Introduction

En route to the Americas in 1609, Elizabeth Persons, a young servant girl, sees her blinding headache as an ominous sign. Sure enough, a hurricane during the final leg of their journey tosses the ill-fated Sea Venture and its one hundred and fifty passengers and crew onto the dreaded shores of the Bermudas, the rumored home of evil spirits and dangerous natives. In the months that pass—time marked by grave hardship, mutiny, adventure, danger . . . and a blossoming love between Elizabeth and the wrecked ship's young cook—she despairs of their ever being rescued. But she finds hope and strength in a remarkable new friendship, forming a fast bond with the Sea Venture's historian, a poet traveling under the name of William Strachey. But Will is more than he seems. To many back home in England, he is known by a different name: Shakespeare. And he sees in their great shared travails the makings of a magical, truly transcendent work of theater.

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Excerpt

The Gentleman Poet: A Novel of Love, Danger,

and Shakespeare’s “The Tempest”

by Kathryn Johnson

Methoughts I saw a thousand fearful wracks;

A thousand men that fishes gnawed upon.

Richard III

1

Elizabeth—July 24, 1609

A storm was coming. For weeks since our departure from Plymouthe, I had been blessedly free of the seasickness that plagued others aboard our ship. Then one cloudless, azure-skied morning as the gentlest of zephyrs billowed our white sails, Demons took possession of my poor head and I began to fear the worst, for here in the middle of the vast Atlantic Ocean we were at the mercy of the elements.

The pain came on so sudden and fierce I thought it might pop my skull like a nut shell between the pincers of a cracker. I could keep down no food. The dull, brassy flickering of lanterns below deck pierced my eyes, so that I had to squint against the painful glare. Never had one of my spells been this bad.

But no sign of concern marked our good Admiral Sir George Somers’s confident manner when he stooped his tall frame to enter Mistress’s chamber with a cheerful, “Good day to you, Mistress Horton.” He came daily to share news of our progress aboard the Sea Venture. The fleet was now eight weeks out of Plymouthe Harbour, with our proud Venture as flagship, leading the way.

Mistress Horton, benefactress of the Virginia Company, received the ship’s officers’ highest respect. When in the mood, she dined at Governor Sir Thomas Gates’ table. When not, she sent me to the galley to fetch her meals.

Sweet Savior! Elizabeth, do not think of Cook’s larded mutton. Nor his greasy cabbage-and-turnip stew, scorched Shrewsbury cakes, or savory purses oozing with over-spiced gravies.

Holding my stomach, I squatted unnoticed in my scratchy fustian cassock behind the largest of Mistress’s trunks, desperately wishing myself back in London and on solid, blessedly unmoving ground. Burying head in arms, I tried to shut out their conversation. But the dizzying stink of Mistress’s lilac perfume and rocking motion of the ship made my misery worse.

“Captain Newport predicts we are no more than eight days of making Cape Henry,” the admiral advised her. The Cape being off the coast of Virginia, New Britannia. Our destination.

I looked up, hopeful. Eight days! Could it be we might outrace the storm?

“It cannot be soon enough.” Mistress’s sour gaze drifted about our tiny compartment. She pursed her lips and huffed. “These accommodations are far less comfortable than promised.”

In truth, this private chamber was more than most aboard obtained, lesser passengers and crew being stacked atop one another in the ship’s cave-ish innards. How spoilt you are, old woman, I thought.

“Now, now, good lady.” The admiral patted her withered hand. “Do you not enjoy this fine adventure?”

“I enjoy nothing of this method of travel. If it weren’t for concern over my investments I never would have. . .” She cast about the chamber again. “Where is that worthless girl?”

Her words stung, although I’d heard them often enough before, as well as felt a bounty of her quick, harsh slaps. But I would not have a good man like the admiral think so little of me.

I kept to the shadows, praying the old witch wouldn’t ask me to bring out her hippocras and biscuits. The mere thought of spiced wine and sweets set my stomach churning again.

I should never have set foot on this ship, came the bitter thought. Unfortunately, I’d had little choice in the matter, given my recent dire circumstances.

Sir George smiled, better at indulging her than either Governor Gates or Captain Newport. “You will soon see how well your money is spent, dear lady. And as to conditions for the crossing, we can ask no fairer weather.”

It was true. We had enjoyed only the gentlest of swells and no breeze stronger than our sails might enjoy. Yet my head reminded me that this fine weather would not last. If only we had been closer to Virginia. . .

We were to be the Third Supply to the Jamestown Colony. Our more than 600 settlers and soldiers aboard seven ships and two pinnaces sailed with all manner of victuals, tools, weaponry, soldiers and marines, and varied materials sufficient to sustain our Company, and those who had sailed before us, against famine, weather and savages. All of London had applauded our brave and exciting enterprise. Throngs of well-wishers lined the wharves of Plymouthe to hail our departure.

But now, as Venture spilled down yet another slippery liquid trough, my insides lurched dangerously. I stifled a sob, clamping a hand over my mouth.

