liked the way he looked, the sound of his voice, and even the smell of him. It was a man's smell, like tanned leather or the pelt of an otter she had once had as a pet at Kings Lynn.
He was good to be near, a man, as the pale missionary initiates and medical students she had known, had not been men. He was the Christian warrior. She found a comfort in his presence, not like the wicked excitement of Mungo St. John, but something deeper and more satisfying. She looked upon him as her champion, as though the deadly assignation to which he was hurrying was on her behalf, to wipe out the knowledge of sin and to atone for her disgrace.
On the third day they passed the settlement on the shore of Algoa Bay, where the 5,000 British settlers brought out by Governor Somerset forty years before in 1820 had landed and still eked a hard existence from the unforgiving African earth. 'The white flecks of painted walls looked pitifully insignificant in that wilderness of water and sky and land, and at last Robyn started to come to some small understanding of the vastness of this continent and how puny were the scratches that man had made upon it. For the first time she felt a small cold dread at her own temerity that had brought her so far, so young and so inexperienced, to venture she was not sure what. She hugged her shawl about her shoulders and shivered in the cutting wind that poured in off the green sea. The Africa she had dreamed of so often seemed harsh and unwelcoming now.
As Black joke closed swiftly with the rendezvous that St. John had appointed, Clinton Codrington became quieter, and was more often alone in his cabin. He understood clearly the ordeal that faced him. Zouga Ballantyne had discussed it with him on almost every occasion that presented itself. Zouga was unwavering in his opposition to the meeting. You have chosen a formidable opponent, sir, he told Clinton bluntly. 'And I mean no offence when I say I doubt you are a match for him with either pistol or sword, but he'll choose pistols, you can wager on that. 'He challenged, ' Clinton said quietly. 'My weapon is the naval cutlass. We will fight with those. 'I cannot support you there. ' Zouga shook his head. 'If there was a challenge, and I could make a case against that, but if there was one, it came from you, sir. If you fight, it will be with pistols.'
Day after day he tried to persuade Clinton to miss the rendezvous. Damn it, man. Nobody fights duels any more, especially against a man who can split the cheroot in your mouth with either hand, at twenty paces. ' Or again, There was no challenge, Captain Codrington, I was there, and I would stake my honour on it. ' At another time, 'You will lose your commission, sir. You have Admiral Kemp's direct order to avoid the meeting, and it is obvious that Kemp is waiting for an opportunity to haul you before a court martial. ' Then again, 'By God, sir, you will serve no one, least of all yourself, by being shot to death on some deserted and Godforsaken of breakers, in the deep, where the shoal water turned from pale green to blue.
Clinton Codrington examined her carefully through his telescope, then without a word passed the instrument to Zouga.
While he in turn glassed the big clipper, Clinton asked softly, 'Will you act for me? ' Zouga lowered the glass with surprise. I expected one of your own officers. 'I could not ask them. ' Clinton shook his head. 'Slogger Kemp would mark their service records if he ever heard of it. 'You do not have the same qualms about my career, Zouga pointed out. You are on extended absence from your regiment, and you have not been expressly ordered, as I and my officers have been.'
Zouga thought quickly, duelling was not so seriously considered in the army as it was in the Royal Navy, in fact the army manuals still maintained no express prohibitions, and a chance to meet with St. John was also a last chance to avert this ridiculous affair that so seriously threatened the continuance of his expedition.
I accept, then, ' Zouga said shortly. I am extremely grateful to you, sir, said Clinton as shortly. Let us hope you are as grateful after the business is over, Zouga told him drily. 'I had best go across to Huron right away. It will be dark in an hour.'
Tippoo caught the line as it was thrown from the gunboat's whaler, and held it while Zouga gathered his cloak and jumped the gap of surging green water to the boarding ladder, clambering up before the next swell could soak his boots.
Mungo St. John waited for him at the foot of the mainmast. He held himself unsmiling and aloof, until Zouga hurried to him and offered his right hand, then he relaxed and returned the smile.
ISODamn it, Mungo, cannot we make an end to this nonsense? 'Certainly, Zouga, Mungo St. John agreed. 'An apology from your man would settle it. 'The man is a fool, Zouga shook his head. 'Why take the risk? 'I don't consider there is any risk, but let me remind you he called me a coward. 'There is no chance then? ' The two of them had become good friends during the weeks they had spent together and Zouga felt he could press further. I admit the fellow is a prig, but if you kill him, you'll make it damned awkward for me, don't you know? ' Mungo St. John threw back his head and laughed delightedly. 'You and I could work together, do you know that, Zouga? You are a pragmatist, like I am. I make a prophecy, you'll go a long way in this world. 'Not very far, if you kill the man who is taking me.'
And Mungo St. John chuckled again and clapped a friendly hand upon his shoulder. I'm sorry, my friend. Not this time, and Zouga sighed with resignation. You have choice of weapons.'
Pistols, said Mungo St. John. Of course, Zouga nodded. 'Dawn tomorrow on the beach there. ' He pointed to the land with his chin. 'Will that suit you? 'Admirably. Tippoo here will act for me. 'Does he understand the conventions? ' Zouga asked doubtfully, as he glanced at the half-naked figure that waited near at hand. He understands enough to blow Codrington's head off at the shoulders if he levels his pistol a moment before the signal. ' Mungo St. John flashed that cruel white smile. 'And that's all he needs to know, as far as I am concerned.'
Robyn Ballantyne slept not a minute during the night and it still lacked two hours of dawn when she bathed and dressed. On an impulse she chose her old moleskin breeches and man's woollen jacket. There would be the need to disembark through the surf from the ship's boat and skirts would hamper her, added to which the morning was damp and chill and her jacket was of good thick Scottish tweed.
She laid out her black leather bag, and checked its contents making certain she had everything she needed to cleanse and swinch a bullet wound, to bind up torn flesh or hold together shattered bone, and to reduce the agony of either man.
All of them had taken it without question that Robyn would be on the beach that morning. The gunboat did not rate a surgeon, and neither did Huron. She was ready with an hour to wait, and she opened her journal and began making the previous day's entry, when there was a light tap on her door.
When she opened it, Clinton Codrington stood in the opening his face pale and strained in the smoky lamplight and she knew intuitively that he had slept as little as she had. He recovered swiftly from the first shock of seeing her in breeches, dragging his eyes up to her face again.
I hoped I might speak with you, ' he muttered shyly. It will be the last opportunity before. . .'
She took his Arm and drew him into the cabin. 'You have not breakfasted? ' she asked sternly. No, ma'am. ' He shook his head and his eyes dropped to her trousered legs, and then jerked up guiltily to her face again.
