Birds of Prey Read Free

Chancellor of England, in the name of His Majesty King Charles II. It sanctioned him to hunt
down the ships of the Dutch Republic, with which England was at war.
    ‘Once you desert your station, you forfeit your rights to claim a share of any prize!’ Sir Francis called across the narrow strip of water between the ships, but the Buzzard turned
away to issue orders to his helmsman.
    He shouted to his piper, who stood at the ready, ‘Give Sir Francis a tune to remember us by!’ The stirring strains of ‘Farewell to the Isles’ carried across the water to
the Lady Edwina , as the Buzzard’s topmast men clambered like monkeys high into the rigging, and loosed the reefs. The Gull’s top-hamper billowed out. The main sail filled
with a boom like the discharge of cannon, she heeled eagerly to the south-easter and pressed her shoulder into the next blue swell, bursting it asunder.
    As the Buzzard pulled away rapidly he came back to the stern rail, and his voice lifted above the skirling of the pipes and the whimper of the wind. ‘May the peace of our Lord Jesus Christ
shield you, my revered brother Knight.’ But on the Buzzard’s lips it sounded like blasphemy.
    With his cloak, which was quartered by the crimson croix pattée of the Order, billowing and flapping from his wide shoulders, Sir Francis watched him go.
    Slowly the ironic cheering and heavy banter of the men died away. A sombre new mood began to infect the ship as the company realized that their forces, puny before, had been more than halved in
a single stroke. They had been left alone to meet the Dutchmen in whatever force they might appear. The seamen that crowded the Lady Edwina’s deck and rigging were silent now, unable
to meet each other’s eyes.
    Then Sir Francis threw back his head and laughed. ‘All the more for us to share!’ he cried, and they laughed with him and cheered as he made his way to his cabin below the poop
deck.
    For another hour Hal stayed at the masthead. He wondered how long the men’s buoyant mood could last, for they were down to a mug of water twice a day. Although the land and its sweet
rivers lay less than half a day’s sailing away, Sir Francis had not dared detach even one of the pinnaces to fill the casks. The Dutchmen might come at any hour, and when they did he would
need every man.
    At last a man came aloft to relieve Hal at the lookout. ‘What is there to see, lad?’ he asked, as he slipped into the canvas crow’s nest beside Hal.
    ‘Precious little,’ Hal admitted, and pointed out the tiny sails of the two pinnaces on the distant horizon. ‘Neither carries any signals,’ Hal told him. ‘Watch for
the red flag – it’ll mean they have the chase in sight.’
    The sailor grunted. ‘You’ll be teaching me to fart next.’ But he smiled at Hal in avuncular fashion – the boy was the ship’s favourite.
    Hal grinned back at him. ‘God’s truth, but you need no teaching, Master Simon. I’ve heard you at the bucket in the heads. I’d rather face a Dutch broadside. You nigh
crack every timber in the hull.’
    Simon let out an explosive guffaw, and punched Hal’s shoulder. ‘Down with you, lad, before I teach you to fly like an albatross.’
    Hal began to scramble down the shrouds. At first he moved stiffly, his muscles cramped and chilled after the long vigil, but he soon warmed up and swung down lithely.
    Some of the men on the deck paused at their labours on the pumps, or with palm and needle as they repaired wind-ripped canvas, and watched him. He was as robust and broad-shouldered as a lad
three years older, and long in limb – he already stood as tall as his father. Yet he still retained the fresh smooth skin, the unlined face and sunny expression of boyhood. His hair, tied
with a thong behind his head, spilled from under his cap and glistened blue-black in the early sunlight. At this age his beauty was still almost feminine, and after more than four months at sea
– six since they had