Birds of Prey c-1

by Wilbur Smith

  The Buzzard had set up his camp on the same site as Sir Francis Courtney's, which Schreuder had attacked with his green-jackets. A great deal of activity was taking place among the trees. It seemed to Schreuder that Cumbrae must be digging trenches and other fortifications and he was puzzled by this. he saw no sense in throwing up earthworks against an enemy that did not exist.

  Llewellyn would not leave his ship until he was certain that the repairs to her were well afoot and that, in all other respects, she was snugged down and secure. Eventually he placed his first mate, Arnold Fowler, in charge of the deck and ordered one of his longboats made ready.

  "Captain Llewellyn!" Schreuder accosted him, as he came to the ship's side. "I have decided that, with Lord Cumbrae's agreement, I will leave your ship and transfer to the Gull of Moray."

  Llewellyn nodded. "I understood that was your intention and, in all truth, Colonel, I doubt there will be many tears shed on board the Golden Bough when you depart. I am going ashore now to find where we can refill the water casks that have been contaminated with seawater during the gale. I will convey you and your possessions to Cumbrae's camp, and I have here the fare money which you paid to me for your passage. To save myself further unpleasantness and acrimonious argument, I am repaying this to you in full."

  Schreuder would have dearly loved to give himself the pleasure of disdainfully refusing the offer, but those few guineas were all his wealth in the world and he took the thin purse that Llewellyn handed him, and muttered reluctantly, "In that, at least, you act like a gentleman, sir. I am indebted to you."

  They went down into the longboat, and Llewellyn sat in the stern sheets while Schreuder found a seat in the bows and ignored the grinning faces of the crew and the ironical salutes from the ship's officers on the quarterdeck as they pulled away. They were only half-way to the beach when a familiar figure wearing a plaid and a beribboned bonnet sauntered out from amongst the trees, his red beard and tangled locks blazing in the sunlight, and watched them approach with both hands on his hips.

  "Colonel Schreuder, by the devil's steaming turds!" Cumbrae roared as he recognized him. "It gladdens my heart to behold your smiling countenance." As soon as the bows touched the beach Schreuder leapt ashore and seized the Buzzard's out thrust hand.

  "I am surprised but overjoyed to find you here, my lord." The Buzzard looked over Schreuder's shoulder, and grinned widely. "Och! And if it's not my beloved brother of the Temple, Christopher Llewellyn! Well met, cousin, and God's benevolence upon you."

  Llewellyn did not smile, and showed little eagerness to take the hand that Cumbrae thrust at him as soon as his feet touched the sand. "How do ye do, Cumbrae? Our last discourse in the Bay of Trincomalee was interrupted at a crucial point when you left in some disarray."

  "Ah, but that was in another land and long ago, cousin, and I'm sure we can both be magnanimous enough to forgive and forget such a trifling and silly matter."

  "Five hundred pounds and the lives of twenty of my men is not a trifling and silly matter in my counting house. And I'll remind you that I'm no cousin nor any kin of yours," Llewellyn snapped, and his legs were stiff with the memory of his old outrage.

  But Cumbrae placed one arm around his shoulder and said softly, "In Arcadia habito."

  Llewellyn was obviously struggling with himself, but he could not deny his knightly oath, and at last he gritted the response, "Flumen sacrurn bene cognosco."

  "There you are." The Buzzard boomed with laughter. "That was not so bad, was it? If not cousins, then we are still brothers in Christ, are we not?"

  "I would feel more brotherly towards you, sir, if I had my five hundred pounds back in my purse."

  "I could set off that debt against the grievous injury that you inflicted on my sweet Gull and my own person." The Buzzard pulled back his cloak to display the bright scar across his upper arm. "But I'm a forgiving man with a loving heart, Christopher, and so you shall have it. I give you my word on it. Every farthing of your five hundred pounds, and the interest to boot."

  Llewellyn smiled at him coldly. "I will delay my thanks until I feel the weight of your purse in my hands." Cumbrae saw the purpose in his level gaze and, without another look at the Golden Bough's row of gun ports and the handy businesslike lines of her hull, he knew that they were evenly matched and it would be hard pounding if it came to a fight between the two ships, just as it had been four years previously in the Bay of Trincomalee.

  "I don't blame you for trusting no man in this naughty world of ours, but dine with me today, here ashore, and I will place the purse in your hands, I swear it to you."

  Llewellyn nodded grimly. "Thank you for that offer of hospitality, sir, but I well remember the last time I availed myself of one of your invitations. I have a fine cook on board my own ship who can provide me with a meal more to my taste. However, I will return at dusk to fetch the purse you have promised me." Llewellyn bowed and returned to his longboat.

  The Buzzard watched him go, with a calculating look in his eyes. The longboat headed up the lagoon towards the stream of fresh water that flowed into its upper end. "That dandy bastard has a nasty temper," he growled and, beside him, Schreuder nodded.

  "I have never been so pleased to be rid of somebody unpleasant and to be standing here on this beach and appealing to your friendship, as I am now."

