Julian Stockwin - Artemis

At dusk, work ceased. A large cooking fire blazed up, a welcome beacon in the dark blue night. The bubbling pots wreathed cooking smells about the hungry men. Beyond was the looming black mass of the peak in the darkness.

'Damn fine vittles!' said Kydd, with satisfaction, as he gnawed at his bone.

Renzi grinned in the companionable glare of the fire. 'These are not the words you usually choose on board when we dine on this self-same dish.'

'No, but then I was never so sharp set/ Kydd mumbled back.

Renzi moved a few yards away from the fire to appreciate the brilliant coruscation of stars in the clear night. Over the peak would soon emerge the most splendid full moon, and Renzi felt a lifting satisfaction at his condition. The young moonlight silvered the trees and huts but, as well, limned a solitary figure standing to one side. Renzi could just make out that it was Evelyn, still as a statue and staring out to sea, his face in shadow.

He crossed over to him, stumbling in the black and silver tussocks. 'A glorious sight for an astronomer,' he said equably.

For a moment Evelyn did not reply. When he finally turned, Renzi could see that his face was drawn. 'It is — but you should comprehend that it is not my choice that I should be here.' He looked towards the fire and away again. 'The adventuring life is not to my taste — the privations, the boredom. My science is of a solitary kind, not to be improved by enforced socialising.'

'I do apologise if I intrude,' Renzi began.

Evelyn moved to bring Renzi's face into the strengthening moonlight. 'You appear to have a certain . . . sensibility, if I might be so crass as to remark it.'

'At present, the sea life suits my disposition. I have had my perspectives enhanced, my views of the human condition elaborated, and in fine it has been a salutary experience.'

'Then I felicitate you on it,' Evelyn said drily. 'The theories propounded by Mr Hobbes are elegant and have deep implications for natural philosophy, and this is why I am here in testing them, not for any love of distant voyaging.'

Renzi opened his mouth to interject, but Evelyn added swiftly, 'You know that William Gooch was my learned tutor in the astronomical arts. Now I have heard that his bones lie in O-why-ee, last year murdered by savages, as was Cook before him.' He lifted his chin and gestured to the invisible horizon. 'Have you any idea how inconceivably remote we are?' Renzi kept silent. 'La Perouse and his gallant company in the Astrolabe have been lost these five years. They could be cast away and waiting for rescue on any one of some thousands of islands — or then again their company might be destroyed, every one.'

'Wilson was cast up on the Pelew Islands some years ago,' Renzi felt impelled to say, 'and the native peoples there most hospitably treated him. I remember, he constructed a small vessel and sailed away and in it he conveyed, at their request, the son of the King of the Pelews. He attended at the court of King George, you will recollect.'

'And I also recollect that the poor wight breathed his last the next year in Rotherhithe and never did see his island again. No, sir! You, for reasons that must appear sufficiently cogent to you, have adopted this perilous sea life, but it is not congenial to me. Pray leave me to my science.' Evelyn folded his arms and continued to stare seawards.

Careening continued at first light on the other side of the hull. The carpenter was now able to give his full attention to the ruckled copper plating that marked their encounter with the coral.

'I shall not sleep peaceably until we are a-swim again, Mr Prewse,' Powlett muttered.

'I am sanguine that we shall be b' morning.'

'Then you'll oblige me by—'

Powlett stopped short at the sudden widening of Prewse's eyes. He swung round, alarmed. Around the point swept a native war-canoe, the savages rigid with surprise at the sight of Artemis.

Chapter 11

They'll be no more'n a thousan' of 'em down on us like screamin' banshees in a brace o' shakes,' the boatswain said drily. The canoe had taken in the scene of the helpless ship lying on her side, then made away with impressive speed.

Fairfax hurried over to Powlett's side. 'Sir, the Feejee is accounted an incorrigible cannibal,' he said, with a worried frown.

Powlett looked at him.

'They smokes the heads 'n' sticks 'em on a pole,' the boatswain added.

The gunner appeared and joined the group. 'Thirty-two long guns an' we can't use a one,' he said, his eyes squinting at the sandy point where the canoe had slipped out of sight.

'We've got one, maybe two days t' set the barky to rights — can't be done,' the boatswain said loudly. There was a general stir.

Powlett frowned: there was no glory in this kind of war. 'Set the boats a-swim, Mr Merrydew, and I desire a swivel in

the cutter.' The boats had been previously drawn up on the beach; now they would be streamed afloat, bows to sea and one with a small cannon. 'I want fifteen stand of muskets loaded and primed, larb'd watch stand to in two hours.' With a fierce look at his men he said, 'Rest o' you, back to work.'

It wasn't two, or even three hours, it was full evening when they came; suddenly around the point in a swarm, twenty-two impressive war-canoes and swelling numbers of tattooed warriors. The ruddy glare of torches in each canoe flamed dramatically in the dusky light, adding a devilish animation.

The sailors stood to arms immediately and lined the water's edge, knowing that if the savages established themselves ashore it would be a grave situation. His naked sword picking up the glow of the torches, Parry prowled in front of them, looking repeatedly to Powlett for the word.

'No man to fire without my express order!' Powlett thundered.

Ominously there was no noise from the canoes, no war-cries or yelling, just the silence of a murderous discipline. A conch shell sounded from the largest canoe, a low, powerful ululation that set the hairs on the back of the neck on end. The canoes slowly spread out in a wide semicircle, just out of musket range, clubs and spears plainly in sight.

'Here is y'r Noble Savage, then,' Kydd growled at Renzi, gripping his Sea Service musket and wondering how a cutlass would stand up to a spear or club after his single shot.

Renzi gave a half-smile. 'He is indeed. Can you not perceive his desperate need to defend his tiny, perfect kingdom against the rude impact of our advance?'

Snorting, Kydd replied, 'I c'n see 'em well enough — an' they think we're a poor vessel capsized an' cast up on the beach, which they think t' plunder.'

Lifting his head Renzi refused to be drawn. 'See how they remain out of range of the muskets. They have had dealings with "civilisation" before.' He lowered his musket a little and mused, 'They very likely call it a "fire-stick" or similar.'

There was a vigorous discussion in the largest canoe, which contained a very fat individual sitting in a chair. He wore a high, colourful headdress. A smaller canoe came alongside, the occupants stepped out, and a more slightiy built warrior climbed in followed by three others. Then it whirled about and paddled swiftly inshore.

'It's a parlay, Mr Parry,' said Powlett to the restless officer, 'and I want to win time for the savants and their damn observations.' The canoe headed for the centre of the beach, where the sailors reluctantly fell back. Powlett moved forward and waited, arms folded.

The canoe grounded with a hiss, and the warriors held the craft steady as the slightly built man stepped into the shallows. He wore just one garment, a sort of skirt falling a little below the knees, and had on a minor headdress. His slight build contrasted with the burly warriors taking up position on each side and he carried no weapons. The threesome paused at the edge of the water. A petty officer with a lanthorn appeared behind Powlett. The light appeared soft and gold compared with the red glare of the torches.