The War of the Four Isles

by Andrew McGahan

  ‘Don’t mistake her courage,’ warned Jake. ‘It’s not battle she fears. She merely reasons sensibly that one more ship will not affect the battle’s outcome, and that we could do far more for our fellow Twin Islanders if we went home, knowing all that we now know.’ The harpooner’s grin was back, fierce as ever. ‘But she’s not blindly stubborn. So when the great Dow Amber joins his voice to the rest of the crew in wanting to fight – well, as a good captain, she knows when to follow, as well as when to lead. It’s battle we want, and to battle she will take us.’

  *

  But first they must join the Twin Isles fleet.

  To learn of its movements, they turned south once out of sight of land and held so for two days, then on the second night came back inshore to land spies on a small beach north of Port Tyler.

  A glow against a distant headland testified to the nearness of the great port, the largest in all New Island now that Lonsmouth and Stone Port were burned. There, hopefully, the War Master and his fleet still lay at rest. The spies delivered, the ship put out to sea again during the day, and then returned the following night to retrieve them. Having accepted their reports, Captain Harp summoned a meeting of her officers.

  ‘We are fortunate,’ she said, ‘if to be fortunate means that we have not missed the battle. The fleet is still in Port Tyler. But there is little time to spare, for they are readying to set sail. It seems that messages have come from Broken Harbour, informing the War Master that the Ship Kings armada is to set out only three days from now, sailing south and west, deliberately to offer battle; and Damien Tender has accepted the gauntlet. Our fleet will launch on the same day, and sail south and east, looking to engage the enemy in waters off the tip of the Claw.’

  ‘The Ship Kings are impatient,’ noted Jake Tooth, with a certain satisfaction.

  ‘Who can blame them?’ said Johannes more gloomily. ‘After Black Sands, they want to strike while their victory is hot for an even greater prize. The War Master stakes much on one roll of battle.’

  Dow, uninterested in doubts, only asked, ‘When do we meet with the Twin Isles fleet?’

  Agatha Harp gave him an impatient look. ‘We will do so when they’re at sea – but it’s no simple thing. We’re not supposed to be here, don’t forget; the War Master will be wary when we appear. Especially as news of the massacre of the Heretics has preceded us.’

  There was a surprised pause about the table. ‘It has?’ asked Johannes. ‘But how?’

  ‘It came with the Ship Kings armada. Remember, though they arrived here before us, they left the Kingdoms later than we did – and by then, the news must have spread from the survivors we delivered to Malmonte. After all, would Ferdinand and Carrasco have dared to depart the Kingdoms, with their puppet Sea Lords in tow, if they’d thought the Heretics were still at large?

  ‘No. They knew of the massacre before they left, and brought the tale with them to Broken Harbour. Now it has spread even to Port Tyler. The inns are full of rumours, so say our spies. Few details have reached this far, but as you can imagine the War Master will have many, many questions when the Snout suddenly shows up in these waters, wanting to join his fleet. So we must have a story ready.’

  ‘Among other things,’ grinned Jake Tooth, who it seemed had discussed the matter already with the captain, ‘it will be our sad duty to report to him that the great Dow Amber is dead.’

  The captain gave a thin smile. ‘This will be our version of the events: we rescued the prisoners from Banishment, and as ordered were taking them back to Black Sands in chains. However, Dow and the Heretics then plotted together to seize the ship, so Cassandra and Oliver were forced to act to prevent them. Alas, in the affray that followed they and Captain Fletcher, as well as Dow and all the Heretics, were killed, leaving the mission at an end and myself in command. With little else to be done, we sailed for New Island.’

  A moment’s silence greeted this. Johannes was frowning. ‘You’re confident the War Master will believe such a story? It is riddled with many holes.’

  Jake gave a shrug. ‘As would any tale be. But he doesn’t know that Agatha and I are members of the peace faction, so he has no reason to assume we’re lying. And we can argue that any other version he has heard is a garbled one. He may doubt us on some points, but with the battle looming, all he will really care about is that Dow is dead, and that the Heretics are gone – and with them any threat of peace.’