  Cumbrae looked at him shrewdly. "You have me at a disadvantage, sir," he said. "What indeed are you doing here, and what is it that I can do for you in good friendship?"

  "Where can we talk?" Schreuder asked.

  Cumbrae replied, "This way, my old friend and companion in arms," led Schreuder to his hut in the grove and poured him half a mug of whisky. "Now, tell me. Why are you no longer in command of the garrison at Good Hope?"

  "To be frank with you, my lord, I am in the devil's own fix. I stand accused by Governor van de Velde of a crime that I did not commit. You know well how bitterly he was obsessed by envy and ill-will towards me," Schreuder explained, and Cumbrae nodded cautiously without committing himself.

  "Please go on."

  "Ten days ago the Governor's wife was murdered in a fit of lust and bestial passion by the gardener and executioner of the Company."

  "Sweet heavens!" Cumbrae exclaimed. "Slow John! I knew he was a madman. I could see it in his eyes. A blethering maniac! I am sorry to hear about the woman, though. She was a delicious little muffin. put a bone in my breeches just to look at those titties of hers, she did."

  "Van de Velde has falsely accused me of this foul murder. I was forced to flee on the first available ship before he had me imprisoned and placed on the rack. Llewellyn offered me passage to the Orient where I had determined to enlist in the war that is afoot in the Horn of Africa between the Prester and the Great Mogul."

  Cumbrae's eyes lit up and he leaned forward on his stool at the mention of war, like a hyena scenting the blood of a battlefield. By this time he was heartily bored with digging for Franky Courtney's elusive treasure, and the promise of an easier way to fill his holds with riches had all of his attention. But he would not show this posturing braggart just how eager he was, so he left the subject for another time and said, with feeling and understanding, "You have my deepest sympathy and my assurances of any aid I am able to render." His mind was seething with ideas. He sensed that Schreuder was guilty of the murder he denied so vehemently but, guilty or not, he was now an outlaw and he was placing himself at Cumbrae's mercy.

  The Buzzard had been given ample demonstration of Schreuder's qualities as a warrior. An excellent man to have serve under him, especially as he would be completely under Cumbrae's control by virtue of his guilt and the blood on his hands. As a fugitive and a murderer, the Dutchman could no longer afford to be too finicky in matters of morality.

  Once a maid has lost her virginity she lifts her skirts and lies down in the hay with more alacrity the second time, the Buzzard told himself happily, but reached out and clasped Schreuder's arm with a firm and friendly grip. "You can rely
on me, my friend," he said. "How may I help you?"

  "I wish to throw in my lot with you. I will become your man."

  "And heartily welcome you will be." Cumbrae grinned through his red whiskers with unfeigned delight. He had just found himself a hunting hound, one perhaps not carrying a great cargo of intelligence but, none the less, fierce and totally without fear.

  "I ask only one favour in return," Schreuder said. The Buzzard let the friendly hand drop from his shoulder, and his eyes became guarded. He might have known that such a handsome gift would have a price written on the underside.

  "A favour?" he asked.

  "On board. the Golden Bough I was treated in the most shabby and scurvy fashion. I was cheated out of a great deal of money at Hazard by one of the ship's officers, and insulted and reviled by Captain Llewellyn and his men. To cap it all, the person who cheated me challenged me to a duel. I could find no person on board willing to act as my second, and Llewellyn forbade this matter of honour to be pursued until we reached port."

  "Go on, please." Cumbrae's suspicions were beginning to evaporate as he realized where the conversation was heading.

  "I would be most grateful and honoured if you could consent to act as my second in this affair, my lord."

  "That is all you require of me?" He could hardly credit that it would be so easy. Already he could see the profits that might be reaped from this affair. He had promised Llewellyn his five hundred pounds, and he would give it to him, but only when he was certain that he would be able to get the money back from him, together with any other profit that he could lay hands upon.

  He glanced out over the waters of the lagoon. There lay the Golden Bough, a powerful, warlike vessel. If he were able to add her to his flotilla, he would command a force in the oriental oceans that few could match. If he appeared off the Great Horn of Africa with these two vessels, in the midst of the war that Schreuder had assured him was raging, what spoils might there be for the picking?

  "It will be my honour and my pleasure to act for you," he told Schreuder. "Give me the name of the Bastard who has challenged you, and I will see to it that you obtain immediate satisfaction from him."

  When Llewellyn came ashore again for dinner, he was accompanied by two of his officers and a dozen of his seamen, carrying cutlass and pistols. Cumbrae was on the beach to welcome him. "I have the purse I promised you, my dear Christopher. Come with me to my poor lodgings and take a dram with me for loving friendship and for the memory of convivial days we passed in former times in each other's company. But first will ye no" introduce me to these two fine gentlemen of yours?"

  "Mister Arnold Fowler, first mate of my ship. "The two men nodded at each other. "And this is my third officer, Vincent Winterton, son of my patron, Viscount Winterton."

