The Silver Skull (54 page)

Relieved to feel the cool night wind after the blazing heat of the fire ship, he heard the rip of the sail before he landed heavily on the pinnace deck. The four Spanish sailors were taken by surprise. Will had thrown two overboard before the remaining two rounded on him. He drew his sword, but rather than face him, the frightened sailors both chose to abandon ship.

Reclaiming the grapnel, Will made it catch on the fire ship's rail. As he swung out against the hull and began to climb, he had the strangest sensation that the vessel was starting to slow.

Glancing back, he saw it was true. The pinnace and all the other fire ships were now slightly ahead.

The heat was like a furnace as he pulled himself over the rail and onto the deck. A sheet of flame roared up the rigging and ignited the main topsail and the main course sail. Ribbons of burning sailcloth fell to the deck all around so that it appeared to be snowing fire. Pitch blazed across the deck in channels to the quarterdeck where flames licked out of the door to the officers'

quarters.

Don Alanzo had pulled his hood back up to protect him against the heat, and Will saw now that his cloak had been soaked in seawater. Acutely aware he had no such protection, Will drew his sword and advanced quickly.

The Spanish spy was hunched over the globe, which now emitted the slow-pulsing white light. As he caught sight of movement from the corner of his eye, he drew his own sword in a flash. When he saw it was Will, his shock quickly gave way to malice.

"Are you charmed? What does it take to stop your foul heart beating?" he snarled.

"More than you have at your disposal."

The ship came to a juddering halt, almost throwing Will from his feet. Don Alanzo laughed at Will's puzzlement, and then nodded slowly as Will's eyes fell upon the globe, now pulsing with even greater intensity. Slowly but steadily, the fire ship began to move backwards, towards the English fleet.

"And so the world turns on its head, and what was a threat to us now becomes a spear driven into the heart of our hated enemy. With allies like ours, nothing can ever be as it seems,"

Don Alanzo mocked.

"Yes, you think you are on the road to heaven when you are sliding down to the pits of hell."

Will lunged with his sword, but Don Alanzo parried easily. The ship gathered speed as it moved towards the English fleet. Wind drove sheets of flames at Will and his opponent. It was a nightmarish arena even for two such master swordsmen. The raging heat seared Will's face and hands, and brought stinging tears to his eyes that blurred his vision as he attempted to attack.

With his left arm thrown across his face to shield him from the heat, Don Alanzo was pushed off balance, each thrust a fraction awry.

Ducking and thrusting, Will tried to get close to the glowing globe, but Don Alanzo continually maneuvered himself in the space between. Whatever the nature of the object, Will could see it was no longer operating as it had in the cabin. Neither he nor Don Alanzo was affected by the globe; its power was seemingly directed into the ship itself, forcing it ever backwards.

The intense heat sapped Will's energy. Blazing chunks of wood falling from the yardarm and flames racing across the deck from the burning pitch left him little room to maneuver.

A wall of flame now enclosed them. Even if the English ships had their lanterns alight, Will would not have been able to see them. If the fire ship crashed into the fleet, all would be lost. The ships were so tightly packed that the fire would spread rapidly from one to another.

Thick smoke snaked around both of them. The air was now so hot it burned his throat and lungs every time he inhaled, and the fumes from the brimstone made his head spin.

Bounding back and forth among the flames, he and Don Alanzo performed an intricate ballet. Despite the conflagration drawing closer by the second, he could see in the Don's fierce eyes that he would not desert his post. His hatred for Will's slaying of his father burned as brightly as the fires, and Will was convinced his opponent was prepared to go to his death as long as he took Will with him.

The fire forced them into closer combat, making every sword-stroke even more difficult to direct. Will's blade tore through Don Alanzo's steaming cloak. The Don's missed Will's cheek by a hairbreadth. But whatever thrusts and feints he executed, Will could get no closer to the globe.

Smoke rose from where their clothes were singed by the fire, and their skin reddened, and their breath shortened, but still they fought on.

Will had a sudden shocking vision that he was in hell, that his entire life had prepared him for that moment, and that fire would be all he saw forevermore.

