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S imon Dante had early misgivings about the Scout. She was designed to be light and fast, yet there was evidence of weakness in the masts and the rudder took far too long to ponder an order before it obeyed.

Most of the guns had given Pitt cause to suspect they had been cannibalized off prize ships, for they were of varying calibers and quality, some bearing the stamp of an Italian foundry, some English, some Spanish.

He had insisted on testing them with live ammunition—a waste young Carleill had strongly opposed.

Pitt was not fond of the Italian style of building their cannon in sections of banded iron and bolting them together in the trough of a carriage; two of these built-up culverins had obviously outlived their usefulness and cracked apart on the first live shot.

He was able to bastard them into one almost adequate gun, but another of the cast-iron falconets he simply unbolted and let fall into the sea.

Most of the powder had to be reground to a finer consistency and brought up out of the damp hold to dry out properly in the sun.

Still, it was a ship and Dante was in command again and for the two weeks it took to sail around Cape Saint Vincent, he and Pitt drilled on the guns and on the rigging, startling most of the crew into becoming, if not better sailors, at least more alert sailors.

At all times of the day and even in the dead of night, a sudden roll of drums would signal the men to turn to, cutlasses, muskets, and pikes in hand for boarding and hand-to-hand-combat drill.

It was Lucifer who took command of these, and in the same two-week period a good many of the men were terrified into becoming able swordsmen.

In his eagerness to reach Cadiz, Drake allowed no further delays for discussions or consultations.

The Queen’s galleons were first to test coastal waters under their keels, and by the second to last day of April, dawn found the entire fleet lying off San Lucar de Barrameda, easily within striking distance of the Spanish port.

At noon he assembled his captains on board the Elizabeth Bonaventure for a final council of war and told them, in the simplest terms possible, what he wanted, what he expected from them.

“The wind is with us. The sun is behind us. And by the grace of God, we shall capture the best part of Cadiz before this night falls.”

He ordered their colors struck so as to avoid early identification from any swift flyboats that might be patrolling the area.

He invited Dante to go over, one more time in as much detail as he could recall, the configuration of the harbor and its defenses.

An hour, no more, and the fleet was under way, the gun decks cleared for action, the ship’s surgeons ready with their saws and pincers, their mortars and lint.

Drummers stood ready on deck wiping beads of moisture from their upper lips, shifting nervously from foot to foot, occasionally dragging a hand down their breeches to dry the palms. Gunners readied their shot and cartridges, lit the slow fuses in their linstocks, and stood by the cannon, enjoying the silence and crystal-clear air, murmuring prayers, wondering if it would be the last glimpse of blue sky and foaming whitecaps they would see.

On board the Scout Dante had the dubious pleasure of watching the quartet comprised of the Queen’s faster-sailing galleons stretch their lead in front of him.

The Scout was not alone in her tardiness; many of the private vessels traveled in the same pack, including Victor Bloodstone.

Whether by accident or design the Talon kept pace with the Scout , always a little to the rear and off the starboard quarter.

Behind them the five remaining pinnaces struggled through the turbulence of the fleet’s wake, tacking back and forth like fleas trying to avoid being capsized by the heavy waves.

Dante was on the afterdeck watching some of their antics when Pitt joined him.

“We’re about as ready as we’ll ever be.”

Dante nodded grimly at the assessment, then his gaze went back to the horizon.

“Is it still there?”

The sun was too bright, dancing off the tops of the waves, making each pinpoint of light resemble a suit of sails.

But for three days now, early in the morning and last thing at night, something had been out there, riding low on the horizon, a mere speck of white at dawn, a nagging itch at the nape of the neck throughout the night.

Dante’s first thought had leaned toward a Spanish zabra or a Portuguese urca bound in the same direction as their fleet.

His second, supported by Carleill and considered by Pitt, was a supply boat or even a treasure ship heading for Cadiz to be refitted.

In reality, it could have been any of a thousand ships that regularly passed back and forth between the gates of the Mediterranean, yet neither Pitt nor Dante believed it for longer than it took to read the suspicion in each other’s eyes.

