To the other side…
Samir rocked back on his heels as he turned and the far end of the fleet suddenly exploded in a fireball the like of which Samir had never even imagined. The expanding mushroom of red and orange boiling flame engulfed several vessels at the far end and Samir blinked in shock. Second and third subsidiary explosions marked the detonation of spare ammunition among the vessels involved in the conflagration.
It took a moment for Samir’s reeling mind to pull itself together in the wake of the mind-numbing blast. With a deep sadness of the soul, he realised, from the direction of the blast, that Orin’s ship was somewhere in that fireball. Precious little hope of anyone surviving that… if there were any survivors at that flank it would be those who had the foresight to jump from the rails and were underwater when the blast occurred. Samir shook his head and turned to his friends to realise that they were all standing, staring, as shocked as he.
“Orin knew the risks. We need to concentrate on what’s still to do.”
As if shaken from sleep, the three other commanders on the deck blinked and nodded. As Ghassan ran to the rail to yell orders at the men and Culin put a rare and expensive spyglass to his eye, Saja fumed at the Hart’s Heart, already completing its turn and heading for the reef ahead.
“We’ll have go some to catch them” he barked.
Samir turned away to examine the line once more. The fireball had contracted once more and left three ships in a state of almost complete destruction, hardly anything standing above deck. Fragments of wood and other more unthinkable things rained down from the sky, trailing little flames like falling stars, while chunks of timber and bodies floated in the water around them. Oh it was too far away for Samir to actually see what it was that darkened the waves around the ships, but he’d been in enough brutal engagements these past two decades to know what caused that stain.
Trying not to think how many of those tiny dots that speckled the water had shared a drink with him in the bar on Lassos, Samir forced his gaze away from them and to the remaining two enemy vessels on that side. Along with the Hart’s Heart they were the only remaining enemy ships that were not engaged. The question was: what would they do? Faerus’ ship, the Retribution, was at the very other end of the line and too far away to engage, Orin’s vessel was a burning shell and the Sea-Witch, their surprise ally, was already engaged with another ship in vicious hand-to-hand.
Samir shifted round the rail to keep watch on them as the Redemption turned as fast as Ghassan could manage, trying to catch the Hart’s Heart in open water.
There was clearly chaos on board both enemy vessels, though that was hardly a surprise, given the sudden turns of events in the past few minutes.
As he watched, sliding his hands along the rail while the deck turned, he frowned. The nearest of the two vessels was beginning to wheel around. Given that they now had plenty of room to manoeuvre and no close enemies and could simply pull forward out of the line, turning meant only one thing: they were planning to head the same way as Samir and his prey, though whether in order to engage the Redemption or merely to try and hook up with the Hart’s Heart and try to return to Lassos remained to be seen. Either way, in a few minutes Samir and his crew would be trapped between the ship they were pursuing and this new one following them in. The situation could turn unpleasant then.
His lip curled into a slight smile as he realised that the remaining unengaged ship had struck out at full speed for open sea, past the three burning wrecks. More fool him… the Governor could spare up to half a dozen ships to chase him down and apprehend him, but the likelihood was that, now they had all had a chance to reload their artillery, the running fool would be used as target practice. He wouldn’t get a half mile away from here before he touched the sea bed. Still, that was one ship that he didn’t have to worry about.
He turned back to the two pirate councillors standing at the rail.
“How far are they from the reefs?”
Saja, his bright eyes flashing anxiously in that dark face, turned to Samir.
“Not far enough. They’ll be among the rocks before we can touch them. They’ve got away.”
Culin, next to him, nodded unenthusiastically.
“He’s right, Samir. With the best will in the world, I know your crew are good, but unless you happen to have a God in your pocket, there’s no way we can catch them. Lassos is theirs and it’ll be hell trying to lever them out then.”
Samir shook his head.
“That would be no use anyway. My deal with the governor stipulated all the folk of lassos and their ships. We let Gharic get back to the island and we’ve broken our side of the deal. While I can’t guarantee that the governor would renege on his side, I’m not about to take that chance.”
He smiled wickedly.
“I have a plan. We don’t have to catch them.”
As Saja and Culin narrowed their eyes suspiciously, Samir turned to his brother.
“Ghassan? Give us every bit of speed you have, but count to fifty and then bring us to starboard at a narrow angle, as though we’re trying to come alongside from behind.”
Ghassan frowned for a moment and then shrugged, turning to the crew and muttering something unheard under his breath before bellowing out the orders once more.
Samir smiled and brushed his fingers along the edge of the object in his pocket.
So, Gharic wanted to run back to the island, did he?
Captain Faerus heaved a sigh of relief as the Retribution pulled free of the mass of the stricken pirate ship. It had been, he had to admit, a dangerously lunatic idea. The whole idea of the ram was to puncture the enemy and then pull out and flee while they sank. Nobody, to his knowledge, had ever attempted this and, despite the awesome weight and strength of the Retribution’s ram, it was still idiotic. But then the fiery mass that was the other ship behind them was listing in this direction and any attempt to reverse after impact would be to present themselves to a whole new burning danger.
After the initial collision, his main worry had been that they would stick fast, or even that the rudder would jam on the wreckage before they could get clear. It had been a fascinating and heart-stopping minute and a half as his ship had sliced somewhat messily through the midsection of the enemy vessel.
