keeping them at bay is all that we need to do,’ said Nicholas. ‘If the action is too hot for them, they’ll withdraw. We just have to pray that they do not get too close.’

‘Why, Nick?’

‘Because they will rely on light guns and superior manpower. Their aim is to grapple and board.’

‘I’ll kill the knaves with my bare hands,’ said Firethorn.

‘They’ll have swords and daggers, Lawrence — guns, too, in some cases. I’ll make sure that we all have weapons. Without them, Westfield’s Men will become extinct.’

Captain Skrine had done all he could to shake off the pursuit but his efforts were in vain. Though the Cormorant changed course repeatedly and zigzagged through the open sea, it could neither elude nor outrun the pirate vessel. With a series of sharp commands, he deployed his crew at the gun ports on both decks and on both sides of the ship. The helmsmen were ordered to bring the Cormorant around in a wide arc. The Spanish galleon was now less than two hundred yards behind them. Beckoned by the captain, Nicholas climbed swiftly up to the quarterdeck.

‘Alert the others, Master Bracewell,’ ordered the captain.

‘Aye, aye, sir.’

‘We’ll need every man jack of them.’

‘You shall have them.’

Nicholas went off at speed. Lord Westfield was the patron and Lawrence Firethorn the actor-manager of the troupe, but it was the book holder who was in charge now. Given his greater naval experience, nobody would dare to challenge his authority. He went first below deck to warn his colleagues that the ship was in danger of attack and that they would all be required to defend it. Nicholas gave them no opportunity to fly into a panic. Pointing to each in turn, he assigned specific tasks to them before sending them up on deck. Necessity was a ready cure for seasickness. Even those most severely afflicted somehow managed to rally. To his credit, Barnaby Gill was the first to mount the steps, shedding his habitual selfishness and making common cause with the others.

Weapons were essential. Taking both George Dart and the limping Owen Elias with him, Nicholas went to the storeroom that had been unlocked by the master-at-arms. They grabbed swords, pikes and daggers to give to the others. While his friends rushed up on deck, Nicholas knocked on the door of Lord Westfield’s cabin before opening it. When they saw the weapons that he was carrying, all three occupants leapt to their feet at once.

‘What’s happened, Nick?’ asked Anne.

‘We have pirates on our tail.’

‘Pirates!’ cried Lord Westfield with disgust. ‘How dare they! I’ll not be kept from my bride by anybody . Give me a sword, Nicholas,’ he said, taking one from him. ‘I’m yours to command.’

‘Here’s a weapon for you as well, Master Harling,’ said Nicholas, handing him a cutlass ‘Do you know how to use it, sir?’

‘No,’ confessed the other, quailing.

‘You’ll soon learn.’

‘What about me?’ said Anne.

‘If they engage us, there’ll be serious injuries.’

‘I’ll look to the wounded. I’m not afraid of the sight of blood.’ She glanced through the window at the other ship. ‘I had a feeling that they were getting very close.’

‘Too close,’ said Nicholas. ‘Let’s see if we can scare them away.’

He led the way up the stairs to the main deck. Everyone was at his station. After telling the newcomers where to stand, and what to do if the ship was fired upon, Nicholas went off to join Captain Skrine on the quarterdeck. From his elevated position, he had an excellent view of the pirate ship. Sitting high in the water, its gun ports were open and its cannon at the ready. When the vessel got within a hundred yards of them, Nicholas turned to the captain.