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.
'Sir - I have t' tell you . . .'
'They are indignant that their plunder is sailing away from them,' Evelyn said, not even raising his eyes from his work. 'No matter, I am nearly done. You may remove all but this.'
Kydd called across a party of men to carry the instruments to the boats; Fairfax had his men embarked and pulled back to
The boats returned. 'Sir, the Captain . . .' Kydd tried to say.
'Yes, yes — my last reading, he will not grudge me that?'
Evelyn replied testily. The sound of the war-cries filled with bloody-minded hatred tore at Kydd's courage.
'Sir, my authority. . .'he said earnestly, but was interrupted by a disturbance. A group of warriors had run along the length of the stockade outside and, shielded by its timbers, had gathered sufficient numbers for an assault. They massed around one or two of the posts and heaved and pulled until they had loosened and fallen away. They had breached the stockade.
'Fall back to the boats!' roared Powlett, as the savages poured through. There would be no second chance, and the defenders made haste towards the shore.
Kydd swung to the ground, and looked back to Evelyn, to see him take a spear in his side. The astronomer slumped back in his canvas chair. 'Damn,' he said faintly, plucking at the vicious barbed weapon. Kydd grabbed a musket and fired at the thrower. The musket missed fire with a fizz of priming. The warrior grinned and swung a bone club. Kydd swung the musket up with two hands; the club splintered against it. The musket bent uselessly, but with it Kydd crushed the warrior's skull.
In their lust to stop the ship from escaping, the savages streamed past each side of the platform, leaving the
