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

"Will this ship do you, Mister Tyler?"

"It will do me well enough," Ned said, and his eyes sparkled.

Hal seized the speaking trumpet from its peg and pointed to the sky as he called the order for the top sails to be set above the courses. He felt the ship start under his feet and begin to fly.

"Oh, sweet!" he whispered. "She is a bird, and the wind is her lover."

He strode across to where Sukeena was already kneeling beside one of the wounded seamen.

"I told you to leave those bags ashore, did I not?"

"Yes, my lord." She smiled sweetly up at him. "But I knew that you were jesting." Then her expression changed to dismay. "You are hurt!" She sprang to her feet. "Let me attend to your injuries."

"I am scratched, not hurt. This man needs your skills more than I do." Hal turned from her, strode to the rail and looked across to the beach. The fire had taken fierce hold on the forest, and now the scene was lit like the dawn. He could clearly make out the features of the horde of men at the waterside. They were dancing with rage and frustration for they had realized at last that the frigate was being cut out under their noses.

Hal picked out the giant figure of Cumbrae in the front of the press of men. He was waving his claymore and his face was so swollen with rage that it seemed it might burst open like an overripe tomato. Hal laughed at him and the Buzzard's fury was magnified a hundredfold. His voice carried over the hubbub that his men were making. "There is no ocean wide enough to hide you, Courtney. I will find you if it takes fifty years."

Then Hal stopped laughing as he recognized the man who stood a little higher up the beach. At first he doubted his own eyesight, but the flames lit him so clearly that there could be no mistake. In contrast to the Buzzard's antics and transparent rage, Cornelius Schreuder stood, arms folded, staring across at Hal with a cold gaze that placed a sudden chill on Hal's heart. Their eyes locked, and it was as though they confronted each other upon the duelling field.

The Golden Bough heeled slightly as a stronger eddy of wind over the heads caught her, and the water began to gurgle under her forefoot like a happy infant. The deck trembled and she drew away from the beach. Hal gave all his attention to the con of the ship, lining her up for the run through the dangerous channel into the sea. It was long minutes before he could look back again towards the shore.

Only two figures remained on the beach. The two men whom Hal hated most in all the world, both his implacable enemies. The Buzzard had waded out waist-deep into the lagoon, as though to remain as close as he could. Schreuder still stood where Hal had last seen him. He had not moved and his reptilian stillness was every bit as chilling as Cumbrae's wild histrionics.

"The day will come when you will have to kill both of them," said a deep voice beside him, and he glanced at Aboli.

"I dream of that day."

Beneath his feet he felt the first thrust of the sea coming in through the heads. The flames had destroyed his night vision, and ahead lay utter darkness. He must grope his way through the treacherous channel like a blind man.

"Douse the lanterns!" he ordered. Their feeble light would not penetrate the darkness ahead and would serve only to dazzle him.

"Bring her up a point to larboard," he ordered Ned Tyler quietly.

"A point to larboard!" "Meet her!"

He felt rather than saw the loom of the cliff ahead, and heard the surge and break of the waves on the reef at the entrance. He judged his turn by the sounds of the sea, the feel of the wind on his chest and the deck beneath his feet.

After all the shouting and pistol fire, the ship was deathly quiet. Every seaman aboard her knew that Hal was leading them against an ancient enemy far more dangerous than the Buzzard or any man alive.

"Harden up your main and mizzen courses," he called to the men on the sheets. "Stand ready to let your topgallants fly."

An almost palpable fear lay upon the Golden Bough for the ebb had her by the throat and there was no manner in which the crew could slow the ship's headlong rush towards the unseen cliffs in the aching blackness.

The moment came. Hal felt the back surge from the breaking reef push across the bows, and the puff of wind on his cheek coming from a new direction as the ship ran on into the maw of rock.

"Starboard your helm!" he said sharply. "Hard over. Let your topgallants fly."

The Golden Bough spun on her heel and her top sails flapped in the wind, like the wings of a vulture scenting death. The ship rushed on into the darkness and every man on the deck braced himself for the terrible crash as the belly was ripped out of her by the fangs of the reef.

Hal stepped to the rail and peered up into the sky. His eyes were adjusting to the darkness. He saw the line, high above, where the stars were extinguished by the loom of the rocky head.

"Midship your helm, Mister Tyler. Hold her at that."

The ship steadied on her new course into the night, and Hal's heart beat fast to the echo of booming surf from the cliff close at hand. He clenched his fists at his sides in anticipation of the strike into the reef. Instead he felt the scend of the open sea hump up under her, and the Golden Bough meet it with the passion thrust of a lover.

"Harden up your topgallants." He raised his voice to carry on high. The flapping of sails ceased and he heard once again the thrumming of tight canvas.

The Golden Bough threw up her bows as the first ocean roller slid under her and for a moment no man dared believe that Hal had led them through the maelstrom to safety.