King David's Spaceship (codominion)

by Jerry Pournelle

  The harbor had dropped well out of sight when the sun burned off the last of the mists. The water was an incredible light blue, the bottom visible not more than three yards below the surface. Long, thin fish darted about, pursued by tentacled monsters nearly a meter in length, green eyes glaring after their prey. Larger creatures of the same general form swam into view to look intelligently at the humans on the boat before swimming lazily away. MacKinnie wondered idly what they were when MacLean shouted from his post at the mizzenmast.

  “Hands make sail!” he ordered.

  MacKinnie watched with interest as the Samualites gathered in the waist.

  “Man the mizzen halyards,” MacLean called. He turned to the helmsman. “Turn her into the wind, Mr. Todd. Put the helm over.”

  “Helm’s down, sir.”

  “Stand by mizzen halyard. Get those gaskets off, there.”

  Hal and one of the guards took the lacing from the sail, then seized the halyard. “Make sail,” MacLean ordered. The big gaff rose jerkily, the men on the throat halyards pulling too fast, but eventually the throat and peak rose together. “Take a turn around the winch. Haul, men. Tauten it, that’s it. Haul, you bastards! Now belay it all.” The gaff sail flapped in the wind, and the boat slowed noticeably.

  “Now forward to the main,” MacLean ordered. “Get it up, smartly now.” The men ran forward, and the big main, almost twice the size of the mizzen, was hauled up almost as quickly as the smaller one had been. “Man the sheets,” MacLean ordered. “You fool, that line over there,” he added to a guard who stood looking blankly about. “Stand by to trim the sheets, Mr. Stark.”

  “Yes, sir,” Hal answered. He gave MacKinnie a quizzical look and turned back to his soldiers now turned afterguard. The ship was barely moving through the water now, the men straining at the oars, and Loholo stood silent with his hands on his hips looking at MacKinnie as if to say he had told him so.

  “Put the helm over, Mr. Todd. Bring her four points to starboard.”

  “Aye aye, sir. Helm’s to weather.”

  The boat turned, and the wind caught the big sails and pushed them off to the right. “Trim those sheets,” MacLean ordered. “More. Bring them in. Strain, you blackguards. Belay. Mr. Stark, I’ll have the starboard leeboard down.”

  The boat was skidding sidewise now, moving to leeward as fast as it was going ahead. The oarsmen struggled to keep steerage way, Loholo back to counting the pace when he saw no response from his silent appeal to MacKinnie. Stark cast off the line holding up the great fan-shaped leeboard, and the heavy wood splashed into the water. An iron shoe along its lower edge sank it quickly.

  “Mr. Loholo, get those oars in,” MacLean ordered. “Quickly, man, and get your crew set.” The boat heeled sharply to a gust of wind, almost tumbling the starboard crewmen over the side. “Any man can’t stay aboard gets to swim ashore,” MacLean said. “Stark, get those jibs up.”

  The gust heeled the ship, and the leeboard bit into the water. The boat began pulling ahead, slowly gathering way, until it was apparent that it was rushing along, faster than the oarsmen had been able to pull it, and still it gathered speed. A white, creamy wake appeared at the bow, and two quarter waves angled off from the stern. It seemed to MacKinnie that the wind picked up noticeably, and the boat was headed into it. Subao rose gently over the waves, rushing along until Loholo stood looking over the side with amazement before making his way aft.

  “Yes, Mr. Loholo?” MacLean asked.

  The former captain stood looking at his new master in silence, then brought his hand to his forehead in an awkward salute. “She’s faster than oarsmen have ever been able to push her, Captain. This may be the fastest ship on Makassar.”

  “Let’s hope so, Mr. Loholo. Faster than the pirates, anyway. Get your men to lookout stations, if you please.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.” Loholo turned to his crew. “Banta, up those shrouds. Move along there, lad, and keep your eyes open. Fast as we’re going, we’ll be in pirate waters soon.” He strolled along the deck, expertly keeping himself erect, as he placed crewmen in the bow and sent the rest to the waist.

  “How does she sail, Captain?” MacKinnie asked quietly.

  “Well enough, Trader,” MacLean answered. “A little better to windward than I’d thought she might. Doesn’t point as high as a proper keelboat would, but with a full keel we couldn’t beach. As it is, we can go closer to the wind than anything the pirates have got. That’s how I expect to outrun them. They’ll have to use sweeps, and I don’t think they can catch us going to windward. We’ll leave the bastards behind … uh, your pardon, freelady.”

  “Don’t apologize on your own ship, Captain MacLean. I think it’s wonderful what you’ve managed to do with this primitive boat.” She looked up at him, then at MacKinnie. “Can I get you anything, Captain? Trader?”

  “Chickeest,” MacKinnie said. “If you can cook in this.”

  “If she can’t we’ll have cold food the whole voyage,” MacLean snapped. “This is perfect weather, Trader. By afternoon we’ll face some real waves. I’m not looking forward to the tide either. You may not have noticed, but we had the aid of a strong tidal current going out. It should be even worse when it turns. Best get some practice in the galley now, freelady. Take young Brett down to help you.”

