by Wilbur Smith
Aboli had anticipated this reaction and his spinning club caught the drake in the chest and stopped him dead. He fell in a tangle of wings and webbed feet, trailing feathers, but long before he struck the water Aboli had hurled his second club. It spun up to catch a younger bird, snapping her outstretched neck and dropping her close beside the floating carcass of the old drake.
Hal hurled his own sticks in quick succession, but both flew well wide of his mark and the splintered flock raced away low over the reed beds.
"You will soon learn, you were close with both your throws" Aboli encouraged him, as he splashed through the reeds, first to pick up the dead birds, and then to recover his iwisa. He floated the two carcasses in a pool of open water in front of him, and within minutes they had decoyed in another whistling flock that dropped almost to the tops of the reeds before he threw at them.
"Good throw, Gundwane!" Aboli laughed at Hal as he waded out to pick up another two dead birds. "You were closer then. Soon you may even hit one."
Despite this prophecy, it was mid-morning before Hal brought down his first duck. Even then it was broken-winged, and he had to plunge and swim after it half-way down the lagoon before he could get a hand to it and wring its neck. In the middle of the day the birds stopped flighting and sat out in the deeper water where they could not be reached.
"It's enough!" Aboli put an end to the hunt, and gathered up his kill. From a tree at the water's edge he cut strips of bark and twisted these into strings to tie the dead ducks into bunches. They made up a load almost too heavy for even his broad shoulders to bear but Hal carried his own meagre bag without difficulty as they trudged back along the beach.
When they came round the point and could look into the bay where the three ships lay at anchor, Aboli dropped his burden of dead birds to the sand. "We will rest here." Hal sank down beside him, and for a while they sat in silence, until Aboli asked, "Why has the Buzzard come here? What does your father say?"
"The Buzzard says he has come to make a Lodge for my initiation."
Aboli nodded. "In my own tribe the young warrior had to enter the circumcision lodge before he became a man." Hal shuddered and fingered his crotch as if to check that all was still in place. "I am glad I will not have to give myself to the knife, as you did."
"But that is not the true reason that the Buzzard has followed us here. He follows your father as the hyena follows the lion. The stink of treachery is strong upon him."
"My father has smelt it also," Hal assured him softly. "But we are at his mercy, for the Resolution has no mainmast and the cannon are out of her."
They both stared down the lagoon at the Gull of Moray, until Hal stirred uneasily. "What is the Buzzard up to now?"
The longboat from the Gull was rowing out from her side to where her anchor cable dipped below the surface of the lagoon. They watched the crew of the small boat latch onto it and work there for several minutes.
"They are screened from the beach, so my father cannot see what they are up to." Hal was thinking aloud. "Tis a furtive air they have about them, and I like it not at all."
As he spoke the men finished their secretive task and began to row back to the Gull's side. Now Hal could make out that they were. laying a second cable over their stern as they went. At that he sprang to his feet in agitation. "They are setting a spring to their anchor!" he exclaimed.
"A spring?" Aboli looked at him. "Why would they do that?"
"So that with a few turns of the capstan the Buzzard can swing his ship in any direction he chooses."
Aboli stood up beside him, his expression grave. "That way he can train his broadside of cannon on our helpless ship or sweep our encampment on the beach with grape shot," he said. "We must hurry back to warn the captain."
"No, Aboli, do not hurry. We must not alert the Buzzard to the fact that we have spotted his trick."
Sir Francis listened intently to what Hal was saying, and when his son had finished he stroked his chin reflectively. Then he sauntered to the rail of the Resolution and casually raised his telescope to his eye. He made a slow sweep of the wide expanse of the lagoon, barely pausing as his gaze passed over the Gull so that no one could mark his sudden interest in the Buzzard's ship. Then he closed the telescope and came back to where Hal waited. There was respect in Sir Francis's eyes as he said, "Well done, my boy. The Buzzard is up to his usual tricks. You were right. I was on the beach and could not see him setting the spring. I might never have noticed it."
"Are you going to order him to remove it, Father?"
Sir Francis smiled and shook his head. "Better not to let him know we have tumbled to him."
"But what can we do?"
"I already have the culver ins on the beach trained on the Gull. Daniel and Ned have warned every man-" "But, Father, is there no ruse we can prepare for the Buzzard to match the surprise he clearly plans for us?" In his agitation Hal found the temerity to interrupt, but his father frowned quickly and his reply was sharp.
"No doubt you have a suggestion, Master Henry."
At this formal address Hal was warned of his father's rising anger, and he was immediately contrite. "Forgive my presumption, Father, I meant no impertinence."
"I am pleased to hear that." Sir Francis began to turn away, his back still stiff.
"Was not my great-grandfather, Charles Courtney, with Drake at the battle of Gravelines?"
