by Wilbur Smith
"Davey Morgan."
"Will you sail with me, Davey?"
Slowly the man lifted his head and stared at the Buzzard. "I saw young Mister Winterton slaughtered and the captain shot down in cold blood on the beach. I'll not sail with any murdering pirate."
"Pirate!" the Buzzard screamed. "You dare to call me pirate, you lump of stinking offal? You were born to feed the seagulls, and that's what you shall do!" The great claymore rasped from its scabbard, and he swung it down to cleave Davey Morgan's head, through the teeth as far as his shoulders. With the bloody sword in his hand he strode down the line of prisoners.
"Is there another among you who would dare to call me pirate to my face?" No man spoke out, and at last Cumbrae rounded on Sam Bowles. "Lock them all in the Golden Bough's hold. Feed them on half a pint of water and a biscuit a day. Let them think about my offer more seriously. In a few days" time I'll speak to these lovelies again, and we shall see if they have better manners then."
He took Sam aside and spoke in a quieter tone. "There is still some storm damage that needs repair." He pointed up at the rigging. "She's your ship now, to sail and command. Make all good at once. I want to leave this godforsaken anchorage as soon as I can. Do you hear me, Captain Bowles?"
Sam Bowles's face lit with pleasure at the title. "You can rely on me, your grace."
Cumbrae strode to the entry port and slid down into one of the longboats. "Take me back to the beach, varlets." He jumped over the side before they touched the sand and waded knee-deep to the shore where Colonel Schreuder was waiting for him.
"My lord, I must speak to you, he said, and the Buzzard smiled at him engagingly.
"Your discourse always gives me pleasure, sit. Come with me. We can talk while I go about my affairs." He led the way across the beach, and into the grove.
"Captain Llewellyn was-" Schreuder began, but the Buzzard cut him off.
"Llewellyn was a bloody pirate. I was defending myself from his treachery." He stopped abruptly and faced Schreuder, hauling up his sleeve to display the ridged purple scar that disfigured his shoulder. "Do you see that? That's what I got for trusting Llewellyn once before. If I had not forestalled him, his desperadoes would have fallen on us and slaughteied us where we stood. I am sure that you understand and that you are grateful for my intervention. It could have been you going that way."
He pointed at the group of his men who were staggering up from the beach, dragging the corpses of Llewellyn and Vincent Winterton by their legs. Llewellyn's shattered head left a red drag mark through the sand.
Schreuder stared aghast at the burial party. He recognized in Cumbrae's words both a warning and a threat. Beyond the first line of trees was a series of deep trenches that had been freshly dug all over the area where once Sir Francis Courtney's encampment had stood. His hut was gone but in its place was a pit twenty feet deep, its bottom filled with seepage of brackish lagoon water. There was another extensive excavation on the site of the old spice go down It looked as though an army of miners had been at work among the trees. The Buzzard's men dragged the corpses to the nearest of these pits and dumped them unceremoniously into it. The bodies slid down the steep side and splashed into the puddle at the bottom.
Schreuder looked troubled and uncertain. "I find it difficult to believe that Llewellyn was such a person." But Cumbrae would not let him finish.
"By God, Schreuder, do you doubt my word? What of your assurance that you wanted to throw in your lot with me? If my actions offend you then it's better that we part now. I will give you one of the pirmaces from the Golden Bough, and a crew of Llewellyn's pirates to help you make your own way back to Good Hope. You can explain your fine scruples to Governor van de Velde. Is that more to your liking?"
"No, sir, it is not," said Schreuder hurriedly. "You know I cannot return to Good Hope."
"Well, then, Colonel, are you still with me?"
Schreuder hesitated, watching the grisly labours of the burial teams. He knew that if he crossed Cumbrae he would probably end up in the pit with Llewellyn and the sailors from the Golden Bough. He was trapped.
"I am still with you," he said at last.
The Buzzard nodded. "Here's my hand on it, then." He thrust out his huge freckled fist covered with wiry ginger hair. Slowly Schreuder reached out and took it. Cumbrae could see in his eyes the realization dawning that from now onwards he would be beyond the pale and was content that he could trust Schreuder at last. By accepting and condoning the massacre of the officers and crew of the Golden Bough he had made himself a pirate and an outlaw. He was, in every sense, the Buzzard's man.
"Come along with me, sir. Let me show you what we have done here." Cumbrae changed the subject easily, and led Schreuder past the mass grave without another glance at the pile of corpses. "You see, I knew Francis Courtney well we were like brothers. I am still certain that his fortune is hidden hereabouts. He has what he took from the Standvastigheid and that from the Heerlycke Nacht. By the blood of all the saints, there must be twenty thousand pounds buried somewhere under these sands."
At that they came to the long, deep trench where forty of Cumbrae's men were already back at work with spades. Among them were the three black seamen he had bought on the slave block at Good Hope.
