Birds of Prey

by Wilbur Smith

  The two sides were almost evenly matched in numbers, but perhaps the crew of the frigate had been weakened by their long confinement in the dark and airless hold. In the forefront of the fight Hal became aware that it was swinging against them. His men were being forced to yield more of the deck and retreat towards the bows.

  From the corner of his eye he saw Sabah break and run, throwing aside his sword and scurrying for the hatch to hide below decks. Hal hated him for it. It takes but one coward to start a rout. But Sabah never reached the hatch. A tall black-bearded pirate sent a thrust through the small of his back that came out through his belly-button.

  Another hour on the practice field might have saved him, Hal thought fleetingly, then concentrated all his mind and strength on the four men who crowded forward, yammering like hyenas around their bleeding prey, to engage him.

  Hal killed one with a thrust under his raised arm into his heart and disarmed another with a neat slash across his wrist that severed his straining sinews. The sword dropped from the man’s fingers and he ran screaming across the deck and threw himself, bleeding, overboard. Hal’s other two attackers drew back in fear, and in the respite he looked around in the mêlée for Sam Bowles.

  He saw him in the back of the horde, keeping carefully out of the worst of it, screaming orders and threats at his men, his ferrety features twisted with malice.

  ‘Sam Bowles!’ Hal shouted at him. ‘I have you in my eye.’ Over the heads of the men between them, Sam looked across at him and there was sudden terror in his pale, close-set eyes.

  ‘I am coming for you now!’ Hal roared, and bounded forward, but three men were in his way. In the seconds it took him to beat them aside and clear a path for himself, Sam had darted away and hidden himself in the throng.

  Now the pirates clamoured about Hal like jackals around a lion. For a moment he fought side by side with Daniel and saw with amazement that the big man was wounded in a dozen places. Then he felt the hilt of the cutlass sticky in his hand as though he had scooped honey from a jar with his fingers. He realized that it was not honey but his own blood. He, too, was wounded, but in the heat of it all he felt no pain and fought on.

  ‘Beware, Sir Hal!’ Big Daniel roared, close beside him in the confusion. ‘The stern!’

  Hal jumped back, disengaging from the fight, and looked back. Daniel’s warning had come just in time to save him.

  Sam Bowles was at the rail of the stern overlooking the lower deck. There was a heavy bronze murderer in the slot of the rail and Sam had a lighted match in his hand as he swivelled and aimed the small hand cannon. He had picked out Hal from the press of fighting men and the murderer was aimed at him. Sam touched the match to the pan of the cannon.

  In the instant before it fired Hal leaped forward, seized the pirate in front of him around his waist and lifted him off his feet. The man yelled with surprise as Hal held him like a shield, just as the murderer fired and a gale of lead shot swept the deck. Hal felt the body of the man in his arms jump as half a dozen heavy pellets smashed into him. He was dead even before Hal dropped him to the deck.

  But the shot had done fearful slaughter among the crew of the Golden Bough, who were grouped close around where Hal stood. Three were down and kicking in their own blood while another two or three had been struck and were struggling to stay on their feet.

  The pirates saw that this sudden onslaught had tipped the balance in their favour and surged forward in a pack, Sam urging them on with excited cries. Like a cracked dam Hal’s men started to give way. They were seconds from total rout – when from over the rail behind the raging rabble of pirates rose a great black tattooed face.

  Aboli let out a bellow that froze them all where they stood, and as he sprang over the rail he was followed closely by three other huge shapes, each with cutlass in hand. They had killed five men before the pirates had gathered themselves to face this fresh onslaught.

  Those around Hal were given new heart: they rallied to Hal’s hoarse shouts and, with Big Daniel leading them, rushed back into the fight. Caught between Aboli with his savages and the rejuvenated seamen, the pirates wailed with despair and fled. Those unable to swim scuttled down the hatchways into the bowels of the frigate while the others rushed to the rail and jumped overboard.

  The fight was over and the frigate was theirs. ‘Where is Sam Bowles?’ Hal shouted across at Daniel.

  ‘I saw him run below.’

  Hal hesitated a moment, fighting the temptation to rush after him and have his revenge. Then, with an effort, he thrust it aside and turned to his duty.

