entry into the lagoon.'
And that takes care of that, thought the Buzzard, as he bowed his head in reluctant acquiescence.
Three days later they put Colonel Schreuder and his three companies of seasick musketeers ashore on a deserted beach and watched them march away into the African wilderness in a long untidy column.
The African night was hushed but never silent. When Hal paused on the narrow path, his father's light footfalls dwindled ahead of him, and Hal could hear the soft sounds of myriad life that teemed in the forest around him. the warbling call of a night bird, more hauntingly beautiful than ever musician coaxed from stringed instrument, the scrabbling of rodents and other tiny mammals among the dead leaves and the sudden murderous cry of the small feline predators that hunted them, the singing and hum of the insects and the eternal soughing of the wind. All were part of the hidden choir in this temple of Pan.
The beam of the storm lantern disappeared ahead of him, and now he stepped out to catch up. When they had left the encampment, his father had ignored his question, but when at last they emerged from the forest at the foot of the hills, he knew where they were going. The stones that still marked the Lodge within which he had taken his vows formed a ghostly circle in the glow of the waning moon. At the entry to it Sir Francis went down on one knee and bowed his head in prayer. Hal knelt beside him.
'Lord God, make me worthy,' Hal prayed. 'Give me the strength to keep the vows I made here in your name.'
His father lifted his head at last. He stood up, took Hal's hand and raised him to his feet. Then, side by side, they stepped into the circle and approached the altar stone. 'In Arcadia habito! Sir Francis said, in his deep, lilting voice, and Hal gave the response.
'Flumen sac rum bene cognosco!'
Sir Francis set the lantern upon the tall stone and, in its yellow light, they knelt again. For a long while they prayed in silence, until Sir Francis looked up at the sky. 'The stars are the ciphers of the Lord. They light our comings and our goings. They guide us across uncharted oceans. They hold our destiny in their coils. They measure the number of our days.'
Hal's eyes went immediately to his own particular star, Regulus. Timeless and unchanging it sparkled in the sign of the Lion.
'Last night I cast your horoscope,' Sir Francis told him. 'There is much that I cannot reveal, but this I can tell you. The stars hold a singular destiny in store for you. I was not able to fathom its nature.'
There was a poignancy in his father's tone, and Hal looked at him.
His features were haggard, the shadows beneath his eyes deep and dark.
'If the stars are so favourably inclined, what is it that troubles you, Father?'
'I have been harsh to you. I have driven you hard.' Hal shook his head. 'Father, -' But Sir Francis quieted him with a hand on his arm. 'You must remember always why I did this to you. If I had loved you less, I would have been kinder to you.' His grip on Hal's arm tightened as he felt Hal draw breath to speak. 'I have tried to prepare you and give you the knowledge and strength to meet that particular destiny that the stars have in store for you. Do you understand that?'
'Yes. I have known this all along. Aboli explained it to me.
'Aboli is wise. He will be with you when I have gone.' 'No, Father. Do not speak of that.'
'My son, look to the stars,' Sir Francis replied, and Hal hesitated, uncertain of his meaning. 'You know which is my own star. I have shown it to you a hundred times before. Look for it now in the sign of the Virgin.'
Hal raised his face to the heavens, and turned it to the east where Regulus still showed, bright and clear. His eyes ran on past it into the sign of the Virgin, which lay close beside the Lion, and he gasped, his breath hissing through his lips with superstitious dread.
His father's sign was slashed from one end to the other by a scimitar of flame. A fiery red feather, red as blood.
'A shooting star,' he whispered.
'A comet,' his father corrected him. 'God sends me a warning. My time here draws to its close. Even the Greeks and the Romans knew that the heavenly fire is the portent of disaster, of war and famine and plague, and the death of kings.'
'When?' Hal asked, his voice heavy with dread.
'Soon,' replied Sir Francis. 'It must be soon. Most certainly before the comet has completed its transit of my sign. This may be the last time that you and I will be alone like this.'
'Is there nothing that we can do to avert this misfortune? Can we not fly from it?'
'We do not know whence it comes,' Sir Francis said gravely. 'We cannot escape what has been decreed. If we run, then we will certainly run straight into its jaws.'