"Jiri!" the Buzzard bellowed. "Matesi! Kimatti!" The slaves jumped, threw down their spades and scrambled out of the ditch in trepidation to face their master.
"Look at these great beauties, sir. I paid five hundred florins for each. It was the worst bargain I ever struck. Here before your eyes you have living proof that there are only three things a blackamoor can do well. He can prevaricate, thieve and swive." The Buzzard let fly a guffaw. "Isn't that the truth, Jiri?"
"Yes, Lardy." Jiri grinned and agreed. "It's God's own truth."
The Buztard stopped laughing as suddenly as he had begun. "What do you know about God, you heathen?" he roared and, with a mighty swing of his fist, he knocked Jiri back into the ditch. "Get back to work all three of you!" They seized their spades and attacked the bottom of the ditch in a frenzy, sending earth flying over the parapet in a cloud. Cumbrae stood above them, his hands on his hips. "Listen to me, you sons of midnight. You tell me that the treasure I seek is buried here. Well, then, find it for me or you won't be coming with me when I sail away. I'll bury all three of you in this grave that you're digging with your own sooty paws. Do you hear me?"
"We hear you, Lardy," they answered in chorus.
He took Schreuder's arm in a companionable grip and led him away. "I have come to accept the sad fact that they never truly knew the whereabouts of Franky's hoard. They've been jollying me along all these months. My rascals and I have had just about a bellyful of playing at moles. Let me offer you the hospitality of my humble abode and a mug of whisky, and you can tell me all you know about this pretty little war that's a-going on between the great Mogul and the Prester. Methinks, you and I might well find better occupation and more profit elsewhere than here at Elephant Lagoon."
In the firelight Hal studied his band as they ate, with ravenous appetite, their dinner of smoked meat. The hunting had been poor in these last days and most of them were tired. His own seamen had never been slaves. Their labour on the walls of the castle of Good Hope had not broken or cowed them. Rather it had hardened them, and now the long march had put a temper on them. He could want no more from them. they were tough and tried warriors. Althuda he liked and trusted, but he had been a slave from childhood and some of his men would never be fighters. Sabah was a disappointment. He had not fulfilled Hal's expectation of him. He had become sullen and obstructive. He shirked his duties and protested at the orders Hal gave him. His favourite cry had become, "I am a slave no longer! No man has the right to command me!"
Sabah would not fare well if matched against the likes of the Buzzard's seamen, Hal thought, but he looked up and smiled as Sukeena came to sit beside him.
"Do not make an enemy of Sabah," she whispered quietly.
"I do not wish t
hat," he replied, "but every man among us must do his part." He looked down at her tenderly. "You are the worth of ten men like Sabah, but today I saw you stumble more than once and when you thought I was not watching you there was pain in your eyes. Are you sickening, my sweetheart? Am I truly setting too hard a pace?"
"You are too fond, Gundwane." She smiled up at him. "I will walk with you to the very gates of hell and not complain."
"I know you would, and it worries me. If you do not complain, how will I ever know what ails you?"
"Nothing ails me," she assured him.
"Swear it to me," he insisted. "You are not hiding any illness from me."
"I swear it to you, with this kiss." She gave him her lips. "All is as well as God ever intended. And I will prove it to you." She took his hand and led him to the dark corner of the stockade where she had laid out their bed.
Though her body melted into his as sweetly as before, there was a softness and languor in her loving that was strange and, though it delighted him while his passion was in white heat, afterwards it left him with a sense of disquiet and puzzlement. He was aware that something had changed but he was at a loss as to exactly what was different.
The next day he watched her carefully during the long march, and it seemed to him that on the steeper ground her step was not as spry as it had been. Then, when the heat was fiercest, she lost her place in the column and began to fall back. Zwaantie went to help her over a rough place in the elephant path that they were following but Sukeena said something sharply to her and thrust away her hand. Hal slowed the pace, almost imperceptibly, to give her respite, and called the midday halt earlier than he had on the preceding days.
Sukeena slept beside him that night with a deathlike stillness while Hal lay awake. By now he was convinced that she was not well, and that she was trying to hide her weakness from him. As she slept her breathing was so light that he had to place his ear to her lips to reassure himself. He held her close and her body seemed heated. Once, just before dawn, she groaned so pitifully that he felt his heart swell with love and concern for her. At last he also fell into a deep dreamless sleep. When he woke with a start and reached out for her, he found her gone.
He lifted himself on one elbow and looked around the stockade. The fire had died down to a puddle of embers, but the full moon, even though it was low in the west, threw enough light for him to see that she was not there. He could make out the dark shape of Aboli. the morning star was almost washed out by the more brilliant light of the moon, but it burned just above his head as he sat his watch at the entrance. Aboli was awake, for Hal heard him cough softly and then saw him draw his fur blanket closer around his shoulders.
