Armada

Clarsdale noticed Robert’s restraint and again he smiled to himself. An open book. Blinded by his desire to make contact with his father Robert obviously hadn’t realized that they needed him more than he needed them. Clarsdale nodded imperceptibly, satisfied with his earlier decision. It was not the time to tell Robert Young of the news he had only received days before, the news that had initially shaken Clarsdale’s confidence and forced him to rethink his plans. If he was to manipulate events to his ultimate advantage he had to maintain the initiative over both Nathaniel and Robert Young. They could not communicate. If they did Robert would learn what Clarsdale already knew – Nathaniel Young, the Duke of Greyfarne, was coming to England.

Thomas Seeley paced the quarterdeck of the Retribution. His brow was twisted into a scowl and he spun on his heel at the bulwark, muttering under his breath. He was alone, and the crew within eyeshot on the other decks moved quickly to avoid the lash of his tongue. The ship’s bell rang four times, the middle of the afternoon watch, and Seeley scanned the waters surrounding the Retribution before looking to the distant dockside of Plymouth. Tobias Miller was overdue.

The new master’s mate was supposed to have arrived an hour before. Seeley stopped pacing to peer out over the gunwale. In the three weeks since returning to the Retribution, he had been unable to advance his quest to find the Roman Catholic spy on board. To his relief, Captain Varian had not ordered him to end his search, although he had demanded that Seeley moderate his investigation. The veil of suspicion that Seeley had placed over the entire crew was adversely affecting morale. The restraint was proving tiresome, and when Shaw had reported at the beginning of the watch that he too was making no headway, Seeley’s mood had swiftly descended.

‘Quarterdeck ho! Longboat approaching off the larboard beam!’

Seeley spun around. A heavyset man with grey, almost white, hair stood in the bow of the longboat. The sea was windblown and choppy but he was balancing easily, with one leg on the gunwale. Tobias Miller, Seeley thought, remembering when he had first seen him months before.

Miller’s commission had come as no surprise to Seeley. Varian had a sizeable task ahead of him in making the Retribution his own. It was only natural he would want men around him that he knew well and could trust implicitly. Seeley had already assured the captain of his support. It was sincerely meant, for how else could England stand fast against its enemies if the officers of the fleet were not completely loyal to each other? Despite his continued reservations regarding the captain’s commitment to wage total war against the Roman Catholic scourge, he had come to fully respect Varian for his seamanship and bravery.

Seeley heard the longboat thud against the hull and a moment later Miller gained the main deck. He was heavier than Seeley remembered and in the full light of day, he looked older. His eyes darted to every point of the ship before coming to rest on Seeley.

‘Permission to come aboard, Master Seeley,’ he shouted.

‘Granted,’ Seeley replied with a genial nod, indicating for Miller to come up.

Miller moved with a seamless agility up the steps to the quarterdeck, thrusting out his hand as he approached.

Seeley took it. The grip was firm and calloused.

‘Welcome to the Retribution, Master’s Mate.’

‘Glad to be aboard, Master,’ Miller replied.

Seeley searched the words for any sign of insolence, suddenly conscious that he was less than half the age of his new subordinate. He could discern none however, and dismissed Miller to go below and stow his kit.

Seeley watched him leave. Once more he thought of the first time, months before, when he had laid eyes on Miller on board the Spirit at Plymouth docks. The man had lied without hesitation to protect Varian, concocting some tale about a meeting with a local trader. It was a lie that spoke of an instinctive loyalty that came from years of shared hardship and toil. It would be difficult to penetrate the obvious bond between the two men.

But penetrate it he must, for Miller was his direct subordinate now, his right hand man. Seeley needed to know he commanded his loyalty. Moreover, he needed to get the measure of Miller’s faith. With luck he was as committed to eradicating Roman Catholicism as Shaw had proven to be. Seeley whispered a brief prayer that it was so. If he could gain Miller’s trust, then perhaps together they could convince the captain to fully accept the divine task that Seeley believed the Almighty had set them.

‘Quarterdeck ho! Longboat approaching off the larboard beam!’

Seeley darted around in surprise. A second longboat was approaching and Captain Varian was sitting in the bow. Seeley went to the main deck to greet him as the longboat moved swiftly alongside.