Fearing to offend the admiral with my sickness, I seized my cloak and took the chance to escape while they conversed, scrambling through the common crew‘s hold then up, up, up the splintery wooden ladder and out into brisk sea air.

Cloak wrapped tight, I rushed past sailors working on swaying deck. All, thankfully, too busy to pay mind to an ill serving girl. At a place of solitude near the bowsprit, I heaved up the watery contents of my stomach and clung limp, sweating, spent to the rail. From the intensity of my agony I felt more certain than ever that we were about to sail into the fiercest of maelstroms.

“You are but a natural weather gauge, Elizabeth.” My father’s words, meant to soothe me during a lesser spell. “Think of your headaches as a gift, if you can. They always pass, and you will never be caught in the rain.” It had become our small joke.

I pressed a trembling hand to my temple. It throbbed mercilessly. I drew deep breaths, tucking a stray yellow curl beneath my cap. After a while it became possible to open my eyes again, though I could only squint against the too-brilliant sunlight.

The sky above was the true, honest hue of periwinkles and larkspur. A salty breeze, still soft and steady, filled our sails nicely. The sea spread before me, a composed gray-green endless carpet upon which to ride. Four of our other ships, including our little pinnace leashed to our gunwhales, floated in easy view. Three others I could see more distant. The last, I trusted, lingered not far behind. A peaceful scene if ever there was one at sea.

But when I gazed down into the white spume sliced out of Neptune’s depths by our proud flagship’s prow, I saw that the dolphins, playful fellows that had frolicked in our wake these many weeks, were gone.

Where to, good friends? A fish’s secret sanctuary?

Would that I could swim away with them. I stared at the distant southern horizon where ocean kissed the sky. As I watched, a thin, muddy line appeared although I suspected no land lay there.

I longed to warn our captain. But who would believe a maidservant when not one of our expert navigators anticipated a monster as treacherous as the many-headed Scylla stalked us?

Worse yet, I should be accused of witchery if my prediction proved true. And anyway, what good would their knowing do?

Closing my eyes against the pain, I swallowed back another mouthful of sour bile and felt the wind go hot and moist against my face. I fingered the hem of my worn cloak, for the comfort it always brought. My mother’s rosary I had sewn within, where the pretty beads would not betray me. A score of whispered Hail Mary’s did little to calm my cursed head or steady my heaving stomach.

“Your mistress calls,” a voice said above the wash of waves against our hull.

I turned with a start, dropping the cloak’s edge from trembling fingertips.

Behind me stood William Strachey, commissioned to act as our voyage’s historian. His long face, shaven chin, dull rust-colored hair shot through with gray were all unremarkable. He wore doublet and hose of a dusty moss-brown hue, quite plain. But in his left earlobe twinkled an exceptionally fine gentleman’s gold ringlet, distinguishing him from crew and lesser passengers—carpenters, coopers, farmers, craftsmen, soldiers and base laborers. It seemed strange, at least to me, that a mere clerk should own such an expensive trinket, but I had no time to give such suspicions further thought now.

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” I kept my eyes low and fled past him.

Down through the gaping hatch, like a rabbit into her warren. Back through the dank, grim passage crammed with the governor’s guard playing cards. The stench of piss pots, spilled sacke, stale food and unwashed bodies filled my nostrils. Cloak pressed over mouth and nose, stomach clenching, I rushed back toward Mistress Horton’s chamber.

She was alone now.

"Elizabeth!”

I knew not to expect sympathy. Nevertheless, her sharp tone brought me up short, and I stopped well beyond her reach. “Yes, Madam.”

The old woman’s black fish-eyes twitched with anger. “You are never to go above deck without me. How often have I told you?”

I held back my indignation, knowing to voice it would only buy me trouble. Meekness worked better on her. “But I was ill, Madam. I wished not to foul your chamber.”

“Nevertheless. Those sailors—” She pinched her thin lips and left the rest unsaid.

With so few women, ten only among our ship’s total manifest of one hundred fifty, we of our sex watched ourselves well. But I suspected it was less concern for my purity than desire to always be attended that she kept me below.

“I shall have something light to eat now, girl.”

I sighed. “Yes, Madam.”

“And fetch my Bible. There on the largest trunk.”

I handed her the deliciously soft leather-bound book, its gilded page edgings catching the lantern’s light, even that making my head pound.

At one time, my family had owned a dozen volumes, equally as fine—books by Homer, Virgil, a compendium of cookery beloved by my mother, others as well. The older ones, some in Latin, were illuminated in colors so vivid they took the breath away. Gone. All gone now, I thought bitterly.

Mistress split open her Bible with two blue-veined sparrow claws. When she seemed immersed in the pages, I plucked a twig of lavender from her pomander and crushed it beneath my nose. The fragrance gave ease enough to my roiling stomach to resume my duties.

From the tin of biscuits I took the largest remaining and placed it on her favorite pewter plate. None for me, even if I had been able to eat; she counted out our supply each night. If one went missing she would accuse me of thievery to the captain. Whatever flavorless fish stew Cook contrived for the guard and seamen’s mess waited for me.