The initial heavy shots had been well-placed enough that they had shattered the main beams and bulkheads in the hull, and Faerus’ ship had long been renowned and feared for its outsized ram; just under a ton of iron, fifteen feet long and reinforced all the way from the keel up along the breakwater and to the bowsprit. As they had struck, the ram had punch through with ease, the iron breakwater shattering the remaining boards as they met. The main problem had been that the Retribution had not had enough room to build up ramming speed and the initial impact had slowed their ship further. In danger of grinding to a halt, jammed across their enemy, Faerus’ artillerists had begin to fire shot, both solid and canister, into the structure of the ship ahead, beside and below them.
Even then, they had almost become wedged. The oarsmen, given their objective, hauled their oars in at the last minute, a couple of them in the front half of the ship waiting too long and watching helplessly as the long wooden implements shattered on the enemy hull while they came up. Most, however, had managed to get the oars up in time and spent the next minute using them to push the disintegrating hull of the enemy ship away from them, heaving as hard as they could as though they were punting a barge, every ounce of strength adding to the ease of passage.
Had the crew of the pirate vessel had their wits about them, they could have taken the opportunity to pick off many of Faerus’ crew as they sawed their way through, but the imminent demise of their own ship had them panicked and those that hadn’t already run fore or aft and dived into the water before impact were desperately running up the tilting deck away from the scene of the destruction.
By the time the Retribution was far enough through the enemy hull for the foremost oars to be dipped into the water once again, the pirate ship had separated into two neat halves and was beginning to disappear below the waves.
“Are we clear?”
Alif, the weathered second in command, standing on the main deck above the hatch, shivered and rubbed his head.
“I can’t believe you even tried that, cap’n let alone that it worked!”
“But are we clear?”
Alif nodded.
“We’re able to manoeuvre a little, but we’ve taken a hell of a lot of damage, sir. The prow’s a mess and people are shouting up from below that we’re taking on water in a dozen places.”
“Critically?”
Alif shrugged.
“Water coming in is never good, captain. In a perfect world, the water stays on the outside of a ship.”
Faerus smiled. That his grouchy subordinate felt the subject worthy of humour spoke volumes.
“Then let’s get those holes plugged as best we can and set the crew to emergency repairs only. We’ve not got time to affect a full repair; I want to get us back into the fight as soon as possible.”
“With respect, captain… you’re barking mad! Has anyone ever told you that?”
“You, Alif, and on more than one occasion.”
The swarthy man grinned.
“At least five minutes for a desperate patch up before I’ll feel safe even trying to make a turn, alright sir?”
“Whatever you say, Alif.”
He sighed as he stood back and leaned on the railing. His ship may have taken a pounding form this, but they came off better from the attack than the other two vessels. He watched with a slight undercurrent of sadness as the last timbers of the shattered ship around them disappeared beneath the waves. A glance behind revealed the burning mass of the other vessel, now leaning at a dangerous angle as it began its descent to the underworld. Unfortunate for the crew, caught between the choice of a fiery death or a watery one. In the most perfect of worlds they would help the stricken sailors bobbing in the water and shouting for help, hauling them aboard to save them.
But that was for military engagements with men of honour, such as Faerus had faced in the old days. He knew those men in the water from the last decade or more, though. Most of them would gut him the moment his back was turned and, realistically, what chance did they stand? If Faerus relented and rescued them, he would have to deliver them to the governor, who would hang them in Calphoris of M’Dahz, watching as they jerked and soiled themselves in front of a jeering crowd. Better that they disappeared here, forgotten.
Better for him and better for them.
He smiled sadly at the ship of the line Retribution. Five minutes and no more. Then he would go and help Samir and Orin.
In which threads come to a close
Samir shook his head.
“Not yet.”
“But we’re in range. A heavy firepot might stop them.”
Samir turned from the rail to look at Ghassan.
“Not yet!”
“But Samir…”
“Listen! Gharic is far from stupid. He’s seen what’s happened up and down the line. Hell, he knew he was beaten that first moment. While the other captains started fighting back, Gharic knew they were done for and fled. Not brave, but clever. He’s seen what shots have been fired and he knows what we’ll do. He’ll be expecting the fire shot by now. Every man who’s not on the oars will be standing by with poles and water to sort it out. At best we’ll create a minor distraction and singe the deck. No. I need that catapult ready.”
Ghassan ground his teeth.
“Then tell us what you’re planning. Damn it, Samir! I know you have this whole personal superiority complex where you need to know things that other people don’t and be ahead of the game, but now is not the time!”
“I am who I am, Ghassan” Samir grinned.
Ahead, Saja, leaning on the rail amidships, turned and shouted back to them.
“He’s reached the rocks and slowed. Any minute now we’ll lose him in the mist.”
Ghassan growled at his brother.
“Alright, Samir. This is it. Whatever you’re going to do, do it now.”
Samir shook his head.
“One more minute. We need one more minute; let him get safely in the rocks.”
The exasperated Ghassan turned to look out to stern. The remaining active pirate ship was bearing down on them, matching speed. They would catch up the moment Samir turned… on the assumption he was going to turn and hadn’t planned merely to fly over the reefs.
Moments passed in tense silence and finally the deep voice of Saja called out.
“That’s it… she’s gone into the mist. Two minutes and we’ll hit rocks and fog ourselves. Hope you’ve got the compass ready, Samir?”