  ‘There will be time for him later.’ He strode to the captain’s place on the quarterdeck and surveyed his ship. Some of his men were firing their pistols over the side at the men splashing and swimming towards the beach. ‘Avast that nonsense!’ he shouted at them. ‘Stand by to get the ship under way. The Buzzard will be upon us at any moment now.’

  Even the strangers he had released from the hold rushed to obey his command, for they recognized the tone of authority.

  Then Hal dropped his voice. ‘Aboli and Master Daniel, get the women on board. As quick as you can.’ While they ran to the entryport, he turned his full attention to the management of the frigate.

  The topmast men were already half-way up the shrouds, and another gang was manning the capstan to weigh the anchor.

  ‘No time for that,’ Hal told them. ‘Take an axe to the anchor cable and cut us free.’ He heard the clunk of the axe into the timbers at the bows, and felt the ship pay off and swing to the ebb.

  He glanced towards the entryport and saw Aboli lift Sukeena onto the deck. Big Daniel had little Bobby weeping on his chest and Zwaantie on his other arm.

  The main sail blossomed out high above Hal’s head, flapped lazily and filled with the gentle night breeze. Hal turned to the helm and felt another great lift of his heart as he saw that Ned Tyler was already at the whipstaff.

  ‘Full and by, Mr Tyler,’ he said.

  ‘Full and by it is, Captain.’

  ‘Steer for the main channel!’

  ‘Aye, Captain!’ Ned could not suppress his grin, and Hal grinned back at him.

  ‘Will this ship do you, Mr Tyler?’

  ‘It will do me well enough,’ Ned said, and his eyes sparkled.

  Hal seized the speaking trumpet from its peg and pointed to the sky as he called the order for the top sails to be set above the courses. He felt the ship start under his feet and begin to fly.

  ‘Oh, sweet!’ he whispered. ‘She is a bird, and the wind is her lover.’

  He strode across to where Sukeena was already kneeling beside one of the wounded seamen.

  ‘I told you to leave those bags ashore, did I not?’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’ She smiled sweetly up at him. ‘But I knew that you were jesting.’ Then her expression changed to dismay. ‘You are hurt!’ She sprang to her feet. ‘Let me attend to your injuries.’

  ‘I am scratched, not hurt. This man needs your skills more than I do.’ Hal turned from her, strode to the rail and looked across to the beach. The fire had taken fierce hold on the forest, and now the scene was lit like the dawn. He could clearly make out the features of the horde of men at the waterside. They were dancing with rage and frustration for they had realized at last that the frigate was being cut out under their noses.

  Hal picked out the giant figure of Cumbrae in the front of the press of men. He was waving his claymore and his face was so swollen with rage that it seemed it might burst open like an overripe tomato. Hal laughed at him and the Buzzard’s fury was magnified a hundredfold. His voice carried over the hubbub that his men were making. ‘There is no ocean wide enough to hide you, Courtney. I will find you if it takes fifty years.’

  Then Hal stopped laughing as he recognized the man who stood a little higher up the beach. At first he doubted his own eyesight, but the flames lit him so clearly that there could be no mistake. In contrast to the Buzzard’s antics and transparent rage, Cornelius Schreuder
stood, arms folded, staring across at Hal with a cold gaze that placed a sudden chill on Hal’s heart. Their eyes locked, and it was as though they confronted each other upon the duelling field.

  The Golden Bough heeled slightly as a stronger eddy of wind over the heads caught her, and the water began to gurgle under her forefoot like a happy infant. The deck trembled and she drew away from the beach. Hal gave all his attention to the con of the ship, lining her up for the run through the dangerous channel into the sea. It was long minutes before he could look back again towards the shore.

  Only two figures remained on the beach. The two men whom Hal hated most in all the world, both his implacable enemies. The Buzzard had waded out waist-deep into the lagoon, as though to remain as close as he could. Schreuder still stood where Hal had last seen him. He had not moved and his reptilian stillness was every bit as chilling as Cumbrae’s wild histrionics.

  ‘The day will come when you will have to kill both of them,’ said a deep voice beside him, and he glanced at Aboli.

  ‘I dream of that day.’

  Beneath his feet he felt the first thrust of the sea coming in through the heads. The flames had destroyed his night vision, and ahead lay utter darkness. He must grope his way through the treacherous channel like a blind man.

