Wilbur Smith - C11 Blue Horizon

by C11 Blue Horizon(Lit)

  Meanwhile, the excitement of impending departure built up in the rest of the company. The last sticks of furniture and goods were taken from the huts at the forest edge and ferried on board. On Good Friday Tom and Mansur applied torches to the empty huts. The thatch had dried out and they burned like bonfires. The day after Good Friday they sailed early in the morning watch, so that Tom had light enough to make out the channel. The wind stood fair offshore, and he led the little flotilla out through the heads into the open sea.

  It was midday and the land was low and blue on the western horizon before one of the crew came up from below decks in a state of terrible agitation. Tom and Dorian were on the quarter-deck together, Dorian seated in the sling chair Tom had rigged for him. At first neither could understand the man's wild shouts.

  "Kadem!" Tom caught the gist of it. He went bounding down the companionway to the orlop deck. Locked securely in the wooden cage that the carpenters had built for him, Kadem was curled in sleep upon the straw mattress. His chains were still secured to the ring bolts in the deck. Tom seized a corner of the single blanket that covered the prisoner from the top of his head to his feet, jerked it aside and then kicked the dummy that lay beneath it. It was cunningly made of two sacks filled with oakum and tied with short pieces of old rope to give it the outline of a human body beneath the blanket.

  They searched the ship swiftly from stem to stern, Tom and Dorian with swords in hand raging through the holds and probing every corner and cranny.

  "Three other men are missing," Batula reported with a shamed face.

  "Who are they?" Dorian demanded.

  Batula hesitated before he could bring himself to answer. "Rashood, Pinna and Habban," he croaked, 'the same three men I set to guard him."

  Tom altered course and steered alongside the Revenge. Through the speaking tube, he hailed Mansur who had command of her. Both vessels went about and headed back towards the entrance of the lagoon, but the winds that had allowed them to clear the lagoon so handily now blocked them offshore. For days more they beat back and forth across the entrance. Twice they were almost piled up to the reef as Tom in frustration tried to force the passage.

  It was six days after they had sailed that at last they dropped anchor off the beach of the lagoon once again. Since their departure it had rained heavily, and when they went ashore they found that any sign left by the fugitives had been washed away. "Yet there is only one direction they would have taken." Tom pointed up the valley. "But they have almost nine days' start on us. If we are to catch up with them we must march at once."

  He ordered Batula and Kumrah to check the weapons lockers and the magazines. They came ashore with sorry expressions to report that four muskets were missing, with the same number of cutlasses, bullet bags and powder flasks. Tom stopped himself reviling the two captains further, for they had already suffered enough.

  Dorian argued vehemently when Tom told him he must stay behind

  to take care of the ships and Sarah while they chased the fugitives. In the end, Sarah joined in to convince him that he was not yet strong enough for such an expedition, which would call for hard marches and perhaps even harder fighting. Tom selected ten of his best men to go with him, those who were proficient with sword, musket and pistol.

  An hour after they had first stepped ashore all was ready. Tom kissed Sarah, and they left the beach heading inland. Tom and Mansur strode out at the head of the line of armed men.

  "I would that little Bakkat were with us," Tom muttered. "He would follow them though they grew wings and flew ten feet above the ground."

  "You are a famous elephant hunter, Uncle Tom. I have heard you tell it since I was a child."

  "That was more than a year or two ago," Tom smiled ruefully, 'and you must not remember all I tell you. Boasts and brags are like debts and childhood sweethearts they often come back to plague the man who made them."

  At noon on the third day they stood on the crest of the range of mountains that ran in an unbroken rampart north and south. The slopes below them were covered with banks of purple heather. This was the dividing line between the littoral and the inland plateau of the continental shield. Behind, the forests lay like a green carpet down to the edge of the ocean. Ahead, the hills were harsh and rocky and the plains were endless, stretching for ever to the horizon, blue with distance. The tiny dust clouds kicked up by the moving herds of game drifted in the warm breezes.