  ‘I concur,’ said Agatha Harp. Her gaze swept the table. ‘So we will head south for now and get ahead of the fleet to lie in wait for them. And in the meantime, we will learn our lines, and be ready to play our parts for the War Master. Are we agreed?’

  She was looking at Dow.

  ‘Agreed,’ he said.

  *

  And so the Snout put to sea again, hurrying south under full sail. And Dow could feel a quickening all about the ship now, a new eagerness among the crew, a sense of relief almost – for an end was in sight at last to these many months of clandestine voyaging, always alone, always flitting by cover of dark. Soon they would sail openly once more, in company with their own fleet, in search of honest battle.

  For three days they held south, well out of sight of land. Then, on the fourth, they turned full about, came in close to shore, and began to sail innocently north, with no effort at concealment, as if they had just arrived in New Island waters and were making, as they reasonably would, for Port Tyler.

  A day and a half later, as it came down the coast, they met the Twin Islands fleet head on.

  It advanced on them like a black tide. Dow had witnessed great gatherings of ships before – the massing of the Ship Kings armada on the Golden Millpond for one, and the mustering of Twin Isles fleets in Port Best – but he had never beheld a fleet so large as this, in battle order and ready to fight. Rumour had it that over one hundred and thirty vessels had been assembled, but there was no way to confirm it as they rose over the horizon, arrayed in three long columns; there were simply too many to count, too many masts and sails and hulls crowding across the sea, hiding those behind.

  The Snout was soon sighted by the fleet’s vanguard. A frigate came hurrying forward to investigate, signalling urgently with flags. Once the Snout had signalled back, the frigate eased alongside and launched a boat – at which point Dow and Nell were banished to a hiding place below decks, for it was possible the ship would be searched, and neither must be seen.

  They passed the time uneasily. They had not spoken since Nell had moved out of their cabin – and worse, they were now secreted in the very hold on the First Lower deck in which the Heretics had been slaughtered. It had been thoroughly sanitised and reordered since then; but watching Nell as they crouched behind a wall of crates, Dow could see how the memories pressed on her.

  ‘Are you alright?’ he asked her stiffly, his voice low. ‘We should have thought . . .’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she replied, eyes closed and a light sheen of sweat on her forehead.

  Dow could think of nothing else to say.

  But the visitors from the frigate did not stay long, and when their boat made off again, Dow and Nell were called to the captain. ‘All is well so far,’ she told them. ‘But the sterner test will come when the frigate reports our arrival to the War Master on the flagship. We’ll have more visitors yet. So stay out of sight!’

  The Snout now turned south again, taking up a station towards the head of one of the columns. But within an hour, as predicted, another boat approached them, this one bearing a delegation of senior officers and high laundresses, direct from the flagship.

  Once again, Dow and Nell were sent down to the hold to hide behind the crates. This time the ordeal was more prolonged.

  ‘I’ve decided I’ll work in sick bay during the battle,’ Nell remarked, after a silent period. It was where she had been staying, Dow knew, these last few days, having struck up a friendship with the ship’s doctor during her recovery from the poisoning. ‘I’m not without medical skills, and no doub
t there will be many wounds to sew and mangled limbs to amputate.’

  Dow well understood her meaning, but made no attempt at defence. Such was ever the price of battle; and battle must be, if he was to meet with Diego . . .

  When the all-clear was called, they returned to the Great Cabin, where a relieved-looking Captain Harp was waiting with Jake and Johannes.

  ‘Well, Dow,’ she said, ‘it seems that in their pleasure at having dealt with the Heretics, and in having you dead into the bargain, the War Master’s interrogators are inclined to take us at our word.’

  ‘For now,’ appended Jake. ‘That’s not to say they trust us fully. They’ve ordered that we launch no boats to visit other ships, nor receive any visitors. They claim it’s because they don’t want the news of your death to leak out and demoralise the fleet! The true reason, of course, is that they want to question us in more detail yet – but they’ll wait until after the battle for that.’