'We will stay to meet and fight it, then,' said Hal, with determination.
'Yes, we will fight,' his father agreed, 'even if the outcome has been ordained. But that was not why I brought you here. I want to hand over to you, this night, your inheritance, those legacies both corporal and spiritual which belong to you as my only son.' He took Hal's face between his hands and turned it to him so that he looked into his eyes.
'After my death, the rank and style of baronet, accorded to your great-grandfather, Charles Courtney, by good Queen Bess after the destruction of the Spanish Armada, falls upon you. You will become Sir Henry Courtney. You understand that?'
'Yes, Father.'
'Your pedigree has been registered at the College of Arms in England.' He paused as a savage cry echoed down the valley, the sawing of a leopard hunting along the cliffs in the moonlight. As the dreadful rasping roars died away Sir Francis went on quietly, 'It is my wish that you progress through the Order until you attain the rank of Nautonnier Knight.'
'I will strive towards that goal, Father.'
Sir Francis raised his right hand. The band of gold upon his second finger glinted in the lantern light. He twisted it off, and held it to catch the moonlight. 'This ring is part of the regalia of the office of Nautonnier.' He took Hal's right hand, and tried the ring on his second finger. It was too large, so he placed it on his son's forefinger. Then he opened the high collar of his cloak, and exposed the great seal of his office that lay against his breast. The tiny rubies in the eyes of the lion rampant of England, and the diamond stars above it, sparkled softly in the uncertain light. He lifted -the chain of the seal from around his own neck, held it high over Hal's head and then lowered it onto his shoulders. 'This seal is the other part of the regalia. It is your key to the Temple.'
'I am honoured but humbled by the trust you place in me 'There is one other part to the spiritual legacy I leave for you,' Sir Francis said, as he reached into the folds of his cloak. 'It is the memory of your mother.' He opened his hand and in his palm lay a locket bearing a miniature of Edwina Courtney.
The light was not strong enough for Hal to make out the detail of the portrait, but her face was graven in his mind and in his heart. Wordlessly he placed it in the breast pocket of his doublet.
'We should pray together for the peace of her soul,' said Sir Francis quietly, and both bowed their heads. After many minutes Sir Francis again raised his head. 'Now, it remains only to discuss the earthly inheritance that I leave to you. There is firstly High Weald, our family manor in Devon. You know that your uncle Thomas administers the house and lands in my absence. The deeds of title are with my lawyer in Plymouth...' Sir Francis went on speaking for a long while, listing and detailing his possessions and estates in England. 'I have written all this in my journal for you, but that book may be lost or plundered before you can study it. Remember all that I have told you.'
'I will not forget any of it, 'Hal assured him.
'Then there are the prizes we have taken on this cruise. You were with me when we cached the spoils from both the Heerlycke Nacht and from the Standvastigheid. When you return with that booty to England, be sure to pay over to each man of the crew the share he has earned.'
'I will do so without fail.'
'Pay also every penny of the Crown's share to the King's customs officers. Only a rogue would seek to cheat his sovereign.'
'I will not fail to render to my king.'
'I should never rest easy if I were to know that all the riches that I have won for you and my king were to be lost. I require you to make an oath on your honour as a Knight of the Order,' Sir Francis said. 'You must swear that you will never reveal the whereabouts of the spoils to any other person. In the difficult days that lie ahead of us, while the red comet rules my sign and dictates our affairs, there may be enemies who will try to force you to break this oath. You must bear always in the forefront of your mind the motto of our family.
Durabo! I shall endure.'
'On my honour, and in God's name, I shall endure,' Hal promised. 'The words slipped lightly over his tongue. He could not know then that when they returned to him their weight would be grievous and heavy enough to crush his heart. or his entire military career Colonel Cornelius Schreuder had campaigned with native troops rather than with men of his own race and country. He much preferred them, for they were inured to hardship and less likely to be affected by heat and sun, or by cold and wet. They were hardened against the fevers and plagues that struck down the white men who ventured into these tropical climes, and they survived on less food. They were able to live and fight