  "Any one of those might mark the path of the men we are hunting, but the hoofs of the herds will have wiped out their tracks," Tom told Mansur. "Still and all, I doubt they would have headed into that great emptiness. Kadem would have the sense at least to try to find human habitation."

  "The Cape colony?" Mansur looked southwards.

  "More likely the Arab forts along the Fever Coast or the Portuguese territory of Mozambique."

  "The land is so big." Mansur scowled. "They could have gone anywhere."

  "We will wait for the scouts to come in before we decide what next to do."

  Tom had sent his best men to cast north and south, ordering them to try to cut Kadem's trail. He would not say so to Mansur, not yet at least, but he knew that their chances were remote. Kadem had too long a start on them and, as Mansur had remarked, the land was big.

  The rendezvous Tom had set at which to meet the scouts was a

  distinctive peak shaped like a cocked hat that could be seen from twenty leagues in any direction. They camped on the southern slope at the edge of the treeline, and the scouts came dribbling back during the night. None had been able to cut human sign.

  "They have got clean away, lad," Tom told his nephew. "I think we can do naught else but let them go, and turn back for the ships. But I would like your agreement. "Tis your duty to your mother that dictates what we do next."

  "Kadem was only the messenger," Mansur said. "My blood feud is with his master in Lamu, Zayn al-Din. I agree, Uncle Tom. This is fruitless. Our energies may best be expended elsewhere."

  "Think on this also, lad. Kadem will fly straight back to his master, the pigeon to its loft. When we find Zayn, Kadem will be at his side, if the lions have not eaten him first."

  Mansur's face brightened and his shoulders straightened. "In God's Name, Uncle, I had not considered that. Of course you are right. As for Kadem perishing in the wilderness, it seems to me that he has the animal tenacity and fanatical faith to survive. I feel sure we will meet him again. He will not escape my vengeance. Let's hurry back to the ships."

  Before first light Sarah left her bunk in the little cabin of the Sprite. Then, as she had done every morning since Tom left, she went ashore and climbed to the hilltop above the lagoon. From there she watched for Tom's return. From afar she recognized his tall, straight figure and his swinging walk at the head of his men. The image blurred as her eyes filled with tears of joy and relief.

  Thank you, God, that you paid heed to my prayers," she cried aloud, and ran down the hillside straight into his arms. "I was so worried that you would get yourself into trouble again, without me to look after you, Tom Courtney."

  "I had no chance for trouble, Sarah Courtney," he hugged her hard, 'more's the pity." He looked to Mansur. "You are faster than me, lad. Run ahead to warn your father that we are returning, and to have the ships ready to sail again as soon as I set foot aboard." Mansur set off at once.

  As soon as he was out of earshot Sarah said, "You're the crafty one, aren t you, Thomas? You did not want to be the one who gave the bitter news to Dorry that Yassie's murder is unrevenged."

  Tis Mansur's duty more than mine," Tom replied breezily. "Dorry would have it no other way. The only profit in this bloody business is that it might bring father and son closer than they have ever been before and that was mighty close."

  They sailed with the ebb of the tide. The wind stood fair and they had made good their offing before darkness fell. The ships were within two cables' length of each other, with the wind fresh on the quarter, their best point of sailing. The Revenge
showed her new turn of speed and began to pull ahead of the Sprite. Thus it was with reluctance that Tom gave the order to shorten sail for the night. It seemed a pity not to take full advantage of the wind that was bearing them so swiftly towards Nativity Bay.

  "But I am a trader and not a man-o'-war," Tom consoled himself. As he gave the order to shorten sail he saw Mansur in the Revenge furl his staysail and reef his mizzen and main. Both ships hoisted lanterns to their maintops, to enable them the better to keep night stations on each other.

