timbers shattered and burst open to each massive impact.
'I had been made to believe that it was an impregnable fortress,' Sir Guy watched the effects of the bombardment with grim satisfaction, 'but those walls will be down before nightfall. Peters, tell the Caliph that I must assemble the assault party at once to be ready to go ashore as soon as the fort is breached.'
'The traitor's defence is pathetically inadequate.' Zayn had to shout above the crash and thunder of the guns. 'I can see only two cannon returning our fire.'
There!' Sir Guy shouted back. 'One of their guns has been hit.' Both men focused their glasses on the gaping hole that had been blown in the parapet of log poles. They could see that the gun carriage had been overturned, and the broken body of one of the enemy gunners was hanging like beef on a butcher's hook from the splintered stumps.
'Sweet Name of Allah!' Rahmad shouted. 'They are deserting the fort. They have given up. They are running for their very lives.'
The gates of the fort were dragged open and out rushed a panic stricken mob. They scattered into the jungle, leaving the gates wide, the parapet deserted. The enemy guns fell silent as the last gunner fled his post.
'At once!' Zayn turned to Sir Guy. 'Take your battalion ashore and storm the fort.'
The enemy's capitulation had taken them all by surprise. Zayn had expected them to put up a more determined resistance. Valuable time was wasted while the boats were launched, and the assault party scrambled down into them.
Guy stood impatiently at the head of the gangway, shouting orders at the detachment of men he had chosen as his own. They were all hard men: he had seen them at work and they were like a pack of hunting dogs. Added to that, many of them understood and even spoke a little English. 'Come, waste no more time! Your enemy is getting clean away from you. Every minute and your booty is being taken.'
They understood that, and for those who did not Peters repeated it in Arabic. From somewhere Peters had found a sword and pistol and they were belted around his skinny waist, sagging so that the point of the scabbard dragged on the deck, and his jacket was pulled out of shape. He cut an absurd figure.
The bombardment raged on without pause, and the great stone balls crashed mercilessly into the ruined walls of the fort. The last few defenders fled back into the forest, and the building was deserted. But at last all the boats were loaded and Guy and Peters scrambled down into the largest.
'Pull!' Guy shouted. 'Straight for the beach.' He was desperate to reach the treasury, and his gold chests. As soon as they were halfway across, the ships ceased firing for fear of hitting them. A heavy silence fell over the bay, while the small boats streamed towards the beach. Guy's longboat was first to reach it. As the bows touched the sand he leaped out and waded ashore.
'Come on!' he yelled. 'Follow me!' With the information they had wrung out of Omar, the prisoner captured by Laleh, he had been able to draw up a detailed map of the interior of the fort. He knew exactly where he was going.
As soon as they were through the open gates, he sent men up to the parapets to secure the walls, and others to search the buildings to make sure none of the enemy remained. Then he hurried to the powder magazine. The defenders might have placed a time fuse to blow it up. Four of the men with him carried heavy crow-bars and prised the door on its hinges. The magazine was empty. This should have been a warning to Guy, but he could think of nothing but the gold. He ran to the main building. The staircase that led down to the strongrooms was concealed behind the fireplace in the kitchens. It was cunningly built and even though he knew it was there it took him some time to find it. Then he kicked open the door and went down the circular staircase. An iron grating set in the arched ceiling let in a little light, and he stopped
in astonishment at the foot of the stairs. The long low room ahead of him was filled to the roof with neatly stacked ivory.
The devil take me, but Koots was right! There's tons of the stuff here. If they abandoned such a wealth of ivory, then did they also leave my gold?'
Omar had explained how Tom Courtney had used the ivory to conceal the door to the inner strongroom. But Guy would not rush ahead blindly: before going further he waited for one of his captains to come down the stairwell and report to him. The man was panting with exertion and excitement, but there was no blood on his clothing or the blade of his weapon. 'Ask him if they have secured the fort,' Guy ordered, but the man knew enough English to understand the question.
'All gone, effendi. Nothing! No man or dog left inside the walls.'
'Good!' Guy nodded. 'Now get twenty of the men down here to clear the ivory from the right-hand wall of this chamber.'
