Sung
S
hip life went back to normal as they sailed north east. The kai Viti fitted in, sharing a large cabin with the Spakka and the laughter level on the ship lifted, while the sea shanties sung in the evening improved beyond measure. They even started adding verses in Harrheinian, pretty poor at first. They were an excellent influence on the Spakka, who at last started to become part of the community. Stiphleek in particular spent time with them for these brother axemen would let him sing, even encourage him and join in. Esbech struck up a firm friendship with Wiwik after a vicious fight ended in a draw, both laid unconscious by the Bosun to the loud protestations of the onlookers. The Bosun actually broke a marlinspike in the process.
A week’s voyage with the prevailing winds brought them to a string of small islands, coral atolls, most of which were inhabited. The occasional inhabitants fled at the sight of the Queen Rose and Captain Larroche didn’t stop.
Another four days brought them to a larger island, still tiny compared to Vitu Levu, and something about the haze of the island caused Captain Larroche to send Pat up the mast with Nils. They sat in the crow’s nest and discussed what they could see, Nils explaining to Pat how to compensate for the haze and see through it, not an easy trick. To make it more difficult, the sea-birds swirled around the island and the distance made them appear as a moving cloud.
“That’s no mountain,” grunted Nils.
“Village on fire,” said Pat. “Under attack.”
“Not kai Viti,” said Nils. “They wouldn’t fire a village, they’d take it over.”
“Pirates?”
“Well, it’s the sort of thing the Spakkas do. Come on, we’ll learn nothing more till we get round the point. Let’s tell the Captain.”
They slipped down the ropes to the mainsail spar, slid down the mainsail to the main deck and trotted up to the poop where the Captain waited. He listened to the report, and called for his officers. Aware Pat was showing his youth by his excitement and eagerness, he took care to project steadiness and calm to quieten the lad.
“When we come round the point we will find at least one pirate ship. I have no idea whether it will be a galley or a sailing ship, but there will be a number of fighters, for sure. We will sail to the windward of them, and as we go past, Nils, you will fire the ballistas on my order. Pat, the archers can start firing as they come in range. On my order, we will come about and close with them. Lieutenant Mactravis, you make the decision and lead a boarding party of soldiers, Spakka and kai Viti aboard the largest ship as the hulls touch. Repeat for each ship, Brian. Any sailors you want in the parties?”
“No sir, keep them in reserve.”
“Princess,” continued the Captain, emphasizing the title, “kindly prepare the kai Viti and Spakka but you are NOT to accompany them, which is an order.” Sara’s lips tightened, but she nodded.
“Brian, when Mactravis has the situation under control, lead a boarding party and take control of the main ship. Make four parties ready, for other ships, to be led by Delarosa, Stevens, Starr and the Bosun. Go by boat, the pinnace for the largest ship. Any questions?”
There were none and the officers went to brief their crews.
As they rounded the point, Else stood in the rigging with most of the girls to operate the sails if required. Coming about, the deck crew would handle by the timing of turning the rudder and pulling on the stays, but the sails would need to come down as they closed with the enemy. Pat led a band of archers on the foredeck while Little commanded the crossbow men on the poop deck. They found a bay with a village by the usual small stream. Flames licked from the rooftops and some white robed people were taking naked villagers in chains to a ship in the bay. The ship was a long low shape, with a small cabin area at the stern and a single mast near the bows, from which came out a long spar running low above the deck. A dirty white sail fell roughly around the long spar running down the centre of the deck and the ship seemed to have stripes down the side.
“What is it, sir?” Suzanne asked.
“It’s a dhow,” answered Taufik before the Captain could speak. “Umayyads.”
“Why have they painted stripes on it?” Sara asked innocently.
“That’s shit,” said Taufik. Sara looked again with distaste. The whole ship was filthy.
The appearance of the Queen Rose caused consternation on the dhow, while the sight of the slavers caused a growl amongst the crew.
The slavers on the beach left the slaves in chains and ran for their boats, climbing in with desperation and causing a confused commotion as they tried to row without being in time. The one full boat at sea raced to the dhow and was hauled aboard, slaves and all, to be dumped on the deck and ignored while an empty boat, going back to the beach for more slaves, turned for the dhow.
