Birds of Prey c-1

by Wilbur Smith

  "We ain't doing much work here and now," Daniel remarked comfortably, and patted his belly.

  Althuda laughed again. "Look out of the window," he advised them.

  "There is a fort to build. You will not be sitting down here much longer. Believe me when I say it."

  "Ahoy there, Althuda," Daniel shouted, "your sister isn't English, so it makes sense that you aren't an Englishman either. How is it that you speak like one?"

  "My father was from Plymouth. I have never been there. Do you know the place?"

  There was a roar of laughter and comment and clapping, and Hal spoke for them all. "By God, except for Aboli and these other African knaves, we are all Devon men and true. You are one of us, then, Althuda!"

  "You have never seen me. I must warn you that I don't look like you,"Althuda warned them. "if you look half as good as your little sister, then you'll do well enough," Hal replied, and the men hooted with laughter.

  For the first week of their captivity, they saw the sergeant gaoler, named Manseer, only when the stew pot was brought in or when the bedding straw was changed then, suddenly, on the eighth morning, the iron door at the head of the stairs was thrown open with a crash and Manseer bellowed down the well, "Two at a time, form up. We are taking you out to wash some of the stink off you, or the judge will suffocate before he has a chance to send you to Stadige Jan. Come on now, shake yourselves."

  With a dozen guards keeping watch over them they were taken out in pairs, made to -strip naked and wash themselves and their clothing under the hand pump behind the stables.

  The following morning they were turned out again with the dawn, and this time the castle armourer was waiting with his forge and anvil to shackle them together, not this time in one long ungainly file but into pairs.

  When the iron-studded door to Sir Francis's cell was opened, and his father emerged with his hair hanging lankly to his shoulders and a grizzled beard covering his chin, Hal pushed himself forward so that they were shackled together.

  "How are you, Father?" Hal asked with concern, for he had never seen his father looking so seedy.

  Before Sir Francis could reply a bout of coughing overtook him. When it passed, he answered hoarsely, "I prefer a good Channel gate to the air down here, but I am well enough for what has to be done."

  "I could not shout it to you, but Aboli and I have been working out a plan to escape," Hal whispered to him. "We have managed to lift one of the floor slabs in the back of the cell and we are going to dig a tunnel under the walls."

  "With your bare hands?" Sir Francis smiled at him.

  "We need to find a tool," Hal admitted, "but when we do..."

  He nodded with grim determination, and Sir Francis felt his heart might burst with love and pride. I have taught him to be a fighter, and to keep on fighting even when the battle is lost. Sweet God, I hope the Dutchies spare him the fate that they have in store for me.

  In the middle of the morning they were marched from the courtyard up the staircase into the main hall of the castle, which had been converted into a courtroom. Shackled two by two, they were led to the four rows of low wooden benches in the centre of the floor and seated upon them, Sir Francis and Hal in the middle of the front row. Their guards, with drawn swords, lined up along the wall behind them.

  A platform had been built against the wall before them and on it, facing the benches of the prisoners, was set a heavy table and a tall chair of dark teak. This was the judge's throne. At one end of the table was a stool, on which the court writer was already seated, scribbling busily in his journal. Below the platform was another pair of tables and chairs. At one of these sat someone Hal had seen many times before through the cell window. According to Althuda, he was a junior clerk in the Company administration. His name was Jacobus Hop and, after one nervous glance at the prisoners, he did not look at them again. He was rustling and scratching through a sheaf of documents, pausing from time to time to wipe his sweating face with a large white neck cloth

  At the second table sat Colonel Cornelius Schreuder. He was the romantic poet's image of the gallant and debonair soldier, all a-glitter with his medallions and stars and the wide sash across one shoulder. His wig was freshly washed, the curls hanging down to his shoulders. His legs were thrust out in front of him, his soft thigh-high boots crossed at the ankles. On the table top in front of him books and papers were scattered and laid carelessly upon them were his plumed Hat and the Neptune sword. As he rocked backwards and forwards on his chair he stared relentlessly at Hal, and though Hal tried to match his gaze he was forced at last to drop his eyes.

  There was a sudden uproar at the main doors, and when they swung open the crowds from the town burst in and scrambled to find seats on the benches down each side of the hall. As soon as the last seat was taken, the doors were forced closed again in the faces of those unfortunates at the rear. Now the hall was clamorous with excited comment and anticipation, as the lucky spectators studied the prisoners and loudly gave their opinions to each other.

  To one side an area had been railed off, and two green, jackets with drawn swords stood guard over it. Behind the railing a row of comfortable cushioned chairs had been arranged. Now there was further hubbub, and the crowd's attention turned from the accused men to the dignitaries who filed out through the doors of the audience chamber. Governor Kleinhans led them, with Katinka van de Velde on his arm, followed by Lord Cumbrae and Captain Limberger, chatting casually together, ignoring the stir that their entrance was causing among the common folk.

