A Falcon Flies Read Online Free PDF Page A

Zouga as he came down the deck towards her.
    â€˜We had a good look at the land, Sissy. Our first definite fix since Ilha da Trinidade. If this wind holds we will be in Table Bay in another five days.’
    â€˜Zouga, can’t you intercede with the Captain?’ she demanded, and Zouga looked startled.
    â€˜He is going to flog that poor devil.’
    â€˜Damn right too,’ Zouga growled. ‘The man nearly had us on the rocks.’
    â€˜Can’t you stop him?’
    â€˜I wouldn’t dream of interfering with his running of this ship – and nor will I allow you to.’
    â€˜Do you have no humanity at all?’ she demanded of her brother coldly, but there were bright hot spots of anger on her cheeks, and her eyes snapped clear angry green. ‘You call yourself a Christian.’
    â€˜When I do, I speak softly though, my dear.’ Zouga made the reply he knew would annoy her most. ‘And I don’t flaunt it at every turn in the conversation.’
    Their arguments were always sudden as summer thunderstorms on the African veld, and as spectacular.
    Mungo St John sauntered forward to lean his elbow on the railing of his quarterdeck, a long Havana cheroot of coarse black tobacco held between white teeth. He mocked her silently with those flecked yellow eyes, infuriating her further, until she heard her own voice going shrill and she turned from Zouga, and rounded on him.
    â€˜The man you had flogged last week could be crippled for life,’ she shouted at him.
    â€˜Doctor Ballantyne – how would you like Tippoo to carry you down and lock you in your cabin?’ Mungo St John asked. ‘Until you regain your temper and your manners.’
    â€˜You cannot do that,’ she flared at him.
    â€˜I can, I assure you – that and much more.’
    â€˜He’s right,’ Zouga assured her softly. ‘On this ship he can do virtually anything he wants.’ He laid his hand on her upper arm. ‘Steady now, Sissy. The fellow will be lucky to get away with the loss of a little skin.’
    Robyn found she was panting with anger and a sense of helplessness.
    â€˜If you are squeamish, Doctor, I will excuse you from witnessing punishment,’ Mungo St John mocked her still. ‘We must make allowance for the fact that you are a woman.’
    â€˜I have never asked for consideration on that score, not once in all my life.’ She tried to get her anger back under control, and she shook off her brother’s hand and turned away from them.
    She walked with stiff back and squared shoulders up into the bows, trying to maintain an aloof dignity, but the ship’s motion was awkward and her damned skirts fluttered around her legs. She realized she had thought the word, and she would ask forgiveness later – but not now, and suddenly she said it aloud.
    â€˜Damn you, Captain Mungo St John, damn you to hell!’
    She stood in the bows, and the wind pulled her hair out of the neat chignon at the nape of her neck and flicked it in her face. It was her mother’s thick silken dark hair, shot with tones of russet and chestnut, and as a pale ray of greenish sunlight at last broke through the cloud cover, it turned to a glowing halo around her small neat head.
    She stared ahead angrily, hardly noticing the hellish beauty of the scene about her. The cold, green waters, smoked with mist banks, opened and closed about the ship like pearly curtains. Wisps of mist trailed from the sails and yards as though she was on fire.
    In patches, the surface of the sea simmered and darkened, for these waters were rich in microscopic sea life, which supported vast shoals of sardine that rose to the surface to feed, to be fed on in turn by flocks of shrieking seabirds that plunged upon them from high above, hitting the water in little cotton puffs of spray.
    A thicker bank of mist took the tall ship in its damp cold grip so that when Robyn glanced back she could only just