The Queen Rose laid a course to block the dhow; Pat judged it would take them twenty minutes, as they tacked across the wind to gain the weather gage, the advantage of coming down the wind. Navigation lessons made a great deal of sense as he realised the ship was moving sideways almost as fast as forward, and he finally understood what Brian meant when he explained about the slippage when they tacked. The Captain demonstrated an awe inspiring level of skill to manoeuvre the ship. Pat felt he could never become a real officer. He noticed Brian, Suzanne, Sara and Stevens watching intently, doing their own calculations. He switched to studying the slavers, wondering if they were Umayyads. He catalogued them with care, choosing targets. He nudged Grey Fox.
“Two on the helm.” It was not a wheel like the Queen Rose, but a long rudder at the back, a simple arrangement, very heavy, and took two men to operate.
“Then Greybeard”. Grey Fox spoke in an equally terse and laconic manner. A man with a long, matted grey beard shouted orders at the crew of the dhow, most of which seemed to create no effect.
They watched the second boat swing aboard and an argument develop over the chained slaves on the deck.
“Hey, Cap’n!” Little, always wise in the ways of the world, called from the main deck. “If’n you want to rescue them slaves, you’d better get a move on. Betcha they ditch ‘em.”
“Sara,” called Captain Larroche, “take your boarding party and the best Pahippian divers, see if you can rescue any of them.”
“Jolly boat sir?” Sara asked as she moved to the head of the stairs. He nodded and she jumped down to the deck, issuing orders and calling for Hinatea.
The slavers hauled at their anchor, till a burly man came running over and cut through the rope with a few slashes of a huge, wide sword. “Scimitar,” Grey Fox murmured to Pat. “Spakka sometimes use them.”
Seeing the dhow start to swing into the wind and raise the huge triangular sail, the remaining slavers in the last boat dropped their oars and dived over the side, swimming to the dhow, grabbing ropes trailing from the side, and deserting their boat. As they came aboard, one of them grabbed the nearest slave and threw him overboard. Chained together, but sensing freedom, the rest followed on, falling into the sea on top of each other.
“Little!” Pat cried, “crossbow range, let go!”
The heavy twang of the crossbows sounded and two of the crew, hauling on ropes, fell over the side.
Pat and Grey Fox waited a moment longer, nodded to each other and raised their bows. Both the men on the tiller slumped, one falling over the low side. Greybeard was next, followed by the burly man, while the rest of the crew dived into shelter. The dhow’s sail shuddered, and the dhow slowly turned into the wind, coming to a halt.
Sara cast off in the jolly boat, moments before Little’s crossbow men got off a second volley. Pat and Grey Fox picked off anyone who moved, then Nils let off the ballista, using a heavy bolt which crunched through the walls of the small cabin area, causing it to collapse and some of the robed slavers emerged to be skewered by Pat and Grey Fox.
Captain Larroche called out his orders, the Queen Rose swung around and fetched up along side the dhow, which banged and ground its way along the side of the ship causing the Bosun to wince and swear.
At the noise, robed men rose out of the shelter of the side of the dhow, waving swords and scimitars. The Spakka didn’t hesitate. Boersma leapt first, and three swords raised, prepared to skewer him as he landed. At the last possible moment, he swung his axe in a practised motion beneath his feet, smashing all three swords to one side and going through to land feet first on the chest of one of the slavers. Stiphleek and Esbech landed moments later, either side of him, Esbech also needing to clear a couple of swords out of the way. Stiphleek landed cleanly on the balls of his feet and in one motion reversed his axe to remove the hand of the Umayyad about to skewer Boersma who recovered his balance a trifle slowly, with his axe stuck in the chest of his landing pad.
The landing point made, the first three whirled their axes into the surrounding throng while more Spakka leapt into the space created, pushing forward into the expanding area. The Umayyads appeared uncertain as to how to handle axemen, and although many stood their ground bravely, too many watched the axes gleaming in the sunshine rather than the eyes of their opponents. The Spakka revelled in their inexperience, joyfully cleaving into the defenders.
