Golden Lion. Wilbur Smith

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СКАЧАТЬ pulled himself away and said, ‘You were asking after Aboli. Perhaps this will enlighten you.’

      He shouted a few words in a tongue that Judith knew was African, but could not comprehend. A few seconds later there came the reply, a loud keening cry that she instantly recognized as the start of a chant. It was answered by a mass of deep, masculine voices grunting, ‘Huh!’, followed immediately by feet stamping the deck as one. The first voice continued with the chant and, as it did, the sailors fell back to either side so that the deck in front of Judith emptied and there before her came a sight that thrilled her heart almost as much as the feel of Hal’s arms around her.

      Aboli stood on the bare planking. On his head he wore a tall headdress of white crane’s feathers that seemed to increase his already magnificent height so that he resembled a giant or a jungle god rather than a mortal man. In his hand he carried a broad-bladed stabbing spear and around his neck there was a kilt of leopard’s tails.

      Behind him came the Amadoda, men of his tribe who had been recruited to serve on the Golden Bough and who had swiftly proven to be as powerful and deadly at sea as they had been in the forests and open savannah that was their native land. They, too, wore crane-feather headdresses, though none was as tall or as splendid as Aboli’s, for he was their chief.

      Forward they came, their voices joining with his in rich, sonorous harmonies that proclaimed their valour, their comradeship and their willingness to die for their cause. All around, the rest of the crew looked on in slack-jawed amazement, for they had never seen the Amadoda like this, in all their glory. The men came forward until they were just a few paces from Judith and Hal and their song, their foot-stamps, their grunts and their perfectly co-ordinated movements combined in a way that was part dance, part military drill and part sheer celebration of the joy and pride of being a true warrior.

      Their song finished and all around burst into applause, none more than Judith, for she, too, was a daughter of Africa and even though the words they sang were not known to her, she understood the spirit in which they were sung completely. Then Aboli stepped towards her. With courtly dignity he removed his headdress and placed it on the deck beside him. Then he got down on one knee, reached out and took Judith’s right hand in his, lowered his head and kissed her hand.

      It was the tribute of a born aristocrat to his queen. Judith was all but overcome with the magnificence of his gesture and as he rose to his feet again, she kept hold of his hand and said, ‘Thank you, Aboli. Thank you with all my heart,’ for she knew that he had pledged himself to her and that she could count on him, absolutely, forever.

      Hal was next to take Aboli’s hand. ‘Thank you, old friend. That was magnificent.’

      Aboli smiled. ‘I am a prince of the Amadoda. What else could it be?’

      And so the festivities began. As morning gave way to afternoon, and afternoon to evening, food was eaten, and drink consumed, then the crew’s musicians got out their fiddles, pipes and drums and the singing and dancing began. Judith let Hal lead her out to the floor and they improvised a combination of reel and jig that seemed to match the band’s seafaring tunes well enough. Some of the native cooks and serving girls also found themselves pressed into service on the dancefloor, though Hal had made it very clear indeed that no liberties were to be taken and that any man found to have forced himself on a woman could expect a taste of the lash. Finally, as the sun went down, Hal stood on the steps leading up to the poop deck, looked out over the revellers and called for silence.

      ‘Right, you drunken scoundrels,’ he shouted, sounding less than entirely sober himself, ‘I have a few words to say to you all.’

      He was greeted by shouts of encouragement and a few good-humoured catcalls. ‘Now, my name – my proper, formal name – is Sir Henry Courtney.’

      ‘It’s all right, skipper, we know who you are!’ a wag called out.

      ‘Good, because there’s a reason I said that, which will soon become clear. But first, let me say this: tomorrow we set sail for England!’

      A huge roar of approval arose from the Anglo-Saxon contingent of the crew. ‘Of course,’ Hal went on, ‘those members of the ship’s company whose homeland lies here in Africa will be free to return to their homes. But not before we have completed one last task.

      ‘As many of you know, my father, Sir Francis Courtney, along with the help of many of you here, captured many ships, sailing under Dutch and other flags—’

      ‘Damn cheese-heads!’ someone shouted, to great approval from his mates.

      ‘—and from these prizes he took a very large amount of gold, silver and other valuables. We are going to go and recover that treasure and all of you – every last one – will get his share, fair and square, according to his length of service and seniority. And I can promise …’ Hal had to raise his voice over the babble of cheers and excited chatter, ‘that not a man-jack of you will walk away with less than fifty pounds, at the very least!’

      Hal grinned at the cheers his promise provoked, then raised his hand for silence again. ‘You all fully deserve your reward. No man could ask for better, braver, more loyal crewmates than you have been to me. You’ve proved your worth as sailors and fighters a hundred times over. You have pledged yourselves to me and now I make this pledge to you. I am going to lead you back home and give you all you need to lead a fine life when you get there. But first, gentlemen, I wish to propose a toast. Would you please raise your glasses to the woman that I will be taking back to my home, there to become my wife, my beloved Judith. Men, I give you: the future Lady Courtney!’

      When the toast had been drunk, along with several more proposed from various members of the crew, Hal and Judith were finally free to retire together to his quarters. Being the creation of a wealthy aristocrat, the Golden Bough did not lack for creature comforts. There was not a battleship in the Royal Navy that housed its skipper more comfortably than the cabin provided for the Bough’s master. An elegantly carved desk provided the perfect place for the captain to keep his logbook up to date, while fine Persian carpets were enough to make guests feel that they were in the drawing room of a gentlemanly country house or London pied-à-terre, rather than the lower deck of an ocean-going sailing ship.

      ‘I have made one significant improvement to our sleeping arrangements since you last sailed on the Bough,’ said Hal as he paused outside the door to his cabin. ‘It kept the ship’s carpenter busy for a good week. Now, close your eyes …’

      Judith did as she was told as Hal opened the cabin door then took her hand and led her into his personal domain. She took a few more blind steps until he said, ‘Stop!’ and a moment later, ‘You can open your eyes now.’

      Before her hung a sleeping cot, but this was twice the width of a normal berth and hung from four hooks instead of the usual two. Diaphanous white gauze curtains were gathered round the ropes on each corner, and a coverlet of silk damask whose pale grey and silver pattern glimmered in the light from the stern windows lay over sheets and pillows of finest Egyptian cotton.

      ‘Hal, it’s so beautiful,’ Judith gasped.

      ‘I found the linen aboard a dhow we captured,’ Hal said with a grin. ‘The captain said it was bound for a sheikh’s harem. I told him I had a better use for it.’

      ‘Oh, really?’ said Judith, teasingly. ‘And what use in particular did you have in—’

      She never had the chance to finish her question, for Hal simply picked her up and deposited her on the silken bedcover, thinking how wise he had been to make the carpenter test the hooks from which the cot was suspended to make sure СКАЧАТЬ