Mark Chadbourn - The Silver Skull

"You stick to your devilish games on dry land. I know my business on the waves." His rolling laughter gave Will doubts that his sanity was entirely intact. "Any opportunity to lay some fire across the Spanish is a good one."

"The port is not protected by shore batteries?"

"It is," Courtenay replied, "but we can be in and out before those devils find their bearings. There is much in our favour, Master Swyfte. With the Armada gathering, the Spanish will expect the English to be occupied with thoughts of invasion. No captain in his right mind would consider such a daring assault at this time." He laughed again, too loud, too long. "Even when they sighted us passing the Pillars of Hercules, we were but a lone ship. One solitary vessel sailing into Spain's great port! Why, all the nobles and the filthy commoners will sit up in the town square where they take their drink and gamble and watch the strolling players, and they will give us not a second thought, if indeed a first."

"Then I will be guided by your wisdom, Captain. You are a veteran of these matters, after all."

"Ha, ha! We tore those Spaniards in two that day!" he roared. "Drake said we singed the beard of the king of Spain and he was right. April, it was, but still hot. We sailed our fleet straight into the harbours, here and at La Coruna, occupied both, and laid waste to thirty-seven naval and merchant vessels. Set the invasion back by a year! Then they had their ships and men here to fight, if they had found the wherewithal. Now they are all with the Armada. So, by my calculation, one good English ship will suffice for a little mischief."

"That sounds finer sport than my men landing silently under cover of darkness. We will sign our names in fire and iron."

"I like your spirit, Master Swyfte. Now, I must be off to dye me beard." He marched away, singing a shanty noisily while directing his men with points and gestures.

After the tedium of the journey, Will was ready to act. Below deck, he found Launceston, Mayhew, and Carpenter playing cards in sullen, silent boredom. They abandoned their game quickly at his nod, and gathered their weapons without a word.

Carpenter exchanged a brief glance with him, making no effort to hide his contempt. Will suspected there would be a problem with Carpenter at some point; his resentment and bitterness seethed, and were clearly growing stronger with each imagined slight Will inflicted on him. Too much was at stake for Will to allow any personal abrasiveness to compromise their mission, and he was afraid he would soon have to make a difficult choice.

On deck, the crew directed the ship towards the harbour, singing loudly of skulls piling high and the women who waited for them at home when their death-dealing ways were done. Salty spray misted the air.

The city was in an unusual position on a narrow spit of land surrounded by the sea, and had seen the ocean shape its history. Christopher Columbus had sailed from Cadiz to the New World, linking Spain forever with its source of riches, Will knew. When Cadiz later became the home of the Spanish treasure fleet, the city became a target for all of the nation's enemies. Barely a year passed without the Barbary Corsairs launching a raid that was usually repelled. And once again England was testing its defences.

His beard now a flaming red, Courtenay strode across the heaving deck as if he was on dry land, his eyes on fire too with a mad passion for what was to come. "Spain embarks on an invasion of England, and so England invades Spain-with four men!" He laughed loudly at the insanity of a mission that dwarfed his own madness.

"But what men," Will responded wryly.

Courtenay looked at each of them and nodded with approval. "I think you will provide a robust test for those Spanish dogs." He peered across the water towards the city. "We are worse than any pirate. What has the world become?" Despite the words, there was a note of pleasure in his voice. Taking a deep breath of the sea air, he closed his eyes for a moment and then roared, "Break out the colours!"

As the English flag ran up the mast, he signalled to the quarterdeck, and the trumpet blared out the call to arms, followed by the three sharp bursts Will had specified. In the harbour, Will knew what few men had remained behind to defend Cadiz would now be racing for the galleys, but Courtenay didn't give them a chance. At his command, a hail of cannon fire thundered against the city.

Shrieks echoed across the waves at the sound of gunfire, and as the alarms rang out, the townsfolk fled in terror along the snaking path above the sea to seek refuge in the castle of Matagorda, where the commandant and his men waited to close the gates.

"One English ship!" Courtenay raged at the lights in the gathering gloom.

A galley began to make its way from the harbour, but a direct strike from the Tempest's guns sank it before it got close enough to use its own lesser weapons. Courtenay ordered his trumpeter to play a mocking blast as those on board swam to shore.

Chaos erupted among the merchant ships anchored beyond the promontory of Puntales. Some were waiting for a change in wind, others en route to Northern Europe or the Indies, yet more loaded with wine from Jerez, wood, wool, and cochineal for trade across the Mediterranean. Several clearly feared the Tempest was a precursor to a wider English attack and tried to escape, narrowly avoiding collisions as they fled to shallower water where the galleon would not venture.

One of the smallest vessels was not so fortunate. Courtenay sent a small party to seize it, and once the crew had abandoned ship, set it alight. The furiously burning ship was then set adrift. The currents carried it towards the harbour, where it ignited small boats and another galley. The panic across the harbour among the merchants watching the carnage added to the tumult ringing out through the night.

