Harry Heron: Into the Unknown

by Patrick G Cox

  He handed it to Ferghal, saying to Sub-Lieutenant Trelawney, “With your permission, sir, may we hoist our colours?”

  “Harry, since I haven’t the vaguest idea of how to sail this vessel of yours, I think you had better assume command,” said the sub-lieutenant. “If you wish to hoist your colours, you are free to do so. It will be a proud moment for us all.”

  Harry nodded, considering this new responsibility. “That is generous of you, sir, but I don’t mind acting as the Sailing Master under your command.”

  “You’re right of course,” said Trelawney. “The Commodore would agree. In fact, he’d probably insist I show leadership and authority.” With a grin, he added, “Sailing Master it is, and I am the proud Captain of this ship. Whatever happens now, I’m the man in the firing line if I lose any of you. Has anyone thought of a name for our ship?”

  “If I may suggest something,” said Marcus Grover, listening to the discussion. He had proved himself invaluable in organising and fabricating much of what they had needed, and had become a true friend. “My family used to be seafarers on Earth many generations back, and one of them wrote about a famous ship preserved in a place called Portsmouth—the Victory, if I recall correctly. I suggest you name yours after her.”

  Harry looked surprised, then remembered the history he had explored of his own period—the bit he had missed—and nodded. “Admiral Nelson’s flagship! It would be a good name, sir.” Laughing, he added, “Although our little Victory would be rated a cutter and not a First Rate as the old Victory was.”

  “The Victory is still preserved in Portsmouth,” said the sub-lieutenant, “although she’s been rebuilt a couple of times now. I think that’s an excellent name. Victory it is. Harry, take charge and sail this ship. Ferghal, hoist the colours!”

  The ensign, its great red cross dividing the field of white into four quarters with the upper quadrant filled by the long forgotten flag of the defunct United Kingdom, made an amazing transformation to the cobbled together vessel. Suddenly the little ship looked like she was ready to go to war, something they probably would be doing soon, the sub-lieutenant reflected.

  THE DAY HELD ONE MORE SURPRISE as they prepared for an early departure with the morning tide. There was a gasp from the assembled visitors and a rapid reaching for weapons as two figures emerged from the gathering shadows and stood in full view, their clawed hands clasped to their chests and their heads held low. Sub-Lieutenant Trelawney stepped forward placing himself between the people and the saurians.

  Thinking quickly, he imitated their gesture. “We mean you no harm,” he said. “What is it you want?”

  One of the creatures straightened and advanced slightly. With a shock, Trelawney realised it was the same creature he had left in the facility under the mountain. Its arm looked shorter and deformed, but it was no longer covered in wounds.

  Gesturing with its good arm, it hissed something slowly and carefully.

  Trelawney hesitated. His auditory comprehension was excellent, and it seemed that the creature had attempted to say something in English, but he wasn’t quite sure. “I am sorry. I don’t understand you,” Trelawney replied.

  The creature repeated the gesture that indicated the little ship, and hissed, “We go wissss you.”

  “You want to come with us?” Trelawney’s surprise filled his voice.

  “Yesssss.” the creature made another gesture. “Impossssible sssstayy. You helllp usssss, now help you wisss ssship, wisss you and wisss him.” This time the gesture took in the sub-lieutenant and Harry. “Isss massser of honour.”

  “Wait a minute please.” Sub-Lieutenant Trelawney looked at his small group of midshipmen and did a rapid calculation. From the way in which the townspeople had stepped back as the saurian had approached, he suspected they might have a reason to be wary of these creatures. But he also had a duty to protect everyone who asked for his help—and that included the saurians. He called over his shoulder. “Harry? I don’t know whether you need help to sail this ship or whether they could actually help us. You seem to have been included in their interest. What do you think?”

  Harry considered this. “A few extra hands won’t go amiss, especially if we have a bit of a blow at sea and have to take in some of the sail, sir. Is it just these two?”