  Katinka took the chair in the centre of the row. Hal stared at her, willing her to look in his direction, to give him a sign of recognition and reassurance. He tried to sustain in himself the faith that she would never abandon him, and that she had already used her influence and had interceded with her husband for mercy, but she was deep in conversation with Governor Kleinhans and never as much as glanced at the ranks of English seamen. She does not want others to see her preference and concern for us, Hal consoled himself, but when the time comes for her to give her evidence she will surely speak out for us.

  Colonel Schreuder clumped down his booted feet heavily and came to his feet. He stared around the crowded hall with huge disdain, and the female spectators gave little sighs and squeals of admiration.

  "This tribunal is convened by virtue of the power conferred upon the honourable Dutch East India Company in the terms of the charter issued to the aforesaid Company by the government of the Republic of Holland and the Lowlands. Pray silence and stand for the president of the tribunal, His Excellency Governor Petrus van de Velde."

  The spectators came to their feet with a subdued murmur and stared in anticipation at the door behind the platform. Some of the prisoners struggled up, rattling their chains, but when they saw Sir Francis Courtney and Hal sit unmoving they subsided back onto the benches.

  Through the far door appeared the president of the court. He mounted ponderously to the platform and glared down upon the seated rows of prisoners. "Get those rogues on their feed" he bellowed suddenly. and the crowds quailed before his murderous expression.

  In the stunned silence that followed this outburst, Sir Francis spoke out clearly in Dutch. "Neither I nor any of my men recognize the authority of this assembly, nor do we accept the right of the self-appointed president to examine and sentence free-born Englishmen, subjects only of His Majesty King Charles the Second. Van de Velde seemed to swell like a great toad. His face turned a dark and furious shade of crimson, and he roared, "You are a pirate and a murderer. By the sovereignty of the Republic and the charter of the Company, by the right of moral and international law, the authority is vested in me to conduct this trial." He broke off to gasp for breath, then went on even louder than before. "I find you guilty of gross and flagrant contempt of this court, and I sentence you to ten strokes of the cane to be administered forthwith." He looked to the commander of the guard. "Master of arms, take the prisoner into the courtyard and carry out the sentence at once."

/>   Four soldiers hurried forward from the back of the hall, and hauled Sir Francis to his feet. Hal, shackled to his father, was dragged with him to the main doors. Behind them, men and women leaped onto the benches and craned for a view, then rushed in a body to the doorway and the windows as Sir Francis and Hal were urged down the staircase into the yard.

  Sir Francis kept silent, his head high and his back straight, as he was pushed to the hitching rail for officer's horses at the entrance of the armoury. At the shouted orders of the sergeant, he and Hal were placed on either side of the high rail, facing each other, their manacled wrists hooked into the iron rings.

  Hal was powerless to intervene. The sergeant placed his forefinger in the back of the collar of Sir Francis's shirt and yanked down, splitting the cotton to the waist. Then he stepped back and swished his light malacca cane.

  "You have made an oath on your Knighthood. Do you stand by it on your honour?" Sir Francis whispered to his son.

  "I do, Father."

  The cane fluted and snapped on his bare flesh, and Sir Francis winced. "This beating is but a little thing, the play of children compared to what must follow. Do you understand that?"

  "I understand full well."

  The sergeant struck again. He was laying the stripes one on top of the other, the pain multiplying with each blow.

  "No matter what you do or say, nothing and no one can change the flight of the red comet. The stars have laid out my destiny and you cannot intervene."

  The cane hummed and cracked, and Sir Francis's body stiffened, then relaxed.

  "If you are strong and constant, you will endure. That will be my reward."

  This time he gave a small, hoarse gasp as the cane bit into the tautly stretched muscles of his back.

  "You are my body and my blood. Through you I also will endure."

  The cane hummed and clapped, again and again.

  "Swear it to me one last time. Reinforce your oath, that you will never reveal anything to these people in a futile attempt to save me."

  "Father, I swear it to you," Hal whispered back, his face white as bleached bone, as the cane sang, a succession of cruel blows.

  "I put all my faith and my trust in you," said Sir Francis, and the soldiers lifted him down from the railing. As they marched back up the staircase, he leaned lightly on Hal's arm. When he stumbled Hal braced him, so that his head was still high and his bloody back straight as they entered the hall and marched together to their seats on the front bench.

  Governor van de Velde was now seated on the dais. A silver tray was set at his elbow, loaded with small china bowls of appetizers and spiced savouries. He was munching contentedly on one of these and drinking from a pewter mug of small beer as he chatted to Colonel Schreuder at the table below him. As soon as Sir Francis and Hal were shoved by their guards onto the bench again his amiable expression changed dramatically. He raised his voice and an immediate, dense silence fell over the assembly. "I trust that I have made it clear that I will brook no further hindrance to these proceedings." He glowered at Sir Francis and then raised his eyes to sweep the hall. "That goes for all persons gathered here. Anyone else who in any way attempts to make a mockery of this tribunal will receive the same treatment as the prisoner." He looked down at Schreuder. "Who appears for the prosecution?"

