Read Online Birds of Prey by Wilbur Smith - Free Book Online

broadside for the time when it would be most needed. The shot could do little damage to the galleon’s massive
planking, and it was far from his plans to mortally injure the prize. But now, with the two ships locked together, the moment had come.
    ‘Gunners!’ Sir Francis brandished his sword over his head to attract their attention. They stood over their pieces, smoking slow-match in hand, watching him. ‘Now!’ he
roared, and slashed his blade downwards.
    The line of culverins thundered in a single hellish chorus. Their muzzles were pressed hard against the galleon’s stern, and the carved, gilded woodwork disintegrated in a cloud of smoke,
flying white splinters and shards of stained glass from the windows.
    It was the signal. No command could be heard in the uproar, no gesture seen in the dense fog that billowed over the locked vessels, but a wild chorus of warlike yells rose from the smoke and the Lady Edwina’s crew poured up into the galleon.
    They boarded in a pack through the stern gallery, like ferrets into a rabbit warren, climbing with the nimbleness of apes and swarming over the gunwale, screened from the Dutch gunners by the
rolling cloud of smoke. Others ran out along the Lady Edwina’s yards and dropped onto the galleon’s decks.
    ‘Franky and St George!’ Their war-cries came up to Hal at the masthead. He saw only three or four shot down by the murderers at the stern before the Dutch musketeers themselves were
hacked down and overwhelmed. The men who followed climbed unopposed to the galleon’s poop. He saw his father go across, moving with the speed and agility of a much younger man.
    Aboli stooped to boost him over the galleon’s rail and the two fell in side by side, the tall Negro with the scarlet turban and the cavalier in his plumed hat, cloak swirling around the
battered steel of his cuirass.
    ‘Franky and St George!’ the men howled, as they saw their captain in the thick of the fight, and followed him, sweeping the poop deck with ringing, slashing steel.
    The Dutch colonel tried to rally his few remaining men, but they were beaten back remorselessly and sent tumbling down the ladders to the quarterdeck. Aboli and Sir Francis went down after them,
their men clamouring behind them like a pack of hounds with the scent of fox in their nostrils.
    Here they were faced with sterner opposition. The galleon’s captain had formed up his men on the deck below the mainmast, and now their musketeers fired a close-range volley and charged
the Lady Edwina’s men with bared steel. The galleon’s decks were smothered with a struggling mass of fighting men.
    Although Hal had reloaded the falconet, there was no target for him. Friend and foe were so intermingled that he could only watch helplessly as the fight surged back and forth across the open
deck below him.
    Within minutes it was apparent that the crew of the Lady Edwina were heavily outnumbered. There were no reserves – Sir Francis had left no one but Hal aboard the caravel. He had
committed every last man, gambling all on surprise and this first wild charge. Twenty-four of his men were leagues away across the water, manning the two pinnaces, and could take no part. They were
sorely needed now, but when Hal looked for the tiny scout vessels he saw that they were still miles out. Both had their gaff main sails set, but were making only snail’s progress against the
southeaster and the big curling swells. The fight would be decided before they could reach the two embattled ships and intervene.
    He looked back at the deck of the galleon and to his consternation, realized that the fight had swung against them. His father and Aboli were being driven back towards the stern. The Dutch
colonel was at the head of the counter-attack, roaring like a wounded bull and inspiring his men by his example.
    From the back ranks of the boarding-party broke a small group of the Lady Edwina’s men, who had been hanging back from the fight. They were