And then the air was torn by a resounding crack that sounded like the ship itself was splitting in two. The main mast cracked near the base, falling towards them in a cascade of flaming sail, rigging, and yards. Throwing himself sideways, Don Alanzo slammed hard on the smoking deck.

As the mast rushed towards him, Will propelled himself beneath the falling fire. His boot crashed hard against the globe and it shattered in an explosion of light with a sound like a child's cry. Will continued his motion in a tumble that took him mere inches away from the mast's thunderous impact. Flames soared up with a whoosh and the deck crumbled beneath it. Kicking out, Will launched himself towards the rail as the boards fell away beneath him.

Behind there were only flames. Don Alanzo had either been consumed by the fire or fallen into the gaping, blazing hold.

Will's clothes were alight, flames licking up his back. Placing one foot on the rail, he dove. A trail of fire followed him into the black water.

After the tremendous heat, the cold water was a shock. Striking back to the surface, he saw the fire ship now headed back towards the Armada where the other fire ships were already causing chaos among the Spanish fleet. Upwind, the signal cannon set the English ships in motion.

The battle had begun.

SPECIAL_IMAGE-00004.jpg-REPLACE_ME

SPECIAL_IMAGE-00112.jpg-REPLACE_ME drift in the high swell of the night tide, Will struck out towards the distant cliffs of Calais, but the sea was too strong. The blazing beacons of the fire ships cast a ruddy glare across the water, and for a while he thought it was the last sight he would see.

"Swyfte! Swyfte!"

His name was barked over the surging waves and the wind, but whoever called was hidden by the rolling swell.

"Here!" he yelled back.

A moment later a skiff crested the swell. Carpenter leaned over the prow, searching the water, Launceston and another seaman rowing behind. Carpenter hollered when he caught sight of Will, and they quickly fished him from the sea.

"We saw you dive from the fire ship," Carpenter said. "You prevented it from sailing into our fleet."

Shaking the saltwater from his hair, Will observed, "You came back for me, John."

He waited for Carpenter to claim the moral high ground, but he wouldn't meet Will's eyes and only said acidly, "Could we leave England's greatest hero to drown?"

"You have my thanks, John, and you, Robert." He glanced towards the soaring flames.

"Together we led the start of the battle here, but there is much more to do. Let us head back to the Tempest, for I suspect those grey sails will soon hove into view."

A series of tremendous explosions tore through the night. Near the Armada, the cannon aboard one of the fire ships had exploded, blasting hot metal and burning wood into the scattering pinnaces and small boats. Columns of fire rose from the water, reminding Will of the Templar chamber in Edinburgh.

The fires of heaven and hell.

One by one the fire ships' guns exploded, raining burning fragments on the Armada's front line. Confusion was already rife among the Spanish fleet as ships raced haphazardly to escape the coming inferno, with most breaking free of the constrictions of the bay for open sea.

There were collisions, torn rigging, shattered yards as the panic escalated. Many commanders ordered the mooring cables to be severed by the crew so they could sail away rapidly without anchor, a desperate act that would hamper them regaining any stable position. The defensive crescent formation fragmented across its entire length.

"Damn them!" Carpenter raged. "The Spanish have the luck of the Devil."

Vessels avoided the path of the fire ships by ten feet here, a foot there, but none of the Spanish fleet caught alight. Still blazing thirty feet into the air, the remnants of the fire ships came to rest in succession on the shore.

Will shrugged. "A bonfire of Philip's ambitions would have been a good sight, but the confusion itself is enough. We have increased our advantage."

They sculled the skiff back to the English fleet where they could hear the jubilation rising up from every deck. After the protracted fight along the channel, they had finally destroyed the Armada's formation. The ships were scattered to the four winds.

On board the Tempest, Courtenay roamed the deck, singing his bawdy shanties at the top of his voice. As the men cheered, and as Launceston looked faintly baffled by the attention and Carpenter embarrassed, Will leapt onto the rail and grabbed the rigging for support.

