Witch from the Sea

“Following the Dutch,” he said. “Carrying goods and trading them and bringing back a cargo. Fishing in the Baltic and bringing back the catch. Trading!” he added disparagingly.

Then he stood, legs wide apart, watching, and when the little boats brought her captain ashore my father roared: “By God, if it’s not Fe

That was the first time I saw Fe

“This is my girl Li

“The hope of seeing you,” said Fe

“To see me. Well met then. You must come to the Court. You’ll be welcome. That’s so, eh Li

I said he would be very welcome.

We looked at each other rather searchingly and I wondered whether he liked my looks as much as I liked his.

I hoped so.

“The Court” was Lyon Court—the house which had been built by my great-grandfather when he began to amass his fortune. It was a little ostentatious compared with older houses like Trewynd, the home of Edwina and Carlos. I heard my mother say once to my father when they were battling together that the Pe

As we walked up to the Court from the Hoe, Fe

She was coming down the staircase to the hall. She was very sprightly and had a wonderful vitality which was more attractive than beauty. She must have been about forty-eight years old but because she had had an adventurous life this had somehow preserved her youth.

“Father is bringing a guest,” I cried. “His name is Fe

Fe

They drank Malmsey and talked mostly of the sea and Fe

Later when we were at the great table in the hall, Fe

Fe

My father nodded. “Crippled by God and blasted off the seas.” He was launching out on the well-worn theme of how we had defeated them, how they had boasted they would vanquish us in a day or so. Fe

He interrupted: “They can no longer have their galleys going out from Barcelona and Cadiz. Where are their galleys?”

“At the bottom of the ocean,” chuckled my father.

“Of course, there are the Dutch.”

“The Dutch!” spat out my father.

“Worthy seamen,” put in Fe

My father puffed his lips impatiently. “There’s no seaman like an English one and preferably a west countryman at that.”

My mother laughed with that touch of tender derision she so often showed towards my father. “You will find Captain Pe

I looked round the table. We must have seemed a strange family to Fe

Carlos’s mother had been Spanish but he had inherited scarcely anything of hers, he was clearly my father’s son. His hair was darkish brown and his eyes light hazel colour; he swaggered when he walked in a ma

However, there we were on this day when Fe

Fe