Mykal’s legs gave out. He crumpled toward the deck.
Quill and Refler caught him under the arms.
Blodwyn was on the dock. He reminded Mykal of a cat that jumped out of a washtub, all skinny and scrawny under all of its fur. If he didn’t think he would pass out at any moment, he might have laughed and shared his thought.
“I think he’s delirious,” Quill said.
Blodwyn’s jaw set and his eyebrows met above his nose. “We need to get him and his mother inside, into dry clothing, and someplace warm. I have the feeling the victors in the war are going to be decided on the battles between the wizards, and little else.”
Chapter 32
It wasn’t the worst storm Sebastian had ever seen. He’d sailed over swells twenty, thirty feet tall. With the swirling clouds, the amount of lightning and thunder, this front had the potential to grow in ferocity, exponentially. The swells they faced now were a good size, and moved the Derecho in odd, smooth, but highly dangerous motions, as if a hand picked her up and set her down. She rose, bow first, and dropped bow first. They faced the waves, taking them head on.
If the waves got too much bigger, and they didn’t take them head on, they risked getting rolled, sunk, and buried at the bottom of the Isthmian.
From the bow, Mr. Reed spotted several Osiris ships approaching. Sebastian hated to admit he was starting to like the lad; he just wasn’t impressed with the boy’s skills. It was not going to be easy for such a young quartermaster winning over the love and support of the crew. There was nothing intimidating about him. Not his size, not his mannerisms, not anything. If a quartermaster couldn’t instill some fear into his men, he had better earn their respect. It was as simple as that, only not as simple to actually achieve.
Once back on deck, Reed jumped in where needed, without being asked, and without protest, or grumbling under his breath. However, he needed some work on his knots. Sebastian observed Helix more than once calling the quartermaster over and retying the rope in front of the boy.
That didn’t detour Reed. He saw where extra hands were needed, and filled whatever opening, side-by-side with fellow tars.
Making his way across the deck, Sebastian took the stairs below. There wasn’t much time. The closest Osiris ship quickly neared their position, riding each wave and swell with the wind at her back.
Richard barked commands at the men working under him. The cannons were locked in place at the gun deck, ready at the gun-ports on both sides of the ship. The cannons were on wheels. After firing a cannonball, the kick from the blast rocked them back. Ropes were rigged to pull them back into place and aiming out of the gun-port window. The cannonballs, transferred into barrels next to each weapon, were safer than when loosely stacked in pyramids. Lit lanterns hung from the rafters, and squeaked as they swung to and fro.
Sebastian was not interested in interfering. The barrels were always in danger of tipping, and the cannons could break free and roll. Anyone caught in the path could get seriously injured. Death wasn’t out of the question. Richard’s men kept the items from moving.
“How are we down here?” Sebastian said. Opposite the gun-deck were the tars’ quarters. Rows of cloth hammocks hung post to post. They on calm nights, they swayed as gentle as if the men were babes in their mother’s arms. On a night like tonight, no man would sleep.
“Good, Captain. We’re ready,” Richard said, saluting. On the walls between gun-ports was a crisscross of battle axes. The tars wore swords and daggers on their belts.
“An Osiris ship is close. It will try to pass between us and Berserker. Commands will be coming down hot and fast,” Sebastian said.
“Aye, Captain,” Richard said.
“You need anything, let me know. Men, stay strong.” It was his way of telling them he was proud of serving with them. They didn’t get into many sea battles. Their reputation prevented a lot of unnecessary confrontations in the past. When there was a fight two things were certain, lost lives and sunken ships. Many crewmen were little more than boys, who just started shaving away facial hair. Too many let it grow in odd patches, thinking it must make them look more mature. The thin mustaches made it hard for the Captain to sometimes take them serious. He had been the same when he first started his life as a tar.
Sebastian saluted his men and went upstairs. His mind was filled with so many thoughts. There had been so many years of peace… maybe that was a bad thing. It softened people. Soft, or not, he couldn’t change how he felt. No one wanted more wars, but training just didn’t compare to the real thing. In drill, the tars knew there were no consequences to mistakes, to their actions, or lack thereof. It was drill. Simple as that.