"This night we have struck a blow against the forces that wish to stop every Englishman living free, but it is only the start," he announced to the crew. "A battle like no other awaits us, and we must not rest until every Spaniard is sent fleeing back to their homeland with the fear of all hell in their hearts. No one asks you to lay down your lives. We ask only for the steel in your arms and the fire in your hearts, the courage to stand proud and fight hard for your families, for all who wait in their homes praying you will keep them safe. The flame we ignite this night will burn on through history, a beacon to all oppressed, a promise of hope to those who live in fear and shed tears of despair. For right! For England!"

The crew joined in Will's rallying cry. When he leapt to the deck, they mobbed him and slapped his back as he pushed his way through to Courtenay.

"England's greatest spy," Carpenter noted archly as he passed.

"He plays his part well," Launceston replied.

Will flashed them a grin. "We all play parts, friends. Mine just has greater purpose than most."

Courtenay stood at the forecastle watching the dying fires on the beach. Soon only embers would be left of the great ships.

"Tell your topmen to look out for grey sails," Will told him. "The ship may be hiding because repairs are still under way, or it may be biding its time to emerge with the greatest impact. We must not be blinded by the illusion of this small victory. The darkest hours lie ahead."

Will and the others snatched a few hours' sleep, and at first light they were awoken by the blare of trumpets and the boom of Howard's signal gun. Anchors broke water next to all of the hundred and fifty ships in the English feet, sails unfurled into the morning wind, and within the hour they were away in pursuit of the enemy. Word went from ship to ship that as a mark of Drake's brilliance in the campaign he would be allowed to lead the attack on the Spanish.

Medina Sidonia pursued his scattered vessels along the coast in a desperate attempt to bring his Armada back together. With a southwesterly propelling them at speed, the Revenge spearheaded the English squadrons in pursuit, through the Straits of Dover and into the North Sea.

Will never took his gaze from the horizon in his lookout for the greysailed ship, but the first ones he saw were Spanish, seven miles off Gravelines, a small port in Flanders under Spanish control. At the rear was Medina Sidonia's San Martin. Will knew the Spanish commander would realise he had no options. Trying to flee would doom his fleet on the sandbanks and shoals that lined the coast, the sea-marks removed by his Dutch enemies. All he could do was turn and fight.

Courtenay clapped his hands in eager anticipation. "What a day for blood!" he bellowed.

With the Spanish in such disarray, the English were not afraid to confront them at close quarters. The battle began at nine a.m. as the Revenge closed on the San Martin, and within seconds the air was thick with shot from both fleets. Even the constant sound of the sea was lost beneath the rolling thunder of guns never silenced.

Drake held his fire until he was within fifty yards of his opponent and then released the bow guns followed by the broadsides. Medina Sidonia responded in kind, the shot tearing holes in both ships.

"Sea warfare is madness," Carpenter hissed to Will. "Give me a knife in a dark room every time. Two swords at most, but definitely on land."

"Drake is not mad." Will watched the furious battle. "He has his flaws, but he is a brave man. He has thrown himself into the forefront to take the Spanish guns."

The San Martin came off worse. The Spanish seamen were not trained to reload the cannon rapidly, unlike their English counterparts, and as increasing amounts of damage were inflicted on the Spanish flagship, their ability to respond diminished rapidly. Chain-shot ripped through rigging and sail. The four-inch-thick planking just above the waterline shattered under Drake's heavier guns.

After his initial attack had weakened the vessel, Drake pulled away to lead his squadron in pursuit of the other Spanish warships, leaving Frobisher and the Triumph to continue the slow destruction of the San Martin.

Courtenay bellowed his orders as he strode about the deck, and the Tempest set off behind the Revenge.

Seeing their flagship in a desperate state, other Armada warships sailed to protect it, and with some luck managed to re-form their defensive crescent formation. The English fleet swept in to pound the wings relentlessly. The Revenge fired continuously into the dense mass of Spanish ships, almost without aiming. The barrage was so intense the smoke from the guns blocked out the sun, and the air was filled with a constant rain of exploding wood. The gunfire was so loud that every conversation had to be carried out at a bellow, but still the screams of the dying and wounded Spanish sailors rose above it. Will could see its chilling effect on all the seamen aboard the Tempest; though it was the enemy, the suffering left no one untouched.