“You don’t suppose—”

“If it is,” Dante had replied with quiet menace, “I will kill her myself.”

Both men had looked back at the distant speck on the horizon, not wanting to believe it was possible, yet, when it was still there three days later, with no visible sign of the ship either speeding up to overtake them or falling off to veer into another port, both were more than half convinced it was the Egret .

“I truly will throttle her,” Dante murmured, barely moving his lips. “I will close my hands around her throat and squeeze until her eyes squirt out of her head and her tongue turns black.”

“Maybe it isn’t them. Maybe it is, as Carleill suggests, a cautious mariner reluctant to advance on such a large fleet.”

Dante stared at the green of the distant sea, then into the green of Pitt’s eyes.

Neither one of them believed it for a minute.

At roughly four in the afternoon the great limestone seawall on which the town of Cadiz sat rose up from the sea, the harbor behind it bristling with a forest of masts and rigging.

Heedless of William Borough’s expectations of courtesy, Drake led his galleons into the bay, giving no warning of their intent until they were past the outermost spit of land.

Two large galleys put out officiously from the Port of Saint Mary on the opposite side of the harbor, wanting to inquire after his business.

They were shallow-draught vessels, driven by oars, and at the first thunderous volley from the Bonaventure’s guns, their curiosity was satisfied and they made an abrupt turnaround, stroking furiously for the shoals where they knew no galleon could follow.

Drake hoisted the Cross of St. George on his mainmast. When he ran his own pennants and standards up the lines to announce to the town of Cadiz that the Dragon of the Apocalypse had arrived, the pandemonium onshore and in the crowded harbor was visible.

The streets clogged instantly with citizens running, screaming, for the safety of the Citadel.

Soldiers were dispatched from the fortress in a scramble of disorganization and lined the top of the cliffs like small black spikes of hair, their presence there as useless and ineffectual as the muskets they fired or waved in the air.

Drake ordered the Bonaventure straight into the massed crowd of shipping anchored alongside the quays.

He took a moment to admire how closely the tightly packed formations resembled the paintings Dante had removed from the San Pedro , and with the admiration still shining in his eyes, he gave the order to open fire.

He loosed three full broadsides into their midst before sheering off.

The privateers behind him did likewise before breaking off into smaller packs and attacking selected portions of the harbor.

Many of the supply ships and galleons that were in Cadiz being refitted for war were indeed without sails and were hapless targets for the guns of the Queen’s privateers.

Some of the smaller vessels that could move cut their anchor cables and tried to bolt, but they were no match for the sea hawks, and in short order the bay was filled with smoke and noise, there were ships burning and ships sinking, few, if any, with the means or ability to answer with their guns.

A second small fleet of galleys attempted to rally and do what they could to deter the English and keep the mouth of the channel that led to the inner harbor open for escaping ships.

They threw themselves at the Elizabeth Bonaventure , but with the other three Royal Navy warships riding off her flanks, the galleys were dispatched, five of them in flames, the other two with shattered oars and battered courage.

Dante had managed to stay in the shadow of the Bonaventure , offering his support against the galleys.

Wanting to give his crew confidence, he selected one of the slower ships and stalked it precariously close to the shoals, blasting away as quickly as the men could reload and fire.

Through a break in the smoke, he caught sight of one of the galleons making laboriously toward the mouth of the channel and he understood at once why the galleys had thrown themselves into the suicidal attack.

On her foremast she flew the standard incorporating the arms of Portugal, Leon, Castile, and Naples; at the main, the crossed keys of the papacy; on the mizzen, the red-and-white ensign of Spain; and on the stern, the enormous banner with Philip’s royal arms.

It was the forty-four-gun Santa Ana , the flagship of Philip’s favored admiral, the Marquis of Santa Cruz.

Dante looked for Drake, but either the Bonaventure had not noticed the rata behind her shield of smaller vessels, or he was too preoccupied with the galleys to break free.