  ‘Douse the lanterns!’ he ordered. Their feeble light would not penetrate the darkness ahead and would serve only to dazzle him.

  ‘Bring her up a point to larboard,’ he ordered Ned Tyler quietly.

  ‘A point to larboard!’

  ‘Meet her!’

  He felt rather than saw the loom of the cliff ahead, and heard the surge and break of the waves on the reef at the entrance. He judged his turn by the sounds of the sea, the feel of the wind on his chest and the deck beneath his feet.

  After all the shouting and pistol fire, the ship was deathly quiet. Every seaman aboard her knew that Hal was leading them against an ancient enemy far more dangerous than the Buzzard or any man alive.

  ‘Harden up your main and mizzen courses,’ he called to the men on the sheets. ‘Stand ready to let your topgallants fly.’

  An almost palpable fear lay upon the Golden Bough for the ebb had her by the throat and there was no manner in which the crew could slow the ship’s headlong rush towards the unseen cliffs in the aching blackness.

  The moment came. Hal felt the back surge from the breaking reef push across the bows, and the puff of wind on his cheek coming from a new direction as the ship ran on into the maw of rock.

  ‘Starboard your helm!’ he said sharply. ‘Hard over. Let your topgallants fly.’

  The Golden Bough spun on her heel and her top sails flapped in the wind, like the wings of a vulture scenting death. The ship rushed on into the darkness and every man on the deck braced himself for the terrible crash as the belly was ripped out of her by the fangs of the reef.

  Hal stepped to the rail and peered up into the sky. His eyes were adjusting to the darkness. He saw the line; high above, where the stars were extinguished by the loom of the rocky head.

  ‘Midship your helm, Mr Tyler. Hold her at that.’

  The ship steadied on her new course into the night, and Hal’s heart beat fast to the echo of booming surf from the cliff close at hand. He clenched his fists at his sides in anticipation of the strike into the reef. Instead he felt the scend of the open sea hump up under her, and the Golden Bough meet it with the passion thrust of a lover.

  ‘Harden up your topgallants.’ He raised his voice to carry on high. The flapping of sails ceased and he heard once again the thrumming of tight canvas.

  The Golden Bough threw up her bows as the first ocean roller slid under her and for a moment no man dared believe that Hal had led them through the maelstrom to safety.

  ‘Light the lanterns,’ Hal said quietly. ‘Mr Tyler, come around to due south. We will make a good offing.’

  The silence persisted, then a voice from the main yard yelled down, ‘Lord love you, Captain! We’re through.’ Then the cheering swept down the deck.

  ‘For Sir Hal and the Golden Bough.’ They cheered him until their throats ached, and Hal heard strange voices calling his name. The seamen he had released from the hold were cheering him as loudly as the others.

  He felt a small warm hand creep into his and looked down to see Sukeena’s sweet face glow in the lantern light beside the binnacle.

  ‘Already they love you almost as much as I do.’ She tugged softly on his hand. ‘Will you not come away to where I can see to your wounds?’

  But he did not want to leave his quarterdeck. He wanted to revel longer in the sounds and the feel of his new ship and the sea under her. So he kept Sukeena close beside him as the Golden Bough ran on into the night and the stars blazed down from above.

  Big Daniel came to them at last, dragging with him an abject figure. For a moment Hal did not recognize the creature but then the whining voice made his skin crawl with loathing and the fine hairs at the back of his neck rise.

  ‘Sweet Sir Henry, I pray you to have mercy on an old shipmate.’

  ‘Sam Bowles.’ Hal tried to keep his voice level. ‘You have enough innocent blood on your conscience to float a frigate.’

  ‘You do me injustice, good Sir Henry. I am a poor wretch driven by the storms and gales of life, noble Sir Henry. I never wanted to do no man harm.’

  ‘I will deal with him in the morning. Chain him to the mainmast and put two good men to guard him,’ Hal ordered Big Daniel. ‘Make sure that this time he does not eel his way out of our hands and cheat us once again of the vengeance that we so richly deserve.’

  He watched in the lantern light as they shackled Sam Bowles to the foot of the mainmast and two of the crew stood over him with drawn cutlasses.

  ‘My little brother Peter was one of those you drowned,’ the older of the two guards told Sam Bowles. ‘I beg you for any excuse to stick this blade through your belly.’

