August 3, 1378 (three months earlier)

On board the Mermaid Queen

Captain Daniel Lowther sat at the desk in his cabin to enter an account of the day into his private log. They were nearing the end of the last dogwatch. Although still twilight outside, it was too dark inside to see well enough to write. He chuckled to himself. There was a time in his youth when he might have been able to see the page but he hadn’t been the captain of a vessel then. “Lord, why do ye waste such gifts on the young who have little need for them?”

He chuckled again. He had found himself asking the Almighty this same question too many times recently and always imagined the same answer: My wisdom is not yours and this world is full of things you will never understand.

He sighed, lit a lamp, opened his log, and dipped his quill in ink. After dating the entry he began to write:

We sailed from Cadiz on the morning high-tide, heading SSE along the Andalusian coast. A brisk northerly wind favored us for the first several hours and once at sea we averaged four knots. But an hour into the afternoon watch, the winds calmed, picking up only slightly about two hours later. Since that time we have averaged barely over a knot although now the wind appears to be shifting westerly and we are currently sailing at about two knots. Our current position is approximately ten knots due west of Cape Trafalgar. When we pass the headland, we will shift our course to the SE.

Of note is the fact that about two hours after leaving Cadiz, sails were spotted to the north. It is most likely another merchant vessel that left port after the Mermaid, but it has remained in our wake at too great a distance to identify it.

An urgent knock sounded at the door.

“Enter.”

His cabin boy, Will, brow furrowed, entered the cabin, closing the door quickly behind him.

The captain frowned. “Lad, what has ye so concerned?”

“Captain, I think something’s wrong.”

The Captain had never seen Will appear so worried, even once when they’d sailed into the teeth of a fierce gale. “What is it?”

“That ship what’s followed us all day, has begun to gain speed.”

“The wind is picking up.”

“Aye, sir, but she’s been about ten knots back all day, now she’s but five.”

“Then the lookout should be able to see her colors.”

“Aye, and he says she’s a Portuguese merchant. Sir, she’s still too far away for me to see much, but she doesn’t look like any of the Portuguese ships that were in port nor do her colors resemble theirs. Plus, she seems high in the water—like she’s empty. I asked the first mate if he’d let me look through the scope. He boxed my ears and told me to mind the hourglass.”

Daniel frowned. Will was very bright and anxious to learn seafaring ways. Most of the men, including the first mate would usually spare a minute for him. “Was the sand running out, lad?” One of Will’s primary responsibilities throughout the day was to turn the hourglass every half-hour to keep track of time. The men depended on this to know the start and end of each watch.

“Nay, sir. There were a few more minutes left. Some of the other hands seem to be behaving strangely too.”

“How so?”

“Sort of nervous-like. Looking at the other ship. As soon as I turned the hourglass I slipped away down here. I thought you should know.”

Daniel had had a variety of cabin boys over the years. Some skilled and dedicated, some less so. If nearly any one of those lads, even the best among them, brought him this tale, he’d have shrugged it off, crediting it to a lad’s wild imagination. But Will was different. At only ten years old, he was what Daniel’s dear, departed wife would have called an old soul. He was steady, and serious—never given to flights of fancy. If the lad was this worried, Daniel needed to take it seriously.

“Right, then, let’s go topside and have a look.” As he stood from his desk, a wave of foreboding passed through him. He’d learned years ago not to ignore feelings like that. “On second thought, lad, ready my cabin for me for the night. And stay here until I get back.”

“But, Captain—”

“Don’t argue with me, lad. If it is a Portuguese merchant, I’ll come fetch you and give you a look. If it isn’t, I don’t want you on deck. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

Daniel left his cabin and climbed the stairs to the deck. The first mate was still at the helm.

“Good evening, Captain.”

“Good evening, Desmond. Any report for me?”

“Nay, Captain. All’s quiet.”

Daniel looked around, assessing the wind and the Mermaid’s speed. They’d slowed down again, but the sails weren’t set to make the best use of the light wind they had. “Where is the Sailing Master?”

“He’s below, having his supper.”

“Did you not pay attention to the shifting winds? The sails need adjusting.”

“The winds have just now turned, Captain. I was preparing to get right on that.”

The Captain looked aft, and indeed, as Will had said, the other ship was gaining on them at an alarming speed. Irritated, he asked, “And the ship in our wake isn’t worthy of report?”

“No, sir,” answered the Mate. “It’s just a Portuguese merchant.”

“Give me the scope.”

“Certainly, Captain.”

The Mate handed him the telescope. Daniel lifted it to his eye. In the growing gloom it wasn’t easy to see. He moved toward the aft rail, adjusting the focus. “That isn’t a Portuguese Merchant…” something struck him in the back of the head. For an instant, all he felt was blinding pain, then nothing.