Free A Ship for The King by Richard Woodman Page B

this point Mainwaring stabbed the chart somewhat to the westwards of the sharp, right-angled turn of the coastline from east-west to north-south, just where the Pyrenees fell into the Atlantic between France and Spain. ‘Here,’ he repeated, ‘at Santander.’
    There was a moment’s silence and then St Leger said, ‘But my Lord, while I can see that the winds will better serve such a course, is not the entrance to Santander both narrow and fortified?’
    â€˜Aye, and we will be either enfiladed coming in or going out . . .’ said Trevor.
    â€˜Or mewed-in by a boom or other devilish device of the Spanish . . .’ A chorus of agreement met this final closing of the trap behind them.
    Rutland laughed and commanded them all to silence. ‘I think not. Our embassy may not have met with the success hoped for but we are not at war with His Most Catholic Majesty and there is no possible reason to consider the Spanish are hostile towards us . . .’
    â€˜Not until they have the flower of our Navy Royal within their rocky fastnesses,’ St Leger said, pressing his point. ‘As far as I am aware the diplomacy of our Royal Master has been compromised by the reckless passions of what Your Lordship is pleased to call our embassy, but which others I have heard refer to in less respectful terms. And besides this, are there not rumours of great Armadas being again at sea? I have heard tell of such as are armed and intended against us. My Lord, I do not mean to question your orders, or the good and seamanlike arguments of Sir Henry, but I like it not. God knows the Dons have little cause to love us. Did not the Prince’s suit fail on his refusal to turn Catholic? Might not such a refusal ignite passions inimical to the English crown? The Spanish have no love of us in our heresy . . .’
    â€˜Aye,’ added the bluff Captain Love, ‘and from what I have heard of the delicacy of Spanish sensibilities, the young men have caused some offence in the manner of their conduct in the Escorial . . .’
    â€˜That is not a matter for us,’ snapped Rutland, clearly bored and irritated by the prevaricating tone of his officers. ‘You have your orders, gentlemen. Kindly see that they are obeyed. Now Sir Henry will issue the order of sailing and such signals as seem requisite at this time. The minute the wind is favourable, you can expect the signal to weigh.’
    Fifteen minutes later the dismissed flag officers and captains, escorted by the Prince Royal ’s lieutenants, spilled out on to the quarterdeck where, in the calm of the anchorage, the ladies were taking the air. It was a calm and balmy afternoon, with the sun westering over the Cornish shore and the heights of the hoe black with townsfolk out to see the fleet assembled in the Sound. In order of seniority the senior officers descended into their boats, accompanied by a twittering of the bosun’s pipe. As he stood watching them go, Faulkner was suddenly aware of the sweet scent of perfume and turned to find Katherine Villiers at his side.
    He removed his hat and bowed. ‘My Lady, ’tis a pleasure to see you. I hope the voyage thus far has not . . .’ He paused, not quite knowing what to say, ‘. . . er, o’er taxed you.’
    â€˜O’er taxed me, sir?’ she replied, her voice light with amusement. ‘If you are concerned about my suffering from seasickness, I am happy to say that I appear immune, though that is not true of others of my sex; if, on the other hand, you ask whether I have been bored, then I have to confess that I have been bored to excess.’
    â€˜I am sorry to hear it,’ he said, wanting to add that the handling of the great ship was of such consuming fascination that, while he understood it would lie outside a woman’s interest, he would have liked to have explained it all to her. As he