by Wilbur Smith
This raised a laugh from the Bough’s crew and Hal was pleased to hear it because it suggested that the duel had served its purpose. No one had been killed, but both men were bloodied, and there were several aboard, John Lovell among them judging by the smirk on his face, who had won coin by betting on that exact outcome.
‘I am glad that it is over,’ Judith said in her rich, low voice, then shook her head. ‘You men and your pride.’
Hal’s eyes roved over her face, drinking in those honey-coloured eyes with their long, curled lashes, her skin which had the dark translucence of acacia gum, and the full bow of her lips.
‘Perhaps pride is a sin as the Papists claim,’ he said, ‘but I can’t condemn Pett for it. I know what it feels like to have everything taken away, to be treated like an animal and come to the edge of despair.’ He fell silent as he remembered the days and nights chained like a slave on the Gull of Moray, and the long months of servitude in the Cape Colony. ‘Sometimes, my love, our pride is all we have left.’
Hal turned and descended the poop deck ladder to join Mr Pett aft of the mainmast. Pett had taken off his shirt in order to examine the wound in his shoulder.
‘Just a scratch, Captain,’ he said.
Hal nodded. ‘You were both lucky,’ he said. ‘I must admit I am impressed that you managed to keep a steady hand and hit the man after taking the wound. I could expect no more from my own men, but they have been in many fights, while you have never seen action.’
‘My father fought in the wars at Cheriton in forty-four and at Naseby,’ Pett said. The men nearby murmured at the mention of those bloody battles, for all of them had friends or family who had been killed in the Civil Wars. ‘He taught me how to shoot, so I was glad when the Dutchman chose pistols. I fear I would not have lasted long if he’d have gone for swords.’
Hal smiled. ‘Then it would seem your luck still holds, Mr Pett,’ he said, looking at Tromp who was having his wound examined by Big Daniel. ‘More so seeing as I have French brandy for your wound, which is preferable, I’m sure you’ll agree, to having Aboli piss on you.’
‘I have never tried it, Captain Courtney,’ Pett said solemnly. ‘It might be beneficial.’
‘Good.’ Hal nodded curtly. ‘Then if you will excuse me I must get these rascals back to work. The wind is returning, Mr Pett,’ he said, looking up at the colours stirring atop the mizzen. ‘Up anchor, Mr Tyler. Mr Moone, Mr Stanley! Get these lazy sons of Satan to their stations and set all plain sail.’ In moments the Golden Bough was a hive of industry as the Amadoda raced up the shrouds and scrambled out along the yards. The canvas billowed and the ship seemed to shiver with the thrill of it, as though she too were eager to turn her bows into the south once more and feel the ocean race along her hull.
And as Aboli poured good French brandy into the bloody raw wound on his shoulder, Mr Pett watched Captain Courtney, wondering what plan the Saint had for him and when he would be called upon to execute it.
As for Captain Tromp, Pett could not say how he had missed the Dutchman from that range, yet he knew the Saint had played some part in it.
Two men had been allowed to live when Pett had planned for them to die. Nothing like that had ever happened to him before. There must, he reasoned, be some meaning to such an extraordinary phenomenon. And in due course, he felt sure, he would discover what that reason was.
wo days had passed since the duel and neither Pett nor Tromp seemed troubled by the condition of the flesh wounds they had suffered. With the boil of their enmity lanced, the Bough was sailing south on a fresh breeze and in good heart. It seemed to Tromp like an ideal moment to approach Hal as he stood on the poop deck to ask,
‘Might I have a word with you, Captain?’
‘By all means,’ Hal replied. He was the master of his ship, with the sun on his back, the wind on his face and the woman he loved by his side. All was well with the world.
‘You may recall that I recently asked you whether you might allow me and my crewmen to join your ship’s company. Of course, you have had other things to worry about …’ Tromp gave a wry smile and cast an eye towards the thin figure standing by the stern rail, looking out across the water. ‘Isn’t that so, Mr Pett?’ Then he turned back to Hal. ‘Have you had time to consider my request?’
Hal laughed. ‘No one could deny that you have the devil’s own cheek. First you wanted to kill us, now you want to sail with us.’