  “I don’t know,” replied the sub-lieutenant. “Let’s see.” Facing the creature again, he asked slowly and clearly, “How many of you?”

  The creature made a gesture behind him, and suddenly ten of them were in sight.

  All the creatures seemed to have injuries, and some had visible signs of damage to their bodies. Trelawney gave the group a long and thoughtful look, gauging the threat they posed, if any.

  He made his decision. “Very well.” He nodded. “We will make a place for you.” To Harry, he said, “Have we enough water, do you think, and food?”

  The creature made a gesture that could have been gratitude, and hissed something to the others, who vanished for a few moments then returned carrying bundles. “Weee bring ffooood,” hissed the leader, indicating himself and the others. “Help ssssssave you.”

  “Well,” said Trelawney to no one in particular, “I guess that answers the question.”

  Suddenly the containers they’d fitted out for their supplies and accommodation seemed crowded and inadequate. Harry recast his calculations and approached the sub-lieutenant.

  “Sir, by my best estimate, it will take two weeks to cover the distance—if the wind is favourable. We should take on additional supplies for ourselves and whatever our new companions consume.”

  Up close, the saurian hominids proved to be quite lizard-like, their heads slightly flattened and tapered to a sharp snout with a large mouth and wide-set eyes with vertical pupils while their ears were small ridges near the base of their skulls. Their bodies were covered in iridescent scales over a leathery skin that seemed to be uniquely patterned, and although largely a silver grey colour, it changed to blend with their surroundings. They wore no form of clothing at all. All of them were marked by scars and wounds.

  Trelawney nodded. “I’ll have a word with them. Two weeks, you say?”

  Hearing this, Grover interjected. “The foil craft could cover the distance in a day or less.”

  “Indeed, sir,” said Harry, acknowledging Grover and Trelawney. “Those craft travelled at above fifty knots on a direct line to the city. With a beam wind or a quartering wind, we might make seven.” He smiled. “Less if the wind is light, or worse, foul for our course. Nor will we be able to steer directly to our destination.”

  “I’ll talk to them.” The sub-lieutenant looked thoughtful. “Two weeks?” he said again. He shook his head. “How long did it take you to go from England to Australia then?”

  “A little under six months, sir—and that was considered a fast passage.” Smiling at the memory, Harry added, “I shall hope we do not encounter the same conditions we experienced in the Great Southern Ocean.”

  “Six months?” Trelawney’s surprise was obvious. “But it’s only six hours in the hypersonic shuttle!” Realising there was a much longer and perhaps more interesting story behind the remark concerning the Southern Ocean, Trelawney put it aside and went to talk to the leading saurian, still shaking his head at the time needed to cover what seemed a trifling distance from Europe to Australia.

  Even with their injuries, the saurian proved to be incredibly lithe and very strong. They behaved with a quiet dignity and discipline, very quickly reorganising the accommodation and loading the additional supplies. The spokesman, who was clearly their leader, interpreted the sub-lieutenant’s orders to the others. Their diet, Harry and the others were somewhat relieved to note, was a mix of meat and vegetables, carefully prepared and served.

  It became apparent that these were not some primitive people or animals, but a society with a highly developed social order. Turning in for the night, Sub-Lieutenant Trelawney felt ashamed that human beings had obviously
treated them as if they had no civilised rights at all.

  The night was spent in uneasy watches as the two groups adjusted to each other, during which Trelawney learned that the saurian leader knew what had been done to Harry and Ferghal in the Johnstone lab, and something of how Harry was linked to their escape. They regarded Harry as special, and wanted to remain with him—and the party he was with—for reasons Trelawney could not determine.

  That they regarded his men as having rendered some service to their people seemed to play a large part in their behaviour toward him. The leader made it clear that this was a debt of honour. The language barrier made any discussion of this tricky, so he left it unresolved. Dawn found the little ship as ready as she could be for what was to become a legendary voyage.

