knew that the Killigrews were pirates, thieves, and ne’er-do-wells who had climbed high on the social ladder by meansof starting halfway up it from a large pile of misappropriated gold. This, of course, made them heroic figures to many of the Cornish, especially those who still mourned the passing of Queen Bess and the years in which the Crown had so often turned a blind eye to a little nautical initiative.
Cat’s mother had worked three years at Arwenack, close by on the Helford River, and had talked of little else, as if that short time had been for her a golden age, and the intervening twenty years had belonged to some other woman’s life. Far from displaying any shame at working for folk who sailed too close to the wind, Jane Tregenna reveled in the wild tales that surrounded the Killigrews. She had particularly enjoyed telling her daughter, over and again, each time with a little more embroidered detail, the story of Jane Killigrew, wife of the first Sir John, who had ended his days in the debtors’ prison in London’s Fleet, leaving his widow with great debts and no way of paying them, until that resolute woman had determined to make her fortune with her own hands, so that when two Dutch galleons disabled by heavy weather and bearing Spanish gold had been brought into the shelter of Pendennis, Jane Killigrew led her retainers—armed with pikes and swords—and stormed the ships, overpowering the crew, killing the two Spanish factors aboard and making away with several hogsheads of gold. It was the killing of the Spanish grandees that had earned many of those involved a hanging at Launceston, but it was rumored that Elizabeth herself had intervened on behalf of Lady Jane; certainly she had issued a royal pardon and Jane Killigrew had escaped the gibbet. The current Sir John was her son.
“Is he the man who has built the lighthouse on the Lizard Point?” Cat inquired, knowing full well the answer.
“The same,” he replied, tight-lipped.
Rob did not approve of Sir John Killigrew, and Cat was minded to twitch his reins. With a gleam in her eye, she said, “’Tis surely a most charitable Christian gesture to construct a lighthouse to warn the shipping about the wicked rocks on that black coast.”
Rob snorted. “Oh, most charitable. Were it not for the fact thathe charges a toll upon each vessel that passes the point.” Or indeed extinguishes the light when strong southwesterlies and a particularly rich prize look as if they might converge, he thought but did not add.
“A man of admirable acumen,” Cat offered, enjoying herself. “Perhaps Sir Arthur has thought of raising a lighthouse of his own upon the Mount and seeks his counsel.”
“I hardly think our master is likely to take to licensed robbery of his neighbors and countrymen,” Rob returned acidly. “He seeks, in quite the opposite manner, to protect us all. He has gathered his allies about him to aid him in making overtures to the Privy Council for funds to furnish the Mount with more guns, and somehow Killigrew has managed to gain royal favor sufficiently to acquire such for Pendennis, though he says it is never enough.”
“Will the Spanish attack us again?” Cat asked. “Or is it the French he wishes to protect us from?”
“Or the Turks, or privateers, or the rogue Dutch? There are many enemies who might be attracted by the sight of an unprotected stretch of coast such as this.”
“But there is nothing here to steal! What are they going to take, our pilchards?” She leaned toward him, laughing. “Or perhaps Nell Chigwine and her mother? How I would love to see them carried off to some Catholic noblewoman’s house. Can you imagine their horror at all the terrible Papist trappings and Latin Mass?”
“You should not make mock of others’ religious beliefs, Cat,” Rob said severely, though a smile was lurking behind his words. “It is not very Christian of you.”
“Truth be told, I often feel like the wicked little
Cat’s mother had worked three years at Arwenack, close by on the Helford River, and had talked of little else, as if that short time had been for her a golden age, and the intervening twenty years had belonged to some other woman’s life. Far from displaying any shame at working for folk who sailed too close to the wind, Jane Tregenna reveled in the wild tales that surrounded the Killigrews. She had particularly enjoyed telling her daughter, over and again, each time with a little more embroidered detail, the story of Jane Killigrew, wife of the first Sir John, who had ended his days in the debtors’ prison in London’s Fleet, leaving his widow with great debts and no way of paying them, until that resolute woman had determined to make her fortune with her own hands, so that when two Dutch galleons disabled by heavy weather and bearing Spanish gold had been brought into the shelter of Pendennis, Jane Killigrew led her retainers—armed with pikes and swords—and stormed the ships, overpowering the crew, killing the two Spanish factors aboard and making away with several hogsheads of gold. It was the killing of the Spanish grandees that had earned many of those involved a hanging at Launceston, but it was rumored that Elizabeth herself had intervened on behalf of Lady Jane; certainly she had issued a royal pardon and Jane Killigrew had escaped the gibbet. The current Sir John was her son.
“Is he the man who has built the lighthouse on the Lizard Point?” Cat inquired, knowing full well the answer.
“The same,” he replied, tight-lipped.
Rob did not approve of Sir John Killigrew, and Cat was minded to twitch his reins. With a gleam in her eye, she said, “’Tis surely a most charitable Christian gesture to construct a lighthouse to warn the shipping about the wicked rocks on that black coast.”
Rob snorted. “Oh, most charitable. Were it not for the fact thathe charges a toll upon each vessel that passes the point.” Or indeed extinguishes the light when strong southwesterlies and a particularly rich prize look as if they might converge, he thought but did not add.
“A man of admirable acumen,” Cat offered, enjoying herself. “Perhaps Sir Arthur has thought of raising a lighthouse of his own upon the Mount and seeks his counsel.”
“I hardly think our master is likely to take to licensed robbery of his neighbors and countrymen,” Rob returned acidly. “He seeks, in quite the opposite manner, to protect us all. He has gathered his allies about him to aid him in making overtures to the Privy Council for funds to furnish the Mount with more guns, and somehow Killigrew has managed to gain royal favor sufficiently to acquire such for Pendennis, though he says it is never enough.”
“Will the Spanish attack us again?” Cat asked. “Or is it the French he wishes to protect us from?”
“Or the Turks, or privateers, or the rogue Dutch? There are many enemies who might be attracted by the sight of an unprotected stretch of coast such as this.”
“But there is nothing here to steal! What are they going to take, our pilchards?” She leaned toward him, laughing. “Or perhaps Nell Chigwine and her mother? How I would love to see them carried off to some Catholic noblewoman’s house. Can you imagine their horror at all the terrible Papist trappings and Latin Mass?”
“You should not make mock of others’ religious beliefs, Cat,” Rob said severely, though a smile was lurking behind his words. “It is not very Christian of you.”
“Truth be told, I often feel like the wicked little
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