"He was, indeed." Sir Francis looked round. "But as you already know the answer well enough, is this not a strange question to put to me now?"
"So it may well have been Great-grandfather himself who proposed to Drake the use of devil ships against the Spanish Armada as it lay anchored in Calais Roads, may it not?"
Slowly Sir Francis turned his head and stared at his son. He began to smile, then to chuckle, and at last burst out laughing. "Dear Lord, but the Courtney blood runs true! Come down to my cabin this instant and show me what it is you have in mind."
Sir Francis stood at Hal's shoulder as he sketched a design on the slate. "They need not be sturdily constructed, for they will not have far to sail, and will have no heavy seas to endure," Hal explained deferentially' Yes but once they are launched they should be able to hold a true course, and yet carry a goodly weight of cargo," his father murmured, and took the chalk from his son. He drew a few quick lines on the slate. "We might lash two hulls together. it would not do to have them capsize or expend themselves before they reach their destination."
"The wind has been steady from the south-east ever since we have been anchored here," said Hal. "There is no sign of it dropping. So we must hold them up-wind. If we place them on the small island across the channel, then the wind will work for us when we launch them."
"Very well." Sir Francis nodded, "How many do we need?" He could see how much pleasure he gave the lad by consulting him in this fashion. Drake sent in eight against the Spaniards, but we do "not have the time to build so many. Five, perhaps?" He looked up at his father, and Sir Francis nodded again. "Yes, five should do it. How many men will You neeD?" Daniel must remain in command of the culver ins on the beach, The Buzzard may spring his trap before we are ready, But I will send Ned Tyler and the carpenter to help You build them and Aboli, of course."
Hal stared at his father in awe. you will trust me to take charge of the building?" he asked. It is your plan so if it fails I must be able to lay full blame upon you," his father replied, with only the faintest smile upon his lips. "Take your men and go ashore at once to begin work. But be circumspect. Don't make it easy for the Buzzard." al's axe men cleared a small opening on the far side of the heavily forested island across-Hthe channel where they were hidden from the Gull of Moray. After a circuitous detour through the forest on the mainland, he was also able to ferry his men and material across to the island out of sight of the lookouts on the Buzzard's vessel.
That first night they worked by the wavering light of pitch-soaked torches until after midnight. All of them were aware of the urgency of their task, and
when they were exhausted they simply threw themselves on the soft bed of leaf mould under the trees and slept until the dawn gave enough light to begin work again.
By noon of the following day all five of the strange craft were ready to be carried to their hiding place in the grove at the edge of the lagoon. At low tide, Sir Francis waded across from the mainland and made his way down the footpath through the dense forest that covered the island to inspect the work.
He nodded dubiously. "I hope sincerely that they will float," he mused, as he walked slowly round one of the ungainly vessels.
"We will only know that when we send them out for the first time."
Hal was tired, and his temper was short. "Even to please you, Father, I cannot arrange a prior demonstration for the benefit of Lord Cumbrae." His father glanced at him, concealing his surprise. The PUPPY grows into a young dog and learns how to growl, he thought, with a twinge of paternal pride. He demands respect, and, truth to tell, he has earned it.
Aloud he said, "You have done well in the time at your disposal," which deftly turned aside Hal's anger. "I will send fresh men to help you transport them, and place them in the grove." al was so tired that he could barely drag himself up the rope ladder to the entry poTt &-of the Resolution. But even though his task was complete, his father would not let him escape to his cabin.
"We are anchored directly behind the Gull." He pointed across the moonlit channel at the dark shape of the other ship. "Have you thought what might happen if one of your fiendish vessels drifts past the mark and comes down upon us here? Dismasted as we are, we cannot manoeuvre the ship."
"Aboli has already cut long bamboo poles in the forest." Hal's tone could not conceal that he was weary to his bones. "We will use them to deflect any drifters from us and send them harmlessly "up onto the beach over there." He turned and pointed back towards where the fires of the encampment flickered among the trees. "The Buzzard will he taken by surprise, and will not be equipped with bamboo poles."
At last his father was satisfied. "Go to your rest now. Tomorrow night we will open the Lodge, and you must be able to make your responses to the catechism." al came back reluctantly from the abyss of sleep into which he had sunk. For some moments he was not certain what had woken him. Then the soft scratching came again from the bulkhead.
Instantly he was fully awake, every vestige of fatigue forgotten He rolled off his pallet, and knelt at the panel. The scratching was now impatient and demanding. He tapped a swift reply on the woodwork, then fumbled in the darkness to find the stopper of his peep-hole. The moment he removed it, a yellow ray of lamp-light shone through but was cut off as Katinka placed her lips to the opening on the far side and whispered angrily, "Where were you last night?"
"I had duties ashore, "he whispered back.
