“Yes, Sir!” Koren responded. He filled the water bucket and brought it up on deck, before scrambling up the ladder. This time, his shaky arms and trembling fingers made for a slower climb; he had no wish to slip and fall to the water. Or to the deck, for that would be the death of him. He paused at the second spar to rest his cramping fingers, and looked down. He was shocked to see how slowly the ship was moving through the water, despite the tremendous effort of the entire crew. The sweeps swung forward, dipped into the water, then were laboriously pulled back; the clumsy oars flexing and wobbling through the water as they attempted to propel the ship onward. As soon as the sweeps lifted, the pitifully weak wake disappeared, and the ship slid almost to a halt. All of the work the crew had done, over several hours, had given the ship almost no momentum. The ship was too big, too heavy. Its hull, built for stability in the often-heavy weather of the Southern Ocean and for hauling cargo, was too broad to slip easily through the water.
Mindful that when the captain of a ship gave an order, he expected it to be obeyed immediately, Koren resumed his climb. Sooner than he expected, he swung himself into the crow’s nest. The Captain merely grunted. Koren didn’t need a spyglass to see the other ships. Nor to see the large black pennant hanging from the upper spar of the closest ship. Pirates. They were pirates, and in these waters, that meant they served Acedor.
“They’re so close!” Koren gasped. The first ship had come so far down from the horizon that he could see details of the structure with his naked eye. He even, if he squinted and looked slightly to the side as Alfonze had taught, imagined her could see the tiny dark shapes of pirates striding about the deck.
“They are,” the Captain said quietly. “If nothing changes, I expect that ship will catch us just after nightfall.”
“Could we lighten ship by dumping part of our cargo?” Koren cringed as the words came out of his mouth. The Captain had not ordered him to the crow’s nest to get Koren’s suggestions. Surely the man had already forgotten more about seamanship that Koren would ever know.
“If we had done that as soon as we sighted them, that might have helped to buy us a few hours, perhaps. Although if we lost the cargo, I would lose the ship.” He looked at Koren. “To get this cargo, I had to guarantee delivery. Without delivery, I lose the ship, and they’re no money to pay the crew. We won’t dump the cargo, not while there is still a chance to get away.”
Koren looked to the pirate ship, then down at the pitifully slow progress their own ship was making, then back to the Captain.
“Fear not, young Kedrun,” the Captain managed a hoarse laugh. “Look yonder to the west.”
Koren turned, and noticed for the first time that the cloud that had been building all day, was now a solid bank of clouds stretched across the sky. Tall enough that the sun would soon duck behind the cloud tops. Then he looked down, and saw what gave the Captain hope. The surface of the sea between the clouds and their ship was rough; more than ripples, these were waves. Koren sucked in a breath. “Squall’s coming,” he exclaimed.
“Aye,” the Captain chuckled. “I’ve been up here watching and praying. Maybe being up this high, my prayers got heard. We’re in for a blow, and the wind will hit us before it hits those pirates,” he pointed toward the two pirate ships.
“But,” Koren was confused, “the wind is from the west, and will push us to east. Toward the pirates.”
“You’re catching on, Kedrun. Those ships are also faster, and they can hold closer to the wind than we can. When the wind arrives, we will run to the north, as close to the wind as can. When the wind reaches the pirates, we’ll turn east. With our square-rigged sails, we can run before the wind better than they can.”
Koren nodded agreement; Alfonze had taught him that much about ship-handling. He also knew that their ship’s taller masts would better catch the wind if the seas grew rough; the smaller pirate ships’ sails would fall into a wind shadow while in the trough of large waves. “We could-” he felt it on his face, and saw the blue pennant at the very top of the mast flutter. A breeze! The crew below felt it also, for a hearty cheer rose from the deck.
The Captain winked. “It’s not much, the real wind won’t reach us for a while yet.” He leaned over the railing to shout down to the first mate. “Mister Scanton! Stow the sweeps and set all plain sail, if you please!”
The reply came joyfully. “Oh, yes, Sir, it would please me greatly.”