A few paces down the ship, the kai Viti betrayed their inexperience. The first to land swung at the waiting swords and collected two, but two more transfixed his legs as he dropped. He shouted in pain and fury, swinging his axe wildly to kill one slaver and cripple another, before a third stepped forward and lanced his body, only to have Maciu land on his shoulders and remove his head. More kai Viti arrived, several taking stab wounds to the legs, but once aboard they tore into the wavering defenders
Stiphleek paused, letting his bloodthirsty brethren move past him, a gleam came across his eyes and he threw back his head and started to sing, bellowing out the Saga of Stiphleek the Bold.
He expected his voice to encourage his ship mates, inspired by the Princess singing with the Royal Pathfinders.
Janis pulled back from the fray, shortly followed by Esbech.
“Where are you hurt, my brother?” Janis asked, grasping his arm and looking for blood.
Esbech was not so polite. “Fryssa fuck you, you stupid poxed up arsehole! Will you stop that bloody wailing and do your fucking job? That bastard goat fucker nearly took my arm off because you fucked off!” He swung a meaty fist into Stiphleek’s midriff. Stiphleek’s song cut off in mid flow as he doubled over, swinging to one side to avoid Esbech’s raised knee, which he grasped and pulled, throwing Esbech to the floor. Before he could follow up, Boersma was between them, issuing the magic words of the peacemaker.
“Battle’s over boys. Let’s see if there is any booze in the hold.”
Indeed, the Umayyads couldn’t withstand the fury of the axemen, their swords snapping when trying to parry the axes and unable to live with the speed with which both Spakka and kai Viti swung their axes. The survivors broke and ran, some for the hatches but most for the side where they jumped into the water and swam ashore.
Newly promoted Corporal Little grasped Maciu’s arm and gave him orders to search below, and the kai Viti followed the Spakka into the bowels of the dhow.
This time Esbech led the way, leaping blindly into the dark hold, falling further than he expected before landing on flesh that screamed. He dropped his axe in the collision, which prevented him from slaughtering the chained slaves in the bowels of the dhow. Moments later Boersma performed an identical leap with similar results and Esbech’s shout caused Stiphleek to swing from the hatch, where he swore loudly as an Umayyad stabbed his sword into his thigh, causing him to let go and land beside Esbech. That worthy blinked his eyes as they adjusted to the dark and picked his way through the shrinking slaves to the gangway where a defender waved a sword, only to drop it and fall to his knees as Esbech approached. He lifted his hands in supplication, which Esbech ignored as his measured stroke removed the head cleanly and he grunted in satisfaction.
Janis shouted from the hatch. “Esbech! No more killing. If they surrender, take them prisoner and bring them to the Princess.”
Muttering, Esbech continued into the bowels of the ship followed by Boersma, while a chastened Stiphleek made for the hatch to have his wound treated. He stepped on a barrel, which tilted and sloshed, causing him to stop abruptly and check it.
Sara’s jolly boat reached the chained villagers, struggling to keep afloat, the weight of chains pulling them down. The Pahippians dived overboard, Sara threw a rope out and turned the boat to row for the shore. The girls thrust rope into the hands of the chained villagers and dived looking for more. The jolly boat slowed as it took the weight, while the girls picked out the weaker ones and held them up, hanging on to the rope and being towed shoreward. Before long they touched the sand and began to walk out, still chained together. Sara left them with the girls, who worked on several, pushing at the chests to make them throw up the water. She hurried the jolly boat back to the Queen Rose.
Brian led his boarding party to the dhow, taking over the rudder and getting another anchor down. Captain Mactravis reappeared on the deck, followed by his men who dragged along four slavers. Cheerful kai Viti came up, bloodstained axes over their shoulders and chatting happily like magpies. Pat couldn’t see an injury on any of them, the wounded and dead already back on the Queen Rose and in the galley. The Spakka were likewise untouched apart from Stiphleek who emerged triumphant, brandishing a barrel, Esbech behind him arguing over the possession.