"Elkington, I'll tell you as much of our plans as befits your place." Hawksworth moved past him toward the door of the Great Cabin. "We're taking the pinnace upriver tonight on the tide. And you'll be in it, along with your coxcomb clerk. Captain Kerridge of the _Resolve_ will take command of the ships. I've already prepared orders to move both frigates to a new anchorage." "I demand to know what damn'd fool scheme you've hatch'd." "There's no reason you have to know. Right now the fewer who know the better, particularly the men going upriver." "Well, I know this much, Hawksworth. This voyage to India may well be the East India Company's last chance to trade in the Indies. If we fail three voyages in a row, we'd as well close down the Company and just buy pepper and spice outright from the damn'd Hollanders. England's got no goods that'll trade in the Spice Islands south o' here. Remember Lancaster cargo'd wool down to the islands on the first two Company voyages, thinkin' to swap it for pepper, and discover'd for himself what I'd guess'd all along--a tribe of heathens sweatin' in the sun have no call for woolen breeches. So either we trade up here in the north, where they'll take wool, or we're finish'd." "The anchorage I've found should keep the cargo--and the men--safe till we make Surat. With luck you'll have your cargo aland before the Portugals locate us." Hawksworth pushed open the heavy oak door of the Great Cabin and entered, stranding Elkington in the passageway. "And now I wish you good day." The cabin's dark overhead beams were musty from the heat and its air still dense with smoke from the cannon. The stern windows were partly blocked now by the two bronze demi-culverin that had been run out aft, "stern-chaser" cannon that could spit a nine-pound ball with deadly accuracy--their lighter bronze permitting longer barrels than those of the cast-iron guns below decks. He strode directly to the oil lantern swaying over the great center desk and turned up the wick. The cabin brightened slightly, but the face of the English lute wedged in the corner seemed suddenly to come alive, shining gold over the cramped quarters like a full moon. He stared at it wistfully for a moment, then shook his head and settled himself behind the large oak desk. And asked himself once more why he had ever agreed to the voyage. To prove something? To the Company? To himself? He reflected again on how it had come about, and why he had finally accepted the Company's offer. . . .