Mitchell Graham - [Fifth Ring 03] - The Ancient Legacy(V1.0)

by Mitchell Graham

  "Oh, God," came Bowling's voice from the stern. "Oh, God." The sound came from belowdecks.

  Mathew dashed for the companionway and the others followed. They located Bowling, slumped against the bulkhead near the entrance to the stern hold, his face the color of chalk.

  "Dead," Bowling whispered. "They're all dead, Mr. Lane."

  Mathew pushed past him and stared into the hold. The bodies of his crewmates were everywhere, stacked on top of one another. Their throats had been cut. Unseeing eyes stared back at him in silent accusation. It was the most horrible thing he had ever seen. At first his mind refused to accept it. A moment later his stomach revolted and he threw up. Brown, Caukins, and Maddox were equally stunned.

  Mathew forced himself to drag a deep breath into his lungs and staggered to the side of the passageway. He had to think.

  "Check the rest of the ship," he told Brown and Caukins. "Do it quickly and quietly. I want no noise. Mad­dox, take Bowling and start working on the anchor cable. Send word to me as soon as it's ready to go."

  "What about the men, Mr. Lane?" asked Maddox. "We can't just leave 'em here like that."

  "We don't have time to bury our friends now."

  "But—"

  "Listen to me, Maddox: I can't help those men, but I can help our crewmates who are still alive on the Meat-land. They and the king are our first concern. Delain will be here soon, and he's sailing straight into a trap. I don't intend to let that happen."

  "All right, lads," said Brown. "You heard what Mr. Lane said. Let's jump to it."

  Mathew's hands were shaking. Whether it was from anger or shock, he didn't know. He squared his shoulders and forced his legs to start moving toward the companion-way. The rest of the men dispersed to carry out his orders as he stood alone at the bottom of the stairs, still trying to compose himself.

  He knew that the survival of his men depended on his keeping a clear head. Equally important was their confi­dence in him. It had to remain unshaken. He was sick to his stomach, but if he had to convey the impression of be­ing calm, then by God he would. Slowly, methodically, he started up the steps.

  Back on the deck, Caukins hurried toward him. "We found four alive in the forward hold, Mr. Lane. They ain't hurt."

  "Thank God. Who do we have?" "Mr. Pruett, Mr. Warrenton, Grady, and Harkins, sir." Glyndon Pruett and the others looked haggard but ap­peared unharmed. It felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

  "They fell on us last night, Thad," Pruett explained. "I was supervising off-loading the one of the cannons when they came over the side. There was nothing I could do. They killed Stinson right in front of me. The rest of us were rounded up and locked in the forward hold. We heard the screams coming from the stern. We—"

  "All right, all right," Mathew said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Are the rest of you men in one piece?"

  "Yes, sir ... I mean, aye, sir," Warrenton stammered, white-faced.

  Grady and Harkins both nodded.

  A dull thud from the stern turned everyone's head at the same time.

  "That's Bowling," Mathew told them. "We're going to slip the cable and make a run for it. Mr. Grady, how long will it take us to get the ship underway?"

  "Caukins said everyone on the crew's been murdered. Is that true, Mr. Lane?"

  Mathew took a breath. "It's true. Listen men, I know how you all feel, and I feel the same way, but right now we need to move. We have very little time. The second they know we're missing, they'll fall on us from all sides, so we cannot waste another second. I ask again, how long will it take us to get the ship ready to sail?"

  Grady stared at Mathew and slowly shook his head. "We can't."

  "What do you mean, we can't?"

  "They cut our rudder, Mr. Lane. We tried to stop 'em. That's how I got this knot on my head."

  That news only momentarily surprised Mathew. Of course the Vargothans had cut the rudder. He and Fikes had thought of it—why shouldn't they? What better way to en­sure that the Daedalus wouldn't make a dash for the open sea? He could have kicked himself for his own stupidity.

  "All right, we'll have to splice it," he told Grady.

  "In the dark, sir? I don't see how we can."

  Mathew grabbed him by the front of his shirt and yanked him closer. "Unless you feel like hanging from a cross or having your throat cut like the rest of your crew-mates, you'll find a way to get it done. Jury-rig the damn thing or weave a new cable if you have to, but I want that rudder fixed within the hour."

