The Monsoon (59 page)

With the next high tide the Minotaur was floated off, and in deeper water turned round. Then she was brought back to the same spot on the beach and the whole process repeated, but this time with her starboard side rolled t uppermost.

When, finally, she was brought back to her moorings in the deeper waters of the lagoon, the topmast men went aloft to send down her yards.

These were carefully examined and any weak spot was repaired before being sent aloft again. Next, all the lines and sheets of her rigging were minutely inspected and the greater part replaced with fresh manila of the finest quality from the Seraph’s stores. The old black sails were in rags and tatters, most had been roughly patched and cobbled by alAuf’s men.

“We will replace them all,” Tom decided, and sent Ned to rifle the lockers of the Seraph. The sail-makers squatted in rows on the open deck, making up new canvas and altering the sails from the Seraph’s lockers to suit the Minotaur’s masts and yards.

The lower decks were in the same state of degradation as the Minotaur’s rigging. She was lousy with vermin and rats, and stank like a dung-heap. Ned concocted a fearsome brew of gunpowder, brimstone and vitriol, and they placed Pots Of this in the lower decks and set them alight. As the noxious smoke and fumes billowed from the pots, they hurried out onto the deck and into the fresh air. Then they battened down all her ports and hatches, and let the smoke seep into every corner and cranny of the hull.

Within minutes the rats began to desert the ship, wriggling out through the hawsehole and every crack in the gun ports. Some were as big as rabbits. As they swam frantically for the beach, the crew had great sport shooting at them with pistol or musket and wagering on the bag.

When the hull and the rigging had been taken care of, Tom turned his attention to the paintwork. This was faded and peeling. They rigged cradles over her sides and teams of men sanded her down, then gave her three coats of gleaming white down to the waterline. In a transport of artistic zeal, Tom had them pick out her gun ports in a gay sky blue, and regild the homed figurehead and the carvings of the stern gallery. After six weeks of unrelenting work the Minotaur looked like a ship just off the builders” slip.

Her lovely lines and her sweet sheer were displayed to full advantage.

Looking across at her from the stern windows over his sick bed, Hal Courtney smiled wanly with approval.

“By Jesus, she’s as pretty as a bride on her wedding day. Well done, my boy. You have added five thousand pounds to her value.” His father’s words gave Tom the courage to make a request. Hal listened quietly as he asked for the Minotaur and an independent command. Then he shook his head.

“I have lost one son,” he said softly.

“I am not yet prepared to lose another, Tom.”

“But, Father, I gave Dorry my sacred oath.” Shadows of terrible pain, worse than those he had undergone on the grating when they took his legs, passed behind Hal’s eyes.

“I know,
TOM
, I know,” he whispered.

“But the Minotaur is not mine to give you, it belongs to John Company. Even that would not stop me if I thought we could help your brother. But I cannot give you the ship and let you go off into terrible danger without a full crew to help you.” Tom opened his mouth to argue ftwffier, but Hal reached up from the rumpled sickbed on which he lay and placed his hand on his son’s arm.

“Listen to me, lad.” His voice was husky and the pale bony hand on Tom’s arm was light as the wing of a bird.

“I cannot let you go alone.

This alMalik is a man of power. He commands armies and hundreds of ships. On your own, you will not prevail 4 against one such as him.”

“Father-” Tom broke in again, but his father stopped him.

Hear me out, Tom. We must see through this voyage together. I have a duty to my King and to the men who placed their trust in me.

When we have discharged that duty, I will have you inducted into the Order. You will become a Knight Templar of the Order of St. George and the Holy Grail, with all the power that gives you. You will be able to call on the assistance of your brother knights, men like Lord Childs and Lord Hyde.”

“That will take a year,” Tom cried, in physical pain at the prospect.

“No, it may take two or three years.”

“We will achieve nothing by rushing in unprepared against a powerful nobleman in a far country, a country that is alien and where we have no allies or influence.”

“Years!” Tom repeated.

“What will happen to Dorry in the meantime?”

“By then I will be recovered from these wounds.” Hal looked down at his pitifully truncated legs.

