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Sir Richard, both hands gripping the side of the hammock, stared at me with his intense blue eyes. 'You are coming down with some fever, laddie. Since you have seen fit to put Mr Salter in your hammock, find his bunk and tie yourself into it.' He turned and clambered back up the ladder on all fours.

The savage seemed to understand. He nodded and waved me away. I clambered back towards the gentlemen's quarters, past the still-sleeping physician and the terrified Mr Rowse, towards the cabin which Mr Salter shared with Simon Fludd, the architect.

Simon Fludd was in his cabin. He was on the floor. His face was a deep purple and his tongue, sticking out of his open mouth, was almost black. His eyes were so wide they looked as if they would jump out of his head. They were black, and it was a moment before I saw that this was because the pupils were so distended that they almost filled the eyeballs. His arms and legs were stretched out like those of a child in a tantrum, and they were trembling violently. He was scarcely able to breathe, the sound coming from his mouth being that of a man who was choking.

I knew then that the murderer, or Satan, had not finished his business with us. And as the Tiger began to heel over, groaning and crashing, and Mr Fludd wheezed and choked, and I shivered, and the sweat poured down my face and the bile rose in my mouth, I thought that I too had become his victim. And I thought that it no longer mattered: poisoner and victims, captain and gentlemen, soldiers and ship were about to sink under the waves, taking their secrets and their conspiracies down to depths beyond measure, obliterating all.

CHAPTER 12

Later, they told me that I had been in a fever for three days. I have vague memories of my mouth and gullet being on fire, and my face and brow being mopped, and I remember opening my eyes to see Manteo, the savage, raising a cup to my lips, and warm goat's milk trickling down my throat.

On the morning of the fourth day I awoke in my hammock, weak as a girl, but knowing that whatever had ailed me, whether poison or fever, had passed from my system. Two sailors interrupted their backgammon to help me out of my hammock and lead me to the stairs, which I climbed slowly. On deck, the sails were billowing in a fresh wind, and although there were still clouds, they were high and light and the air was warm. The sea was calm. Mr Chandler, the man from Devon, gave me a friendly wave,

'There have been hangings. Two of them. Aye, we have had a busy time while you have been ill.'

'Hangings?'

'Two soldiers. They tried to start a mutiny, declaring that the ship was cursed and nobody would reach the New World alive. They at least will not.'

I went down to Mr Harriot's cabin. Fernandez and he were looking at a chart.

'Are you ready to resume your duties, Ogilvie?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Good. We have need of you this afternoon.'

As the day progressed it became clear that some extraordinary meeting was to take place. All the captains came on board the Tiger by longboats. Their faces were agitated, stern, hard. The kitchen had been warned, and the smell of roasting pig was drifting along the galleys, up and down ladders, and through all the hatches and berth-holds of the ship.

Five captains. Sir Richard Grenville of the Tiger, of course. George Raymond, captain of the Lyon, had come aboard first. Then John Clarke of the high-sterned Roebuck, a square-rigged flyboat of Dutch design. It was almost as grand as the Tiger, but I had heard Master Fernandez tell the Turk that he would not wish to sail it in a storm. Mr Clarke was small and round and had a mean mouth which put me in mind of my stepfather.

But then I was summoned to the kitchen and missed the arrival of both Arthur Barlowe, from the little bark Dorothy, and the red-faced Thomas Cavendish, captain of the Elizabeth.

Another six gentlemen shared the table with the captains: John White the artist, a quiet man; next to him was Philip Amadas, whose sudden tempers rivalled those of Sir Richard and made him a man to avoid. On Sir Richard's left was Mr Ralph Lane, the commander of the soldiers and as hard a man as I ever saw outside Drumelzier. I could hear his two huge mastiffs under the table, gnawing and cracking bones. On Sir Richard's right was Simon Fernandez, the Portuguese sailor and a man of huge arrogance: out of his hearing, the mariners called him 'the swine'. And then there was the man who was becoming my guide and teacher, Thomas Harriot, and next to him Marmaduke StClair.

My role in the meeting was modest enough, to keep the officers and the gentlemen supplied with wine and aqua vitae. It still gave me a thrill to be part of this inner counsel, even as a humble servant.

