He was allowed to help load the stores and Jacko who was overcome by envy went with him and begged to be allowed to help. The outcome was, because of their enthusiasm and the fact that they were Jake Pennlyon’s sons, Drake himself came to the house to see me.

Such a man must always remain in the memory forever. He was not tall, but there was about him a sense of power. His limbs were strong and he was broad in the chest; he was a merry-looking man and his large clear blue eyes had what I called “the sailor’s look”—so marked in Jake—penetrating as though they could see farther than most. His full beard was fair as was his hair and there was about him a human quality. I was deeply moved that a man who had so much on his mind at this time could spare a few hours to come to comfort me. For that was what he was trying to do.

“I have met Captain Pennlyon once or twice,” he said. “A great seaman. England has need of such as he is.”

I glowed with pride and my eyes filled with tears, which he noticed.

“Many of us go off for years,” he said, “and most people give us up for lost. But some of us are not easily disposed of, Ma’am. Captain Pennlyon is one of them.”

“My great fear is that he has fallen into the hands of the Spaniards.”

“He’ll give a good account of himself, I’ll tell you that.”

“I firmly believe he will come back.”

“There’s a bond between you and you would know. That’s how it often is with sailors’ wives.”

He would find places, he said, for Carlos and Jacko in his expedition if I so wished. He had, in truth, come to ask me first.

The thought of their going off into danger sickened me, but I knew I must not stop their going.

And when he left Carlos and Jacko sailed with him.

It was a glorious sight to see them sail away—exhilarating but sobering.

Jennet stood beside me.

“To think that my boy Jacko should sail with mighty Drake,” she cried. “But I’d liefer it had been with the Captain.”

Then she turned away to wipe her eyes, but they were bright again almost immediately.

“Think what he’ll say when he comes back!”

Undoubtedly she, like myself, believed in the indestructibility of Jake.

The days passed and still no news.

The following spring Edwina came to Trewynd Grange. She was seventeen years old and was to come into her inheritance on her eighteenth birthday. Alice Ennis called at Lyon Court to tell me that she was expected.

“We shall stay here with her,” she said. “It is what her mother wishes. A young girl should not live as mistress of such a large house.”

She arrived with a band of servants, whom she had chosen from Remus Castle, the home of her stepfather. I was eager to see her and as soon as the news was brought to me that she had arrived I went to Trewynd.

I could never enter the hall there without memories flooding into my mind. I looked up at the peep and long practice told me from the shadow there that someone was watching me. I remembered how Honey and I had looked down and seen Jake come into the hall; I remembered the night when I had been taken away to the galleon. But that was a long time ago and now Edwina, Honey’s daughter, was here.

As she came into the hall I held out my hands to her.

She clasped them and smiled.

I think we loved each other from that moment.

Edwina was a frequent visitor at the Court; she had become as a daughter to me and she and Linnet were good friends.

I could never forget Jake. I dreamed of him often and when I awoke and found he was not beside me that overwhelming emptiness would sweep over me.

On a November day in the year 1580, Francis Drake sailed into the harbor.

What excitement there was! He had brought with him a marvelous quantity of treasure such as none had ever brought before. There was gold and silver, precious stones, and pearls as well as silks, cloves and spices.

He had also brought back Carlos and Jacko.

How they had changed! They were men now—experienced sailors.

The first one they looked for when they stepped ashore was their father. I shook my head sadly, but he was uppermost in our thoughts during the celebrations for their homecoming. We were all so much aware of the missing head of the house—even Linnet, who could scarcely remember him.

Carlos and Jacko talked a great deal of their adventures. There had been storm and calm; they had visited strange lands and come near to death. They had grown up and the sea was in their blood.

The expedition would be remembered throughout the years to come because although Drake was not the first man to discover that the Earth was a sphere, he had actually been the first to encircle it, whereas Magellan, who had known this was possible, had been prevented from completing the circle by his death in the Philippines.

Drake was the great hero of the West Country and very soon after his return he sailed the Golden Hind up the Thames and there at Deptford the Queen herself came to knight him.

Such men as Drake, Carlos and Jacko had become the heroes of our time because they would be the leaders when the time came to face the Spaniards.

Jake Pennlyon was such a man.

He had now been away so long that it was only because he was Jake that I could continue to hope. Carlos, Jacko, Jennet, everyone who had known him intimately, refused to believe that he was dead. Such was that magic aura he had always conveyed to us.

Sometimes I used to open the cupboard in which his clothes were kept and touch the cloth of a coat. Then I would imagine I heard his laughter. “Don’t dispose of them, Cat. I’ll need them yet.”

Once I opened a drawer and a moth flew out. I was concerned at once. I must care for his clothes and I did not want anyone else to do this. I decided I would therefore take them out, fold them afresh and put among them a powder made from herbs which my grandmother had given me and which she was convinced would preserve cloth forever against moth and insects.

It was then that I made the horrifying discovery. In the pocket of one of his jackets was a figure. As my fingers closed around it I was transported back in my mind to that occasion when I had found the image of Isabella in my drawer.

There was no doubt who this was meant to be. Myself! I could see the pinhead, a little rusty—where it had entered the cloth of my gown.

And in Jake’s pocket!

It could not be. I remembered how on more than one occasion he had raged against witches. But why? Because he believed in the evil they could create, because he believed that could kill, because he feared them?

And why should this image be in his pocket?

I studied it. The likeness was there. My thick straight hair, and the eyes were painted a vivid green. There could be no doubt who it was meant to be.

Had he consulted a witch? Had he been carrying out her orders? Not Jake! Yet this thing was in his pocket. It must have been lying there for years. Why had he left it there and gone away? Had he hoped that when he came back the witch’s work would be done?

I was going to destroy that figure.

I put it into the pocket of my gown and went out into the garden. There was a hut on the outskirts of the grounds. Few people went there. I buried the doll beneath some braken and set it alight. The grass was dry, as was the braken, and I had not thought there would be such a blaze. As the wax of the image spluttered, Jennet and Manuela, who must have seen the smoke, came running out to the hut.

“It’s nothing,” I said. “Only a small fire.”

“How did it happen?” asked Jennet. I did not answer.

As the fire died down Jennet stamped on the last of it.

Manuela knelt down and picked up a piece of charred cloth. It was the piece with the pin sticking in it.

“People should be careful of fire,” I said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “The ground is very dry just now.”