“We will sail together to find Dorian, you and I, in a fleet of fine, powerful ships, manned with good, fighting men. Believe me, Tom, this is Dorian’s best chance, and ours.” Tom stared at his father aghast. Since his injury Hal Courtney had turned into a frail old man, with silvering beard and crippled body. Did he truly believe that he would ever again command another squadron or fight another battle? It was a forlorn dream. Tom felt the tears rising behind his eyes, but forced them back.

“Trust me, Tom,” Hal murmured.

“I give you my word.

Will you give me yours?”

“Very well, Father.” Tom had to summon all his courage to make the oath, but he could not deny his own father.

“I give you my word.”

“Thank you, Tom.” The hand dropped from Tom’s arm and Hal’s chin drooped onto his chest. His eyes closed and his breathing was so soft that it was inaudible. With a flare of dismay Tom thought he had lost him. Then he saw the gentle rise and fall of Hal’s wasted chest.

Tom rose from the bedside and moved towards the door, walking softly so that he did not disturb his father’s sleep.

he monsoon died away, and they lay for months in the torpid grip of the great calm between the seasons. Then the palm trees stirred their fronds i@ and the clouds turned back upon their tracks across the heavens and marched away in the opposite direction.

“These two mighty winds are the great wonder of all the oceans of the Indies, All Wilson told Tom, as they sat on the foredeck. He spoke in Arabic, for Hal still insisted that Tom practise this language every day, and Tom knew that it would stand him in good stead in his quest to find his brother.

“From November to April they blow out of the northeast, and the Arabs call them the kaskazi,” All went on.

“From April to November they turn back upon them selves and blow out of the southeast. Then the Arabs call them the kusi.”

RON

It was the kusi that had brought Captain Edward Anderson back to Flor de la Mar in the bright dawn of another windswept day. While the crews of the other ships of the squadron manned the yards and lined the rails to cheer her in, Anderson brought the Yeoman of York through the passage in the coral and dropped anchor alongside the Seraph. Hardly had the ship snubbed up to her cable than Tom sent the longboat across to fetch Anderson to see his father.

Edward Anderson came up the ladder looking mighty pleased with himself and his accomplishments, but his first words were to enquire after Hal Courtney’s health.

My father makes a strong recovery from his wounds,” Tom gave him the white lie, “and I am most grateful for your concern, Captain Anderson.” He led Anderson to the stern cabin. Tom had seen to it that the linen on the bunk was freshly washed and ironed, and that Hal’s hair had been trimmed and combed by the surgeon’s mate. He was propped up on bolsters and looked healthier than he really was.

“I give thanks to God to see you in such fine fettle, Sir Henry,” Anderson greeted him, and took the chair beside the bunk to which Hal pointed.

Tom served them each a glass of Madeira.

“Do you wish me to leave you alone with Captain Anderson, Father?” he asked, as he handed the twist-stemmed glass to Hal.

“Of course not,” Hal told him quickly, then said to Anderson, “My son has taken command in my stead, while I am indisposed.” Tom stared at him. This was the first time his promotion had been mentioned.

However, Anderson showed no surprise.

“He does you credit, Sir Henry.”

“Enough of our doings here on the island.” Hal tried to sit higher, but pain stabbed him. He winced and lay back on the pillows.

“I’m eager to have a report of your exploits since we parted.”

“All my news is good.” Anderson was neither shy nor reticent.

“The outward voyage to Ceylon was accomplished without mishap, and the loss of only a dozen of the captives. Van Groote, the Dutch governor in Colombo, was courteous in his reception, and most amenable in his desire to trade. It seems that our timing was most propitious, as a recent epidemic of smallpox in his barra coons had reduced his population of slaves most drastically.

Fortunately I had been apprised of this prior to opening negotiations with him, so I was able to agree with him a very satisfactory price.”

“How much?”

“Thirty-seven pounds a head.”

Anderson looked smug.

“My felicitations, Captain Anderson.” Hal reached out to shake his hand.

“That is considerably more than we expected.”

“The good news does not end there.” Anderson chuckled.

“The smallpox plague and the predations of alAuf in these oceans meant that van Groote had been unable to ship much of the last two years” cinnamon crop.

His warehouses were filled to overflowing.” Anderson winked.