‘I never wanted to kill you,’ Tromp protested. ‘I just wanted this ship and a square meal.’
Aboli had walked up to join the conversation. ‘You can’t blame him for that,’ he said, grinning from ear to ear.
‘Let me join your crew,’ Tromp continued. ‘I am an experienced captain, but you are the master on this ship and I can see that Mijnheer Aboli is your trusted first mate. Very well, then, take me on as second mate. I know these waters. I have experience of the coast as far north as the Horn and south around the Cape. I have sailed all the way to the Spice Isles, so the waters of the Indies also are familiar to me. I will gladly share the many trade contacts I have cultivated over the years. I have friends, Captain.’
‘You must have,’ Hal said, ‘to have survived this long with so many enemies.’
Tromp looked at Hal with an uncharacteristically thoughtful, almost solemn expression. ‘You are a man of destiny, Captain Courtney,’ he said, and there was no trace of levity in his voice. ‘Anyone can see that for you wear it like a fine cloak. It would be an honour to serve under you.’
Aboli and Ned Tyler, who was standing at the wheel and could hear every word that was spoken, looked towards their captain. Tromp had placed the ball firmly in his court. No one could deny that he had spoken well, nor that he had a good case to make. How would their skipper respond?
Hal was lost in thought, weighing up what Tromp had said. It was Judith who broke the silence. ‘Did you not say you were short of crew, Henry?’
‘I did.’
‘Then would you not welcome such experienced seamen as these?’ she asked.
Tromp was staring at Judith, clearly amazed that the woman whose life he had threatened was now pleading on his behalf.
‘You are a remarkable creature, my dear,’ Hal told Judith, who looked from him to Tromp.
‘I have seen so much death,’ she said. ‘If it is within your power to save this man’s life and the lives of his crew, then you must do it.’
‘Thank you, madam,’ Tromp said, and Judith nodded a silent acknowledgement of his gratitude.
‘How do I know you will not try to seize my ship at the first opportunity?’ Hal asked. ‘It seems to me you are a man who has little respect for authority, and yet you would serve me as a midshipman?’
Tromp smiled and it was reflected in his blue eyes. ‘I would owe you my life. Twice over, since you could have fed me to the sharks that dawn after we met. Moreover, I am nothing if not an ambitious man.’ His blue eyes fixed on Hal. ‘I truly believe that sailing with you is my best hope of advancement.’
Hal considered everything he had heard. In truth even if Tromp broke his word it would be an almost impossible task for the Dutchmen to subdue the Bough’s crew and take the ship. On the other hand, the Bough was indeed a little short of men these days, and experienced hands would be very welcome.
‘What do you think, Mr Pett? Should I let Mr Tromp and his fellows join my crew?’
Pett looked taken aback. ‘It is none of my concern, Captain,’ he said, a line creasing his brow. ‘But you sailors being a superstitious lot, it cannot be a bad thing having a lucky man aboard.’
‘Lucky, Mr Pett? How so?’ Hal asked.
‘Lucky indeed,’ Pett assured him. ‘Firstly, he hit me from twenty paces, the two of us standing on a rolling deck. Secondly, my own shot merely grazed him, and I am not accustomed to missing that at which I aim.’
‘Those are surprising words, Mr Pett … for a man of business,’ Hal observed.
‘I believe I mentioned that my fathe
r gave me instruction in the use of firearms. He was a stern taskmaster and he taught me well. He would not have been pleased to see me fail him.’
‘I see.’ Hal looked at Pett. There was something about the man that disturbed him, something that wasn’t quite right. He knew he was not alone in his unease. He’d heard his crewmen talking about Pett’s eerie calm during the duel; the way he had barely flinched when he took Tromp’s shot; the cold assurance with which he had aimed at his adversary. On the other hand Tromp had gained huge kudos for the courage with which he had faced Pett, knowing that there was nothing whatever he could do to defend himself. Pett’s willingness to take his time and his evident annoyance that he had missed, however, disturbed the men, more than impressed them. Hal did not want the man on his ship for one second longer than was absolutely essential. Tromp, however, was another matter altogether.