  "Aye, sir," Grady said. "I'll need some help."

  "Take whoever you have to," Mathew said. He turned him by the shoulders and gave him a push. Next he ad­dressed Pruett.

  "Glyndon, gather the rest of the men and see that we're ready to move the moment that cable is repaired. Mr. Harkins, I require your assistance."

  Pruett nodded, tight-lipped, and started off toward the stern. Mathew and Harkins went the opposite way. He spared another glance at the horizon as they walked down the deck. If an hour remained before daylight, it would be a miracle. He prayed the fog would hold until then. For the next fifty minutes he and Harkins moved along the deck working feverishly, loading each of Daedalus's remaining twenty guns.

  The false predawn light gave way to a red glow on the horizon that gradually turned into morning as Glyndon Pruett trotted toward him. Mathew was already sweating profusely.

  "Bowling says the anchor cable is ready to go." "How's Grady doing?"

  "Better now that he and Warrenton can see a bit. An­other five or ten minutes and we should have it."

  Mathew was about to reply when he heard a horn blow­ing across the water from the direction of the Revenge. A minute later there was an answering trumpet from the Maitland and another from where the sloop was anchored. He could just make out the shape of the nearest ships. Maddeningly, the fog was beginning to burn off, just as Caukins predicted it would.

  "Damn," Mathew said under his breath. "Well, I imag­ine they know we're gone."

  The rapid rat-tat-tat of a drum and of men shouting on the Maitland drifted across the water. It was followed by the recognizable sound of the ship's anchor being hoisted.

  "Tell Mr. Grady I would appreciate his haste," said Mathew.

  Pruett nodded once and sprinted toward the stern.

  The next five minutes were the longest of Mathew's life. While he waited, the land breeze continued to freshen, all but blowing the fog out of the bay as the sun climbed higher in the sky. Across the water he could see that the sloop was already moving; so was the Revenge. He stood there transfixed, watching the enemy ships draw nearer.

  "Rudder's repaired, sir." Brown's cry made him jump. Apparently, the coxswain had concluded there was no longer any need for secrecy.

  "Get the men on board and cut the cable!" Mathew shouted. "Top gallants and royals. Caukins, put the wheel over and bring her into the wind."

  "Hard over it is, sir," Caukins answered, repeating Mathew's last order.

  "Mr. Pruett, would you be kind enough to take a slow match and stand ready at the bow chaser, please? You are not to fire except on my command." "Aye, sir."

  Slowly, inexorably, the Daedalus began to turn as the wind filled her sails. Mathew hurried along the deck to help Brown and Caukins secure the main brace. Grady and Warrenton scrambled over the side and waved to him. On the opposite side of the deck Pruett and Bowling quickly descended down the lines at a frightening speed, having just loosed the mainsail. With as few men as they had, it would be all they could do to get the ship to maneuver.

  A loud boom and a puff of smoke came from the bow of the Revenge, and a hole appeared in the Daedalus mainsail.

  "It appears our friends are fast learners," Pruett said, coming to join him.

  Two-more booms followed and a cannonball streaked overhead, causing them both to duck.

  "So it appears," Mathew said.

  "The sloop's making for the harbor entrance," Pruett said.

  "Man the long nine at th
e stern, Glyndon. We'll be in position in another minute. You'll only have time for one or two shots. Make them count."

  Everything about the situation urged him to race down the deck, but he forced himself to walk. Grady was al­ready waiting at the bow chaser.

  Mathew watched the progress of the Daedalus for a moment then turned back and yelled, "Let her fall off an­other point, Mr. Caukins."

  "One point it is, Mr. Lane."

  "Are we sighted in, Mr. Grady?"

  "Aye, sir."

  "On the up roll then ... ready, steady, fire!"

  The bow chaser roared out and Mathew felt the deck move under his feet. He watched intently as the ball struck home on the Revenge's forward quarter. On the starboard side four shots fired by the Maitland flew overhead and well wide of the ship.

  "They needs a bit more practice, I'd say," observed Grady.

  "Yes," Mathew replied. "It seems that I forgot to teach them about adjusting the aim when the deck is moving—"

  A loud bang from the Daedalus's stern gun stopped him in mid-sentence. He saw the shot strike Maitland's waterline. A cheer went up from the men on his ship.

