I listened to him with pleasure. He had an unusually soft musical voice for a sailor. I could not imagine his shouting to sailors on the deck. There could not have been a man less like my father. It was amazing how I compared them all with him.

“If we had entirely neglected trading,” Fennimore was saying, “we could never have beaten the Armada. We shouldn’t have had the ships.”

“Traders!” cried my father. “Nothing to do with it. We beat the Dons because we were better seamen and we were determined not to let them set foot on our land.”

“Yes, yes, Captain Pennlyon, that’s true of course. But we had to have the ships and by good fortune we had them.”

“Now, young man, don’t you make the mistake of thinking this victory was due to luck. Good fortune, you say. Good seamanship, say I.”

“It was that, but we did have the ships,” insisted Fennimore. “Did you know that in 1560 we had but seventy-one ships trading on the seas and in 1582 we’d increased that number to one hundred and fifty? Why, in 1560, sir, our merchant navy was almost nothing … we weren’t among the maritime nations. What were we doing? Our coastal trade was insignificant. We did a little with the Baltic ports—just with the Low Countries and perhaps a little with Spain, Portugal and France … a few Mediterranean calls. That will not be so any more. We, Captain, are going to be not one of the foremost trading nations in the world but the foremost. There’s coal to be carried … coal and fish. This has been done in the past, but now that we have driven the Spaniards off the seas we have to take advantage of it.”

My father was listening now. Any method of worsting the Spaniards appealed to him.

I found it fascinating to listen to Fennimore. It was obvious that he had studied the matter; he believed in it wholeheartedly. Carlos was inclined to support him, while waiting for the cue from my father, of course. Jacko watched with bright eyes so like his mother’s; if the family was going into trade he wanted to be in it too. Penn’s eyes never left our father’s face. And watching him there, his startling blue eyes fierce at the mention of Spaniards, I was never more conscious of his intolerance and there was a great yearning in me for him to like and approve of Fennimore Landor. I realized that Fennimore in his way was as determined as my father was in his; but while one was noisily vociferous the other achieved as much impact by his quiet insistence.

I sat listening to his voice and it was as though he created before my eyes the fulfilment of a dream. He was going to make our country great—not through war which to my father had always seemed the way to do this, but through trade. To ply peacefully throughout the world practising legitimate trading would prove more profitable, Fennimore was implying, than riding the high seas armed with guns and cannon, boarding, robbing, fighting, killing—sometimes acquiring a prize of great worth and as often suffering loss as well as death.

“The time has come,” he cried. “The troubles between the Low Countries and the Spaniards have crippled them both. What fools men are to kill when they might trade peaceably! At one time Antwerp was a centre of great wealth—one of the greatest in the world. The closing of the Schelde three years ago finished that. We have still to contend with Amsterdam. They’ll be our rivals for a while. That is good. Rivalry is necessary. It is the spur.”

He leaned his elbows on the table and contemplated my father earnestly.

“I prophesy that in the next decade we in this country will build a merchant fleet which will be the envy of the world. We have come through a great ordeal victorious. It is not for us now to gloat over our enemies but to go on to greatness. Our derision cannot hurt them—our trading ships will. We have to beat the argosies of Venice, the tartanes of Marseilles. God and our seamen have taken care of the galleys of Barcelona.”

I clapped my hands together and then I flushed because everyone was looking at me.

“Congratulations, Captain Landor,” I stammered. “I … was quite carried away.”

He smiled at me then and it seemed a very long moment that we looked at each other.

“The trading ships would have to be equipped with guns,” my father said.

“There is no doubt of that,” replied Fennimore warmly, “for there will always be pirates. We must be ready. Our shipyards should now be working at full strength. We need ships, ships, ships.”

“England has always had need of ships,” said Carlos.

“But rarely as urgently as now. We have this breathing space. I doubt the Spaniards will ever recover from the trouncing they’ve had. Our rivals will be the Dutch. We must be prepared to meet the challenge.”

“And this,” said my father, “is what you wish to speak to me about.”

“Captain Pennlyon, your praises are sung all along these coasts and farther. The Queen herself has spoken of you as one of the guardians of the realm.”

“God bless her,” said my father. He lifted his glass and we all drank to Queen Elizabeth.

“May this be the beginning of a new era,” said Fennimore earnestly. “The great age of peace, trade and prosperity because of these great blessings.”

“Amen,” said my mother.

My father looked at her and I saw the faint smile which passed between them; I knew then that she would persuade him to consider Fennimore’s proposal, whatever it was going to be, and that he would.

After that the conversation became more general.

Jacko had two of the new medals which had been struck to commemorate the victory. We all laughed over the one on which was engraved “Venit, vidit, fugit,” a play on Julius Caesar’s “I came, I saw, I conquered.” With the Spaniards they had come, seen and fled.

My father kept gazing at it and chuckling over it.

My mother said: “The Captain has suffered a great bereavement. He has lost his Spaniards. What shall you do, Jake, with no one to curse, no throats to cut, none to run through with your sword?”

“I doubt not,” he said, his eyes flashing fire at her, “that there are some lurking in that poxy land who will yet feel the steel of my sword.”

Edwina commented that she had heard that Robert Dudley’s death had caused the Queen great sorrow. “She truly loved him,” she said. “What a pity she could not have married him. I believe she would have been happy to do so.”

“She was too wise for that,” said Fennimore. “She is a great Queen. England comes first with her. She would let no man come between her and her duty to her country.”

“I like the medal,” said my mother, “which stresses the fact that she is a woman and that a woman was at the heart of our victory. ‘Dux femina facti.’ It is a heartening thought … for us women.”

“She is an unusual woman, don’t forget, and she wears a crown,” said Jake. “’Twould be a sorry state of affairs if all women thought they could govern men.”

“’Twould be worth a try,” retorted my mother. “You have all been saying—and my husband in particular—that we have just had the most resounding victory ever known. And a woman was at the heart of it. I like that medal.”

“There were men who served her well,” pointed out Fennimore. “But perhaps they did so because she was a woman.”

Edwina said that in her opinion men and women should work together. There should be no rivalry between them. They should be complementary one to the other.

“If men would remember that, there would be complete understanding, between the sexes,” said my mother.

Penn said: “Is it true that Robert Dudley was poisoned?”

There was a brief silence at the table. It was not usually wise to discuss such matters freely, but over the last weeks we had all grown a little less careful.

Court affairs were always of the utmost interest to us, none the less so because, being so far from London, we usually heard of them some time after they had taken place. This distance may well have made us perhaps more reckless than we would have dared be had we lived closer to the Court.