  “MR TRELAWNEY, WE THINK YOU ARE COMPLETELY MAD to attempt this, especially with the snakeheads. No one knows anything about them.” Marcus Grover gestured toward the strange saurian figures. “They give us the creeps, always moving silently and appearing suddenly, and they can stand absolutely still for hours. Most of the time, you can’t see them until you’re nearly on top of them. And this trip of yours—you do know about the pleurodons, right? Those brutes attack everything they meet, and they have been known to board bigger craft than this. Most of our original sea-going craft were fast enough to outrun the damned things, but I think you’re going to be fair game.”

  “Thanks for the advice, Marcus,” replied the sub-lieutenant. “I know this sounds crazy, but we’ll be, I think.” After a pause, he asked, “How much actual contact have you had with these saurians?”

  “Not a lot,” said the townsman. “The guards used to talk about them. Every now and then one would escape—they’re quite strong, as you’ll discover—and the guards used to think it was good sport to hunt them because they were so good at hiding. The guards always got them in the end. Heat sights and goggles gave them the advantage.”

  “I see,” said Trelawney, the he changed the subject. “I believe we will have to take this pleurodon as it comes. We are at least aware of the thing, which I understand is more than the first settlers were. We do have a bit of protection. We’ll be rigging some heavy netting outboard to hamper anything from getting inboard. Harry and his friends call them boarding nets for some reason, and we’ve rigged up some of the strongest we could find. It may not stop the pleurodon, but hopefully it’ll slow down the beast long enough for us to kill it or injure it.”

  “If you do encounter one, make sure you kill it outright.” Grover produced a heavy weapon from a bag. “You had better take this with you. We got it at the compound this morning, but make sure you get a good shot. Pain makes those brutes fighting mad. They go into frenzy, and their blood attracts more of them, so kill it and make sure it stays and you move.” Grover offered his hand. “Best of luck, Trelawney. You’re going to need it.”

  Chapter 30

  Uncharted Waters

  THE LIGHT BREEZE SUITED HARRY PERFECTLY. “Hoist the jib, please.” He watched the sail rise up the forestay. “Now sheet it home to windward. Paddy, Hans, cast off forward, but hold the springs.” To Danny he said, “Cast off the stern lines, Danny.”

  Waiting until the lines had been released and recovered, he ordered, “Let go the forward spring.” With just the after spring, the bow swung clear of the jetty.

  “Let go the spring. Let go and haul on the jib, and set the mainsail.” Harry’s orders were quick and precise as he tested the wheel and felt the rudder bite with the increasing momentum of the ship. He watched as Ferghal directed a group of saurians as they hauled up the great gaff mainsail and adjusted the topping lift and the mainsheets to get it drawing properly.

  “She responds well,” Ferghal remarked, eyeing the set of the sails. “Shall I set the topsails and flying jib, Master Harry?”

  “Aye, do so.” Harry tested the wheel again. Unlike any he’d previously encountered, it used gearing and solid connecting rods to act directly on the yoke at the rudder head. “She carries a trifle of weather helm at present.” Turning to the sub-lieutenant, he said, “Would you be so good as the take the helm, sir? I must check our leeway and some of the sail handling when the cross jack topsail is set.”

  “Er, very well.” Sub-Lieutenant Trelawney looked dubious. He’d been watching Harry, and soon realised that sailing a ship was not as straightforward as it looked. The nearest headland was well to windward, the lee shore distant. Ahead stretched open water. “What should I aim for?”

  Harry paused. He’d not considered that someone might never have steered a vessel under sail. “She’ll turn toward the wind, sir—keep her on the present course. If you watch the luff of the mainsail, it helps. If you see the wind push against it from the other side, turn her head to port—to the left.”

  “Right—I mean, I think I’ve got the idea.” The sub-lieutenant grinned. “I can see some training needs here.” He tested the steering, surprised by how quickly the vessel responded. “I think I have the feel for it now.”

  Walking to the weather side, Harry looked at the water for any indication that would help him estimate their leeway. Then he walked forward. “Set the cross jack, if you please, Ferghal.”