Hopefully the things his young men learned would come back to them like second nature. How someone reacted when faced with war, with killing someone else, with the imminent threat of getting killed, wouldn’t be revealed until the situation was face-to-face with each and every one of them.
He sighed heavily at the top of the stairs.
One life lost would be one life too many. There was no way around death. It approached from the east. His experience, his skills, that was what would be the difference between them losing the fight, or finishing it with minimal damage.
And hopefully, with minimal death.
“Captain!” Lieutenant Cearl waved his arm in the air, vying for Sebastian’s attention. He was at the wheel steering the Derecho.
Sebastian worked his way forward. He clapped his men on the back as he passed them. He saw the same look in their eager faces. They were excited, and scared. They were ready to fight, but maybe thought about fleeing. He bet their stomachs flipped and flopped, and it had nothing to do with the storm.
He knew his own gut felt off balance.
It didn’t matter how sick he felt. He knew if his men saw their Captain blow chunks, they were all as good as dead.
Cearl pointed. “It’s time.”
Sebastian ordered Helix to lower sails on the main mast.
Helix and his men were ready for the call. The knots were untied, ropes yanked on. Pulleys squeaked like mice in a delirium about to abandon a sinking ship. The sails unrolled. They clapped like thunder as strong winds filled them all at once.
“Take us around,” the Captain ordered Lieutenant Cearl.
Cearl spun the wheel, cranking it around with both hands.
The ship responded. The waves crashed into the side of the ship. The sea felt far more violent when paralleled with the surge. The main deck was two inches deep with seawater and rain. Seasoned men lost their footing as the ship rocked, as if threatening to tip, or capsize.
The ship’s boards creaked in constant protest to the storm, and the sea. The moans echoed. Sebastian put faith in his vessel that she wouldn’t surrender to the pressure and break apart. The constant creaking made having faith very challenging.
“Ready the cannons!” Sebastian’s command was relayed, repeated over and over. “Reed, I want you to report on damage delivered!”
“Aye, Captain,” Reed said. He wobbled on legs not yet accustomed to life on the sea.
“Stay steady at the wheel, Cearl.” Sebastian didn’t trust many people at the helm of his ship. The Lieutenant was one of the rare few.
“Aye, aye,” Cearl said, a firm grip on the knobs of the wheel. The waves fought to turn the ship. Cearl worked the rudder with expert control, some give, some take. Steering a ship as large as the Derecho in a storm like this was anything but easy. Every inch gained was hard fought for by the man at the wheel.
Richard’s men would load cannonballs, and stand ready to light the fuse.
Captain Sebastian did have a plan. It was thin at best, but regardless of the outcome, worked to the Voyagers’ advantage. They didn’t want the Osiris ship crossing the imaginary border dividing west from east. More importantly, they didn’t want the ship getting past them. They did not want to have to chase after it. It was a pride thing, he supposed. The strategic goal was cutting off access to the west com
pletely. Sebastian had no intention of losing ground, or sea, during the fight. The Isthmian was the Voyagers’ land, as awkward as that may sound.
The way the waves rocked their ship had to be taken into consideration. If he fired the cannons too soon, the cannonball would shoot directly into the sea; too late and it would head toward the sky sacrificing distance. It needed perfect timing. This was where Sebastian counted on his experience for guidance.
“Center gun-port… fire!” Sebastian shouted his command, which bounced across the deck like an echo inside a cave.
Within ten seconds, the cannon fired. The floorboards beneath the Captain’s feet shook. He knew the Derecho wouldn’t crumble. Not from firing one, or all of his cannons at once. She was built as tough as if made from iron and steel.
“Quartermaster?”
“It’s a miss,” Reed said. His face was pale. His skin looked ashen. Sebastian knew this must be his first fight. It was going to be a heck of a baptism for the quartermaster.
More cannons erupted.
