Birds of Prey - Smith Wilbur (версия книг TXT) 📗
They dragged him up on deck, and stripped the stinking rags from his shrunken body. Then four seamen worked the handles of the deck pump while Sam turned the stream from the canvas hose full on him. The Gull had entered the tail end of the cold green Benguela current that sweeps down the west coast of the continent. The jet of icy seawater from the hose almost knocked Sir Francis from his feet, and he had to cling to the shrouds to keep his balance. Shivering and choking when Sam directed the hose full into his face, he was able yet to scrub most of the crusted filth from his hair and body. It was of no concern to him that Katinka van de Velde leaned on the rail of the poop deck and scrutinized his nudity without the least indication of modesty.
Only when the hose was turned off and he was left to stand in the wind to dry off did Sir Francis have a chance to look about him and form some estimate of the Gull's position and condition. Although his emaciated body was blue with cold, he felt refreshed and strengthened by the dousing. His teeth chattered and his whole frame shuddered with involuntary spasms of cold as he looked over side and he folded his arms over his chest to try to warm himself. The African mainland lay ten leagues or so to the north, and he recognized the cliffs and crags of the point that guarded the entrance to False Bay. They would have to weather that savage point before they could enter Table Bay on the far side of the peninsula.
The wind was almost dead calm, and the surface of the sea as slick as oil, with long, low swells rising and falling like the breathing of a sleeping monster. Sam Bowles was telling the truth. unless the wind picked up it would be many more days before they rounded the Cape and dropped anchor in Table Bay. He wondered how many more of his men would follow Timothy before they were released from the confines of the slave deck.
Sam Bowles threw a few pieces of threadbare but clean clothing on the deck at his feet. "His lordship is expecting you. Don't keep him waiting now."
"Franky!" Cumbrae rose to greet him as he stooped through the doorway into the Gull's stern cabin. "I am so pleased to see that you look none the worse for your little sojourn below decks." Before Sir Francis could avoid it, Cumbrae seized him in a bear-hug. "I must apologize deeply for your treatment but it was at the insistence of the Dutch Governor and his wife. I would never have treated a brother Knight in such a scurvy fashion."
While he spoke the Buzzard ran his great hands quickly down Sir Francis's body, checking for a concealed knife or other weapon, then pushed him into the largest and most comfortable chair in the cabin.
"A glass of wine, my dear old friend?" He poured it with his own hand, then gestured for his steward to place a bowl of stew in front of Sir Francis. Though saliva flooded into his mouth at the aroma of the first hot food he had been offered in almost two weeks, Sir Francis made no move to touch the glass or the spoon beside the bowl of stew.
Cumbrae noticed his refusal and, although he raised one bushy ginger eyebrow, he did not urge him but seized his own spoon and slurped up a mouthful from his own bowl. He chewed with all the sounds of appetite and approval, then washed it down with a hearty swallow from his wine glass, and wiped his red whiskers with the back of his hand. "No, Franky, left to my own choice I would never have treated you so shabbily. You and I have had our differences in the past, but it has always been in the spirit of gentlemanly sport and competition, has it not?"
"Such sport as firing your broadside into my camp without warning?" Sir Francis asked.
"Now, let us not waste time in idle recrimination." The Buzzard waved away the remark. "That would never have been necessary if only you had agreed to share the booty from the galleon with me. What I really mean was that you and I understand each other. At heart we are brothers."
"I think that I understand you." Sir Francis nodded. "Then you will know that what gives you pain, pains me even more. I have suffered every minute of your incarceration with you."
"I hate to see you suffer, my lord, so why not release me and my men?"
"That is my fervent wish and intention, I assure you. However, there remains one small impediment that prevents me doing so. I need from you a sign that my warm feelings towards you are reciprocated. I am still deeply hurt that you would not share with me, your old friend, what was rightly mine in the terms of our agreement."
"I am certain that the Dutch have given you the share you lacked before. In fact I saw you loading what seemed to me a generous portion of the spice aboard this very ship. I wonder what the Lord High Admiral of England will make of such traffic with the enemy."
"A few barrels of spice barely worth the breath to mention it." Cumbrae smiled. "But there ain't nothing like silver and gold to rouse my fraternal instincts. Come, now, Franky, we have wasted enough time in the pleasantries. You and I know that you have the bullion from the galleon cached somewhere close by your encampment on Elephant Lagoon. I know I will find it if I search long enough, but by then you will be dead, sent messily on your way by the executioner at Good Hope."
Sir Francis smiled and shook his head. "I have cached no treasure. Search if you will, but there is nothing for you to find."
"Think on it, Franky. You know what the Dutch did to the English merchants they captured on the isle of Bali? They crucified them and burnt off their hands and feet with sulphur flares. I want to save you from that."
"If you have nothing further to discuss, I will return to my crew." Sir Francis stood up. His legs were stronger now. "Sit down!" the Buzzard snapped. "Tell me where you hid it, man, and I will put you and your men ashore with no further harm done, I swear it on my honour." Cumbrae wheedled and blustered for another hour. Then at last he sighed. "You drive a hard bargain, Franky. I tell you what I'll do for you. I would do it for no one else, but I love you like a brother. If you take me back and lead me to the booty, I'll share it with you. Fifty-fifty, right down the middle. Now I can't be more fair than that, can I?" Sir Francis met even this offer with a calm, detached smile, and Cumbrae could hide his fury no longer. He slapped the table so viciously with the palm of his hand, that the glasses overturned and the wine sprayed across the cabin. He bellowed furiously for Sam Bowles. "Take this arrogant bastard away, and chain him up again." As Sir Francis left the cabin he shouted after him, "I will find where you hid it, Franky, I swear it to you. I know more than you think. Just as soon as I have seen you topped on the Parade at Good Hope, I will be going back to the lagoon, and I won't leave until I find it."