The crew set all the sails the ship used in normal cruising, with Koren helping on the main mast. Then, with the ship ghosting along on the lightest zephyr of a breeze and the crew collectively wishing for stronger wind, the captain ordered more canvas to be added. Back up into the rigging the crew climbed, this time to rig additional spars to the ends of the yardarms, so that spars stuck out to each side of both masts. Attached to the extra spars were sails Koren had heard of, but never seen taken out of storage. Alfonze called them studding sails, or stun’sls. Looking up, Koren had never imagined the ship carrying so much canvas, but the additional sails billowed and filled with the light breeze, adding to the ship’s speed. That still was not enough for the captain; after talking with the first mate, he ordered the pumps manned, and soon seawater was being sprayed onto the sails. A wet sail was heavier, but it held the breeze better. Koren had thought that spraying water onto the sails would be the last of their labors, but he was wrong. Under the direction of the first mate, the crew went into the hold to shift cargo; the Captain wanted more weight aft to give the ship just that tiny extra bit of speed.
Exhausted from their labor, the crew greedily drank water and stood by the windward rail, peering at the still-becalmed pirate ships and guessing at their own ship’s rate of progress. Looking down over the railing, Koren was disappointed to see the water only slowly gliding along the side of the hull. To his surprise, Jofer clapped him on the shoulder. “Ah, don’t you worry, young Kedrun. We’re only poking along yet, but the breeze is picking up, and those pirates are still rowing their hearts out to catch us. It won’t be long before Mister Scanton orders us back up, climbing in the rigging like monkeys, to take down those stuns’ls.” Jofer looked up to the enormous spread of canvas above their heads, then he pointed to the west, where the base of the approaching clouds were shrouded in rain falling on the sea surface. “We can’t have every scrap of canvas aloft when that wind hits us; it would knock the ship on her side.”
Sure enough, Jofer was right, for it was not more than ten minutes before the Captain ordered sails reduced, and the already weary crew hauled down the studding sails and removed the extra spars. While wrestling with the canvas that had grown lively as the wind picked up and became gusty, Koren glanced at the two pirate ships. The closest one was now setting its sails as the breeze reached it; with his keen eyesight, Koren could see the enemy sailors scrambling about in their rigging.
Then the squall hit his ship, and Koren was too busy adjusting sails to pay constant attention to the pirate ships. He only was able to catch glances at the enemy ships in between going aloft. Once the closest pirate ship filled its sails with wind, it steadily if slowly closed the distance to Koren’s ship. But when the squall hit, Koren’s ship turned and fairly flew before the wind. The pirate ships, with sails set to each side, were not able to use the wind as efficiently, and began to fall behind. Then the wind truly began to howl, and all three ships had to reduce sail. High in the rigging, with wind-driven rain stinging his skin and forcing him to almost close his eyes, Koren felt the ship plunging up and down across the waves. Rain fell like a heavy curtain, and he lost sight of the pirate ships. The last he saw of them, they had both reduced sail and had turned to avoid being blown over by the shrieking wind. One pirate ship turned north and one south, and then they were lost in the rain and spray.
The initial heavy squall quickly gave way to a steady storm with driving rain and gusty winds. Koren’s ship staggered under the unpredictable winds; he and the rest of the crew were constantly up to the rigging to adjust sail
s. The Captain was determined to squeeze every bit of speed from his ship while they had the wind. As night fell, they could only see the pirate ship to the north; it had fallen behind, and could not run as easily with the wind. Once the sun set and the night was utter blackness, the Captain changed course to the east-southeast, hoping to lose the pirates during the night.
Around midnight, the storm settled down to a steady wind out of the west, and stars shone through gaps in the clouds. Koren climbed the rigging again to furl the topmost sails; the Captain did not want that tall white canvas visible to the pursuing pirates. After midnight, the ship ran easily before the wind, with the crew being called up only three times to adjust sails. They had to turn and run due north to avoid a reef the Captain saw on his charts, and the crew worried that going north might mean sailing closer to the pirates. Some of the crew said aloud they hoped the pirates did not know about the reef, and that the pirate ship would wreck in those treacherous waters during the night. The rest of the crew was silently hoping the same, Koren among them. Koen slept fitfully in his swinging hammock that night, wedged in with so many others. He did not bother to change out of his wet clothes to sleep, for he knew it would not be long before the crew would be called up on deck to trim sails. As badly as Koren felt from being roused form slumber several times, he felt worse for the Captain and first mate. Every time Koren’s sleep-addled head came up the ladder, he saw those two men, standing aft by the wheel, keeping constant watch throughout the night. There was no sleep for them that night.