  Paddy Murphy ducked as spray flew over the weather bow and showered them. Before he could speak, Harry hurried aft. “Steer small, sir. She’s hauling up to weather.” He waited until the sub-lieutenant eased the helm, turning them to leeward, and signalled to hold steady on that course.

  Ferghal raced up the rigging followed by three of the saurians. They worked their way out along the uppermost yard as Harry led the others to the braces.

  “Ease the weather braces there please, Paddy. But not too rapidly, else we could throw Ferghal from the yard. No, Hans, we must haul the lee braces as Paddy eases so that the yard is trimmed to catch the wind and not back on us, as it is trying to do now.”

  “Together then,” called Paddy, joined by several of the saurians. More joined Harry, and he was able to have the yards braced round sharply by the time Ferghal and his companions sheeted home the big square sail.

  Spray soon showered them as the little vessel thrust her bow into the slight swell under the increased pressure. She cleared the shelter of the bay and, with her great ensign streaming from her gaff peak, shouldered her way into the short swell. Harry hurried aft again as the sub-lieutenant seemed to be having some difficulty holding the ship on course.

  “Shall I relieve you, sir,” Harry said politely.

  “That may be best,” Trelawney said ruefully. “I don’t think I’ve quite got the hang of it yet.”

  “THE DRONE WE SENT INTO HYPERSPACE has detected ships approaching the expected drop-out point from transit for this system, sir.”

  “Thank you. Ours or theirs?” the Commodore asked.

  “Theirs I’d say.” Captain Grenville indicated the images relayed by the drone. The outlines were vague and shifting, making it difficult to read them.

  “I agree. How much detail did we get from the drone?”

  “Not clear, sir. Eight ships at least, possibly four starship types. Difficult to be certain because of the passive signatures, sir.”

  “It’ll do for the moment. Is the drone trailing them?”

  “Yes, sir, indirectly as you instructed.”

  HOLDING THE SMALL VICTORY ON A COURSE that would give them plenty of sea room, Harry noted with pride that the little vessel held her heading well. The additional sails had balanced the tendency to turn into the wind, just as he’d hoped. Unusually, for a vessel of this type, she had a long keel. When Harry mentioned this to the former harbour master, he explained that this feature had been added to facilitate towing.

  Now, she handled very well, thanks to his having ballasted her down slightly by the stern, with only a small tendency to work her way to windward. She’d settled into a comfortable motion—comfortable, that is, for Harry, Ferghal and Danny—but less so for their companions, who discovered the misery of se
asickness. The saurians seemed unaffected by this, so Harry had them spread and drape the boarding nets, a precaution he considered would at least slow any creature attempting to board the ship.

  “Cast the log, please, Danny.” Harry watched as the boy lowered the spinner into the water and paid out the first part of the line. “On my mark then—release!” Counting carefully, Harry estimated the minute. “Stop!”

  Danny pinched the line. “I counts eight, sir.”

  Harry nodded. “Thank you. Recover the log line, Danny. Stow it carefully, please.” He consulted his note pad, quickly calculating the total and the average. Returning to the helm, he smiled. “I’m not certain, of course, but we are doing better than I anticipated. Our average is just less than eight knots with this wind. I anticipated less.”

  Ferghal smiled, adjusting the helm as the ship heaved over a larger swell. “Aye, Master Harry, she does well for a jury rigged barge. Better than some o’ the transports we escorted, I think.”

  Frowning at the memory, Harry nodded. “She does, but she is a proper ship. Only the rig is our creation.” His frown deepened. “Our saurian friends stand lookout well, and are nimble enough aloft, I see. I wonder—can they steer? You and I cannot stand watch and also watch on the helm for a fortnight.”

  Ferghal nodded. “Aye. Best ask their leader.” He eased the helm again, bringing the vessel back on course as a swell passed beneath them. “They do not suffer the seasickness like our colleagues, and I have the feeling they know more of the sea than we think.”