  ‘In the meanwhile,’ the captain said, ‘to keep a closer watch on us, the War Master has ordered that we take up a position nearer his flagship. The eyes of Damien Tender and Constance Reed will be upon us. So, Dow, Nell, be warned – keep yourselves below decks!’

  *

  It was a frustrating time. All around Dow, on the Snout and on more than a hundred other ships, crews were drilling and readying themselves for the coming battle, while he sat, out of view and idle, in the Great Cabin. But everything was in place, as he had willed it; there was nothing to be done now but wait.

  For a further day the War Master held the fleet on its southern course along the coast. Finally, they passed the cape that marked New Island’s south-westernmost point and left land behind; but still they held south, pushing many miles out into open sea, so as to be clear of the dangling arms of the Claw, which lay beyond the horizon to the east. Only after two days more, slowed somewhat by contrary winds, did the fleet itself turn east, and advance towards their appointment with the enemy.

  Anticipation sharpened to a razor’s edge. Boats now passed between the flagship and the rest of the fleet, bearing the War Master’s final battle instructions to his admirals and captains. These plans came also to the Snout, and Dow, studying the documents and diagrams alongside the other officers, could not deny their daring. Whatever else could be said of him, Damien Tender was a bold tactician. All was uncertain in battle, but his strategy at least gave the Twin Isles fair hope of avoiding defeat; and perhaps, Dow thought, even a chance of victory.

  ‘And yet,’ was Jake Tooth’s assessment, ‘much of this depends on faultless navigation and favourable weather. If a miscalculation should be made as to our position, and if the wind should happen to blow strong towards the north on the day . . .’

  But in conceiving such grim scenarios, the harpooner was quite alone.

  Meanwhile, Captain Harp made her own battle dispositions. Jake would be in charge of the gun deck, while Johannes would preside over the attack boats – a vital cog in the War Master’s plans – keeping them armed and fuelled throughout the fighting. The boats themselves would be commanded by their usual lieutenants – except for the Franklin, which would be in Nicky’s charge.

  ‘For Dow is to stay on board,’ Agatha Harp declared. ‘He will be my second-in-command on the high deck, and if I fall, shall take the helm. Yes, Dow, I know that means you will be visible to watchers upon the flagship, but once battle has begun, I doubt anyone there will take notice. And if you wear a hooded anorak, there is even less chance of discovery. In any case, you stand with me.’

  It was an announcement that drew an exchange of raised eyebrows around the table. Dow knew what the others were wondering, for he wondered it himself. What did the captain mean by this arrangement? That she trusted him to assume command in the last resort? Or that she distrusted him – so much so she wanted him directly under own eyes during the battle?

  Well, it made no difference. Whether he roamed on an attack boat or stayed with the Snout, it would happen: fate would bring him to Diego.

  *

  Late that night – the eve, all felt, of the battle that must surely come on the morrow – Dow was sitting at the stern windows of the Great Cabin, staring out at the ship’s wake, and at the ghostly lines of the fleet receding, when Nell came and sat beside him.

  ‘It’s too late to do anything now,’ he said, to forestall her. ‘I can’t stop the battle.’

  Her reply was curt. ‘That’s not what I came to say. Of course you can’t stop it. I know that. This battle was always going to happen anyway.’

  She paused as if debating with herself, gazing out at the shifting lines of ships.

  ‘But we didn’t have to be here,’ she went on finally. ‘Not the Snout, and not its crew. You’re to blame for that. And now there’s every chance you’ll end up in command tomorrow. But if you do – don’t you dare take this ship into deliberate jeopardy, just in this deluded pursuit of Diego. That’s what I came to say. Don’t you dare.’

  ‘Deluded?’ he inquired mildly.

  ‘Yes. It’s not Diego you want to kill. You’re acting out of your own grief and you don’t even know it. It’s yourself you blame.’ He was shaking his head, but she rounded on him heatedly ‘Do you think I don’t know? When my mother and father were killed because of the things I’d done – how do you think I felt? Or after I’d led almost every single one of my Heretics to their deaths? You think I didn’t want the world to burn up in my rage and self-pity? Of course I did! But one thing I didn’t do was make it worse by fixing on some insane act of self-destruction – and dragging others with me!’

