Birds of Prey - Smith Wilbur (версия книг TXT) 📗

We built the rockfall knowing that the Dutch would follow you."

"You did the brave and wise thing," Hal said.

Althuda brought his woman out of the gathering darkness. She was a pretty girl, small and darker-skinned than he was, but Hal could not doubt that Althuda was the father of the boy on her hip.

"This is Zwaantie, my wife, and this is my son, Bobby." Hal held out his hands and Zwaantie handed him the child. He held Bobby in his lap, and the little boy regarded him with huge solemn black eyes.

"He is a likely lad, and strong, Hal said, and father and mother smiled proudly.

Zwaantie lifted the infant and strapped him on her back. Then she and Sukeena built up the fire and began to cook the evening meal of wild game and the fruits of the mountain forests, while the men talked quietly and seriously.

First Sabah explained their circumstances, addressing himself directly to Hal, enlarging on the brief report he had already given. Hal soon understood that, despite the beauty of their surroundings now in the summertime and the seeming abundance of the meal that the women were preparing, the mountains were not always as hospitable. During winter the snows lay thick even in the valleys and game was scarce. However, they dared not move down to lower altitudes where they would be seen by the Hottentot tribes and their whereabouts reported to the Dutch at Good Hope.

"The winters here are fierce," Sabah summed up. "If we stay here for another, then few of us will be left alive this time next year." During their captivity Hal's seamen had garnered enough knowledge of the Dutch language to enable them to follow what Sabah had to say, and when he had finished speaking they were all silent and stared glumly into the fire, munching disconsolately on the food the women brought to them.

Then, one at a time, their heads turned towards Hal. Big Daniel spoke for them all when he asked, "What are we going to do now, Sir Henry?"

"Are you seamen or mountaineers?" Hal answered his question with a question, and some of the men chuckled. "We were born in Davey Jones's locker and we were all of us given salt water for blood," Ned Tyler answered.

"Then I will have to take you down to the sea and find you a ship, won't I?"" said Hal. They looked confused but some chuckled again, though halfheartedly.

"Master Daniel, I want a manifest of all the weapons, powder and other stores that we were able to bring with us, Hal said briskly.

"There weren't much of anything, Captain. Once we left the horses we had just about enough strength left to get ourselves up the mountains."

"Powder?" Hal demanded.

"Only what we had in our flasks."

"When you went on ahead, you had two full kegs on the horses."

"Those kegs weighed fifty pounds apiece." Daniel looked ashamed. "Too much cargo for us to haul."

"I have seen you carry twice that weight." Hal was angry and disappointed. Without a store of powder they were at the mercy of this wild terrain, and the beasts and tribes that infested it.

"Daniel carried my saddle-bags up Dark Gorge." Sukeena intervened softly. "No one else could do it."

"I'm sorry, Captain," Daniel muttered.

But Sukeena supported him fiercely. "There is not a thing in my bags that we could do without. That includes the medicines that saved your leg and will save every one of us from the hurts and pestilences that we will meet here in the wilderness."

"Thank you, Princess," Daniel murmured, and looked at her like an affectionate hound. If he had possessed a tail Hal knew he would have wagged it.

Hal smiled and clapped Daniel's shoulder. "I find no fault with what you did, Big Danny. There is no man alive who could have done better."

They all relaxed and smiled. Then Ned asked, "Were you serious when you promised us a ship, Captain?" Sukeena stood up from the fire.

"That's enough for tonight. He must regain his strength before you plague him further. You must go now. You may come again tomorrow." One at a time they came to Hal, shook his hand and mumbled something incoherent, then wandered off through the darkness towards the other huts spread out along the valley floor. When the last had gone Sukeena threw another cedar log on the fire then came and sat close beside him.

In a natural, possessive manner, Hal placed his arm around her shoulders. She leaned her slim body against him and fitted her head into the notch of his shoulder. She sighed, a sweet, contented sound, and neither spoke for a while.

"I want to stay here at your side like this for ever, but the stars may not allow it," she whispered. "The season of our love may be short as a winter day."

"Don't say that," Hal commanded. "Never say that."

They both looked up at the stars, and here, in the high thin air, they were so brilliant that they lit the heavens with the luminescence of the mother-of pearl that lines the inside of an abalone shell taken fresh from the sea. Hal looked upon them with awe and considered what she had said. He felt a sense of hopelessness and sadness come upon him. He shivered.

Immediately she sat up straight and said softly, "You grow cold. Come, Gundwane!"

She helped him to his feet and led him into the hut, to the mattress against the far wall. She laid him upon it and then lit the wick of the small clay oil lamp and placed it on a shelf in the rock wall. She went to the fire and lifted off the clay pot of water that stood on the edge of the coals. She poured steaming water into an empty dish and mixed in cold water from the pot beside the door until the temperature suited her.