‘Very well, then, Mr Tromp, my answer to your question is, “Yes”,’ he said. ‘I will take you on as second mate and I would be grateful if you could list the names of all your men and any particular skills that they possess.’
Tromp’s face burst into a beaming smile. ‘You will not regret your decision, Captain Courtney,’ he said.
Hal too smiled, but his words were no joke. ‘You’d better hope that I do not. I’ve placed my faith in you. But be sure that if you ever betray that faith, by God I’ll make you regret it.’
‘I’ll be watching you, Dutchman,’ Aboli growled.
‘Good, then you may learn a thing or two,’ Tromp quipped, leaving Aboli wide-eyed and almost speechless at such outrageous impudence.
‘Mind your tongue, Mr Tromp,’ Hal warned. ‘One duel is quite enough to be going on with. I wouldn’t want you provoking another.’
‘Aye-aye, Captain,’ replied Tromp.
To Hal’s relief, Mr Tromp proved himself very useful, the two of them poring over charts together, the Dutchman sharing his knowledge of the coast so that between them their combined experience would prove invaluable in the future.
It was, of course, far too soon to tell Tromp about Elephant Lagoon and the treasures there. But he did not have to be told that they were heading south, for a simple glance at the sun told him that and he did know of several safe anchorages between Zanzibar and the Cape where an English frigate might stop to take on fresh water without risk of attack from either Omani Arab warlords or the flotillas of Madagascan pirates which were known to prey on even well-armed vessels.
As for the other men of the Delft, they worked hard, if not harder, than anyone and were clearly experienced seamen or ‘seasoned Jack Tars’ as Ned Tyler had observed with grudging respect one morning when he and Hal had put them through their paces: making them run up the mainmast shrouds, out across to the ends of the yard and down again, only to repeat the activity until they were greasy with sweat and bent double catching their breath.
‘They’ll do, Mr Tyler,’ Hal said, keeping his satisfaction to himself. ‘Have our lads accepted them though? That’s the thing.’
‘Aye, there’s the usual banter of course, what with them being cheese-heads, but that’s a good sign as you well know, Captain.’
The words were said cheerfully enough, but Hal could sense that there was something else that Tyler wasn’t telling him. ‘Something’s troubling you, Ned, I can see it in you. Care to tell me what it is?’
‘Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing, Captain …’
‘I’ll be the judge of that. Tell me.’
Tyler gave a long sigh, tamped down the tobacco in the clay pipe he liked to smoke, then puffed away to get it all burning nicely again. Hal let him take his time, knowing that it would be entirely counter-productive to rush the grizzled, weatherbeaten helmsman. Finally Tyler said, ‘It’s Mr Pett. Now I don’t mean no disrespect to the gentleman, but I’m afraid that the crew haven’t taken to him, like. Haven’t taken to him at all.’
Hal had been raised by his father to take good care of his men. ‘You’re asking them to climb out on the topgallants shrouds when there’s a gale blowing, and board an enemy ship when the grapeshot’s flying,’ Francis Courtney used to say. ‘They’ll do that grudgingly if they’re frightened to disobey you. But if you treat them right, and see to their needs, they’ll do it willingly because they want to obey you.’
So now he took Tyler’s words seriously. ‘Is there anything in particular they don’t like?’
‘Well, for a start, they don’t think he’s right in the head. He’s polite enough at dinner and can even spin a decent yarn, I’ll grant him that. But a lot of the lads say he talks to himself when he doesn’t think anyone’s listening, like he’s having a conversation with someone only he can see. And he talks about God and the angels and suchlike.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with having a good, Christian faith.’
‘Aye, Captain, that’s true. But Mr Pett’s not like that. There’s something …’ Tyler cast around for the right word. ‘I don’t know,’ he said finally. ‘But it’s just not right, the way he is. Peculiar, you might say.’
Hal was just opening his mouth to speak but Ned cut him off. ‘And then there’s that whole duel business, too. The way he stood there and just let Mr Tromp shoot him, like he didn’t feel it or nothing. And then, there was a look on his face when he aimed at Mr Tromp, all cold, like he wasn’t bothered at all about shooting another man, like he might have been shooting a rat, or something … vermin, anyway. And when he didn’t kill him …’
‘He was disappointed, yes, I saw that too,’ Hal said. ‘And I know what you mean about the crew not liking him. I’d seen signs of something brewing in the men, but until now I hadn’t realized what it was.’ Hal sighed. ‘I’d really been hoping to avoid it …’
‘What’s that, then, Captain?’