  "Also, so I am informed, a paragon at Hazard, and a mean hand with the dice." Cumbrae grinned at Vincent and the young man withdrew the hand he was on the point of proffering.

  "I beg your pardon, sir, but what do you mean by that remark? "Vincent enquired stiffly.

  "Only that Colonel Schreuder has asked me to act for him. Would you be good enough to inform me as to who is your own second?"

  Llewellyn cut in quickly, "I have the honour to act for Mister Winterton."

  "Indeed, then, we have much to discuss, my dear Christopher. Please follow me, but as it is Mister Winterton's affairs we will be discussing, it might be as well if he remained here on the beach."

  Llewellyn followed the Buzzard to his hut, and took the stool that he was offered. "A dram of the water of life?" Llewellyn shook his head. "Thank you, no. Let us come to the matters at hand."

  "You were always impatient and headstrong." The Buzzard filled his own mug and took a mouthful. He smacked his lips and wiped his whiskers on the back of his hand. "You'll never know what you're missing. "Tis the finest whisky in all the islands. But, here, this is for you." He slid the heavy purse across the keg that served him for a table. Llewellyn picked it up and weighed it thoughtfully in his hand.

  "Count it if you will," the Buzzard invited him. "I'll take no offence." He sat back and watched with a grin on his face, sipping at his mug, while Llewellyn arranged the golden coins in neat stacks on the top of the keg.

  "Five hundred it is, and fifty for the interest. I am obliged to you, sir." Llewellyn's expression had softened.

  "It's a small price to pay for your love and friendship, Christopher," Cumbrae told him. "But now to this other matter. As I told you, I act for Colonel Schreuder."

  "And I act for Mister Winterton." Llewellyn nodded. "My principal will be satisfied with an apology from Schreuder." "You know full well, Christopher, that my lad will no' give him one. I am afraid that the two young puppies will have to fight it out."

  "The choice of weapons lies with your side," said Llewellyn. "Shall we say pistols at twenty paces?"

  "We will say no such thing. My man wants swords." "Then we must agree. What time and place will suit you?"

  "I leave that decision to you."

  "I have repairs to make to my rigging and hull. Damage we sustained in the gale. I need Mister Winterton on board to help with these. May I suggest three days hence, on the beach at sunrise?"

  The Buzzard tugged at his beard as he considered this proposal. He would need a few days to make the arrangements he had in mind. Three days" delay would suit him perfectly.

  "Agreed!" he said, and Llewellyn rose to his feet immediately and placed the purse in the pocket of his tunic.

  "Will you not take that dram I offered you now, Christopher?" Cumbrae suggested, but again Llewellyn declined.

  "As I told you, sit, I have much to do on board my ship." The Buzzard watched him go down to the beach and step into his longboat. As they were rowed back to where the Golden Bough was anchored, Llewellyn and Winterton were in deep and earnest conversation.

  "Young Winterton is in for a surprise. He can never have seen the Dutchman with a sword in his hand to have agreed so lightly to the choice of weapons." He swigged back the few drops of whisky that remained in his mug, and grinned again. "We shall see if we cannot arrange a little surprise for Christopher Llewellyn also." He banged the mug onto the keg top, and bellowed, "Send Mister Bowles to me, and be quick about it."

  Sam Bowles came smarming in, wriggling his whole body like a whipped dog to ingratiate himself with his captain. But his eyes were cold and shrewd.

  "Sammy, me boy." Cumbrae gave him a slap on the arm that stung like a wasp, but did not upset the smile on the man's lips. "I have something for you, that should be much to your taste. Listen well."

  Sam Bowles sat opposite him and cocked his head so as not to miss a word of his instructions. Once or twice he asked a question or chortled with glee and admiration as Cumbrae unfolded his plans.

  "You have always wanted the command of your own ship, Sammy me laddy. This is your chance. Serve me well, and you shall have it. Captain Samuel Bowles. How does that sound to you?"

  "I like the sound of it powerful well, your grace!" Sam Bowles bobbed his head. "And I'll not let you down."

  "That you won't!" Cumbrae agreed. "Or not more than once, you won't. For if you do, you'll dance me a merry hornpipe while you dangle from the main yard of my Gull."

  The riverbanks were lined with wild willow and dark green acacia trees, which were covered with a mantle of yellow blossom. The river ran broad and deep, slow and green between its rocky piers. The sandbanks were exposed and, as they looked down upon them from the steep slopes of the valley, Sukeena shuddered and whispered, "Oh, what foul and ugly creatures! Surely these are the very dragons we spoke of?"

  "They are dragons indeed," Hal agreed, as they gazed down on the crocodiles that lay sunning on the white beach. There were dozens of them, some not much larger than lizards and other brutes with the beam and length of a ship's boat, massive grey monsters, which surely could swallow a man whole. They had found out how ferocious these creatures were on their first attempt to ford the river, when Billy Ro
gers had been seized by one and dragged beneath the surface. They had not recovered any part of his body.