He took off in a fast, crouching run and Sura watched him go with pride. Jaap was a firebrand, often a fool, but when it came to the business of killing, he was in his element.

On the other side of the high riverbank, a natural berm provided a protected firing platform for the archers, who did not even flinch as bullets cut the air above their heads. Instead, they nocked another arrow in their black palm bows and awaited instruction on further targets. The men directing them with whistles and clicks were almost invisible in the long grass and trees. However, they were still vulnerable to a lucky shot.

Daniel was proud to have these men as wantoks. That they would risk their lives for his son made his heart swell with blood obligation. But he was worried about his father, who had gone to take potshots at the ship with his twelve-gauge. He’d heard its characteristic loud boom once, but since then nothing, and his father was not responding to their secret bower bird trill. Daniel hoped his father’s gun had simply misfired; home-made guns of galvanised water pipe were not only unreliable – they occasionally burst, with catastrophic results.

A sudden burst of high-pitched whistles and coded calls alerted Daniel to a prime target at the front of the ship. A white man. No doubt this would be the captain responsible for killing Nathan.

Daniel took the enchanted arrow from his quiver and nocked. Calmly he drew back the bamboo bowstring with two leathery fingers. Visualising the trajectory, he released, and the black arrow surged skywards through the mist, feathered flights spinning like fireflies. At its apex, it turned slowly, and then plummeted out of sight. Blessed by the shaman, guided by the spirits of his ancestors, Daniel knew it could not miss. An immense weight lifted from his soul. His beloved Nathan was avenged.

Waking to the loud rattle of an automatic weapon, Nash sat bolt upright and gasped. Just about every part of his body was throbbing, searing or smarting. Somewhere, someone screamed an order. Running feet thrummed on the steel deck above.

‘What’s happening?’ he cried out. ‘I can’t see!’

‘It’s payback.’ Mia’s voice was close to his ear. ‘Wait a moment, your eyelids are stuck together.’

With a damp cloth she removed the dried pus from his eyes, and when he could open them, he saw his body was covered in plasters and antiseptic ointment where she must have tended to him.

Someone pounded on the cabin door and a voice cried, ‘Faiwalati is hurt! Doktor, plis, plis can you come?’

‘Mi kamap.’ Mia got to her feet. ‘Kwiktaim!’

Nash reached for his shorts on the end of the bunk.

‘Don’t bother arguing,’ he growled at her disapproving expression. ‘I’m not an invalid.’