Birds of Prey - Smith Wilbur (версия книг TXT) 📗
Van de Velde took a pinch of snuff up each nostril and then sneezed deliciously, spraying the court writer who sat beside him. The clerk closed the one eye nearest to the Governor but kept his quill flying across the page in an effort to keep up with the proceedings.
"I believe that you and I have discussed this opinion before." Van de Velde nodded mockingly towards Sir Francis. "I will now proceed to sentence these pirates. I will deal firstly with the four Negroes. Let the following persons stand forth. Aboli! Matesi! Jiri! KimattiP The four were shackled in pairs, and now the guards prodded them to their feet. They shuffled forward and stood below the dais. Van de Velde regarded them sternly. "I have taken into account that you are ignorant savages, and therefore cannot be expected to behave like decent Christians. Although your crimes reek to heaven and cry for retribution, I am inclined to mercy. I condemn you to lifelong slavery. You will be sold by the auctioneer of the Dutch East India Company to the highest bidder at auction, and the monies received from this sale will be paid into the Company treasury. Take them away, Sergeant!"
As they were led from the hall Aboli looked across at Sir Francis and Hal. His dark face was impassive behind the mask of tattoos, but his eyes sent them the message of his heart.
"Next I will deal with the white pirates," van de Velde announced.
"Let the following prisoners stand forth." He read from the list in his hand. "Henry Courtney, officer and mate. Ned Tyler, boatswain. Daniel Fisher, boatswain. William Rogers, seaman..." He read out every name except that of Sir Francis Courtney. When Sir Francis rose beside his son, van de Velde stopped him. "Not you! You are the captain and the instigator of this gang of rogues. I have other plans for you. Have the armourer separate him from the other prisoner." The man hurried forward from the back of the court with the leather satchel containing his tools, and worked swiftly to knock the shackle out of the links that bound Hal to his father.
Sir Francis sat alone on the long bench as Hal left him and went forward to take his place at the head of the row of prisoners below the dais. Van de Velde studied their faces, beginning at one end of the line and moving his brooding gaze slowly along until he arrived at Hal.
"A more murderous bunch of cutthroats I have never laid eyes upon. No honest man or woman is safe when creatures like you are at large. You are fit only for the gibbet."
As he stared at Hal, a sudden thought occurred to him, and he glanced away towards the Buzzard, who sat beside the lovely Katinka at the side of the hall. "My lord!" he called. "May I trouble you for a word in private?" Leaving the prisoners standing, van de Velde heaved his bulk onto his feet and waddled back through the doors in the audience chamber behind him. The Buzzard made an elaborate bow to Katinka and followed the Governor.
As he entered the chamber he found van de Velde selecting a morsel from the silver tray on the polished yellow-wood table. He turned to the Buzzard, his mouth already filled. "A sudden thought occurred to me. If I am to send Francis Courtney to the executioner for questioning as to the whereabouts of the missing cargo, should not his son go also? Surely Courtney would have told his son or had him with him when he secreted the treasure. What do you think, my Lord?"
The Buzzard looked grave and tugged at his beard as he pretended to consider the question. He had wondered how long it would take this great hog to come round to this way of thinking, and he had long ago prepared his answer. He knew he could rely on the fact that Sir Francis Courtney would never reveal the whereabouts of his wealth, not even to the most cunning and persistent tormentor. He was just too stubborn and pigheaded unless and here was the one possible case in which he might capitulate if it were to save his only son. "Your excellency, I think you need have no fear that any living person knows where the treasure is, apart from the pirate himself. He is much too avaricious and suspicious to trust another human being."
Van de Velde looked dubious and helped himself to another curried samosa from the tray. While he munched, the Buzzard mulled over his best line of argument, should van de Velde choose to debate it further.
There was no question in the Buzzard's mind but that Hal Courtney knew where the treasure from the Standvastigheid lay. What was more, he almost certainly knew where the other hoard from the Heerlycke Nacht was hidden. Unlike his father, the youngster would be unable to withstand the questioning by Slow John and, even if he proved tougher than the Buzzard believed, his father would certainly break down when he saw his son on the rack. One way or the other the two would lead the Dutch to the hoard, and that was the last thing on this earth that the Buzzard wanted to happen.
His grave expression almost cracked into a grin as he realized the irony of his being forced to save Henry Courtney from the attentions of Slow John. But if he wanted the treasure for himself, he must make sure that neither father nor son led the cheese-heads to it first. The best place for Sir Francis was the gallows, and the best place for his brat was the dungeon under the castle walls.
This time he could not prevent the grin reaching his lips as he thought that while Slow John was still cooling his branding irons in Sir Francis's blood, the Gull would be flying back to Elephant Lagoon to winkle out those sacks of guilders and those bars of gold from whatever nook or cranny Sir Francis had tucked them into.
He turned the grin now on van de Velde. "No, your excellency, I give you my assurance that Francis Courtney is the only man alive who knows where it is. He may look hard and talk bravely, but Franky will roll over and spread his thighs like a whore offered a gold guinea just as soon as Slow John gets to work on him. My advice is that you send Henry Courtney to work on the castle, and rely on his father to lead you to the booty."
"Governer Van de Velde nodded. "That's what I thought myself. I just wanted you to confirm what I already knew." He popped one last samosa into his mouth and spoke around it. "Let's go back and get the business finished, then."
The prisoners were still waiting in their chains below the dais, like oxen in the traces, as van de Velde settled himself into his chair again.
"The gibbet and the gallows, these "are your natural homes, but they are too good for you. I sentence every last man of you to a lifetime of labour in the service of the Dutch East India Company, which you conspired to cheat and rob, and whose servants you abducted and maltreated. Do not think this is kindness on my part, or weakness.