"I do not believe you," she told him. "You try to escape your punishment. You deliberately disobey me."
"No, no, I would not-" "Open this panel at once."
He groped for his dirk, which hung on his belt on the hook at the foot of his bunk, and prised out the dowels. The panel came away in his hands with only the faintest scraping sound. He set. it aside, and a square of soft light fell through the hatch.
"Come! her voice ordered, and he wriggled into the gap. It was a tight squeeze, but after a short struggle he found himself on his hands and knees on the deck of her cabin. He started to rise to his feet, but she stopped him.
"Stay down there." He looked up at her as she stood over him, She was dressed in a flowing night-robe of some gossamer material. Her hair was loose and hung in splendour to her waist. The lamp-light shone through the cloth of her robe and silhouetted her body, the lustre of her skin gleaming through the transparent folds of silk.
"You have no shame," she told him, as he knelt before her as though she were the sacred image of a saint. (You come to me naked. You show me no respect. I "I am sorry!" he gasped. In his anxiety to obey her he had forgotten his own nudity, and now he cupped his hands over his privy parts. "I Meant no disrespect."
"No! DO not cover Your shame.) She reached down and pulled away his hands. Both stared down at his groin. They watched him slowly stretch out and thicken, thrusting out towards her, his prepuce peeling back of its own accord.
"Is there nothing I can do to stop such revolting behaviour?" Katinka took him by the hand and dragged him to his feet and after her into the splendid cabin where first he had laid eyes on her beauty.
She dropped onto the quilted bed, and sat facing him. The white silk skirts parted and fell back on each side of her long slim thighs. She twisted the handful of his curls, and said, in a voice that was suddenly breathless, "You must obey me in all things, you child of the dark pit."
Her thighs fell apart, and she pulled his face down and pressed it hard at their apex against the impossibly soft and silky mound of golden curls.
He smelt the sea in her, brine and kelp, and the scent of the sparkling living things of the oceans, the warm soft odour of the islands, of salt surf breaking on a sun-baked beach. He drank it in through flaring nostrils, and then tracked down the source of this fabulous aroma with his lips.
She wriggled forward on the satin covers to meet his mouth, her thighs spread wider, and she tilted her hips forward to open herself to him. With a handful of his curls, she moved his head, guiding him to that tiny bud of pink, taut flesh that nestled in its hidden crevice. As he found it with the tip of his tongue she gasped and she began to move herself against his face as though she rode bareback upon a galloping stallion. She gave. small incoherent contradictory cries. "Oh, stop! Please stop! No! Never stop! Go on for ever!" Then suddenly she wrenched his head out from between her straining thighs, and fell backwards upon the covers lifting him over her. He felt her hard little heels dig into the small of his back as she wrapped her legs around him, and her fingernails, like knives, cutting into the tensed muscles of his shoulders. Then the pain was lost in the sensation of slippery engulfing heat as he slid deeply into her, and he smothered his cries in the golden tangle of her hair.
The three Knights had set up the Lodge on the slope of the hills above the lagoon, at the foot of a small waterfall that dropped into a basin of dark water surrounded by tall trees hung with lichens and lianas.
The altar stood within the circle of stones, the fire burning before it. Thus all the ancient elements were represented. The moon was in its first quarter, signifying rebirth and resurrection.
Hal waited alone in the forest while the three Knights of the Order opened the Lodge in the first degree. Then his father, his bared sword in his hand, came striding through the darkness to fetch him, and led him back along the path.
The other two Knights were waiting beside the fire in the sacred circle. Their swords were drawn, the blades gleaming in the reflection of the flames. Lying upon the stone altar under a velvet cloth, he saw the shape of his great-grandfather's Neptune sword. They paused outside the circle of stones and Sir Francis begged entrance to the Lodge.
"In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost!"
"Who would enter the Lodge of the Temple of the Order of St. George and the Holy Grail?" Lord Cumbrae thundered, in a voice that tang against the hills, his long two-edged claymore glinting in his hairy red fist.
"A novice who presents himself for initiation into the mysteries of the Temple," Hal replied, "Enter on peril of your eternal life," Cumbrae warned him, and Hal stepped into the circle. Suddenly the air seemed colder and he shivered, even as he knelt in the radiance of the watch fire
"Who sponsors this novice?" the Buzzard demanded again.
"I do." Sir Francis stepped forward and Cumbrae turned back to Hal.
"Who are you?" "Henry Courtney, son of Francis and Edwina." The long catechism began as the starry wheel of the firmament turned slowly overhead and the flames of the watch fire sank lower.
It was after midnight when, at last, Sir Francis lifted the velvet covering from the Neptune sword. The sapphire on the hilt reflected a p
ate blue beam of moonlight into Hal's eyes as his father placed the hilt in his hands.
