Golden Lion. Wilbur Smith
nonchalantly.
‘Had us working our fingers to the bone, night and day for a week, more like, ma’am,’ Daniel observed.
‘Poor Daniel, I hope he wasn’t too much of a hard taskmaster,’ said Judith.
‘Oh you know what Captain Courtney’s like, ma’am. Takes after his father, so he does, likes to run a tight ship.’
The words were almost thrown away, but Judith knew Hal well enough to realize that Daniel could not have paid him a higher compliment and she gave his hand a squeeze to signal that she heard and understood it. As they drew close to the Golden Bough, Daniel ordered the men to stop rowing and ship their blades. As one, the oars were raised into a vertical position and the pinnace was brought to rest with just the lightest of touches against the larger ship. Lines were thrown down from the deck above and made fast against the pinnace’s cleats. A net was hanging down the Bough’s hull to enable those in the pinnace to climb up to the deck. Judith stood and took a pace towards the net, but Hal gently held her arm to stop her and shouted up.
‘Lower the swing, lads, nice and gently if you please.’
Judith looked up and saw a boom hanging over the side of the ship.
‘We use it to bring supplies aboard,’ said Hal. ‘But I thought we could put it to a better purpose today.’
The boom was garlanded in a profusion of vividly coloured flowers, like a horizontal, tropical maypole. From it there hung a canvas sling that had been decorated with coloured ribbons, signal flags and anything else the men could find to make it look jolly. The sling was lowered down to the pinnace and Hal helped Judith sit on it, as if on a garden swing.
‘Make sure she’s safe and sound,’ he ordered Daniel, then pecked Judith on the cheek and said, ‘I’ll see you on deck, my darling.’
Hal leaped onto the net and started clambering up it with what looked to Judith like the speed and agility of a monkey up a tree. She giggled at the thought, then held on tight to the sling as Daniel shouted, ‘Haul away!’ and she was lifted up into the air. By now all trace of the warrior General Nazet had disappeared and Judith was simply a young woman in love, having the time of her life. She gave a little squeal of alarm and excitement as she rose up through the air, watching Hal come to the top of the net and then spring onto the deck where he stood, surrounded by the ship’s company.
‘Three cheers for the captain’s lady!’ shouted the Bough’s veteran helmsman Ned Tyler. ‘Hip-hip!’
A great cheer rang out as Judith appeared on her swing, several feet above the level of the deck.
‘Hooray!’ the men cried, waving their hats in the air as the boom swung her over their heads.
As the second cheer rang out she was lowered to a patch of deck that had been cleared to receive her. As Ned Tyler gave the third ‘Hip-hip!’, Judith let go of the sling and jumped the last few feet to the bare wood, landing with the grace and agility of an acrobat, and as she found herself again in Hal’s arms the third cheer echoed around them and grew even longer and louder as he gave her a single, all-too-short kiss whose burning intensity filled her with a thrilling sense of anticipation of what would follow that night, and a terrible frustration that she would have to wait so long.
Hal 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