As to the purpose of the meeting, this became clear with Sir Richard's first words, when all were seated in the great cabin: 'First Holby, then the carpenter. Once is misfortune - maybe Holby fell overboard drunk. Twice is suspicious, even though I cannot understand how the barrels came to be on top of the carpenter. But three times? Three mysterious deaths? Mr Fludd's death by poisoning puts the matter beyond dispute. There is a murderer on board the Tiger. What do you say, Harriot? Is he a Jesuit or a witch?'

'Or both,' Raymond suggested, pointing at his goblet. I moved forward in haste to fill it, and then went slowly around the table with a flagon of the red wine, trying to appear as a servant should, invisible, and yet lingering to hear every word.

'I smell a Jesuit behind this,' Ralph Lane declared, without allowing Mr Harriot time to answer.

Sir Richard growled from the depths of his chest; to me he sounded like a dog. 'And behind him, the hand of the Spanish throne. Am I truly forced to believe there is an assassin in our midst? Someone whose purpose is the failure of the expedition? Perhaps a man at this very table?' Sir Richard's icy blue eyes went around everyone, as if he was trying to peer into the soul of each man. There was a long, embarrassed silence. Marmaduke StClair's cheeks were flushing.

John White broke the silence. 'But the carpenter's body was squashed under the weight of the barrels. No Jesuit - or anyone else for that matter - could have raised such a weight and lowered it on to the man's body. It required a supernatural force. I say there is a witch at work. One with the ability to summon up diabolical powers.'

'But our goal was a closely guarded secret,' George Raymond said. 'How could it be discovered?'

Sir Richard stood up and stepped over to a cabinet. He produced a large brass key from within his tunic, took a flintlock pistol from a rack, along with a box, and sat back down with them, placing box and pistol next to his goblet. I felt a twinge of apprehension. 'Don't be a fool, Raymond. Mendoza's nest of spies—'

'But Richard, Her Majesty expelled Mendoza just before—'

'The viper is gone, yes. But will you tell me that amongst all the workers on Plymouth harbour, and the victuallers and vintners who came and went on the dock, there was not one agent of the King of Spain? And that they would not see the chests of dried beans, and the hessian bags of peas and other seeds for planting? What fool could fail to see that we intended to establish a colony for Elizabeth?'

I had already guessed as much from my wanderings through the great hold of the Tiger. But it was knowledge I should not possess. They had decided that I was of no significance or, more likely, had just forgotten my presence. I stood back, quiet as a mouse, still as a rabbit.

'A clever assassin would allow himself to be pressed on board,' said Mr White.

'Perhaps,' said Mr Harriot. 'But if this is an attempt to destroy us, it was planned months ago, by someone who knew of the expedition. That means someone close to the Queen.'

'Christ in heaven, Harriot, do you hear your own words? A traitor in court?' Amadas's cheeks were flushed, almost purple. He gulped more aqua vitae and snapped his fingers without looking at me. I hastened over to replenish the soothing liquid. There was a menacing growl from one of Lane's mastiffs as I passed.

I could sense that Mr Harriot was not at ease. I guessed that he was judging Sir Richard's temper. At the moment the captain seemed even enough, but the man was like Stromboli, a mountain of which the Dominie had told me. We all feared him for his unpredictable rages.

Harriot said, 'Not all Jesuits or Catholics are traitors, Richard. Simon here is Catholic under his Protestant guise.'

'He is Portuguese.' Spoken as one would say 'he is a servant' or even 'he is a thief. Fernandez shrugged off Sir Richard's remark with a smile, but for the briefest of moments - and it may have been my imagination - I thought I glimpsed huge malice lying behind the mariner's dark eyes.

'I hope my loyalty is beyond doubt,' said Marmaduke StClair. 'And I am a Catholic'

'Aye, damn your soul, but at least you are not a recusant.' Richard casually poured powder into the barrel of his pistol, tamping it down with a rod.

The soldier looked across at Harriot. 'Sorcery? Do you say such a thing is possible?'

Sir Richard grinned demonically. 'There are times when I suspect Thomas of sorcery.'

'I do not believe in the spirit world,' said Mr Harriot baldly.

Marmaduke StClair leaned forward earnestly. His face too was flushed and I am sure that the goblet of wine I had just poured him was his fourth. 'Have you not heard of the exorcisms which have taken place in Toulouse and Carcassone? Seen by thousands of witnesses? And the fact of exorcism can only mean there are spirits to be exorcised in the first place.'