  "That's holed her for sure, Mr. Pruett!" Bowling yelled out.

  Seconds later he and Pruett were dead as three shots fired by the Revenge struck the quarterdeck in rapid suc­cession. Blood and bone were everywhere.

  Mathew pulled his attention away and yelled to Caukins, "Hard over. Keep her coming around."

  The Daedalus continued to swing, presenting its broad­side to the Revenge. Two more cannonballs streaked over­head; one punctured another hole in the mainsail, the other fell short of the bow. Mathew and Grady moved along the starboard rail, sighting and firing each of their guns.

  "There goes her foremast!" Warrenton screamed. "And the top gallant mast," Caukins added, grabbing Mathew's arm.

  Mathew turned in time to see the mast on the Revenge slowly topple like a felled tree. He grabbed his farsighter and trained it on the enemy ship. Men were running back and forth on her decks carrying axes, trying to clear away the wreckage.

  He rapidly calculated the distance between the ships, knew it would be close, but estimated they had sufficient headway to cross the Revenge's bow and head out to sea. The Daedalus was the lighter and handier of the two ships, and the Revenge lacked any long range guns to damage them. The Maitland was simply too ungainly to sail them down once they reached open water. The prob­lem was getting out of the bay in one piece.

  As he considered the problem, the deck lurched vio­lently and the rear section of the Daedalus burst into flames. Projectiles fired by the catapults on both the sloop and the Maitland found their marks at the same time.

  Brown, Maddox, and young Warrenton came sprinting down the deck toward him.

  "We're on fire, Mr. Lane!" Maddox shouted.

  "I can see that. Mr. Warrenton, get one of the pumps out of the bilge, if you please, and see if you can slow it down."

  "Aye aye, sir," Warrenton answered, and sped off.

  "Mr. Lane, there's a ship just over the horizon to the northeast," Brown told him.

  Mathew looked in the direction Brown was indicating. "Damn," he said under his breath. "That has to be Delain."

  Another shot from the Revenge crashed into the deck and blew a hatch cover skyward. They all ducked out of reflex.

  "Where the devil is Warrenton with that pump?" Mathew snapped.

  "Here, sir!" Warrenton yelled, emerging from the for­ward companionway.

  Maddox ran to help him, and together they got the pump started. With the ship's dry timbers, the fire was spreading rapidly. Another fireball from the sloop fell short, sending up a plume of steam from the water.

  "Brown, you and Grady reload the guns and see if we can give our friends something to think about. Concen­trate on their masts and sails."

  Mathew clasped his hands behind his back and turned back to the ships pursuing them.

  It would take another two minutes for the Daedalus to complete its turn. The Maitland had finally begun to move and was now coming around. As a result of the damage they had inflicted, the Revenge was falhng away. But at the last moment it swung wide to port, presenting their broad­side to them. A series of smoke puffs came from the decks, and the sound of its guns reached him a moment later. One cannonball managed to strike their stern quarter, while the others scattered wildly with no discernable pattern. With­out warning another puff of smoke came from the Revenge, It was followed by two loud explosions and an orange tongue of flame that leaped up from her deck.

  A cheer went up from the men on the Daedalus as they realized that two of the Revenge's cannon had just exploded.

  "The value of swabbing out a gun's muzzle," Mathew said to himself.

  He grabbed the farsighter and trained it on the horizon. The topsails of Delain's ship were much closer now. If he entered the bay, Delain would have three ships to contend with instead of the one he was expecting. Injured as she was, the Revenge was still dangerous, and the Maitland and the sloop were still largely unharmed. They were the main problem.

  Farther down the deck he heard the Daedalus's guns roar out one after the other. Most of the shots struck home, dismasting the Revenge and holing her badly. She contin­ued to fall farther away.

  "Shall I make for the ocean, Mr. Lane?" Caukins yelled.

  Mathew didn't answer

  "Mr. Lane?"

  "No," he said, "we're coming about."

  11

  On Board the Daedalus

  Caukins looked at him as if he had lost his mind.

  "The king is doomed if he enters this bay," Mathew told him. "The moment he does, the sloop will seal the en­trance and the Maitland will pound him to pieces."

