It took them well over an hour to hoist all the ingots and the sacks of coin and stack them in the back of the cave. Then they started work on the powder kegs and the bundles of weapons. The last item to go up was the smallest. a box into which Sir Francis had packed a compass and backstaff, a roll of charts taken from the Standvasdgheid, flint and steel, a set of surgeon's instruments in a canvas roll, and a selection of other equipment that could make the difference between survival and a lingering death to a party stranded on this savage, unexplored coast.
"Come up, Hal," Sir Francis called down at last, and Hal went up the cliff with the speed and ease of one of the young baboons.
When Hal reached him, his father was sitting comfortably on the narrow-ledge, his legs dangling and his clay stemmed pipe and tobacco pouch in his hands.
"Give me a hand here, lad." He pointed with his empty pipe at the vertical crack in the face of the cliff. "Close that up again."
Hal spent another half-hour packing the loose rock back into the entrance, to conceal it and to discourage intruders. There was little chance of men finding the cache in this deserted gorge, but he and his father knew that the baboons would return. They were as curious and mischievous as any human.
When Hal would have started back down the cliff, Sir Francis stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "There is no hurry. The others will not have finished refilling the water casks."
They sat in silence on the ledge while Sir Francis got his long-stemmed pipe to draw sweetly. Then he asked, through a cloud of blue smoke, "What have I done here?"
"Cached our share of the treasure."
"Not only our share alone, but that of the Crown and of every man aboard, sir Francis corrected him. "But why have I done that?"
"Gold and silver is temptation even to an honest man." Hal repeated the lore his father had drummed into his head so many times before.
"Should I not trust my own crew?" Sir Francis asked.
"If you trust no man, then no man will ever disappoint you. "Hal repeated the lesson.
"Do you believe that?" Sir Francis turned to watch his face as he replied, and Hal hesitated. "Do you trust Aboli?" "Yes, I trust him," Hal admitted, reluctantly, as though it were a sin.
"Aboli is a good man, none better. But you see that I do not bring even him to this place." He paused, then asked, "Do you trust me, lad?"
"Of course."
"Why? Surely I am but a man and I have told you to trust no man?"
"Because you are my father and I love you."
Sir Francis's eyes clouded and he made as if to caress Hal's cheek. Then he sighed, dropped his hand and looked down at the river below. Hal expected his father to censure his reply, but he did not. After a while Sir Francis asked another question. "What of the other goods I have cached here? The powder and weapons and charts and the like. Why have I placed those here?"
"Against an uncertain future, Hal replied confidently he had heard the answer often enough before. "A wise fox has many exits to his earth."
Sir Francis nodded. "All of us who sail in the guerre de course are always at risk. One day, those few chests may be worth our very lives."
His father was silent again as he smoked the last few shreds of tobacco in the bowl of his pipe. Then he said softly, "If God is merciful, the time will come, perhaps not too far in the future, when this war with the Dutch will end. Then we will return here and gather up our prize and sail home to Plymouth. It has long been my dream to own the manor of Gainesbury that runs alongside High Weald-" He broke off, as if not daring to tempt fate with such imagining. "If harm should befall me, it is necessary that you should know and remember where I have stored our winnings. It will be my legacy to you."
"No harm can ever come your way!" Hal exclaimed in agitation. It was more a plea than a statement of conviction. He could not imagine an existence without this towering presence at the centre of it.
"No man is immortal," said Sir Francis softly. "We all owe God a death." This time he allowed his right hand to settle briefly on Hal's shoulder. "Come, lad. We must still fill the water casks in our own boat before dark." the longboats crept back down the edge of the darkening lagoon, Aboli had taken Sir *-AFrancis's place on the rowing thwart, and now Hal's father sat in the stern, wrapped in a dark woollen cloak against the evening chill. His expression was. remote and sombre. Facing aft as he worked one of the long oars, Hal could study him surreptitiously.
Their conversation at the mouth of the cave had left him troubled with a presentiment of ill-fortune ahead.
He guessed that since they had anchored in the lagoon his father had cast his own horoscope. He had seen the zodiacal chart covered with arcane notations lying open on his desk in his cabin. That would account for his withdrawn and introspective mood. As Aboli had said, the stars were his children and he knew their secrets.
Suddenly his father lifted his head and sniffed the cool evening air. Then his face changed as he studied the forest edge. No dark thoughts could absorb him to the point where he was unaware of his surroundings.
"Aboli, take us in to the bank, if you please."
They turned the boat towards the narrow beach, and the second followed. After they had all jumped out onto the beach and moored both boats, Sir Francis gave a quiet order. "Bring your arms. Follow me, but quietly."
He led them into the forest, pushing stealthily through the undergrowth, until he stepped out suddenly onto a well-used path. He glanced back to make certain they were following him, then hurried along.
Hal was mystified by his father's actions until he smelt a trace of woodsmoke on the air and noticed for the first time the bluish haze along the tops of the dense forest trees. This must have been what had alerted his father.
Suddenly Sir Francis stepped out into a small clearing in the forest and stopped. The four men who were already there had not noticed him. Two lay like corpses on a battlefield, one still clutching a squat brown hand-blown bottle in his inert fingers, the other drooling strings of saliva from the corner of his mouth as he snored.
The second pair were wholly absorbed by the stacks of silver guilders and the ivory dice lying between them. One scooped up the dice and rattled them at his ear before rolling them across the patch of beaten bare earth. "Mother of a pig!" he growled. "This is not my lucky day."
"You should not speak unkindly of the dam who gave birth to you," said Sir Francis softly. "But the rest of what you say is the truth. This is not your lucky day."
They looked up at their captain in horrified disbelief, but made no attempt to resist or escape as Daniel and Aboli dragged them to their feet and roped them neck to neck in the manner used by the slavers.
Sir Francis walked over to inspect the still that stood at the far end of the clearing. They had used a black iron pot to boil the fermented mash of old biscuit and peelings, and copper tubing stolen from the ship's stores for the coil. He kicked it over and the colourless spirits flared in the flames of the charcoal brazier on which the pot stood. A row of filled bottles, stoppered with wads of leaves, was laid out beneath a yellow-wood tree. He picked them up one at a time and hurled them against the tree-trunk. As they shattered the evaporating fumes were pungent enough to make his eyes water. Then he walked back to Daniel and Ned, who had kicked the drunks out of their stupor and had dragged them across the clearing to rope them to the other captives.