“Instead of taking a note on the
VOC
bankers in Amsterdam for the sale price of the slaves, I loaded my ship with bales of cinnamon at these bargain prices. I have no doubt that we will double our investment when we reach the Pool of London again.” Again I must commend your good sense and acumen.” Anderson’s news had visibly cheered Hal. Tom had not seen his father look so keen and vigorous since his injury.

“The wind stands fair for Good Hope. We should sail as soon as you are ready to take your Yeoman back to sea, Captain Anderson. When will that be?”

“I have a few cases of scurvy among my crew, but I expect them to recover quickly now that we are in harbour. I need only replenish my water-barrels and take on a load of coconuts. I will be ready to sail within the week.” Four days later the squadron weighed anchor, and tacked out through the passage in line astern. As soon as they reached the open sea they set all plain sail and headed down into the south, to pass through the Mozambique Channel and forge on to the south cape of the African continent.

For the first few weeks the weather remained fair and the wind favourable. Hal’s health responded favourably to being at sea again in the fresh air and to the kindly motion of the Seraph. He spent time each day rehearsing Tom in the rites of the Order of St. George and the Holy Grail, preparing him for his entry into the knighthood, and expressed pleasure at his son’s progress. After the first week, Tom ordered a day-bed set up on the deck, on the weather side of the quarterdeck, and had his father carried up and laid where he could once again feel the wind and sun on his face. Although Tom took full responsibility for the running of the ship, he made time each day to be with his father. During these days Tom felt himself growing closer to Hal than he had ever been before. Often their talk turned to Dorian and their plans to find and rescue him. They discussed Guy and his marriage to Caroline Beatty only once. To Tom’s astonishment his father spoke to him as to a man full grown.

“You do realize, Tom, that the child might well be yours and not Guy’s?”

“That had occurred to me.” Tom hid his embarrassment as well as he was able, and answered as forthrightly as his father had broached the subject.

“I fear you have made an enemy of your twin brother.

Be wary of Guy. He does not forgive an injury, and he has an endless capacity for hatred.”

“I doubt we shall ever meet again. He is in India, and I, well, I shall be at the ends of the oceans.”

“Fate plays us shabby tricks, Tom, and the oceans may not be as broad as you think.” The squadron made its southings and at forty-three degrees south latitude swung up on to a westerly heading to make the landfall on the tip of Good Hope. Soon they saw the surf beating white on the southern cliffs of Africa.

That same day Hal summoned Tom to the stern cabin and showed him the record of his promotion entered in the ship’s log.

“Apart from a demonstration of the trust I have in you, Tom, this also means that you will be entitled to an officer’s share of the prize,” his father told him.

“That might be as much as a thousand pounds.”

“Thank you, Father.”

“There is much that I would do for you that is beyond my powers. William is my firstborn, and you know the significance of that. Everything goes to him.”

“You need not worry about me. I can make my own way in the world.”

“Of that I am sure.”

Hal smiled, and gripped his arm.

He was stronger now than when they had left Flor de la Mar, Tom could feel the power in his fingers, and the sun had put new colour in his cheeks.

“It must be because we have doubled the Cape and are northward-bound that my thoughts turn once again to High Weald. Do not hate your elder brother, Tom.”

“It is not I who hate him, Father.

It’s Black Billy who hates me.”

“That contemptuous name betrays your true feelings for him, but when I am gone he will be the head of our family and he has a right to your respect and loyalty.”

“It was you who taught me, Father, that respect and loyalty have to be earned and not demanded.” They anchored well off the beach of the little Dutch settlement at the Cape of Good Hope. They watered and re victualled with fresh vegetables and meat, and had neither truck nor bother with the Dutch administration ashore. Within the week they were on their way northwards once more. As suddenly as the squadron entered the Atlantic Ocean, the character of the waters changed, and Hal Courtney’s health with it.

The Cape rollers came marching down upon them, great grey ridges of water with deep valleys between, to batter the squadron day and night. The seas creamed over the ships” bows and-tore away any weak plank or fitting from the decks. The howl of the wind was the voice of this wolf-pack, and the onslaught was merciless and unrelenting. Each day Hal grew weaker again, and when Tom entered his cabin one gale-driven morning he found his father flushed and sweating. His nostrils flared as he detected the familiar stench of corruption in the air, and when he drew back the bedclothes he found telltale stains of yellow pus on the white linen.