Mark Chadbourn - The Silver Skull

"Don Alanzo did not tell me his plans," Grace continued, "but he was unguarded in some of his comments. He does not see me as a threat, and he knows there is nothing I can do until the Spanish plot bears fruition. There is some hidden weapon-"

"The Silver Skull?"

"No, another. Something that will be used when the Spanish fleet encounters our English ships. Don Alanzo appeared troubled when he realised he had mentioned it. It seemed to me that this was a secret even the Spanish officers did not know ... something of which only Don Alanzo and a few others were aware."

"Spies are privy to many secrets denied the common man. That is our benefit and our burden," Will replied. "He said no more? What it was? Where it is held?"

She shook her head.

"Any more regarding the Spanish invasion plans?"

"No." After a brief pause, she added, "I asked him about jenny."

Will flinched. "Why would you ask Don Alanzo about her?"

"I know your work is in some way connected to jenny's disappearance, or so you think. If she was taken by Spanish spies, you would not tell me, for fear I would rush to Walsingham, or the queen herself, and demand we do all we can do to gain her return, even if it be war."

"And what did Don Alanzo say?" he asked.

"He sat down, here, and listened carefully to all my pleadings. He knew something, or he would not have listened."

"He knows nothing. Don Alanzo understands the world in which we operate, that is all."

"He told me he would make enquiries as to her well-being." Tears stung her eyes, and in them was a hint of accusation that Will had not done enough.

The clattering outside ended and silence descended on the ship. "I must go. We shall talk of this later," he said.

"And when will that be?" she asked tartly. "I would plan my swooning."

"Soon."

"I heard the order to put back to sea. Do you wait until we make land, which means England will have fallen, and our lives will amount to nothing? Or do we go down at sea under the weight of English cannon?"

"Trust me. I will do everything in my power to help you."

Relenting, she gave an exasperated nod. He squeezed her hand and an uneasy moment passed between them, before he stepped past the sailcloth and hurried back through the living quarters.

Back on deck, one of his fellows, a gruff Spaniard, angrily accused him of slacking. A fight brewed until the guards stepped in and urged the Spanish seaman over the side to the rowboat.

As Will waited to follow, a shadow loomed over him. It was Hawksworth; he'd been out of sight somewhere on deck, and must have arrived after Will.

How much did he see? Will wondered.

His answer came when Hawksworth leaned in and whispered, "I know who you are," before sweeping away across the deck.

CHAPTER 47

itting in tense silence on the rowboat back from the Santiago, Will watched the quayside for guards ready to arrest him, but every man was occupied with the frantic reprovisioning of the fleet. Why hadn't Hawksworth brought men to The Ship of Women? Why had he risked whispering to Will in the certain knowledge that Will could have slit his throat and attempted to make good his escape there and then?

Once the boat was tied up, Will uneasily joined the throng hauling barrels out of the warehouses while he tried to decide on a course of action. It was easy to lose himself in the swirl of noisy activity. New barrels were still being constructed amid a clatter of hammers, before they were lowered with grunts and curses into every available rowboat.

No one came for him. It made no sense, unless Hawksworth had a grander scheme in mind. But what could that be?

For the rest of the day, Will scanned his surroundings, the groups of stone-faced infantry, even the dark interiors of taverns and stores, but there was not even a furtive glance from the Spanish officers, no hint that anyone was the wiser about his true identity.

He was torn, but there was too much at stake to flee. Finally he decided to continue as planned and hope he could deny any allegation Hawksworth made. Once back on the Rosario, he acted as normally as possible, exchanging lewd banter with Barrett and Stanbury as he went about his allotted tasks. Occasionally, he caught glimpses of Hawksworth, but the traitor gave no sign that anything had passed between them. That puzzled Will even more.

Twilight brought a cooling breeze that eased the heat of the day. Will sat with the crew on the deck while the officers discussed Medina Sidonia's orders at the forecastle. After so long in Corunna, there was an eagerness to get back to sea although it was tempered by apprehension at what might lie ahead.

The gun to make ready sounded at midnight. Will dozed fitfully, in case Hawksworth made his move during the night, and at dawn every crew member was up with the crack of the gun ordering them to sea. It was another very hot day, and it took until midafternoon for the fleet to assemble, and by the following dawn they were finally out of sight of Spain.

Will glimpsed Hawksworth regularly, talking to the officers or overseeing some mundane task, but he continued to give no sign that anything had passed between them. With each hour, the tense atmosphere magnified until Will wanted something to happen to end the unbearable waiting, though he knew he had to board the grey-sailed ship before his identity came to light.

He had noticed that the Unseelie Court ship regularly paused alongside the Rosario, as well as the flagship and some of the other important ships, for around fifteen minutes each night. Sailing with unnatural speed, it appeared to mark out a proscribed route among the fleet, as though following a ritual path.

Fifteen minutes to board the ship, find the Silver Skull, and escape was little time, but he made his preparations regardless. In the hold among the carpenters' tools, he had located the grapnels used by boarding parties and had secreted one on deck.

That night, while the crew members slept on their filthy blankets, he crept up into the salty night air, ready to mount vigil for the grey-sailed ship pulling aside. They were sailing under a bank of low cloud, drizzle coming in sheets. The Rosario bucked across a choppy sea, and with visibility poor the night crew were occupied. Across the water, Will occasionally glimpsed the lamps of the other ships in the fleet.

Huddled against the elements, he waited. Finally, he caught sight of the silhouette of a lightless galleon ploughing across the waves on a slanting path in the channel between ships. Its speed told him it was the grey-sailed vessel.

As he went for the grapnel, he caught sight of someone emerging from below deck. Ducking down at the rail, Will watched, stock-still, as the figure searched slowly while trying to keep out of view. At the foot of the steps to the poop deck, the swinging lantern revealed Hawksworth's profile, sword drawn, but kept low at his side.

"Prowd?" he growled.

Cursing under his breath, Will peered over the rail to where the greysailed ship had now moved alongside, keeping an exact pace with the Rosario. Although dark, Will could see there was no movement on deck, no one on the poop deck or forecastle, no lookout, no sound of orders being barked. To the casual eye, it could have been abandoned and drifting with the current if not for the purposeful way it had been steered alongside. An illusion, Will decided, like the Fairy House in Edinburgh, which always appeared empty from the street.

The ship was close enough to reach with the grapnel, but Will couldn't risk trying to move between ships with Hawksworth prowling around not far away. Nor could he risk a sword fight on deck, which would quickly draw attention and awkward questions.