It took Sebastian a moment. He realized they were not being fired on. The fight was to the north. He imagined Berserker was engaged. He hoped they fared well. These men were all his friends, all his family. And while each ship had its own captain, he couldn’t shake an overall sense of responsibility. “Ready the center cannon,” he shouted.
“Osiris is turning to face south,” Reed said.
That was exactly what Sebastian wanted. He took that small bit of luck as a good omen.
He didn’t need Reed’s warning of, “Incoming!”
Sebastian saw the flash of fire from Osiris gun-ports, mixed with a cracked sky filled with a fast scattering of lightning.
The cannonball fell short, splashed into the sea yards from the Derecho. Soon, neither ship would miss.
The wind was picking up. The rain was turning to snow. Sebastian thought the hairs inside his nose were icing over. His face felt numb. “Fire starboard!”
“Fire starboard!”
“Fire starboard!”
Multiple cannons boomed.
Reed never lowered his spyglass. “She’s lowering sails, Captain!”
The Osiris ship continued south. Her sails and rudder showed her plan. She wanted to circumvent the Derecho and launch an attack when her gun-ports faced theirs; and then skirt on by and sail for the west banks.
“Incoming!” Reed said.
The Osiris ship looked like it was exploding as fire exhaled in plumes from multiple gun-ports on its starboard side.
“Drop anchor,” Sebastian shouted.
“Drop anchor,” Helix repeated.
“Spin her starboard. Hard, lieutenant!” Cearl cranked the wheel to the right.
The heavy chain spilled into the sea as the anchor plummeted for the bottom. The fluke snagged. The Derecho pulled taut against the chain. The rudder swiveled in an attempt to quickly change direction.
A cannonball crashed through the top of the hull. Wood splintered, and men screamed. Sebastian saw stakes like swords protrude from flesh. Blood mixed with the pooled water on the main deck.
More screams came from the gun deck. Richard’s men.
The bow dipped downward from the anchor’s restrictions. Sea water washed over the bow and across the deck. Men lost their balance. Some were washed up against the sides of the ship.
Sebastian kept an eye on the tars, making sure no one went overboard. Because a rescue in the heat of a battle, during a storm such as this, might not actually work.
Although the maneuver worked, it hadn’t been carried out quick enough.
“Damage to the Osiris?” Sebastian said.
Reed lowered his spyglass. “Two direct hits, Captain. Looks as if we damaged the lower part of their hull. Maybe the ballast and stores deck. They could be taking on water. They might be running.”
Sebastian wanted them running. Sinking, or running. Just a little more south that was all it would take.
“Take us at them, lieutenant!”
“Aye, Captain!”
“We want to chase them. Now,” Sebastian said. The Osiris’s bow faced south. They had the entire starboard side available to them. “Ready the cannon at the keel!”
“Ready the cannon at the keel!”
The cannon under the bow were not very commonly used. It made simple sense, but was somehow overlooked. It was while journeying to distant lands, far beyond the Old Empire, that they had seen the reconfiguration on another vessel, and then adopted it as their own.
“Cannon ready, Captain!”
The fight sounded thunderous from the north. Cannon reports echoed in the darkness.
“Cannon ready, Captain!”
Sebastian shouted. “Fire!”
Smoke plumed from the bow of the ship.
The sun made an appearance. Rays pierced a thin passing of clouds. It must be an hour or so from midmorning.
The light helped, but the overall darkness was thick, and blanketed the sky.
Reed stood beside Sebastian, his spyglass searching the darkness for signs of impact. “Direct hit, Captain! I believe it struck between gun-ports.”
Damaging the lower half of the hull allowed water into the ship. It brought them closer to sinking the enemy. Hitting the upper half, and there was a better chance for lives lost, bad injuries, and for ruining weapons. The obvious bottom line was that hitting the target was always better than missing it, as the old joke went.
“I see fire,” Sebastian said.
“Aye, Captain,” Reed said. “Inside the hull.”
A knocked over lantern? “Steady, Lieutenant.”
