A Falcon Flies Read Free Page B

propagation of God’s word.
    Fuller Ballantyne had replied by posting them his resignation, thereby saving the society £50 per annum. At the same time he had penned a letter of encouragement to his two children urging them to show fortitude and faith, and sent the manuscript, in which he vindicated his conduct of the expedition, to his publisher. Then he had taken the few guineas that remained from the huge royalties that his other books had earned and had disappeared once more into the interior of Africa. That was eight years previously and no one had heard from him since.
    Now here was this man’s daughter, already nearly as notorious as the father, demanding admission to the Society as a working missionary.
    Once again, Uncle William had come to Robyn’s aid, dear mild bumbling Uncle William with his thick pebble spectacles and wild grey bush of untamable hair. With her he had gone before the board of directors and reminded them that Robyn’s grandfather, Robert Moffat, was one of the most successful of all African missionaries, with tens of thousands of conversions to his credit. Indeed the old man was still working at Kuruman and had only recently published his dictionary of the Sechuana language. Robyn herself was dedicated and devout, with medical training and a good knowledge of African languages taught her by her now deceased mother, daughter of the same Robert Moffat, and by virtue of the reverence with which the said Robert Moffat was regarded by even the most warlike African king, Mzilikazi of the Ndebele, or as some people called them, the Matabele, the granddaughter would find immediate acceptance amongst the tribes.
    The directors had listened stonily.
    Then Uncle William had gone on to suggest that Oliver Wicks, the editor of the
Standard
who had championed the girl against the attempt by the governors of St Matthew’s Hospital to deprive her of her medical qualification, would be interested in their reasons for refusing her application to the Society.
    The directors sat up and listened with great attention, conferred quietly and accepted Robyn’s application. They had then seconded her to another missionary movement who in turn sent her to the industrial slums of northern England.

I t was her brother Zouga who had found the way back to Africa for both of them. He had returned from India on leave, a man of considerable achievement, already a major in the Indian army, promotion that he had won in the field, with the reputation of being a soldier and military administrator of great promise for one so young.
    Despite this, Zouga was every bit as dissatisfied with his lot as was Robyn. Like their father, they were both lone wolves, responding badly to authority and regimentation. In spite of the promising start to his military career, Zouga recognized the fact that he had already made powerful enemies in India, and he had begun to doubt that his future lay on that continent. Like Robyn, he was still a searcher, and they had greeted each other after the parting of years with a warmth that they had seldom displayed during their childhood.
    Zouga took her to dinner at the Golden Boar. It was such a change from Robyn’s daily surroundings that she accepted a second glass of claret and became gay and sparkling.
    â€˜By God, Sissy, you really are a pretty thing, you know,’ he had told her at last. He had taken to swearing now, and though it had shocked her at first, she had grown accustomed to it quickly enough. She had heard a lot worse in the slums where she worked. ‘You are too good to spend your life amongst those ghastly crones.’
    It changed the mood between them instantly, and she was able at last to lean close to her brother and pour out all her frustrations. He listened sympathetically, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand so that she went on quietly but with utter determination.
    â€˜Zouga, I have to get back to Africa. I’ll die if I don’t. I