The Monsoon by Wilbur Smith Page B

the crew with whom they had made friends. They had taken to shipboard life as though born to it.
    Which, of course, they were, Hal thought, and grinned.
    “Come on, you two.
    You may return tomorrow to help Big Daniel with the reloading.”
    As soon as they had scrambled onto the box beside Aboli, Hal said, “Take us up to High Weald, Aboli.” A while later, as the carriage passed through the gate in the stone wall that marked the boundary of the estate, Tom looked ahead and saw a single rider crossing the moor at a canter, aiming to intercept the carriage at the foot of the hill.
    There was no mistaking the tall figure dressed all in black on the back of the black stallion, coming from the direction of the tin shaft at East Rushwold.
    Dorian saw Black Billy at the same time, and moved a little closer to Tom as if for protection, but neither boy spoke.
    William put the stallion to the hedge. Horse and rider sailed over, the black cloak billowing out behind, and landed easily, then turned up the road immediately to meet the oncoming carriage.
    William ignored Aboli and his two younger brothers on the box, but wheeled his horse to canter alongside.
    “Well met, Father!” he greeted Hal through the carriage window.
    “Welcome back to High Weald. You were sorely missed.” Hal leaned from the window, smiling with pleasure, and the two fell at once into an animated conversation. William recounted everything that had taken place in Hal’s absence, with special emphasis on the running of the mines and the reaping of the grain harvest.
    They were coming up the last hill to the big house when suddenly William broke off, with an exclamation of annoyance.
    “Ahl I forgot to mention that your guests have arrived from Brighton. They have been here two days awaiting your coming.”
    “My guests?” Hal looked mystified.
    William pointed with his riding-crop to the distant figures on the far lawns. A large, solid gentleman stood with a lady on each arm, while two girls in brightly coloured pinafores were already racing each other across the grass to meet the carriage, squealing with excitement like steam from a boiling kettle.
    “Girls!” said Dorian, with disdain.
    “Small girls!”
    “But a big one also.” Tom’s sharp eyes had picked out the slimmer of the two women on the arms of the portly gentleman.
    “Damned pretty too.”
    “Have a care, Klebe,” Aboli murmured.
    “The last one landed you in deep water.” But Tom was like a hunting dog on point to the scent of a bird.
    “Who on earth are they?” Hal asked William irritably.
    He was engrossed in fitting out a ship for a long voyage and it was not the time to have uninvited guests at High Weald.
    “A certain Mr. Beatty and his brood,” William answered.
    “I was told you were expecting them, Father. Is that not the case? If so, we can send them packing.”
    “Damn me!” Hal exclaimed.
    “I had almost forgotten.
    They must be the passengers on board the Seraph as far as Bombay.
    Beatty is to be the new auditor-general for the Company factory there.
    But Childs never mentioned he was bringing his whole tribe with him. This is a nuisance.
    Four females! Where, in the devil’s name, will I find berths for all of them?” Hal concealed his annoyance when he stepped out of the carriage to greet the family.
    “Mr. Beatty, your servant, sir. Lord Childs has given me good reports of you. You had a pleasant enough journey down to Devon, I trust?” The truth was that he had expected the family to find lodgings in the port rather than to arrive at High Weald, but he put a good face on it and turned to greet the wife.
    Mrs. Beatty was full-fleshed, like her husband, for they had sat at the same dining-table for twenty years. Her face was red and round as a child’s ball, but little girlish curls peeped out from under the peak of her bonnet. She gave Hal an elephantine curtsy.
    “Enchanted, madam.” Hal told her gallantly.
    She giggled when he kissed her