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Set in the dawn of the eighteenth century in England, East Africa, and Arabia. Continues the story begun in the bestselling Birds of Prey.
Monsoon continues the story begun in the bestselling Birds of Prey. Set in the dawn of the eighteenth century in England, East Africa, and Arabia, it relates the lives and loves of the three sons of Hal Courtney--hero of the bestselling Birds of Prey.
The East Indies at the dawn of the eighteenth century.
And at the farthest edges of the known world, the mighty East India Trading Company suffers catastrophic losses at the hands of pirates on the high seas.
Master mariner Sir Hal Courtney, after four years away from service, prepares for his latest and most dangerous voyage--a death or glory mission in the name of the crown.
But Hal must also think about the fate of his three sons. Each is very different from the others, but all will have a crucial part to play in shaping the Courtneys' destiny, as the family vies for a prize beyond any of their dreams.
Like their father before them, Tom, Dorian, and Guy are drawn inexorably to Africa. When fate decrees that they must all leave England forever, they set sail for the dark and unexplored continent, seduced by the allure and mystery of this new, magnificent, but savage land.
In a story of anger and passion, peace and war, Wilbur Smith evinces himself at the height of his storytelling powers as he carries all the drama and rich emotions of a bygone time into his action-packed tale of the sea.
Chapter One
The three boys came up through the gill behind the chapel, so that they were hidden from the big house and the stables. Tom, the eldest, led them as he always did, but the youngest brother was close on his heels, and when Tom paused where the stream made its first turn above the village he renewed his argument. 'Why do I always have to be the cat? Why can I never join in the fun, Tom?'
'Because you are the littlest,' Tom told him, with lordly authority. He was surveying the tiny hamlet below them, which was now visible in the slot of the ravine. Smoke was rising from the forge in the smithy, and washing flapped in the easterly breeze behind the Widow Evans's cottage, but there was no sign of human life. At this time of day most of the men would be out in his father's fields, for the harvest was in full swing, while those women who were not toiling beside them would be at work in the big house.
Tom grinned with satisfaction and anticipation. 'No one's spotted us.'...
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The good writer, the great writer, has what I have called the three S's: The power to see, to sense, and to say. ...
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