tone of admiration.
'And the Roebuck,' said the Turk. 'But what ships are these?'
The Turk, I believe, could not read. Hunger said, 'The Dorothy and the Elizabeth.'
But there was little time to admire the sight. Having docked, there was loading to be done. There were scores of soldiers. I was surprised to see that many of them carried pikes like my own. And there was such a supply of provisions as I had never seen: chests, casks, crates, sacks, hogsheads and creels full of dried fish and prunes. And enough barrels of cider, wine and beer to keep the whole assembly drunk for months.
There was a harsh shout on the dockside: 'Make way!' A large group of men in naval uniform, carrying short cudgels, were bundling several dozen men of all ages, haggard and grey-faced, between them. Several of these men seemed drunk.
'Who are they?' I asked the Turk. We were rolling barrels on to a net for the crane men to lift.
'Prisoners, by the looks of them,' said the Turk. 'And tavern scum.' He seemed to have forgotten that he was in a tavern when I first saw him.
'Press-ganged,' Hunger informed me. 'Men are afraid to serve. And little wonder, after Sir Humphrey's expedition.'
Another sailor, whose name I later learned was the Hog, stopped to stretch and wipe his brow. He said, 'They say that, before the disaster, there was strange voices heard at the helm of the ship and strange sea-creatures were caught with their harpoon. And before the storm which sank them, Mr Cox saw white cliffs which vanished as they approached.'
'Nonsense,' Mr Chandler told me. 'It's the astrologers who keep men from this voyage. The planetary conjunctions are not good. Jupiter and Saturn came together in eighty-three, starting the age of the Fiery Trigon. We are entering a period of great catastrophe. Thomas Porter predicts much violence against travellers, and Euan Lloyd tells us there will be tempests, fogs, mists, storms and shipwrecks.'
'Tales fit only for women,' Hunger informed me. 'It is true that many sailors are prone to such nonsense. But no, Scotch, what is truly keeping men from this voyage is something of this world, not the spirit one or the celestial one. It is the fear of auto-da-fe.'
That phrase again, always spoken with fear: auto-da-fe. Not even the lure of Caribbean gold, it seemed, was able to overcome that fear.
It took three days of backbreaking work to stuff the hold of the Tiger. Ten massive cannon were dragged on board in pieces and assembled. I had the impression that these great guns were reassuring to the Turk and his friends. After that, the mariners and soldiers climbed aboard, and the ship suddenly became cramped, with hardly space to move. And then, at last, there came the gentlemen. It was late afternoon when the Turk beckoned me urgently towards the side of the ship. We leaned over the rail and looked down on a small group of men. 'That is Walter Raleigh,' he said with something like awe. 'He is the Queen's favourite, newly knighted. And the man next to him is Thomas Harriot.'
'Christ! Philip Amadas,' said Hunger, dismay in his voice as a tiny man emerged from a carriage.
'And who are these?' I asked. For two men of very strange appearance had emerged from a second carriage, accompanied by more gentlemen.
'All London knows of them,' said the Turk. 'These are Manteo and Wanchese. Savages from America.'
'And now it's clear enough,' said Hunger. 'We are heading for America.'
'By way of the West Indies, I do not doubt,' said the Turk. 'And a little plunder.'
'Thank Christ for the gunners,' said Hunger.
I was kept busy for the rest of the day: chickens, pigs and goats had come aboard. There was little room for them in the narrow square of deck assigned to me by Mr Salter, but I believe that I organised it well, and I felt some pride that I had found a place, however modest, in this great enterprise. At last, the gentlemen came aboard, most of them joining the Tiger. Raleigh remained on the dock, then left in a carriage.
'And the Roebuck,' said the Turk. 'But what ships are these?'
The Turk, I believe, could not read. Hunger said, 'The Dorothy and the Elizabeth.'
But there was little time to admire the sight. Having docked, there was loading to be done. There were scores of soldiers. I was surprised to see that many of them carried pikes like my own. And there was such a supply of provisions as I had never seen: chests, casks, crates, sacks, hogsheads and creels full of dried fish and prunes. And enough barrels of cider, wine and beer to keep the whole assembly drunk for months.
There was a harsh shout on the dockside: 'Make way!' A large group of men in naval uniform, carrying short cudgels, were bundling several dozen men of all ages, haggard and grey-faced, between them. Several of these men seemed drunk.
'Who are they?' I asked the Turk. We were rolling barrels on to a net for the crane men to lift.
'Prisoners, by the looks of them,' said the Turk. 'And tavern scum.' He seemed to have forgotten that he was in a tavern when I first saw him.
'Press-ganged,' Hunger informed me. 'Men are afraid to serve. And little wonder, after Sir Humphrey's expedition.'
Another sailor, whose name I later learned was the Hog, stopped to stretch and wipe his brow. He said, 'They say that, before the disaster, there was strange voices heard at the helm of the ship and strange sea-creatures were caught with their harpoon. And before the storm which sank them, Mr Cox saw white cliffs which vanished as they approached.'
'Nonsense,' Mr Chandler told me. 'It's the astrologers who keep men from this voyage. The planetary conjunctions are not good. Jupiter and Saturn came together in eighty-three, starting the age of the Fiery Trigon. We are entering a period of great catastrophe. Thomas Porter predicts much violence against travellers, and Euan Lloyd tells us there will be tempests, fogs, mists, storms and shipwrecks.'
'Tales fit only for women,' Hunger informed me. 'It is true that many sailors are prone to such nonsense. But no, Scotch, what is truly keeping men from this voyage is something of this world, not the spirit one or the celestial one. It is the fear of auto-da-fe.'
That phrase again, always spoken with fear: auto-da-fe. Not even the lure of Caribbean gold, it seemed, was able to overcome that fear.
It took three days of backbreaking work to stuff the hold of the Tiger. Ten massive cannon were dragged on board in pieces and assembled. I had the impression that these great guns were reassuring to the Turk and his friends. After that, the mariners and soldiers climbed aboard, and the ship suddenly became cramped, with hardly space to move. And then, at last, there came the gentlemen. It was late afternoon when the Turk beckoned me urgently towards the side of the ship. We leaned over the rail and looked down on a small group of men. 'That is Walter Raleigh,' he said with something like awe. 'He is the Queen's favourite, newly knighted. And the man next to him is Thomas Harriot.'
'Christ! Philip Amadas,' said Hunger, dismay in his voice as a tiny man emerged from a carriage.
'And who are these?' I asked. For two men of very strange appearance had emerged from a second carriage, accompanied by more gentlemen.
'All London knows of them,' said the Turk. 'These are Manteo and Wanchese. Savages from America.'
'And now it's clear enough,' said Hunger. 'We are heading for America.'
'By way of the West Indies, I do not doubt,' said the Turk. 'And a little plunder.'
'Thank Christ for the gunners,' said Hunger.
I was kept busy for the rest of the day: chickens, pigs and goats had come aboard. There was little room for them in the narrow square of deck assigned to me by Mr Salter, but I believe that I organised it well, and I felt some pride that I had found a place, however modest, in this great enterprise. At last, the gentlemen came aboard, most of them joining the Tiger. Raleigh remained on the dock, then left in a carriage.
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