CHAPTER SIX
The coming sun was not yet even a faint glimmer on the eastern horizon when Koren was roused yet again, this time ordered to go aloft into the crow’s nest and keep lookout. The first mate handed Koren a hard biscuit to eat, before helping the inexperienced sailor get a firm grip on the rigging. “If you see anything, give us a shout,” Scanton instructed, “but no false alarms.” He did not want the ship dodging ghosts in the darkness, when dodging a ghost might draw them closer to a danger that was real.
“Aye, Sir,” Koren replied. When he reached the crow’s nest, at first all he could do was huddle out of the wind behind the canvas screen, and shake with fear. The last thirty feet of is climb, Koren had been almost paralyzed by fear twice, clutching the ropes tightly and closing his eyes. He had been forced to open his eyes, for the ship was bobbing front to back and rocking side to side, and the motion so high above the waves had Koren swinging wildly back and forth.
When he gathered his wits, he knelt and stuck his head up above the railing. There was as yet nothing to see, other than glimpses of faint starlight above as clouds scudded above his head. It had started raining again; a light rain but the drops were driven by the wind and stung his eyes. Knowing it was very likely useless, Koren pulled the spyglass from inside his jacket, and slowly scanned the horizon. There was nothing to see, nothing at all more than a hundred steps from the ship, so black was the early morning. Even the white foam of wavetops curling by the speeding ship were hard to see from the top of the mast. Koren sat back down, braced himself from the gyrating mast, and slowly ate the hard biscuit. Hopefully, he could come down to the deck when the cook had breakfast ready. After a day and night of hard labor, the cook might have a good, hot breakfast for the crew, with biscuits that were not tough as iron. Breaking the biscuit with his teeth, and then holding the bits in his hand to be soaked by the rain was the only way he could manage to chew the wretched thing.
When he finished the biscuit, his jaw was sore, but there was the barest glow of light to the east. Clouds lay heavily on the eastern horizon, blanking out direct light of the coming sun, all Koren could see was a very faint dark gray in the surrounding inky blackness. The rain had decreased to a light drizzle, and a few stars were visible overhead as the solid cloud cover began to break up. Where there were brief gaps in the clouds above, the sky was tinged with blue, and only the brightest of stars could be seen. He swept the horizon again, first with the naked eye, then with the spyglass. Rain droplets on the glass made it hard to see anything; he kept having to wipe the glass with a dry cloth, then tuck the cloth back inside his jacket. Nothing, again. This time, he could see whitecaps on large gray rolling waves, up to perhaps a mile from the ship. From the deck below, he heard a bell signaling the change of watch, and saw the cook bring a hot pot of coffee and something to eat to the Captain and the crewmen by the wheel. Seeing the covered dishes made Koren hungry, and he imagined he could smell bacon sizzling. If he was right, that scent would wake the crew more surely than any bell or shouting by the first mate.
His stomach growled, whether more from hunger or from the heavy biscuit he could not tell, but he was hungry. And sore; his muscles ached from the hard labor of the previous day. Even at the top of the tallest mast, he could hear men grumbling as they struggled to make sore, stubborn muscles work after a night of much-interrupted sleep. Guiltily, he realized he had been focused more on breakfast than on keeping watch. The entire crew depending on him to watch for pirate ships, uncharted reefs and rocks and any other hazard that they, down below on the deck with their sight obscured by salt spray blowing off the wavetops, could not see. It was still too dark to see much, still, he swept the horizon again. Once with his keen eyes, again with the spyglass. There was nothing- Wait!
He swung the glass back to the west, where he thought he had glimpsed something during a brief rent in the low clouds that scudded barely above the masts. A particularly large whitecap, from a high cresting wave? Looking down at the deck, he was unsure what to do. Should he call a warning? No, the first mate had cautioned him against false alarms. He needed to be certain, not to waste the Captain’s time and possibly have the ship alter course in the wrong direction.