  "But—"

  "All hands to the braces!" Mathew bellowed. "Wear ship. We're coming around."

  Brown and Grady exchanged glances and returned to the ship's wheel. Maddox and Warrenton came trotting up as well. Mathew quickly explained the situation to them.

  "Gentlemen, once we come about, we will hold the weather gauge on the Maitland. I intend to cross her bows and rake her. She cannot be waiting for Delain when he clears that point."

  There was a pause.

  "All right, lads," Brown said. "Let's jump to it. All hands to the braces. Mr. Lane, a bit of help would be ap­preciated, sir. We're a little short on crew at the moment."

  Mathew smiled, clapped Brown on the back, and took up a position at the main brace along with Maddox. Brown and Warrenton took the opposite side.

  "Ready, men? Now!" Mathew yelled. "Hard over the wheel, Caukins."

  Mathew stood on the charred planks of the quarterdeck watching as the distance between the Daedalus and the Maitland closed. As he expected, the moment he began

  his turn, LaCora turned with him, not wanting to let him cross his bow.

  "Fire as you bear!" Mathew called out.

  In less than thirty seconds all twenty guns along the Daedalus's starboard side had fired. Brown and the rest of the men were now working frantically to reload them. The Maitland's reply was a single broadside that blasted the forecastle of the Daedalus and much of the ship's bow to pieces. Grady went down with a splinter sticking out of his shoulder. A second volley hit the ship moments later, rocking it. Mathew ducked as more parts of the forward deck and railings were blown away. Other balls slammed into the hull. Black smoke began drifting up from the for­ward hatches.

  "Concentrate everything we have amidships, men." For the next four minutes Brown, Maddox, Mathew, and Warrenton pounded shot after shot into the Maitland's midsection. The last salvo produced the result Mathew had been praying for.

  The explosion was an awesome and spectacular thing to see.

  He had no idea which of their shots had struck the Maitland's powder magazine, but when it did there was a terrific bang and a white-orange flash. One moment the ship was there and the next it was gone. He felt the con­cussion seventy-five yards away. A blast of hot air fol­lowed, and a
ll that remained of the Maitland was a burning hulk on the water. There was a metallic taste in his mouth.

  "Fire in the forward hold!" Maddox yelled, pointing at the hatch.

  Mathew spun around and saw a tongue of orange flame leap from the hatchway. Smoke was now coming from the sides of the ship. In the heat of battle he had completely forgotten that they were burning. And as if things weren't bad enough, the Revenge was now coming round again, having cleared away her wreckage.

  Brown dashed to the forward companionway to investi­gate, but barely got a foot on the first step before the fire forced him to retreat. He looked at Mathew and shook his head. It was clear the Daedalus was lost.

  Mathew signaled for Warrenton to join him.

  "Mr. Warrenton, my cabin is just below us. Would you be good enough to retrieve that lockbox we picked up in Coribar? The fire is confined mostly to the forward area so you should have no difficulty."

  "Aye, sir," Warrenton said with a salute.

  As soon as he returned, Mathew called the remainder of his crew together.

  "Gentlemen, as soon as we wear ship, you will aban­don it and swim for shore. Mr. Fikes and the rest of our people will be waiting for you on the other side of that point. I regret that our voyage has not been a more prof­itable one, but it has been my privilege to serve with you. Your best chance will be to make your way north toward Anderon and then cross the border into Alor Satar. You should be able to pick up a ship in Sturga that will get you home again."

  "What about you, Mr. Lane?" asked Warrenton.

  "I will stay aboard as long as I'm able. If Brown and Maddox will linger with me for a few more minutes, I'd like to see if we can reposition the bow chaser so we can fire it down into the forward hold."

  Warrenton's mouth dropped open. "You're going to sink the ship?"

  "I am. The mouth of this bay shallows rapidly and only one ship at a time will able to get through. I intend to slam the door shut on our friends as permanently as I'm able. The Revenge can rot here until the wreckage is cleared away."

  Protests came from everyone at the same time, but Mathew was having none of it. Beneath his feet the pitch that sealed the deck seams was already beginning to ooze, and several planks were buckling in spots. They had very little time left.