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Authors: Alan Armstrong
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his shoulder. “I’m off for America!”
They tried out their play for Pena in the garden shed. They could hardly act for snickering at their cleverness. Pena’s grim face stifled their giggles.
“It is treason to mock the Queen,” he said when they’d finished. “Men are locked away in the Tower for less. Worse, you insult the man who helps you. Your joke is like the taunts made behind his back at Court. Shame!”
Pena took the masks and broke them up.
“I do this as a favor,” he said as he left with the pieces.
There was no whispering between the boys that night.
13
A NDREW’S L ETTER H OME
Durham House
30 June, 1584
Dear Family and Rebecca,
I am well. I miss you all, and the dogs. I haven’t written before because I spend so much time writing for Mr. Raleigh, my hand cramps. My guts stopped up at first, but Pena, the gardener I study under, made me eat leaves and now I am better. He teaches me farming. We try Spanish seeds, but we have nothing ripe yet. Pena says this is because the English sun is not so hot as the sun in New Spain. He remembers Mr. Raleigh’s promise that if we grow anything of profit we will send seeds to you for Stillwell. I have my own plot. One thing I grow is a thick-leaved plant with sap that eases burns. Mr. Raleigh’s scientific man burned himself with gunpowder, face and hands, and the sap of that plant healed him.
Pena puts frogs in the cistern and makes me watch them swim. He says he will teach me to swim in the river. I don’t want to. The water is cold. Everything is in it. When the tide is out it smells. Nobody else swims here, but he does every day.
He laughs and makes up songs. He is never quiet. He works the soil with a hoe that has rings and bells on the handle. “Stink, stank, reek, rank/Rats along the riverbank,” he sings as he digs. He sings as loud as he can. He took me for a walk along the river. We saw a Turk walking on a rope and a bear with a ring through its nose dancing on its hind feet as its keeper played a flute and beat a drum. These things are free, but some people toss pennies for them. Pena tossed a halfpenny in the Turk’s hat.
My best friend here is William. We do plays together. He goes to Court for hawking and jousting. We made a play about people at Court, but Pena said it was mean. I don’t like the tall page Father met named Peter. He acts highborn, but William says he isn’t really better than we are.
I copy things for Mr. Raleigh until my hand hurts. He made me write extracts from his book about plants in New Spain. It says cacao and tobacco chewed together make the Indians so strong they can travel for days without food or water. Mr. Raleigh says he will make the experiment on himself. He takes no physician’s word for anything!
He praised my extract of the Spaniard’s book. When I told William at dinner, Peter yelled, “Good dog!” and made to pat me on the head. I barked and made him jump, so people laughed as much at him as me.
Sometimes I work with Mr. Harriot, studying how the natives live in America. Mr. Harriot will go there to write a report. He talks about America as much as Tremayne does.
Sundays, we go to services at St. Paul’s Cathedral. Mr. Harriot took me down below, where sixteen men work the bellows that blow through four hundred bronze pipes. The smallest is the size of my hand. The tallest goes up to the roof. The low notes go so deep the floor shakes. The high ones sound like birds. Last week the Queen’s preacher preached for two hours. A man goes up and down the aisles with a long black stick, poking those who doze off. He pokes a lot, men and women.
Yesterday William and I walked to the broad place in the river where ships dock. It is called the Pool. A sailor said some of the ships we saw were from India, Russia, and Constantinople. We passed the Tower. William says there is a deep pit there for the priests they catch. On London Bridge Tower the heads of traitors are stuck on pikes. There are
They tried out their play for Pena in the garden shed. They could hardly act for snickering at their cleverness. Pena’s grim face stifled their giggles.
“It is treason to mock the Queen,” he said when they’d finished. “Men are locked away in the Tower for less. Worse, you insult the man who helps you. Your joke is like the taunts made behind his back at Court. Shame!”
Pena took the masks and broke them up.
“I do this as a favor,” he said as he left with the pieces.
There was no whispering between the boys that night.
13
A NDREW’S L ETTER H OME
Durham House
30 June, 1584
Dear Family and Rebecca,
I am well. I miss you all, and the dogs. I haven’t written before because I spend so much time writing for Mr. Raleigh, my hand cramps. My guts stopped up at first, but Pena, the gardener I study under, made me eat leaves and now I am better. He teaches me farming. We try Spanish seeds, but we have nothing ripe yet. Pena says this is because the English sun is not so hot as the sun in New Spain. He remembers Mr. Raleigh’s promise that if we grow anything of profit we will send seeds to you for Stillwell. I have my own plot. One thing I grow is a thick-leaved plant with sap that eases burns. Mr. Raleigh’s scientific man burned himself with gunpowder, face and hands, and the sap of that plant healed him.
Pena puts frogs in the cistern and makes me watch them swim. He says he will teach me to swim in the river. I don’t want to. The water is cold. Everything is in it. When the tide is out it smells. Nobody else swims here, but he does every day.
He laughs and makes up songs. He is never quiet. He works the soil with a hoe that has rings and bells on the handle. “Stink, stank, reek, rank/Rats along the riverbank,” he sings as he digs. He sings as loud as he can. He took me for a walk along the river. We saw a Turk walking on a rope and a bear with a ring through its nose dancing on its hind feet as its keeper played a flute and beat a drum. These things are free, but some people toss pennies for them. Pena tossed a halfpenny in the Turk’s hat.
My best friend here is William. We do plays together. He goes to Court for hawking and jousting. We made a play about people at Court, but Pena said it was mean. I don’t like the tall page Father met named Peter. He acts highborn, but William says he isn’t really better than we are.
I copy things for Mr. Raleigh until my hand hurts. He made me write extracts from his book about plants in New Spain. It says cacao and tobacco chewed together make the Indians so strong they can travel for days without food or water. Mr. Raleigh says he will make the experiment on himself. He takes no physician’s word for anything!
He praised my extract of the Spaniard’s book. When I told William at dinner, Peter yelled, “Good dog!” and made to pat me on the head. I barked and made him jump, so people laughed as much at him as me.
Sometimes I work with Mr. Harriot, studying how the natives live in America. Mr. Harriot will go there to write a report. He talks about America as much as Tremayne does.
Sundays, we go to services at St. Paul’s Cathedral. Mr. Harriot took me down below, where sixteen men work the bellows that blow through four hundred bronze pipes. The smallest is the size of my hand. The tallest goes up to the roof. The low notes go so deep the floor shakes. The high ones sound like birds. Last week the Queen’s preacher preached for two hours. A man goes up and down the aisles with a long black stick, poking those who doze off. He pokes a lot, men and women.
Yesterday William and I walked to the broad place in the river where ships dock. It is called the Pool. A sailor said some of the ships we saw were from India, Russia, and Constantinople. We passed the Tower. William says there is a deep pit there for the priests they catch. On London Bridge Tower the heads of traitors are stuck on pikes. There are
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