The most massive tusks had been used to cover the entrance to the inner strongroom and it took almost two hours of hard work to reveal the small iron door, and another hour to batter it open.
As the door toppled out of its frame and crashed to the stone floor in a dense cloud of dust, Guy stepped forward and peered into the room. As the dust settled the interior was revealed. With a stab of angry disappointment he saw that the room was bare.
No, not quite bare. A sheet of parchment was nailed to the far wall. The writing on it was in a distinctive bold hand, which he recognized immediately, even after nearly two decades. Guy tore down the sheet and scanned it swiftly. His face darkened and twisted with fury.
RECEIPT FOR GOODS
I, the undersigned, gratefully acknowledge fair receipt of the following goods from Sir Guy Courtney:
15 Chests of Fine Gold bars.
Signed on behalf of Courtney Brothers Trading Company at Nativity Bay this 15th day of November in the year 1738,
Thomas Courtney esq
Guy crumpled the sheet in his fist and hurled it at the wall. 'God rot your thieving soul, Tom Courtney,' he said, quivering with fury. 'You dare to mock me? You shall find the interest that I will collect from you to be far from any joke.'
He stormed back up the stairs and climbed to the parapet overlooking
the bay.
The flotilla of dhows still rode at anchor. He saw that they were unloading the horses, lifting them out of the holds, swinging them over side then lowering them to the water and turning them loose to swim to the beach. A considerable herd was already ashore, and the grooms were tending them.
He saw Zayn al-Din standing by the rail of the Sufi. Guy knew he should go back aboard to report to him, but first he had to control his anger and frustration. 'No Arcturus, no Verity and, more important still, no gold. Where have you hidden with my gold, Tom Courtney, you bitch-born lecher? Was it not enough that you rutted on the belly of my wife, and saddled me with your bastard? Now you rob me of what is rightfully mine.'
He looked down from the parapet and his eyes followed the wagon track that ran out through the open gates of the fort and immediately forked. One track ran down to the beach, the other turned inland. It wound its way through patches of denser forest and swamp and, convoluted as a scotched serpent, climbed the far hills to vanish over the crest.
'Wagons!' Guy whispered. 'You would need wagons to carry away fifteen lakhs of gold.' He rounded on Peters. 'Tell these men to follow me.' He led them at a run through the gates of the fort, and down to the head of the landing where the horses stood. The grooms were unloading the saddlery from the boats.
Tell them I will need twenty horses,' he told Peters, 'and I will pick the men I want to go with me.' He hurried among them and slapped each of those he chose on the shoulder. They were all heavily armed and carried extra powder flasks. 'Tell them to fetch saddles from the boats.'
When the head groom realized that Sir Guy intended to take the best of his horses, he shouted a protest into his face. Guy tried to push him away, shouting back at him in English, but the man grabbed his arm and shook it violently, still protesting. 'I've no time to argue,' Guy said, drew the pistol from his belt and cocked the hammer. He thrust the muzzle into the groom's startled face and fired into his open mouth. The man collapsed. Guy stepped over his twitching corpse and ran to the horse that one of his men was holding ready for him.
Mount!' he shouted, and Peters and twenty Arabs followed his example. He led them off the beach, along the wagon trail, heading into the hills and the hinterland. 'Hear me, Tom Courtney,' he said, 'and
hear me well! I am coming to retrieve my stolen gold. Nothing that you or anyone else can do will stop me.'
From the quarter-deck of the Sufi, Zayn al-Din watched with anticipation as Sir Guy led his men into the deserted fort. There was no sound of fighting, and no further sight of the fugitives who had escaped from the fort. He waited impatiently for a report from Sir Guy as to what was taking place within the walls. After an hour he had to send a man ashore to enquire. He returned with a message. 'Mighty Caliph, the English effendi has discovered that the fort has been stripped of all furniture and stores except much ivory. There is a hidden door in the cellars below the building. His men are forcing it open, but it is of iron and very strong.'
An hour passed during which Zayn ordered the horses to be sent ashore. Then, suddenly, Sir Guy appeared on the parapet of the fort. Zayn could tell at once from
