Artemis(100)

Powlett's voice hardened. 'What has this to do with us? Are we to judge in their domestic disputes?'

'Sir - no, sir, it's a hell of a rout up there, sir.'

'Very well, I'll come,' said Powlett crossly. They retraced their steps, and soon caught the harsh, unhinged barks of a woman in the extremity of terror. Powlett hastened towards the growing crowd around her. She was sprawled in the grass under the stockade, hair matted and beslobbered with gore. The two men appeared untouched, but crouched, eyes bulging as they stared wildly about them. 'Send for — send for the American,' snapped Powlett.

'Gurney, sir,' said Fairfax, wringing his hands.

'Do it!' snarled Powlett.

When the woman saw Gurney approach, she shrieked at him, her arms held a-splay. The men began to babble loudly. Gurney listened, asked some terse questions and tightened his expression.

'First thing I'm gonna do is get aboard o' yer barky, an' I advise you do the same,' he said, fidgeting.

'Damn it, man, what's the problem?' The woman began wailing brokenly, beating at the grass with her fists. Powlett caught Gurney's arm and propelled him away.

"Noo it would happen, sooner or later.'

'What?' roared Powlett.

'Tubou-alohi — that's the son o' the high chief — he's kinda restless. Doesn't want t' take his old man's rule fer much longer, so he's done somethin' about it.' Catching Powlett's expression he hurried on, 'He's got his friends from another island t' help him - he's gotta prevail quickly, or he loses. Sends out raidin' parties, seems we have one arrived on the other side.'

Powlett glowered at him. 'Hands to quarters!' he ordered crisply.

The stands of muskets emptied and the seamen and marines hastily took up position at the stockade. Powlett pursed his lips. 'Mr Parry, be so good as to lead a reconnaissance party to the other side of the island and report the situation.'

'Aye aye, sir,' said Parry, and immediately detailed ten men for his party, including Kydd.

'Mr Fairfax, please to muster the ship's company, have them at readiness within the stockade.' He swung round and bellowed to the two scientists and their assistants still at the observation platform, 'Pray stand ready to re-embark on my order.'

Hobbes barely turned his head. 'Indeed we shall not.' His voice sounded thinly over the distance. 'It is not convenient at this time, Captain.'

Powlett ground his teeth. 'Get moving, Mr Party!'

* * *

The party doubled over the beach, not a soul abroad, with Party in a fierce grimace and his sword out in the lead. Kydd smiled secretly as they rushed past the blowhole, the other men flinching at the sudden gouts. They reached the distinctive red-soil bluff that Kydd remembered seeing from the peak, rustling through an overgrown path to its low summit. Parry dropped to the ground, his hand at the halt. 'Silence!' he hissed. They crept cautiously to the edge of the bluff.

Below, the narrow beach was crowded with war-canoes and men. The warriors were engaged in some form of ecstatic dance. They circled around a fire-pit, viciously waving bone clubs and spears. At the head of the beach their prisoners, seven of them, were tied to the palms in a standing position.

Kydd looked sideways. Parry was counting carefully, assessing the war-like potential of the horde. Kydd admired his coolness, but knew even without a count that they were far outnumbered. 'What d'ye think they'll do t' the prisoners?' whispered a man on one side.

'They'll probably be some sort o' slaves to th' end o' their miserable lives,' Kydd muttered. It made more sense than to kill them. The prisoners did not move, probably resigned to their turn of fortune.

The counting went on, as did the circling about the fire. A conch shell bayed, a low and baleful sound, varying in clarity as the man rotated slowly around. The capering stopped. From the dancers a warrior emerged with a tall headdress and anklets of shark's teeth. Carrying a broad bone club he pranced towards the prisoners, passing from one to another, menacing each with his jagged club. He stopped before one.

The club rose slowly and fixed on the man in a quivering accusation. A shout went up from the other warriors and the prisoner was instantly surrounded, dragged down the beach and thrown to the ground. He knelt, his head drooping, not a sound escaping. The warriors drew back, and in a single whirl of motion the bone club smashed the man's skull, the dull squelch carrying up to the hidden watchers.

Kydd was chilled to the core. Below him the body toppled slowly. The executioner stepped back, allowing others to move forward. Then, in absolute horror, Kydd saw butchery begin. Limbs were separated and laid on plantain leaves, strips of flesh torn and peeled from the carcass. His mind threatened to fly apart when he saw one warrior casually carrying a whole leg down to the sea to wash it. The flesh was wrapped in leaves and taken to the fire-pit, where it soon left a rich aroma in the air like roasting pork.