Golden Lion. Wilbur Smith
noises she was making, she was in a great deal of physical distress.
‘My darling, are you all right?’ Hal asked, unable to keep the alarm from his voice.
‘It will pass,’ she replied, but then her body shook and she retched convulsively, though nothing but sound came out of her mouth.
‘You’re sick,’ he said, stating the obvious. He put a hand to her forehead. ‘You feel hot. Do you have a fever?’
Judith swallowed hard then rolled over so that she was facing him. She propped herself up on one elbow and laid her other hand on Hal. ‘Don’t be worried, my love. I’m not sick. Far from it. Indeed, I have never in my life been more healthy.’
Hal took the hand she had placed on him and held it tight. ‘Please, my darling, do not feel that you have to reassure me. You’re so brave, but …’
‘Shh …’ she hushed him. ‘I promise you, there is no need to be alarmed.’ She managed a faint smile. ‘Not unless you are troubled by the thought of impending fatherhood.’
‘Impending … what?’ he gasped. ‘Do you … I mean are you …?’
‘Yes, my darling, I am with child. I am going to have a baby, your baby … our baby.’
‘That’s wonderful news!’ Hal exulted, and then he seemed stricken by doubt. ‘But are you sure? How do you know?’
‘Because we were together more than two months ago for the council of war, if you remember …’
‘Oh, I remember perfectly, believe me!’
‘Well, since that time I have not bled and now I feel sick in the mornings. If I were at home, my mother and my aunts and all the women of the family would be telling me what I am telling you.’ She gave a contented little laugh. ‘Perhaps I will have a son who is as strong, and handsome and kind as you.’
‘Or a daughter as beautiful, and loving and as brave as you.’
For a moment they basked in the glow that lovers know when they are young and in love and have just accomplished the miracle that is the most ancient and universal of all human accomplishments and yet for two people is also the newest and most unique. And then Hal started, almost as if he had been shocked or stung, and turned his head away from Judith. He stared out into the darkness beyond the cabin windows, his ears pricked, his nose sniffing the air like a hunting dog that has caught the scent of his prey.
‘What’s the matter, my love?’ Judith asked. ‘Is something troubling you? Have no fear, I will keep our baby safe inside me. All will be well.’
‘No, it’s not that,’ Hal replied. ‘Something else.’
He rose from the bed and dressed hurriedly, pulling on shoes and breeches and leaving his shirt unfastened as he bent down to kiss Judith’s forehead. ‘I just want to check something. Don’t worry, it’s probably nothing.’ Seeing her anxious face Hal grinned reassuringly. ‘It’s wonderful news about the baby. I love you with all my heart. And I’ll be back here with you in a trice.’
As he headed up to the quarterdeck, Hal’s mind snapped free of the bedchamber and concentrated instead on his captain’s duty.
Two days earlier, a lookout had spotted a Dutch caravel, several miles off to starboard. For the rest of the day, the Dutchman had come in and out of sight as the wind and visibility changed, so that it had seemed as though the Golden Bough were being tracked. At a time of war, this would be an alarming turn of events. The caravel in itself was smaller than the Bough and no threat to her safety, but Hal would be bound to wonder what other, more powerful vessels might be lurking out of sight, over the horizon. But England and Holland had been at peace for over a year, so there was no cause to be worried. Furthermore, when dawn had broken the following day, the caravel had disappeared. Yet still a nagging suspicion had played at the back of his mind, a seaman’s instinct that told him to be on his guard.
Now that same instinct had tugged at Hal again. Something told him, and for all the world he could not be certain what it might be, that the Dutchman was still out there. He would not be able to rest easy until he was sure of what the captain of that mysterious caravel was up to.
Hal emerged on deck to be greeted by something close to serenity. The wind was little more than the most gentle of breezes, and the silvery light of the moon was reflected in the still, glassy waters. Across the deck lay the scattered, sleeping forms of the Amadoda warriors, who always passed the night in the open air rather than endure the filth and stench below decks. Ned Tyler was at the helm and he nodded a greeting to his captain. ‘What brings you up here so early, Cap’n?’ he asked. ‘Can’t believe you’re tiring of the company in your cabin.’
Hal chuckled. ‘No chance of that. I just had a fancy that the Dutchman was still out there.’
‘There’s not been a sound out of young Tom, sir. And he’s a good lad. Not like him to sleep on duty.’
Tom Marley was a spotty, jug-eared lad, the youngest member of the crew and the subject of much good-natured teasing. But Hal agreed he had the makings of a decent seaman. ‘Get him down here, if you will, Mr Tyler.’
‘Aye-aye, sir.’
Ned looked up towards the top of the mainmast and gave a short, piercing whistle. Tom Marley immediately waved back, whereupon Ned gestured to him to get down on deck. Marley began descending the rigging with a fearless speed and agility that reminded Hal of the time, not so very long ago, when he was up and down to the crow’s nest at his father’s behest, several times a day.
The lad reached the deck, ran across to where Hal and Ned were standing and stood straight up, his hands behind his back, looking nervous.
‘It’s all right, Tom, you’ve not done anything wrong,’ said Hal and the boy’s shoulders relaxed as the tension left his body. ‘I just want to know if you’ve spotted anything recently, like that Dutchman that was following us two days ago, for example.’
Tom shook his head decisively. ‘No sir, I ain’t seen nothing like that Dutchman, nor any other ship neither. And I’ve kept my eyes open, Captain. I’ve not been dozing off or nothing.’
‘I’m sure you haven’t. Now, Cook should be up by now, you run along and get something to eat.’
‘But my watch ain’t finished yet, sir.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Hal said, suddenly feeling an urge to see for himself for once, rather than rely on others as a captain so often had to do.
‘You sure it’s a good idea you going back up there, Cap’n?’ Ned asked. ‘Been a while.’
‘Are you suggesting I can’t still get up there faster than any man on this ship?’
‘No sir, wouldn’t dream of it.’
‘Well, watch me and I’ll show you.’
And with that, Hal ran to the mast, grabbed a rope and started clambering up the rigging, past the limp, windless sails towards the inky sky above.
Pett’s hunger, however, was of a different kind. He’d spent the past week locked in a dark, stinking, rat-infested cockpit on the orlop deck. He had assured the ship’s captain that he was a