"Ballantyne 01 - A Falcon Flies" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Wilbur)

Robyn was confused and miserable, haunted with guilt. She needed comfort and she slipped a lace Stuart cap over her head and shoulders before venturing out on to the deck again, for the wind had risen to an icy gale and Huron was always a tender ship, she heeled heavily as she beat southwards, flinging spray high into the falling night.

Zouga was in his cabin, dressed in shirt-sleeves and smoking a cigar as he worked over the lists of the expedition's equipment that would still have to be obtained once they reached Good Hope.

He called to her to enter when she knocked, and rose to greet her with a smile. Sissy, are you well? It was a most unpleasant business, even though unavoidable. I hope it has not unsettled you. "The man will recover, she said, and Zouga changed the subject as he settled her on his bunk, the only other seating in the cabin. I sometimes think we would have been better off with less money to spend on this expedition. There is always such a temptation to accumulate too much equipment.

Papa made the Transversa with only five porter loads, while we will need a hundred porters at the least, each carrying eighty pounds. "Zouga, I must speak to you. this is the first opportunity I have had."

An expression of distaste flickered across the strong, harsh features as though he sensed what she was about to say. But before he could deny her she blurted out, "Is this ship a slaver, Zouga? " Zouga removed the cigar from his mouth and inspected the tip minutely before he replied. Sissy, a slaver stinks so you can smell it for fifty leagues downwind, and even after the slaves are removed there is no amount of lye that will get rid of the smell.

Huron does not have the stench of a slaver. "This ship is on her first voyage under this ownership, Robyn reminded him quietly. "Codrington accused Captain St. John of using his profits from previous voyages to purchase her. She is still clean. "Mungo St. John is a gentleman.

" Zouga's tone had an edge of impatience to it now. "I am convinced of that. "The plantation owners of Cuba and Louisiana are amongst the most elegant gentlemen that you could find outside the court of St. James, she reminded him. I am prepared to accept his word as a gentleman, Zouga snapped. Are you not a little eager, Zouga? " she asked with a deceptive sweetness but his tone had kindled sparks in her eyes like the sheen lights in an emerald. "Would it not seriously impede your plans to find ourselves shipped on board a slaver? "Damn me, woman, I have his word. " Zouga was getting truly angry now. St. John is engaged in legitimate trade. He hopes for a cargo of ivory and palm oilHave you asked to inspect the ship's hold? "He has given his word. "Will you ask him to open the holds?

Zouga hesitated, his gaze wavered a moment, and then he made his decision. No, I will not, he said flatly. "That would be an insult to him and quite rightly, he would resent itAnd if we found what you are afraid to find, it would discredit the purpose of our expedition, she agreed. As the leader of this mission. I have made the decision-, Papa would never let anything stand in his way either, not even Mama or the family-'Sissy, if you still feel that way when we reach the Cape, I will arrange for passage on another vessel to Quelimane. Will that satisfy you? " She did not reply but continued to stare at him with a flat accusing gaze. If we did find evidence, he waved his hands with agitation, "what could we do about it? "We could make a sworn deposition to the Admiralty at Cape Town. "Sissy, " he sighed wearily at her intransigence, "don't you understand? if I were to challenge St. John, we could gain nothing. If the accusation is unwarranted we would place ourselves in a damned awkward position, and if in the very unlikely event that this ship is equipped for the trade, we would then be in considerable danger. Do not underestimate that danger. Robyn. St. John is a F determined man. " He stopped and shook his head decisively, the fashionable curls dangling over his ears. "I am not going to endanger you, myself or the whole expedition. That is my decision, and I will insist that you abide by it."

After a long pause, Robyn slowly dropped her gaze to her hands, and inter-meshed her fingers.

Very well, Zouga."

His relief was obvious. "I am grateful for your confidence, my dear.

" He stooped over her and kissed her forehead. "Let me escort you to dinner."

She was about to refuse, to tell him she was tired and that, once again, she would dine alone in her cabin, and then an idea struck her, and she nodded.

Thank you, Zouga, she told him, and then looked up with one of those sudden smiles so brilliant. so warm and so rare as to disarm him completely. "I am fortunate to have such a handsome dinner companion."

She sat between Mungo St. John and her brother, and had her brother not known better, he might have suspected her of flirting outrageously with the Captain. She was all smiles and sparkles, leaning forward attentively to listen whenever he spoke, recharging his glass whenever it was less than half filled with wine and laughing delightedly at his dry sallies.

Zouga was amazed and a little alarmed by the transformation, while St. John had never seen her like this.

He had covered his original surprise with an amused half-smile. However, in this mood Robyn Ballantyne was an attractive companion. Her stubborn, rather sharp face softened to the edge of prettiness, while her best features, her hair, her perfect skin, her eyes and fine white teeth, gleamed and flashed in the lamplight. Mungo St. John's own mood became expansive, he laughed more readily and his interest was clearly piqued. With Robyn plying his glass, he drank more than on any other night of the voyage, and when his steward served a good plum duff he called for a bottle of brandy to wash it down.

Zouga had also been infected by the strangely festive air of the dinner, and he protested as vigorously as St. John when suddenly Robyn declared herself to be exhausted and stood up from the board, but she was adamant.

In her cabin she could still hear the occasional shouts of laughter from the saloon, as she went quietly about her preparations. She slid the locking bar into place to assure her privacy. Then she knelt beside her chest and wormed her way down to the bottom layers, from which she retrieved a pair of man's moleskin breeches, a flannel shirt and cravat, with a high-buttoned monkey jacket to go over them, and well-worn half boots.

This had been her uniform and her disguise as a medical student at St. Matthew's Hospital. Now she stripped herself naked, and for a moment enjoyed the wicked freedom of the feeling, even indulging herself to the extent of gazing down at her nudity. She was not too certain if it was a sin to enjoy one's own body, but she suspected that it was. Nevertheless she persisted.

Her legs were straight and strong, her hips flared with a graceful curve and then narrowed abruptly into her waist, her belly was almost flat with just an interesting little bulge below the navel. Now here was definitely sinful ground, of this there was no doubt. But still she could not deny the temptation to let her gaze linger a moment. She understood fully the technical purpose and the physical workings of all her body's highly complicated machinery, both visible and concealed. It was only the feelings and emotions which sprang from this source which both confused and worried her, for they had taught her none of this at St. Matthew's. She passed on hurriedly to safer ground, lifting her arms to pile the tresses of her hair on to the top of her head and hold them in place with a soft cloth cap.

Her breasts were round and neat as ripening apples, so firm as hardly to change their shape as she moved her arms. Their resemblance to fruit pleased her and she spent a few moments longer than was necessary in adjusting the cloth cap upon her head looking down at them.

But there was a limit to self-indulgence, and she swept the flannel shirt over her head, pulled the tails down around her waist, stepped into the breeches, how good they felt again after so long in those hobbling skirts and then, sitting upon the bunk, she pulled on the halfthe ankle straps of the breeches under boots and buckled the arch of her foot, before standing to clinch the belt at her waist.

She opened her black valise, took out the roll of surgical instruments and selected one of the sturdier scalpels, folded out the blade and tested it with her thumb. It was stingingly sharp. She closed the blade and slipped it into her hip pocket. It was the only weapon available to her.

She was ready now, and she closed the shutter on the bull's-eye lantern, ddarkening the cabin completely before climbing, fully dressed, into her bunk, pulling the rough woollen blanket to her chin and settling down to wait.