  Hal left Daniel in charge of the deck and, taking Sukeena with him, went below to the main cabin. She would not rest until she had bathed and bandaged his cuts and wounds, although none were serious enough to cause her alarm. When she had finished, Hal led her through into the small cabin next door. ‘You will be able to rest here undisturbed,’ he told her, lifted her onto the bunk and, though she protested, covered her with a woollen blanket.

  ‘There are wounded men that need my help,’ she said.

  ‘Your unborn son and I need you more,’ he told her firmly, and pushed her head down gently. She sighed and was almost immediately asleep.

  He returned to the main cabin and sat down at Llewellyn’s desk. In the centre of the mahogany top lay a great black leather-covered Bible. During all his captivity Hal had been denied access to the book. He opened the front cover, and read the inscription, written in a bold sloping hand: ‘Christopher Llewellyn esq; Born 16th October in the year of grace 1621.’

  Below it was another, fresher inscription: ‘Consecrated as a Nautonnier Knight of the Temple of the Order of St George and the Holy Grail 2nd August 1643.’

  Knowing that the man who had captained this ship before him was a brother Knight gave Hal a deep purpose and pleasure. For an hour he turned the pages of the Bible and reread the familiar and inspiring passages by which his father had taught him to steer his course through life. At last he closed it, stood up and began to search the cabin for the ship’s books and documents. He soon discovered the iron strong-box below the bunk. When he could not find the key he called Aboli to help him. They forced open the lid and Hal sent Aboli away. He sat the rest of the night at Llewellyn’s desk, studying the ship’s books and papers in the lantern light. He was so absorbed by his reading that when Aboli came down to fetch him, an hour after the sun had risen, he looked up in surprise. ‘What time is it, Aboli?’

  ‘Two bells in the morning watch. The men are asking to see you, Captain.’

  Hal stood up from the desk, stretching and rubbing his eyes, then crossed to the door of the cabin where Sukee
na still slept.

  ‘It would be best if you spoke to the new men as soon as you can, Gundwane,’ Aboli said, behind him.

  ‘Yes, you are right.’ Hal turned back to him.

  ‘Daniel and I have already told them who you are, but you must convince them now to sail under your command. If they refuse to accept you as their new captain, there is little we can do. There are thirty-four of them, and only six of us.’

  Hal went to the small mirror on the bulkhead above the jug and basin of the toilet stand. When he saw his reflection he started with amazement. ‘Sweet heavens, Aboli, I look such a pirate that I do not even trust myself.’

  Sukeena must have been listening, for she appeared suddenly in the doorway with the blanket draped over her shoulders.

  ‘Tell them we will come in a minute, Aboli, when I have made the best of his appearance,’ she said.

  When Hal and Sukeena stepped out onto the deck together, the men gathered in the ship’s waist stared at them with astonishment. The transformation was extraordinary. Hal was freshly shaved and dressed in simple but clean clothing from Llewellyn’s locker. Sukeena’s hair was combed, oiled and plaited and she had fashioned a long skirt from one of the cabin’s velvet drapes and wrapped it around her girlish waist and hips. They made an extraordinary couple, the tall young Englishman and the oriental beauty.

  Hal left Sukeena at the companionway and strode out in front of the men. ‘I am Henry Courtney. I am an Englishman, as you are. I am a sailor, as you are.’

  ‘Aye, that you are, Captain,’ one said loudly. ‘We watched you take a strange ship out through the heads in darkness. You’re enough sailor to fill my tankard and give me a warm feel in the guts.’

  Another called out, ‘I sailed with your father, Sir Francis, on the old Lady Edwina. He was a seaman and fighter, and an honest man to boot.’

  Then another cried, ‘Last night, by my count, you took down seven of the Buzzard’s scum with your own blade. The pup is well bred from the old dog.’

  They all began to cheer him so he could not speak for a long while, but at last he held up his hand. ‘I tell you straight that I have read Captain Llewellyn’s log. I have read the charter he had with the ship’s owner, and I know whither the Golden Bough was bound and what was her purpose.’ He paused, and looked at their honest, weather-beaten faces. ‘We have a choice, you and I. We can say we were beaten by the Buzzard before we began and sail back home to England.’