  Schreuder stood up. "Colonel Cornelius Schreuder, at your service, your excellency."

  "Who appears for the defence?" Van de Velde glowered at Jacobus Hop, and the clerk sprang to his feet, sending half the documents in front of him showering to the tiles.

  "I do, your excellency."

  "State your name, man!" van de Velde roared at him, and Hop wriggled like a puppy.

  He stammered, "Jacobus Hop, clerk and writer to the Honourable Dutch East India Company." This declaration took a long time to enunciate.

  "In future speak out and speak clear," van de Velde warned him, then turned back to Schreuder. "You may proceed to present your case, Colonel."

  "This is a matter of piracy on the high seas, together with murder and abduction. The accused are twenty-four in number. With your indulgence, I will now read a list of their names. Each prisoner will stand when his name is read so that the court may recognize him." From the sleeve of his tunic he drew a roll of parchment and held it at arm's length. "The foremost accused person is Francis Courtney, captain of the pirate bark the Lady Edwina. Your excellency, he is the leader and instigator of all the criminal acts perpetrated by this pack of sea wolves and corsairs." Van de Velde nodded his understanding and Schreuder went on. "Henry Courtney, officer and mate. Ned Tyler, boatswain. Daniel Fisher, boatswain..." He recited the name and rank of each man on the benches, and each stood briefly, some of them bobbing their heads and grinning ingratiatingly at van de Velde. The last four names on Schreuder's list were those of the black seamen. "Matesi, a Negro slave.

  "Jiri, a Negro slave. "Kimatti, a Negro slave. "Aboli, a Negro slave.

  "The prosecution will prove that on the fourth day of September in the year of Our Lord sixteen sixty-seven, Francis Courtney, while commanding the caravel the Lady Edwina, of which the other prisoners were all crew members, did fall upon the galleon De Standvastigheid, Captain Limberger commanding..." Schreudet spoke without reference to notes or papers, and Hal felt a reluctant admiration for the thoroughness and lucidity of his accusations.

  "And now, your excellency, if you please, I should like to call my first witness." Van de Velde nodded, and Schreuder turned and looked across the floor. "Call Captain Limberger."

  The captain of the galleon left his comfortable chair in the railed-off enclosure, crossed to the platform and stepped up onto it. The witness's chair stood beside the judge's table and Limberger seated himself.

  "Do you understand the gravity of this matter and swear in the name of Almighty God to tell the truth before this court?" van de Velde asked him.

  "I do, your excellency."

  "Very well, Colonel, you may question your witness." Swiftly Schreuder led Limberger through a recital of his name, rank and his duties for the Company. He then asked for a description of the Standvastigheid, her passengers and her cargo. Limberger read his replies from the list he had prepared. When he had finished Schreuder asked, "Who was the owner of this ship and of the cargo she was carrying?"

  "The honourable Dutch East India Company."

  "Now, Captain Limberger, on the fourth of September of this year was your ship voyaging in about latitude thirty four degrees south and longitude four degrees east that is approximately fifty leagues south of the Agulhas Cape?"

  "It was."

  "That is some time after the cessation of hostilities between Holland and England?"

  "Yes, it was."

  Schreuder picked up a leather-bound log-book from the table in front of him and passed it up to Limberger. "Is this the log-book that you were keeping on board your ship during that voyage?"

  Limberger examined it briefly, "Yes, Colonel, this is my log."

  Schreuder looked at van de Velde. "Your excellency, I think I should inform you that the log-book was found in the possession of the pirate Courtney after his capture by Company troops." Van de Velde nodded, and Schreuder looked at Limberget. "Will you please read to us the last entry in your log?"

  Limberger turned the pages and then read aloud, "Fourth September sixteen sixty-seven. Two bells in the morning watch. Position by dead reckoning four degrees twenty-three minutes south latitude thirty4 our degrees, forty-five minutes east longitude. Strange sail in sight bearing south-south-east. Flying friendly colours."" Limberger closed the log and looked up. "The entry ends there," he said.

  "Was that strange sail noted in your log the caravel the Lady Edwina, and was she flying the colours of the Republic and the Company?"

  "Yes, to both questions."

  "Will you recount the events that took place after you sighted the Lady Edwina, please."

  Limberger gave a clear description of the capture of his ship, with Schreuder
making him emphasize Sir Francis's use of false. colours to get within striking distance. After Limberger had told of the boarding and fighting on board the galleon, Schreuder asked for a detailed account of the numbers of Dutch sailors wounded and killed. Limberger had a written list prepared and handed this to the court.