Read Online Raleigh's Page by Alan Armstrong - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Alan Armstrong
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dozens, like rotted squashes. I did not know we had so many traitors.
This halfpenny is for Rebecca for a hair ribbon. Mr. Raleigh’s geographer friend gave it to me. He’s called a dream traveler. I went to him to borrow a map. He saw my future in his magic glass, but I can’t tell it, because Mr. Harriot said repeating it to anyone would be like pouring vinegar into milk: all the good will sour.
I think of every one of you every day and say my prayers.
Love,
Andrew
14
T HE W INE M ERCHANT’S C LERK
A few days after his visit to Doctor Dee, Andrew was again called from the garden to the turret. He met Mr. Harriot at the door as a small, shortsighted man slunk out.
Mr. Raleigh was pacing. He started speaking as they entered.
“Mr. Phelippes has just made report. He is one of Principal Secretary Walsingham’s chief decoders. He’s learned that a wine merchant in France has a new map showing the Spanish forts in the Caribbean. Our expedition will take on fresh water and provisions at one of the islands there. We need to know where the enemy is.”
Mr. Raleigh turned to the window and spoke as if he were addressing the gulls that were always circling and calling.
“Mr. Secretary wonders if some of my people could get this map. We have little time before the merchant must return it to the official in Paris he borrowed it from.
“The merchant trades spirits for American furs,” Mr. Raleigh went on. “He gathers information for the benefit of his trade and sells it to his Paris connection.”
He narrowed his eyes as he turned back.
“Andrew, your father said you have a rare sense of smell. A wine dealer’s chief instrument of trade is his nose. Do you have the nose of a wine dealer?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“We will find out.”
He pointed to a row of filled glasses, each one on a numbered paper, and an empty bowl.
“Sniff and taste. Match like with like. Swallow none: sniff and taste, then spit into the bowl.”
Another test!
Andrew thought, his heart pounding. He did his best as he sniffed and sipped from the first glass, spat, then sampled the others the same way to find its match. Most were sour to his taste, but the third matched the first, and so it went. It wasn’t hard with the first three pairs. Of the seven glasses remaining, four were sweeter than the others. They stalled him.
His face was long as he set them aside and worked over the other three. He made one pair. The stray was not like any of the others. He was angry with himself, afraid he’d missed something. The men were waiting, watching. He finally gave up and said he thought the sweets were all the same.
Mr. Raleigh’s eyes were hooded. He took a paper and checked the numbers.
He showed it to Mr. Harriot. Andrew couldn’t read the man’s face. Then Mr. Harriot grinned and said quietly, “You have the gift.”
Andrew took a big breath as Mr. Raleigh resumed his pacing.
“So now we have a way of proving to the Frenchman that Andrew and his master are in the wine trade.
“Suppose,” he continued after a moment, “that a wine merchant and his clerk were to call on the Frenchman, offering to trade wine for furs on terms advantageous to the Frenchman. And suppose further that one of the samples they offered had been touched with drug. The Frenchman might enjoy a nap while the boy and his master made a survey of his papers and took what they needed.
“There won’t be time to copy.”
Mr. Raleigh explained that with one of Doctor Dee’s recipes, he’d made a tincture from the sap of poppies.
“The drug is tasteless, almost the color of water. A small drop in his glass will send a large man sleeping. It is called opium.”
He turned to Mr. Harriot.
“Andrew will do for our clerk, but who will be our wine merchant? We need a plain-mannered stranger we can trust who speaks French.”
“Me!” exclaimed Mr. Harriot.
“No,” said Mr. Raleigh, shaking his head slowly. “Our connection is too well known. I
This halfpenny is for Rebecca for a hair ribbon. Mr. Raleigh’s geographer friend gave it to me. He’s called a dream traveler. I went to him to borrow a map. He saw my future in his magic glass, but I can’t tell it, because Mr. Harriot said repeating it to anyone would be like pouring vinegar into milk: all the good will sour.
I think of every one of you every day and say my prayers.
Love,
Andrew
14
T HE W INE M ERCHANT’S C LERK
A few days after his visit to Doctor Dee, Andrew was again called from the garden to the turret. He met Mr. Harriot at the door as a small, shortsighted man slunk out.
Mr. Raleigh was pacing. He started speaking as they entered.
“Mr. Phelippes has just made report. He is one of Principal Secretary Walsingham’s chief decoders. He’s learned that a wine merchant in France has a new map showing the Spanish forts in the Caribbean. Our expedition will take on fresh water and provisions at one of the islands there. We need to know where the enemy is.”
Mr. Raleigh turned to the window and spoke as if he were addressing the gulls that were always circling and calling.
“Mr. Secretary wonders if some of my people could get this map. We have little time before the merchant must return it to the official in Paris he borrowed it from.
“The merchant trades spirits for American furs,” Mr. Raleigh went on. “He gathers information for the benefit of his trade and sells it to his Paris connection.”
He narrowed his eyes as he turned back.
“Andrew, your father said you have a rare sense of smell. A wine dealer’s chief instrument of trade is his nose. Do you have the nose of a wine dealer?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“We will find out.”
He pointed to a row of filled glasses, each one on a numbered paper, and an empty bowl.
“Sniff and taste. Match like with like. Swallow none: sniff and taste, then spit into the bowl.”
Another test!
Andrew thought, his heart pounding. He did his best as he sniffed and sipped from the first glass, spat, then sampled the others the same way to find its match. Most were sour to his taste, but the third matched the first, and so it went. It wasn’t hard with the first three pairs. Of the seven glasses remaining, four were sweeter than the others. They stalled him.
His face was long as he set them aside and worked over the other three. He made one pair. The stray was not like any of the others. He was angry with himself, afraid he’d missed something. The men were waiting, watching. He finally gave up and said he thought the sweets were all the same.
Mr. Raleigh’s eyes were hooded. He took a paper and checked the numbers.
He showed it to Mr. Harriot. Andrew couldn’t read the man’s face. Then Mr. Harriot grinned and said quietly, “You have the gift.”
Andrew took a big breath as Mr. Raleigh resumed his pacing.
“So now we have a way of proving to the Frenchman that Andrew and his master are in the wine trade.
“Suppose,” he continued after a moment, “that a wine merchant and his clerk were to call on the Frenchman, offering to trade wine for furs on terms advantageous to the Frenchman. And suppose further that one of the samples they offered had been touched with drug. The Frenchman might enjoy a nap while the boy and his master made a survey of his papers and took what they needed.
“There won’t be time to copy.”
Mr. Raleigh explained that with one of Doctor Dee’s recipes, he’d made a tincture from the sap of poppies.
“The drug is tasteless, almost the color of water. A small drop in his glass will send a large man sleeping. It is called opium.”
He turned to Mr. Harriot.
“Andrew will do for our clerk, but who will be our wine merchant? We need a plain-mannered stranger we can trust who speaks French.”
“Me!” exclaimed Mr. Harriot.
“No,” said Mr. Raleigh, shaking his head slowly. “Our connection is too well known. I
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