I found the small cask reserved for her favorite ale, drained off a measure into a pewter cup then set it aside where it wouldn’t topple with the ship’s motion. From a fist-sized block of sugar, kept locked in a small coffer beneath Mistress’s bed, I scraped a few precious crystals onto her biscuit.

Without warning the ship’s steady roll changed to a precipitous pitch. I grabbed for a timber and the cup at the same time. Now it does begin, I thought. Sweet Virgin, save us! Had my hands been free, I might foolishly have crossed myself.

Caution, Bethy. Take care what you reveal. My mother’s final words of warning.

But terror of another kind brought me back to this moment. Ships sank in storms. And when they did, this far from land, all aboard drowned. All. Was my young life to end so early?

Above decks the Master shouted orders. From the creak of ropes and slap of feet, I guessed that sailors were taking to the rigging. The massive sails would be bundled along spars and booms, so as not to pull us over in the coming storm.

“What takes you so long, Elizabeth?”

“It is ready.” But my hands were shaking now and I had trouble grasping the cup.

The ship bucked. Ale sloshed in a golden waterfall to the floor. “Oh!” I cried.

My foot slipped on the damp planks, going out from under me. I tried to catch myself, but the plate flew from my hand, the cup too. Clanking empty against the stack of trunks, it rolled away with the motion of the ship.

“Clumsy girl!” Mistress clutched the carved arms of her chair and glared at me. “Your bad luck if you have bent them.”

“Your dishes are undamaged,” I said from my sore knees, retrieving both. Where the biscuit had gone, I knew not. Luckily, she was too far away to strike me. “I will fetch another.”

“Do not bother.” She whisked an imperious hand through the air. “I would wait until these tricky breezes cease.”

“They will not.” I sat up, rubbing my knees through my skirts.

“And how do you know?”

I had not meant her to hear. “I don’t,” I lied.

She tossed me a look of disgust.

I busied myself with chores until she fell to napping then went to sit beneath the nearest small hatch, ignoring other passengers’ nervous chatter as the swells built. Here the foulness of the hold seemed less, the pain in my head felt less severe. Above me, Venture’s massive wooden masts soared up into an evil sky.

Although it was not yet five glasses past noon, the heavens turned black before my eyes, then blacker still than an iron monger’s furnace. There would be no stars to navigate by tonight. No moon. The wind rose, playing an ominous whistle through the rigging, as if a great, ravenous bird perched there waiting to pick our bones. As I sat helpless, trembling, the noise increased to a howl, then an unholy shriek.

“Dear God, do protect us!” a man called out in prayer from somewhere in the hold.

A woman wept aloud. Other voices attempted to comfort her but soon grew silent, catching her fear at the first ominous crash of thunder. I felt as sorry for them as for myself.

Lightning rent the skies. Silver against black. Then the rains came, wind and water shouting down each other, drowning out even the most terrified shrieks of women and men alike as they huddled deeper within the ship’s bowels.

Then, as suddenly as the demons had assaulted me, they left my poor head, for all the good it might do at this our darkest hour.

I stayed at my post beneath the hatch, though the rain poured in and the fear never left me. Peering up at the sails I watched in horror as they tore partway free of the yardarms. Within moments they were shredded by the fierce wind. The ship rose then floundered, creaking mournfully, heaving upward on each towering wave before pitching downward again.

My insides clutched and tumbled with each desperate lurch and wallow of the ship.

Behind us, I knew, trailed the lively Blessing, then Diamond, Unitie, the swift Falcon, Lion, Swallow, and last of all sweet Virginia and little Catch. Eight more tortured vessels carrying our fellow adventurers. I imagined their plight as hopeless as ours. I imagined every single soul drowning in the boiling black seas. view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

From the author:

1) What was the intended destination of the Sea Venture, and why didn’t the ship reach it?
2) Can you speculate as to the medical cause of Elizabeth Person’s headaches?
3) What evidence do we see in the story that William Strachey isn’t who he claims to be?
4) What events in the story, which occur in particular during the late 16th and early 17th century, led to the loss of Elizabeth’s family? (Hint: One involves religion; another has to do with disease.)
5) Several members of the original 150 people on board the ship never made it to Jamestown. Why?
6) What talent does Elizabeth/Miranda discover that she possesses, and how does she use it to help others and, ultimately, build for herself a new life?
7) Can you think of alternate endings for this novel?
8) After reading this novel, do you think you might enjoy reading Shakespeare’s “The Tempest”, or perhaps like to see the play performed?

Weblinks

»	Publisher's Book Info
»	Gentleman Poet official web site
»	Learn More about Shakespeare, his life, words and poetry
»	Locate theaters and festivals around the world where Shakespeare’s plays are performed.
»	Information on the earliest settlements in Jamestown, Virginia.
»	For fiction writers in search of a professional mentor
»	See the setting of the novel and a replica of Deliverance!

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