  It was an assessment that rang within Dow dangerously – for maybe it was true; maybe this really was an insane act of indulgence, and he knew it, and somewhere deep inside him the grief was raging unsated, the scream still unvoiced – but he shut it all away brutally; he could not let his resolve be weakened. ‘He burned them alive, Nell. My mother, my father, my brother, my sisters.’

  Her eyes refused him any pity. ‘And when he’s dead? Will your purpose in the world be complete then? Will you be at peace? You hate Diego as we sit here – but a month ago, who did you hate? Was it the War Master? Or Colonel Oliver? Or Kings Carrasco and Ferdinand? Or even Cassandra? There will be always someone to hate. You’re a fool if you think it will ever be otherwise.’

  She looked away a moment, staring out to sea in frustration. And despite it all, Dow could not help admiring her – the impatience in the turn of her neck, the flush of anger on her skin, highlighting the pale whorls of her scars. He repressed a sudden ache in his heart. She was no more than a hand’s reach away, but it may as well have been a mile. His wrath could not be allowed to relent.

  At last she took a great breath, calming herself. ‘Do you remember,’ she asked, still not looking at him, ‘that morning on the Twelfth Kingdom when we said goodbye? There was a moment then; something passed between us, an understanding, a glimpse somehow of the future. I know you felt it too. There was something that fate had marked for us to achieve together. Remember?’

  Dow said nothing, but nodded. Even rage could not dim the memory of that instant.

  ‘Is it this, do you think?’ she wondered coldly. ‘Is this the great purpose for which we’ve been brought together? To merely ride on one ship among hundreds, in a battle so large that we can have no effect upon it? Even if you happen across Diego in the fighting and attain the vengeance you’re so bent on, do you really think that is the task for which fate chose you, and me with you? Have you ridden the maelstrom, and defied the Ice, and survived imprisonment and sea monster and drowning in the sand, all just to kill one pathetic, embittered man?’

  Dow made no effort to dispute her; he could see that this too was the truth. But again, it didn’t matter. He was not doing this as the summation of his life, or in search of any kind of peace. He was doing it because he must – for if Diego was left to go unpunished for his crime, to go free, then quite simply nothing was right in the world.

  A
nd anyway, as he’d told her, it was too late. He couldn’t reverse course now . . .

  ‘One thing I know,’ she said with decision. ‘A man ruled by vengeance will never offer this world anything beyond the misery it has already seen. Damien Tender, Carrasco, Ferdinand, even Diego. They all seek vengeance too. I had thought you better than them.’

  Then she was gone, leaving him to stare sightlessly out at the sea.

  *

  The next morning the cry went up; sails were rising out of the south-east. Many sails.

  It was the Ship Kings armada.

  Action stations sounded on the Snout. Enough then of hiding away below – Dow donned the hooded jacket he had ready, and climbed up to the high deck to assume his place by the captain.

  Staring out, he had to search a moment to locate the enemy. The morning was grey; high cloud overspread the sky, and a heavy haze was upon the ocean, reducing the south-east horizon to no more than a blur. But just visible there, a forest of black masts and pale white sails was arising.

  So it was begun.

  Dow sniffed at the wind; it was warm, and blew from the south. In which case, if the War Master was to adhere to his own battle plan—

  ‘Sign from the flagship, Captain!’ reported the signaller. ‘All ships to turn north!’

  Yes. So it must be; for the War Master’s first intent, Dow knew, was to position his fleet downwind of the armada. This was in fact the opposite of traditional battle tactics, which held that it was generally better to be the fleet upwind in any engagement. But the War Master had good reason for doing so . . .

  Dow watched calmly as the three columns of the Twin Islands fleet swung north, then he turned to observe the Ship Kings’ response. The armada was emerging more fully from the haze now, a swarm upon the sea, and they too were swinging north, putting themselves on a parallel path that was about five miles to the east, and as many miles astern. Of course, the Ship Kings vessels were faster than the stout Twin Islands craft, so the armada would catch up those miles – but only after a lengthy chase.