  Tom was ready to give over the quarter-deck to Kumrah and go down to the small saloon for the supper that he could smell Sarah was cooking: he recognized the rich aroma of one of her famous spiced bobooties and saliva flooded into his mouth. He spent a few more minutes checking the set of the sails and the pointing of the helmsman. Satisfied at last, he turned towards the head of the companionway, then stopped abruptly.

  He stared at the dark eastern horizon and muttered, mystified, "There is a great fire out there. Is it a ship ablaze? No, it's something greater than that. The fires of a volcano?"

  The crew on deck had seen it too and crowded to the rail, gawking and gabbling. Then, to Tom's utter astonishment, there burst over the dark horizon a monstrous ball of celestial fire. It lit the dark surface of the sea. Across the water the sails of the Revenge glowed palely in this ghostly emanation.

  "A comet, by God!" Tom shouted in wonder, and stamped on the deck above the saloon. "Sarah Courtney, come up here at once. You have never seen aught such as this, nor will you ever again."

  Sarah came flying up the ladder with Dorian close behind her. They stopped and stared in wonder, struck speechless by the splendour of the sight. Then Sarah came to Tom and placed herself within the protective circle of his arms. "It is a sign," she whispered. "It's a benediction from on high for the old life we have left behind at Good Hope, and a promise of the new life that lies ahead of us."

  Dorian left them, moved slowly down the deck until he reached the bows and sank to his knees. He turned his face up to the sky. "All the days of mourning have passed," he said. "Your time here on earth with me is over. Go, Yasmini, my little darling, I commit you to the arms or God, but you must know that my heart and all my love go with you."

  Across the dark water Mansur Courtney saw the comet, and he ran to the main shrouds and leaped into them. He clambered swiftly upwards until he reached the maintop. He threw an arm around the topgallant mast, balancing lithely against the roll and pitch of the hull, which were magnified by the sixty feet that separated him from the surface of the sea. He lifted his face to the sky and his long, thick hair streamed back in the wind. "The death of kings!" he cried. "The destruction of tyrants! All these portentous events heralded by God's finger writing in the heavens." Then he filled his lungs and shouted into the wind, "Hear me, Zayn al-Din! I am Nemesis, and I am coming for you."

  Night after night as the two little ships sailed northwards the comet climbed overhead, seeming to light their way, until at last they picked out a tall bluff of land that rose out of the dark waters ahead of their bows like the back of a monstrous whale. At the northern end of the promontory, the whale's mouth opened. They sailed through this entrance into a huge landlocked bay, far greater in extent than the Lagoon of the Elephants. On one side the land was steep-to, on the other it stretched in dense mangrove swamps, but between them lay the lovely embouchure of a river of sweet, clear water flanked by gently sloping beaches that offered a natural landing place.

  "This is not our first visit to this place. Dorian and I have been here many times before. The natives hereabouts call this river Umbilo," Tom told Sarah, as he steered for the beach and dropped his anchor in three fathoms. Looking over the side they could watch the steel flukes burying themselves in the pale, sandy bottom and the brilliant shoals of fish swirling as they feasted on the small crabs and shrimps disturbed from their burrows by the anchor.

  When all the canvas was furled, the yards sent down and both ships at rest, Tom and Sarah stood by the rail and watched Mansur row ashore from the Revenge, eager to explore these new surroundings.

  The restlessness of youth," Tom said.

  "If restlessness is the sign of tender age, then you are an infant in arms, Master Tom," she replied.

  "That is most unfair to me," he chuckled, 'but I shall let it pass."

  She shaded her eyes and studied the shoreline. "Where is the mail stone?"

  There, at the foot of the bluff, but do not set your hopes too high." "Of course not!" she snapped at him, but she thought, he need not try to protect me from disappointment. I know, with a mother's sure instinct, that Jim is close. Even if he has not yet reached this sPot, he soon will. I need only be patient, and my son will come back to me.

  Tom offered an olive branch by changing the subject in a placatory tone: "What do you think of this spot upon the globe, Sarah Courtney?"