Hunger forgotten for the moment, he braced himself in the cramped crow’s nest, and swept the glass slowly back and forth across the spot where he had seen, whatever he had seen. If he had seen anything. He was now not sure. The sky above was becoming light, the sea now a dark gray rather than black. Quickly, he dried the spray-spattered glass with a dry cloth, scanned the horizon to the north, then dried the glass again. Had he seen only a reflection in raindrops on the glass? Yes, he decided, that must be it. Clouds to the north were rent by wind, with gaps now becoming regular, and still he did not see anything. They had given the pirates the slip during the night! And he had overheard the Captain taking with the first mate when he first came on deck; running from the pirates had only added a day, maybe less, to their voyage. They would need to come about, and tack back and forth most of the day, to clear the long and dangerous reef system that lay to the east of the ship. Otherwise, they were still well within the time the captain had contracted to deliver the cargo; no penalties would need to be paid. The crew would be pleased, both to have escaped the scourge of piracy, and to fill their pockets with coins when they reached port at Istandol.
Koren was well pleased with himself also, anticipat- What was that? He swung the glass back. There was something out there, now hidden again behind low-laying clouds! What he had seen was not merely a breaking wave, it was a white patch of sail. And there it was again.
The pirate ship.
“Sail to port!” Koren shouted down to the deck, pointing to the west. In his excitement, he had forgotten how to properly report a sighting. It did not matter, for the Captain and others trained their spyglasses to the west, and after a tense few minute of no one seeing anything, and the first mate repeatedly calling Koren to verify what he’d seen from atop the mast, others spotted the pirate ship. The clouds were parting, as the sun rose above the horizon and the air warmed; a shaft of sunlight falling on Koren’s face felt hot already.
Not a few of the crew on deck shook their fists up at Koren and cursed him for having delivered the bad news; it was a superstition that he well understood. The first mate gestured for Koren to come down on deck to report; as Koren climbed down, another sailor was slowly making his way up the rigging without enthusiasm.
Knowing ti
me was pressing, Koren swung off the shrouds and onto a line that dropped directly to the deck. Squeezing his tough canvas shoes together and sliding hand over hand, he descended rapidly to the deck, and strode quickly over to the first mate. “Mister Scanton, sir, I saw only the one ship. I estimate the distance at seven miles.”
“Aye, lad. That makes my numbers.” The first mate looked to the sails, which were already slackening as the wind eased. “We’ll have a long day of it, I think.”
Somehow, during the utter blackness of night, in a storm, the pirate had stayed with them. That was either incredibly good luck for the pirates, or something sinister was at work. “Sir, how could this happen? How did they know where we are, all night?”
Scanton looked again at the pirate ship through his own spyglass. “It could be partly luck, Kedrun,” he said in the same tone of voice he used when lecturing inexperienced sailors on the finer points of seamanship. “And partly that they know we can’t go further east because of the reefs and shoals between us and the mainland in these parts. If they sent one ship north and one south, they had at least some chance of us being in view when morning arrived. As to how they came to be so close,” he frowned. From the deck, the pirate ship was partly over the horizon, its hull not being visible. From the crow’s nest, high above, Koren had been able to see the pirate’s hull, and estimate the distance. “The enemy has been known to use wizardry to help their pirates find prey. If there’s a minor wizard on that ship, or they have some device of dark magic, we’ll never be able to give them the slip. We’ll have to outrun them.”
“Mister Scanton!” The Captain called out. “Make more sail, if you please.”
No longer needed as a lookout high above, for the pirate ship was now plainly visible from the deck, Koren joined the crew in taking a reef out of the sails, and later in climbing to the tops again to set the topgallant sails; that uppermost rank of square sails. Those white squares of canvas made the ships visible from long distances, and so they had been ordered stowed overnight while the ship attempted to evade the pirates. Now that escape rather than evasion was the goal, they needed the extra canvas, with the wind slacking. “Alfonze,” Koren said after securing a line to the spar, “what will happen if they capture us?” He hung onto the spar, and dug his heels into the line below them. With seven men stepping on the line, it swayed alarmingly. Other sailors were nonchalantly holding onto the spar only a finger, but Koren maintained a firm grip with both arms.
Transcendent (Ascendant Book 2) Page 9
