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

Schreuder would have dearly loved to give himself the pleasure of disdainfully refusing the offer, but those few guineas were all his wealth in the world and he took the thin purse that Llewellyn handed him, and muttered reluctantly, "In that, at least, you act like a gentleman, sir. I am indebted to you."

They went down into the longboat, and Llewellyn sat in the stern sheets while Schreuder found a seat in the bows and ignored the grinning faces of the crew and the ironical salutes from the ship's officers on the quarterdeck as they pulled away. They were only half-way to the beach when a familiar figure wearing a plaid and a beribboned bonnet sauntered out from amongst the trees, his red beard and tangled locks blazing in the sunlight, and watched them approach with both hands on his hips.

"Colonel Schreuder, by the devil's steaming turds!" Cumbrae roared as he recognized him. "It gladdens my heart to behold your smiling countenance." As soon as the bows touched the beach Schreuder leapt ashore and seized the Buzzard's out thrust hand.

"I am surprised but overjoyed to find you here, my lord." The Buzzard looked over Schreuder's shoulder, and grinned widely. "Och! And if it's not my beloved brother of the Temple, Christopher Llewellyn! Well met, cousin, and God's benevolence upon you."

Llewellyn did not smile, and showed little eagerness to take the hand that Cumbrae thrust at him as soon as his feet touched the sand. "How do ye do, Cumbrae? Our last discourse in the Bay of Trincomalee was interrupted at a crucial point when you left in some disarray."

"Ah, but that was in another land and long ago, cousin, and I'm sure we can both be magnanimous enough to forgive and forget such a trifling and silly matter."

"Five hundred pounds and the lives of twenty of my men is not a trifling and silly matter in my counting house. And I'll remind you that I'm no cousin nor any kin of yours," Llewellyn snapped, and his legs were stiff with the memory of his old outrage.

But Cumbrae placed one arm around his shoulder and said softly, "In Arcadia habito."

Llewellyn was obviously struggling with himself, but he could not deny his knightly oath, and at last he gritted the response, "Flumen sacrurn bene cognosco."

"There you are." The Buzzard boomed with laughter. "That was not so bad, was it? If not cousins, then we are still brothers in Christ, are we not?"

"I would feel more brotherly towards you, sir, if I had my five hundred pounds back in my purse."

"I could set off that debt against the grievous injury that you inflicted on my sweet Gull and my own person." The Buzzard pulled back his cloak to display the bright scar across his upper arm. "But I'm a forgiving man with a loving heart, Christopher, and so you shall have it. I give you my word on it. Every farthing of your five hundred pounds, and the interest to boot."

Llewellyn smiled at him coldly. "I will delay my thanks until I feel the weight of your purse in my hands." Cumbrae saw the purpose in his level gaze and, without another look at the Golden Bough's row of gun ports and the handy businesslike lines of her hull, he knew that they were evenly matched and it would be hard pounding if it came to a fight between the two ships, just as it had been four years previously in the Bay of Trincomalee.

"I don't blame you for trusting no man in this naughty world of ours, but dine with me today, here ashore, and I will place the purse in your hands, I swear it to you."

Llewellyn nodded grimly. "Thank you for that offer of hospitality, sir, but I well remember the last time I availed myself of one of your invitations. I have a fine cook on board my own ship who can provide me with a meal more to my taste. However, I will return at dusk to fetch the purse you have promised me." Llewellyn bowed and returned to his longboat.

The Buzzard watched him go, with a calculating look in his eyes. The longboat headed up the lagoon towards the stream of fresh water that flowed into its upper end. "That dandy bastard has a nasty temper," he growled and, beside him, Schreuder nodded.

"I have never been so pleased to be rid of somebody unpleasant and to be standing here on this beach and appealing to your friendship, as I am now."

Cumbrae looked at him shrewdly. "You have me at a disadvantage, sir," he said. "What indeed are you doing here, and what is it that I can do for you in good friendship?"

"Where can we talk?" Schreuder asked.

Cumbrae replied, "This way, my old friend and companion in arms," led Schreuder to his hut in the grove and poured him half a mug of whisky. "Now, tell me. Why are you no longer in command of the garrison at Good Hope?"

"To be frank with you, my lord, I am in the devil's own fix. I stand accused by Governor van de Velde of a crime that I did not commit. You know well how bitterly he was obsessed by envy and ill-will towards me," Schreuder explained, and Cumbrae nodded cautiously without committing himself.

"Please go on."

"Ten days ago the Governor's wife was murdered in a fit of lust and bestial passion by the gardener and executioner of the Company."

"Sweet heavens!" Cumbrae exclaimed. "Slow John! I knew he was a madman. I could see it in his eyes. A blethering maniac! I am sorry to hear about the woman, though. She was a delicious little muffin. put a bone in my breeches just to look at those titties of hers, she did."

"Van de Velde has falsely accused me of this foul murder. I was forced to flee on the first available ship before he had me imprisoned and placed on the rack. Llewellyn offered me passage to the Orient where I had determined to enlist in the war that is afoot in the Horn of Africa between the Prester and the Great Mogul."

Cumbrae's eyes lit up and he leaned forward on his stool at the mention of war, like a hyena scenting the blood of a battlefield. By this time he was heartily bored with digging for Franky Courtney's elusive treasure, and the promise of an easier way to fill his holds with riches had all of his attention. But he would not show this posturing braggart just how eager he was, so he left the subject for another time and said, with feeling and understanding, "You have my deepest sympathy and my assurances of any aid I am able to render." His mind was seething with ideas. He sensed that Schreuder was guilty of the murder he denied so vehemently but, guilty or not, he was now an outlaw and he was placing himself at Cumbrae's mercy.