‘Zanzibar. The whole place is run by Omani Arabs, the very same people whose ships we sunk so cheerfully up and down the Red Sea. I can’t see them looking very kindly on the Golden Bough if she turns up in their harbour. But then again …’
Hal thought for a second and said, ‘Ned, be so kind as to tell Mr Aboli, Mr Tromp and Master Fisher that I wish to see them, and you too, of course, in the captain’s quarters at midday.’
When the men assembled, with Judith also in attendance, Hal told them, ‘It has been brought to my attention that Mr Pett is, quite unintentionally, I’m sure, disturbing the morale of the crew. I will therefore go ashore in Zanzibar with Mr Pett and escort him to His Majesty’s Consul there, so that between them they can find the fastest possible means of getting him back to England. This will also be to Mr Pett’s advantage, and that of the East India Company, for if he sails north to Suez and then makes an overland trip to Alexandria, whence he can sail back to London, his journey will be far faster than it would be were he to sail around the Cape aboard the Golden Bough. As you will gather from his absence here, this is not a proposal over which I plan to give Mr Pett any say. His removal will also put to an end any lingering unpleasantness between himself and Mr Tromp.’
‘There is none on my part, I assure you, Captain,’ Tromp said.
‘And I believe you. Nevertheless, we have done our duty by Mr Pett in rescuing him and providing him with good quarters and regular meals. Now we shall conclude our obligations by helping him back home. I also have various items of mail to send back to Britain. Viscount Winterton, for one, has a right to know what has happened to his ship, and to his poor son, for I fear he may not know of his passing.’
‘Are we sailing the Bough into Zanzibar?’ Aboli asked. ‘Surely there will be many there who know of her exploits in the Red Sea, indeed some who have witnessed them and who will recognize a ship that did them great harm.’
‘I agree. That is why we will moor the Bough at least a full day’s sail from Zanzibar City and proceed there aboard the Delft. You may have your own command back for the purpose, Mr Tromp. And before you point out that you, too, do not want your ship to be recognized I will say that there is little chance that anyone now in
Zanzibar also saw the Delft in the waters of the East Indies. We shall change her name. I thought the “Christina” would do nicely. I know it’s a name that you regard fondly, after all.’
The men all laughed, knowing that this was the name of the admiral’s daughter Tromp had seduced and liking the Dutchman all the better for the fact that he willingly joined in the laughter. ‘Damn the woman!’ he said. ‘I thought I’d left her for good in Batavia!’
‘The crew, however, will all be good Bough men,’ Hal added, ‘both because they can keep an eye on you while I am ashore, and because I may have need of them if I am not welcomed with open arms. I shall, of course, go ashore under an assumed name. But Consul Grey will know me at once and he may still harbour a grudge against me.’
‘You did betray him, Gundwane,’ Aboli observed. ‘If any man did that to me, I would not soon forgive him.’
‘I did not betray him directly,’ Hal countered. ‘I bought a Letter of Marque commissioning me to fight with the Arab fleet, and I paid him handsomely for it, too, I might add. Of course, I would never have taken up arms for Mussulmen against a Christian foe. I cannot believe he did not know that, and I am sure that he has not been held responsible for my actions. And even if he has, Consul Grey will always be a man who places money ahead of any other allegiance. If necessary I will soothe his troubles with gold.’
Aboli still looked sceptical, but he remained silent for he never wanted to be seen to question Hal’s authority in front of any members of the crew, no matter how senior or well-trusted. The plan was accepted, and the ship’s officers left the room, leaving Hal alone with Judith.
‘I must ask you something,’ she said.
‘Of course, my love,’ replied Hal. He looked at Judith with a concerned frown across his brow and asked. ‘Are you not well?’
She smiled and touched his forearm, reassuringly. ‘I am very well. But I am also with child, which means that I now feel sick or exhausted from time to time, and in due course, when the time comes, I will feel great pain.’