“Steady, Captain.” Cearl looked exhausted. The ship rose and fell hard. Each wave was the lieutenant’s own little battle with steering the vessel. “She’s in my sights.”
“That she is,” Sebastian said. “Ready the cannon at the keel!”
The command was repeated.
The fight worked in their favor. They were chasing the Osiris ship south, and the cannon aim had been true.
Reed shouted, “Incoming!” just as the Captain gave another order to fire!
Both the warning and the command relayed.
“Incoming!”
“Fire!”
“Incoming!”
Lightning lit the sky. The clouds appeared to shake, and bounce across the sky in skittish jerks and twitches between flashes.
The cannonball from Osiris burned through the flying jib, jib, and foresail, before it slammed into the deck. Lanterns shattered. Their oil spilled, and flames spread. Wood shards flew into the air. Sebastian saw many men either writhing on the deck in pain, or dead.
“Put out those flames!” Sebastian’s command was unnecessary. Tars scooped water off the deck with buckets and doused the flames, getting the fire knocked down and under control.
The cannonball had created a splintered hole in the main deck. Below, Richard shouted orders while other men screamed.
“Captain,” Cearl said. He pointed toward the bow. “The Osiris ship is picking up speed!”
Sebastian’s breath caught in his chest. The omen. It was on their side. The Osiris ship did pick up speed. It was getting caught up in the vortex’s current. The plan, thin as it was, couldn’t have worked out better. With the rough weather, it only served as an aid in the take-down.
“Ready the cannon at the keel!” Sebastian commanded. His orders were still echoed, despite the damage and injuries to his ship and crew.
“Incoming!”
Sebastian was getting tired of hearing Reed’s announcements.
“Brace!” Sebastian said.
Two cannonballs struck the Derecho.
The first clipped the fore mast. It sounded like a tree falling in the woods. The mast bent toward the port-side, and cracked more as it toppled, taking the fore topsail and fore sail with it. The weight tipped the ship to port-side. More waves rolled onto the deck. The ship was turning on its own because of the sails in the sea. They worked like the blades of an oar
.
The second cannonball slammed into the front bow, blowing apart wood as easily as a pebble dropping into a brook.
Below, Sebastian saw flames lick at the opening of the hole in the deck. He didn’t want to do it, but ordered Helix to raise the anchor.
The fallen mast dragged in the sea like a second rudder and sent the ship spinning.
“Raise the anchor!” Helix barked out the command.
“Fire!” Sebastian yelled. It might be a wasted shot. The Osiris ship was still in front of them. Cearl had been correct. They picked up speed. It was possible they were already caught, and with the damage to their ship, were unable to maneuver themselves out of the current.
The cannon at the keel of the ship fired.
Reed watched intently.
Sebastian thought they might have been moving faster than expected. He wanted to wait until the last minute before dropping their last sail, the mizzen, and directing their vessel north. He couldn’t wait much longer though. Although the foresail wasn’t useless, the hole through the material hindered their escape. Crippled, they could end up having just as hard a time manipulating the current as the Osiris ship.
“Miss,” Reed said.
“It’s got her, Captain! It’s got her!” Lieutenant Cearl didn’t hide his excitement.
The Osiris bow dipped forward, and left a wake nearly as troubling as the waves rolling on through.
The main mast finally snapped free. The lumber splashed into the sea. Sebastian silently thanked the stars. The extra drag disabled their chances. It made them nearly immobile.
“Sir,” Reed said.
Sebastian pointed Starboard. “The Devil’s Hole,” he said.
Reed’s lips rose in smile under the spyglass. “She looks violent, and hungry!”
The relentless whirlpool was common knowledge to the Voyagers. The downdraft sucked in anything within its opposing currents. Unless a wary captain could skirt it by running near to the coasts, and be careful not to run aground, there was a real danger of being sucked in. Once in the vortex, a ship was doomed, as the currents caught hold and wouldn’t give up their prey.
The Osiris ship was now in the Devil’s grasp.
Severed Empire: Wizard's War Page 27