Sir Richard scowled. 'Jesuit nonsense. Staged by priests to impress the Huguenots and trick them back into the false doctrines.'

'With great success, I hear,' Raymond said.

Marmaduke took a nervous sip at his wine. 'The reality of demonic possession is further proved by Marthe Brosier.'

'I have heard of her,' said Raymond in a sceptical tone.

'Speaking Latin and Greek, languages of which she had no prior knowledge. Discerning secrets to which she could have had no access. Becoming seized with convulsions when scripture was read or she was touched by holy water.'

'Did you leave your brain on Plymouth docks, Marmaduke? And do you expect me to swallow Continental Catholic lies along with my wine?' Sir Richard's hatred of Spain was as legendary as his temper; I began to pray inwardly that Marmaduke would have the sense not to mention the exorcisms of Cadiz and Madrid.

'And what of William Weston . ..'

'What of him? Another Jesuit and thus another liar.' Sir Richard's voice was raised somewhat; I began to fear another Stromboli. He was now tapping a ball into the pistol. But Marmaduke seemed insensitive to the atmosphere. He pounded on: 'Then there is John Darrell...'

'God damn you, the man is a Puritan!' Sir Richard banged his flintlock pistol on the table and I feared a discharge in my direction.

But Marmaduke StClair, it seemed, had more courage than sense. His face was growing ever more flushed. 'If there is no possession and no witchcraft, why should we believe in devils? And if there are no devils, why believe in angels? Think on it, sir! You are a sheet of parchment away from denying there is a God!'

In the silence that followed, even StClair saw that he had gone too far. He grew pale, while Sir Richard's complexion slowly turned a deep purple.

Thomas Harriot filled the intense silence. 'I know of herbs which, when inhaled as smoke, produce the illusion of flight or conversion of the body into that of a cat or dog. Yet an observer sees that no flight and no transanimation takes place.'

'The Devil's instrument,' Marmaduke suggested.

'I think not,' Harriot replied. 'Their use is sanctified by the Bible. Consider Psalm One hundred and four, verse fourteen in the vulgar: "He causes the grass to grow for the cattle, and the herb for the service of man." I believe that much of the belief in witchcraft comes from such illusions induced by herbs. Also, those who believe such things are mostly women, and we know them to be gullible creatures, prone to hysteria and illusion.'

'Aye. On that at least we can agree.' Harriot's words were calming the captain. 'You argue for a poisoner, Thomas, rather than a caster of spells or a summoner of demons?'

'In all cases of sorcery and witchcraft known to me, a natural explanation lay behind the apparent possession. In any case, how can there be a spirit world?' There was an outraged gasp from Marmaduke. 'Incorporeal bodies could exist only where matter does not. But Descartes has defined matter as that which has dimensions. It follows that a true void cannot exist because it can have no length, breadth or height. And without a void, there is no place for spirit bodies. Marmaduke's devils cannot exist. Amongst thinking men, there is no place for the supernatural.'

'There is a chain,' Marmaduke insisted. 'If we please ourselves whether to believe in witches, then we please ourselves about belief in devils or spirits, resurrection of the body, immortality of the soul, even belief in God. Break a link in that chain and we endanger the central tenets of faith.'

Little Philip Amadas finally spoke. I could scarcely understand his accent. 'Marmaduke's right. Only a fool denies the evidence of faith. You presume a thing is impossible, Thomas, because it cannot be proved. But thousands of persons have seen things done which go beyond nature. By denying sorcery you exalt your own opinion above the testimonies of men through the ages and you deny the possibility of an invisible world which lies beyond your senses. This is a mark, not of a rational man, but of one filled with conceit and self-importance.'

Mr Harriot's response was to throw back his head and roar with laughter.

I had never in my life heard Tweedsmuir men talk of more than the price of sheep. To question things which had never even been mentioned in my world, to explore them with their minds, and what minds! The spirit of Plutarch's
Lives
was alive, the philosophers who came before Christ were alive, here in the gentlemen's room. In my enthusiasm I blurted out, 'But did not Democritus say that the world is made of indivisible particles, forever jostling each other? Perhaps spirits could occupy the spaces between these atoms.'