  "I like it well enough. Perhaps I will grow to like it even more if you allow me to rest here more than a day and a night." She accepted his peace-offering with a smile.

  "Then Dorian and I will begin to mark out the site for our new fort and trading post immediately." Tom lifted his glass to his eye. He and Dorian had done most of this work on their last visit to Nativity Bay. He ran the glass over the site they had chosen then. It was on a promontory in a meander of the river. Because the Umbilo waters enclosed three sides, it was easy to defend. A constant supply of fresh water was also assured, and there was a good field of fire in all directions. In addition, it was under the guns of the anchored ships and would benefit from their support in the event of an attack by savage tribesmen or other enemies.

  "Yes!" He nodded with satisfaction. "It will suit our purpose well enough. We will start work tomorrow at the latest, and you shall design our private quarters for me just as you did at Fort Providence twenty years ago."

  "That was our honeymoon," she said, with awakening enthusiasm.

  "Aye, lass." Tom smiled down at her. "And this shall be our second of that ilk."

  The small band of horsemen moved slowly across the veld, dwarfed by the infinite landscape that surrounded them. They led the pack-horses and let the small herd of remounts follow at their own pace. Animals and men were lean and hardened by the journey. Their clothing was ragged and patched, their boots long ago worn out and discarded, to be replaced by new ones crudely sewn from the skins of the kudu antelope. The tack of the horses was abraded by their passage through the thorn thickets, the seats of the saddles polished by the riders' sweaty backsides.

  The faces and arms of the three Dutchmen were burned as dark as those of the Hottentot troopers. They rode in silence, strung out behind the tiny trotting figure of Xhia, the Bushman. Onwards, ever onwards, following the tracks of the wagon wheels that ran ahead like an endless serpent across the plains and the hills.

  The troopers had long ago given up any thought of desertion. It was not only the implacable determination of their leader that prevented them but also the thousands of leagues of wilderness that had already

  unfurled behind them. They knew that a lone horseman would have little chance of ever reaching the colony. They were herd animals, forced to stay together to survive. They were not only the prisoners of Captain Herminius Koots's obsession, but also of the great empty distances.

  Koots's worn leather jacket and breeches were patched and stained with sweat, rain and red dust. His lank hair hung down to his shoulders. It was bleached white by the sun, and the ends were raggedly trimmed with a hunting knife. With his gaunt sun-darkened features and his pale, staring eyes he seemed indeed a man possessed.

  For Koots the lure of the reward had long ago faded: he was driven onwards by the need to quench his hatred in the blood of his quarry. He would allow nothing, neither man nor beast nor the burning distances, to cheat him of that ultimate fulfilment.

  His chin was sunk on his chest, but now he lifted it and stared ahead, eyes narrowed behind the colourless lashes. There was a dark cloud a
cross the horizon. He watched it climb higher into the sky and roll towards them across the plain. He reined in and called to Xhia: "What is this that fills the sky? It is not dust or smoke."

  Xhia cackled with laughter and broke into a gleeful dance, shuffling and stamping. The distances and hardships of the journey had not wearied him: he had been born to this life. Enclosing walls and the company of hordes of his fellow men would have jaded him and chafed his spirit. The wilderness was his hearth, the open sky his roof.

  He broke into another of his paeans of self-praise and vilification of his mad, cruel master that he alone of all the company could understand. "Slimy white worm, you creature with skin the colour of pus and curdled milk, do you know nothing at all of this land? Must Xhia, the mighty hunter and slayer of elephants, nurse you like a blind, mewling infant?" Xhia jumped high and deliberately broke flatus, with such force that the wind stirred the back flap of his loincloth. He knew that this would drive Koots into a rage. "Must Xhia, who stands so tall that his long shadow terrifies his enemies, Xhia beneath whose mighty prong women squeal with joy, must Xhia always lead you by the hand? You understand nothing that is written plain upon the earth, you understand nothing that is blazoned in the very heavens."