One final volley of galleon fire hit a gunpowder store on the harbour, and it went up in a burst of gold and crimson that set alight adjoining buildings. The thick, black smoke drifted across Cadiz, obscuring the twinkling lights. On board the Tempest, the crew cheered loudly, and Courtenay nodded proudly. He signalled the dropping of the anchor and then turned to Will and said, "I think that will end any resistance. They will be distracted by the fire and will try to stop it spreading across the city, or they will be cowering in their homes or the castle, afraid we are going to ransack their riches. No one will notice four drowned rats slipping into the alleys."

Forcefully, he shook their hands in turn, and wished them good fortune, before returning to his men.

"Whatever lies ahead, know this: I have been proud to serve beside you," Will said to the others. He held out his hand and three others took it, held for a second, then shook free.

"Now," he said, "let us take this war to Spain ... and the Unseelie Court." Bounding onto the rail, he dived into the ocean. The others followed without a second thought.

The water was cold after the hot day. The night cloaked the waves and they struck out towards the city, confident they would not be seen. Courtenay's plan was perfect: all eyes would be on the Tempest to see what it did next, or the townsfolk would be manning the defences or putting out the fires which now burned fiercely along the waterfront.

From the old fort and the battery on the harbour, the cannon continued to pump out an intermittent barrage, but the Tempest was out of range, and it was little trouble for Will and the others to swim out of the line of fire. They also kept far away from Puental, the small, rocky landing area outside the city walls, which was under heavy guard as the only likely place for the English to set down their landing parties.

The harbour was a hellish scene. Boats blazed, the flames dancing across the black water and clouds of inky smoke billowing into the city. Along the harbour's edge, tubs of pitch for repairs had been set alight, and the buildings near the gunpowder store were now ablaze. The white walls of the town glowed red in the firelight.

Will led the way through the choking smoke and burning refuse to the edge of the harbour wall where a rope dangled down into the water, unseen in the confusion. Hauling himself up, he crouched behind a pile of sacks waiting to be loaded onto a merchant ship. Once the others were with him, they peered over the top at the abject confusion along the entire length of the harbour.

Men ran with buckets of water as they feebly attempted to put out the conflagration at the far end of the row of buildings lining the edge of the harbour nearest to the town. Foot soldiers raced to oversee the Puental and to keep guard at the end of the harbour in case the Tempest sent landing parties. Lining the shore, watchmen peered into the dark in case more galleons were on their way. Across the length of the harbour, merchants bellowed their con tern in a babble of conflicting tongues-French, Dutch, Spanish, and a variety of dialects from the North African coast just across the straits.

"Look at it-it is madness," Mayhew said approvingly.

"We asked Captain Courtenay for cover to mask our arrival in Cadiz. I think he served us proud," Will agreed. He scanned the hectic mass of bodies. "Now, where is our man?"

In the shadows of one of the many alleys linking the town's large plazas stood a man wearing a wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his face. The glare of the fire revealed the lower half to be clean-shaven, and that he carried a walking stick with a handle carved into the shape of a swan.

"There," Will said. "Stay here. I will make the introductions in case there is a problem." Edging around the sacks, he waited for the fast flow of townsfolk to pass before darting into the alleyway.

"De Groot?" Will asked.

Eyeing Will's sodden clothes, the man nodded. "You found the rope easily?" He spoke English with a strong Dutch inflection.

"You did well."

"I ran here as soon as I heard the trumpet signal." He glanced back up the alley. "This way, I think. We must move away from the harbour. There are men of many nations here, but wet Englishmen will soon draw attention."

More gunfire from the Tempest crashed against the far end of the harbour followed by a futile return of fire from the battery. In the confusion that followed, Will summoned his men. But as they sprinted towards the alley, a cry rang out from one of the watchmen, who had by chance been looking back towards the fort.

"Quickly," de Groot urged from the depths of the alley. "I cannot be seen or my use here will be over." He ran off into the dark.

Cursing, Will saw four foot soldiers give pursuit as Carpenter, Mayhew, and Launceston darted into the alley. The route was steep and wound round so tightly it was impossible to see more than ten feet ahead or behind. As they moved away from the harbour, the sound of gunfire became muffled, replaced by the crack of their boots on the cobbles and the intermittent tolling of the fort bell signalling the alarm.

As they ran, Will made a chopping motion with his hand, and the others melted quickly into doorways on either side. Will ducked behind a water barrel and waited until the foot soldiers neared. As the first passed him, he lunged up with his knife and thrust it straight into the soldier's throat. A gout of blood gushed onto the cobbles.

The other soldiers cried out in alarm as the first pitched forwards, gurgling and clutching at his throat. Will instantly engaged the second with his sword, while Mayhew and Carpenter took on the third soldier and Launceston slit the throat of the final one with a silent, fluid movement. The soldiers were poorly trained and overweight. Will ran his opponent through in an instant. By the time he had cleaned his blade, all the soldiers were dead.