Hal threw back his own kaross, and went to squat beside him. "Where is Sukeena?" he whispered.
"She went out a short while ago." "Which way?"
"Down towards the stream." "You did not stop her?"
"She was going about her private business." Aboli turned to look at him curiously. "Why would I stop her?"
"I am sorry," Hal whispered back. "I meant no rebuke. She worries me. She is not well. Have you not noticed?" Aboli hesitated. "Perhaps." He nodded. "Women are children of the moon, which lacks but a few nights of full, so perhaps her courses are in flood."
"I am going after her." Hal stood up and went down the rough path towards the shallow pool where they had bathed the previous evening. He was about to call her name when he heard a sound that silenced and alarmed him. He stopped and listened anxiously. The sound came again, the sound of pain and distress. He started forward and saw her on the sandbank kneeling beside the pool. She had thrown aside her blanket, and the moonlight shone on her bare skin, imparting to it the patina of polished ivory. She was doubled up in a convulsion of pain and sickness. As he watched in distress, she retched and vomited into the sand.
He ran down to her and dropped on his knees beside her. She looked up at him in despair. "You should not see me thus, she whispered -hoarsely, then turned her head. away and vomited again. He put his arm around her bare shoulders. She was cold and shivering.
"You are sick," he breathed. "Oh, my love, why did you not answer me straight? Why did you try to hide it from me?
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "You should not have followed," she said. "I did not want you to know."
"If you are sick, then I must know. You should trust me enough to tell me."
"I did not want to be a burden to you. I did not want you to delay the march because of me."
He hugged her to him. "You will never be a burden to me. You are the breath in my lungs and the blood in my veins. Tell me now truthfully what ails you, my darling."
She sighed and shivered against him. "Oh, Hal, forgive me. I did not want this to happen yet. I have taken all the medicines that I know of to prevent it."
"What is it?" He was confused and dismayed. "Please tell me "I am carrying your child in my womb." He stared at her in astonishment and could neither move nor speak. "Why are you silent? Why do you look at me so? Please don't be angry with me."
Suddenly he clasped her to his chest with all his strength. "It is not anger that stops up my mouth. It is joy. Joy for our love. joy for the son you promised me."
That day Hal changed the order of march and took Sukeena to walk with him at the head of the column. Though she protested laughingly, he took her basket from her and added it to his own load. Thus relieved she was able to step out lightly and stay beside him without difficulty. Still he took her hand on the difficult places, and she did not demur when she saw what pleasure it gave him to protect and cherish her thus.
"You must not tell the others," she murmured, "else they will want to slow the march on my behalf."
"You are as strong as Aboli and Big Daniel," he assured her staunchly, "but I will not tell them."
So they kept their secret, walking hand in hand and smiling at each other in such obvious happiness that even if Zwaantie had not told Althuda and he had not told Aboli, they must have guessed. Aboli grinned as if he were the father and showed Sukeena such special favour and attention that even Sabah, in the end, fathomed the reason for this new mood that had come over the band.
The land through which they were passing now became more heavily wooded. Some of the trees were monstrous and seemed, like great arrows, to pierce the very heavens. "These must have been old when Christ the Saviour was born upon this earth!" Hal marvelled.
With Aboli's wise counsel and guidance they were coming to terms with this savage terrain, and the great animals that abounded in it. Fear was no longer their constant companion, and Hal and Sukeena had learned to take pleasure in the strangeness and beauty all around them.
They would pause on a hilltop to watch an eagle sail on the high wind with motionless wings, or to take pleasure in a tiny gleaming metallic bird, no bigger than Sukeena's thumb, as it hung suspended from a flower while it sipped the nectar with a curved beak that seemed as long as its body.
The grassland teemed with a plethora of strange beasts that challenged their imagination. There were herds of the same blue buck that they had first encountered below the mountains, and wild horses barred with stark stripes of cream, russet and black. Often they saw ahead of them among the trees the dark mountainous shapes of the double-horned rhinoceros, but they had learned that this fearsome beast was almost blind and that they could avoid its wild, snorting charge by making a short detour from the path.
On the open lands, beyond the forest, there were flocks of small cinnamon-coloured gazelles, so numerous that they moved like smoke across the hills. Their flanks were slashed with a horizontal chocolate stripe, and lyre-shaped horns crowned their dainty heads. When alarmed by the sight of the human figures, they pranced with astonishing lightness of hoof, leaping high in the air and flashing a snowy plume upon their backs. Each ewe was followed by a tiny lamb, and Sukeena clapped her hands with delight and exclaimed to see the young animals nudging the udder or cavorting with their peers. Hal watched he
r fondly, knowing now that she also carried a child within her, sharing her joy in the young of another species and revelling with her in the secret they thought they had kept from the others.
