Julian Stockwin - Artemis

Things rustled and snapped. Panting loudly in the quiet of the woodland he wound his way up to where the escarpment bulked large and black against the stars. He paused, trying to remember the topography. Up here — they had seen the other side of the island from this place. Cautiously Kydd drew near.

There - the other side of the island was already under the full radiance of a splendid moon, but what chilled Kydd was the distant sight of not one but four fires below. He could see some figures moving, others still, and his heightened imagination told him that frightened souls were still tied to the trees. There would be fresh meat in the morning.

He pulled away. Where would Renzi have gone from here? Only one way: along the base of the escarpment to the opposite end. Kydd struck out and after only a few hundred yards came to its end. He stepped warily, then stopped dead. Two figures appeared out of the dark, stark against the moonlight.

'Nicholas? Is that you?' he hissed. The figures stood rigid, before one broke away and approached Kydd.

'It is,' said Renzi. There was a bare tremor in his voice.

'Artemis sails t'morrow, we can lose no time.'

A plaintive voice came from the other figure, the import of the unknown words impossible to miss. Renzi murmured something over his shoulder, but then he addressed Kydd directly: 'If by this you mean to persuade me to give up my decision and return to your world of hurts and unreason, then you should stand disabused. I will remain.'

'This afternoon with m' own eyes I saw the savages kill 'n' eat their own kind - Nicholas, to devour a living human, an' they're here still!'

There was a hesitation, then Renzi spoke: 'No doubt there will be those even of this world who will respond to Nature by profaning in the worst possible way, but that does not alter the premise by one whit that, left to himself, Man will gracefully revert to his true self, and attain the perfectibility of the spirit.'

'And if y'r premise is wrong? You will tell y'r warriors they should mend their ways, that—'

'Enough!' Renzi's voice was defensive. 'Logic itself will tell you that both possible sides of the human condition cannot exist at the same time, the same body. One must prevail.'

'A pox on y'r logic!'

'And on rank unreason!'

Both were breathing raggedly. 'Then y' will not come?' 'I — will not come!'

Kydd's anger swelled to blind rage. His muscles tensed in fury. His fist slammed out, connecting with Renzi's jaw, and he crumpled soundlessly. Whimpering, the woman scrabbled at his body, but Kydd pushed her away; she fell back to the bluff rocks, staring at him.

There was almost no time left; the savages would be waiting for moonlight on the lee side of the island before they started picking their way across the island to be in position for dawn. It might be too late now. Kydd thrust away the thoughts. Seizing Renzi's arm, he hoisted him on to his back, grateful for his slight build. He hefted him into the most comfortable position and turned round for the long trip back. The woman cried out once, but didn't try to stop him. He trudged along the track, aware that she was following blindly. Finding the path downward he hurried along it. Renzi's body was a dead weight that had him panting and straining. He wondered what to do about the woman. If she got hysterical she would certainly attract attention, and of the worst possible kind. He would have to silence her — but how?

The moon burst above the line of the escarpment. The whole island now lay still, bathed in silver. Kydd cursed and redoubled his effort. The clearing, then the beach. His muscles blazed intolerably with the strain, he would have to rest. He swung Renzi down, the body flopping untidily on the sand. He looked up and the woman froze. Panting in burning gasps he confronted her. With stabbing gestures he signed that he was taking Renzi to the ship. She nodded in mute understanding. He then signed that she could go also. She gazed at him, her face frozen - and shook her head slowly. Kydd repeated the gesture angrily. Seconds now could decide whether they lived or died. She shook her head more emphatically, then dropped to her knees beside Renzi, anguished cries racking her frame as she stroked his face tenderly.

For a mad moment Kydd considered leaving Renzi to her, but recovered, and tore him from her grasp, triggering a hopeless paroxysm of sobbing. He pulled at Renzi's arm to hoist him up, but his strength was spent. Nearly weeping with frustration and weariness, he tried again. He fell to his knees panting uncontrollably. There was a scurry of movement. He looked up and saw the woman back away in fear, and then run. He swung round, but it was too late. Dark shapes lunged across the beach towards him. He stumbled to his feet.

'Get 'is feet, then, y' ugly bastard,' Stirk growled to another, elbowing Kydd aside. They staggered and lurched along the limpid stillness of the beach and finally, gloriously, reached the stockade.

Splashing round its end, Kydd felt overwhelming relief. Exhausted, he staggered after Stirk and the others who laid Renzi down on the scrubby grass. The moonlight had transformed the landscape, now dappled and lovely; it also revealed officers striding down to investigate.

Renzi twitched and groaned. The remains of his headdress still decorated his head, but the native skirt was sadly bedraggled. No one bent to see to him to avoid being associated by any implication in his criminality.

'There he is,' said Fairfax severely. 'The deserter Renzi! Well done, you men.' Powlett frowned but said nothing.

Stirk turned his back deliberately on Fairfax and touched his forehead to Powlett. 'Renzi were taken b' the savages earlier, sir, as yez can see. Seems 'e made 'is escape while they was a-rollickin' an' eatin' of each other.' Stirk shifted on his feet and thumbed at Kydd. 'Kydd went out ter bring 'im in, but he bein' so near knackered . . .'

Powlett looked down on the groaning Renzi. 'Poor devil,' he said. 'Who can guess what it is he's suffered?' He stared accusingly at Fairfax. 'But God be praised, he's with his shipmates now, his suffering is over.'

Renzi rolled to one side, uttering something incomprehensible. 'Th' experience has affected him, sir,' Kydd hastened to say, 'makes him say crazy things - lost his mind a bit, I'd guess.'

'Get him to the ship as soon as you can, Mr Fairfax, and tie him in his hammock. Poor wretch is not responsible for his actions.' Powlett straightened. 'And see that these fine men get a double tot of rum.'

At dawn the woodland edge opposite the stockade was alive with movement. But at last it was possible to run boats to the ship - coral reefs made it far too dangerous at night. 'Too damned smart to come round our rear by canoe,' Parry said grimly. 'They know we'll blast 'em to flinders from the ship if they do.'

The living quarters and other temporary works were to remain; only sea stores would be retrieved. Hobbes beat a dignified retreat to the ship, but Evelyn insisted on completing his observations, the sailors marvelling at his coolness at the eyepiece as yells and warlike sounds came faint but ever louder over the open ground.

'We will retire by threes, Mr Fairfax,' Powlett ordered. 'The first party led by you to the ship, the second led by Mr Party to lie off in the boats to cover the third, which I will lead, and which will be the last to leave.'

'Aye aye, sir,' Fairfax and Parry acknowledged.

'And you,' said Powlett to Kydd, 'have my authority to remove Mr Evelyn and his gear by force if necessary. He is to retire as of this moment.'

'Aye aye, sir.' Kydd hastened to the observation platform. He mounted the platform to speak to Evelyn, and could see over the stockade to the gathering warriors. They were eddying out from the woodland edge, prancing ferociously and moving forward to strike their clubs on the ground with a battle-cry before retreating.