But I was incensed. “You are no priest,” I said to John Gregory.
He did not answer. He released my hands and propelled me toward the ladder.
Richard Rackell was waiting to guide me to the rope; I made out faces above looking down.
Someone called out in Spanish and John Gregory answered in that tongue.
The boat dipped. It would not be easy to climb that ladder. I looked down at the dark water and I thought of death by drowning. Perhaps it would be preferable, I thought, but not seriously. Whatever life was I would always cling to it. The rope was put into my hands and I started to climb. Hands stretched out and I was pulled onto the deck. There were dark faces about me; I heard the excited babble of voices. Then there was silence. A figure came forward. He spoke in an authoritative voice. He must have given an order, for I was seized by two men who dragged me forward; we were followed by the man who had given the order and I was taken to a cabin in which a candle in a horn lantern gave a dim light.
A door was locked on me and I was alone. I was shivering because I was in my nightclothes and it had been cold on the boat; and even now I was not sure whether it was the temperature or fear which made me tremble so. It was incredible that yesterday Honey and I had been calmly making plans for Jennet’s wedding and now all three of us were prisoners on a pirate vessel.
They had taken us—three women, for what purpose there seemed to be no doubt. But why three of us and why had they not burned down the house and robbed us? Perhaps they had. Perhaps they took us first. They had, I feared, killed Edward. It was not the first time the coasts had been raided. This was the sort of thing that Jake Pennlyon and his men did in foreign lands.
I should never have come to Devon. I should have stayed at home.
I looked into the future which all reasoning told me was looming ahead of me. I who had stood out so fiercely against marriage with Jake Pennlyon would now be used to satisfy men—any men—who were on a long journey from home and needed diversion.
I felt ill at the prospect. I wondered whether I would not have been wiser to refuse to climb the ladder: to have chosen death rather than this.
On the floor was a rug. I lay on it because my legs were shaking. The ship rocked on the water and I lay watching the horn lantern swing with the motion of the vessel.
I thought of my mother and of what she would do when she heard that I had been abducted. How she had suffered! And now this. And not only me but Honey too and she loved us both dearly.
I thought of Honey then, beautiful, dignified Honey, who was carrying Edward’s child; and to consider her submitted to a hundred indignities hurt me as deeply as did the contemplation of my own fate. I would fight. I would kick and scream. If I could find a knife I would defend myself. I would no doubt be powerless against strong men, but I would make it so that they never felt safe from me. I would make it so that when they slept they would never be sure that I might not plunge a knife into their hearts or drop some poison into their ale or whatever they drank.
I was sustained by thoughts of what I would do.
Wild cat, Jake Pennlyon had called me. They would learn that wildcats were dangerous.
The motion of the ship had changed. I knew that we had shipped anchor and were sailing out of the harbor.
The door of the cabin was opened and Honey was thrust in. She, in her night robes as I was, was clutching them about her. I saw that her robe had been ripped down the front.
Already, I thought.
The door was locked on her. I had stood up. We ran to each other and just stood holding each other tightly.
“Oh, Honey, Honey,” I cried. “What have they done to you?”
She said: “They have done nothing. There was one man…” She shivered. “He took me to a place like this. He tore my gown from my shoulders, then he saw the Agnus Dei. I always wear it about my neck, and he drew back as though afraid and I was brought here.”
“Honey,” I said, “this is a nightmare. It can’t be true.”
She didn’t answer.
I said: “Edward…”
She remained mute and suddenly put her hands over her eyes. It was a gesture of despair.
I touched her arm gently.
“He tried to stop them,” I said. “Where was the rest of the household? Are they all traitors like John Gregory and Richard Rackell? What are we going to do, Honey? What can we do? They have brought us here to be as camp followers are to the army. But they go willingly. We are abducted against our will. They will use us … until they are tired of us. Then perhaps they will throw us overboard. Perhaps it would be better to cheat them. To take that plunge ourselves first?”
Still she didn’t answer. She only stared ahead of her. I know she was seeing Edward lying in his own blood on the cobbles of the courtyard.
I went on because I had to go on talking: “Perhaps even now Jennet is being forced to submit … to who knows what?” I could picture Jennet, wide eyes, perhaps a little expectant. Perhaps she would take to the life. She was different from us. How easily she had agreed to betray me when Jake Pennlyon had asked her to. And where was he? Somewhere on the high seas. Perhaps he was raiding some foreign port and forcing women as we were being forced.
Oh, why had he gone so soon? Why had he always been there to plague me when I did not want him and away at the only time he could have been of use?
“Honey,” I said, “speak to me, Honey.”
“They killed Edward,” she said. “Edward tried to save me and they killed him. I am sure of it.”
“It may be that he did not die. It may be that he will come after us. They will give the alarm. They will come in search of us. We shall be rescued. If Jake Pennlyon were to come back…”
“He has gone on a long voyage. It will be months before he returns.”
“We may meet him at sea.” I saw him boarding the Spanish galleon, his eyes gleaming. He would kill on the spot any who had dared lay hands on me.
“No one has come near you, Catharine?” she asked.
“No. I was left here.”
“They are waiting until we are out of sight of England.”
“And then you think … ?”
“What else can I think? I was saved because I am a Catholic. You must feign to be of that faith, Catharine. It will go ill with you if you do not.”
“I will feign nothing.”
“Be reasonable.”
“I feel I have lost my reason. I have walked into a nightmare.”
“This is no uncommon happening, Catharine. You should know that. Piracy on the high seas is becoming more and more commonplace. Treasure and women. That is what men go to sea to seek.”
“We have to think what we can do.”
“I have escaped so far. You must too. When I prayed to the Holy Mother as that man attacked me he was afraid. John Gregory came along then and must have told him that I was with child—Catholic child—and he desisted and John Gregory led me here. I believe he would be a friend to us.”
“A friend … who betrayed us!”
“He betrayed, yes, but I believe he is uneasy to have done so.”
“Uneasy. He is a deceitful liar.”
“Guard your tongue, Catharine. Remember we have need of all the friends we can find. I am concerned for you. I believe you are being kept for someone … perhaps the Captain. You were taken away from us and brought here. If that should be so try to talk to him. He may speak our tongue. Beg him not to act rashly. Tell him that any harm done to you will be avenged.”
“That might arouse in him a determination to do me harm.”
“Tell him you will become a Catholic. You wish for tuition.”
“In fact,” I said, “betray my beliefs, go down on my knees and implore these dogs to treat us with respect. It would be of no avail, I assure you, Honey. If you had an Agnus Dei to hang about my neck I would not take it. I will see if I can lay my hands on some weapon. If I could find a knife I would at least put up a fight.”