  “All right, Captain,” She stumbled across the deck, looking for handholds, then let Brett take her arm to guide her to the companionway. The ship was heeling sharply, the deck standing at perhaps forty degrees off the horizontal.

  It took her nearly half an hour to heat last night’s chickeest, and she spilled part of it bringing the pot and cups up to the quarterdeck, but Mary Graham seemed proud of her achievement even so. Now she had the same slightly green cast as Kleinst, and MacKinnie looked around to see the scholar grimly holding the rail and staring at the distant shore to starboard.

  “Sail ahead,"the lookout called. “Two sails.”

  Loholo scampered up the shrouds like a monkey, shading his eyes and staring off where the lookout pointed. He bounded down to the deck and trotted panting to MacLean. “Pirates right enough, off the port bow, Captain. Under sail.”

  MacLean nodded. The pirates were to windward, using square sails to run down toward Subao. “Steady as she goes, Mr. Todd. Mr. Loholo, it might be best if you stood with Todd at the tiller. Steering to windward’s trickier than just watching the compass, and we’ll need more experienced helmsmen. Have you any of your crew who might have some ability?”

  “None, Captain. They’re all landsmen. Willing lads, but no sea legs.”

  “You’ll have to do it, then. Take your post, mister.” MacLean cupped his hands to shade his eyes and stood easily on the pitching deck. True to his earlier promise, the sea was running higher now, and Subao heeled farther, making it impossible for anyone but the three sailors to stand without something to hold on to.

  “Best tack now and get sea room,” MacLean said. “Stark, get your hands to the jibsheets. The gaffs will take care of themselves. Snap to it, man, we haven’t all year.” Hal and his guards ran to the foredeck, motioning to some of the oarsmen sitting idle in the waist to join them.

  “Stand by to let those sheets go,” MacLean shouted. MacKinnie was surprised to note that the Navy man’s voice carried easily into the wind, although Brett repeated the order from his post at the mizzen.

  “Put her helm down, Mr. Todd.” The ship swung into the wind, through it, the booms snapping across the deck. One of Loholo’s men scrambled to get out of the way, flinging himself to the deck to allow the main boom to pass over him, while the quarterdeck crew, copying MacLean’s example, ducked low. The jibs backwinded, pulling the bow around. “Let go the jibsheets,” MacLean shouted. “Now trim them in on the port side. Snap to it. Man the leeboards! Smartly, men!”

  The port leeboard was pushed down, and tackles strained to raise the starboard one. MacLean stamped with impatience until the task was done, then turned to MacKinnie. “She’s lively enough. Bi
t slow, easy to get caught in stays. If I end up out of action, remember that. Leave the jibs cleated until the bow’s well around, or you’ll be in irons.”

  Nathan fervently prayed he would never have to work the ship himself. At least there was young Todd if MacLean were killed.

  Now they were approaching the pirate ships rapidly, and the lookout called down, “Five sails beyond the two ahead, sir.”

  “That’ll be more of the pirate fleet,” Loholo said. “Beg your pardon, sir, but the reefs are over there.” He pointed off to starboard and ahead.

  MacLean nodded coolly. “We can’t make that course yet, Loholo. When we’ve sea room, we’ll try your advice.” He gauged the distance to the rapidly closing pirate vessels. As they watched, the enemy ships extended their oars, the sweeps working rhythmically, rippling down each of the vessels. The pirate ships were much like Subao had been before MacLean’s modifications, with more beam to weather storms in the shallow sea but generally resembling her. On the bow of each was carved one of the large tentacled creatures MacKinnie had seen in the water, the stays to the stubby masts running into the nest of arms which jutted forward and upward.

  “Idlers below,” MacLean ordered. “Freelady, Professor Longway, Mr. Kleinst — go below and stay until you’re called, if you please. Mr. Loholo, I can spare you from the tiller until you get your men under arms.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.” Loholo padded forward to the waist to arm his men.

  MacKinnie watched Hal break out crossbows, handing one to each of his Samualite guards and posting them along the waist. The pirates had noted that Subao was going to windward without oars, and adjusted their courses to intercept well forward of their present position, so the ships were not closing as rapidly now, but slowly they drew up to three crossbow shots away to port and as many forward.

  “I doubt there will be a battle,” MacLean said quietly. “Unless they are very much faster with those oars than I think, they cannot possibly catch us.”

  As if to make his captain a liar, the lookout shouted, “Three sails off the starboard bow. Three sails ahead, sir.”

  MacLean shook his head. “If they adjust to our strange antics as quickly as these did, we’ll have to fight after all.” He eyed the distance to the nearest pirate ship. “Mr. Stark, I’ll thank you to go forward and stand ready to bring the ship about again. Don’t cast off that jibsheet until I tell you. And give me five men on the leeboards.”

  “Aye, sir.” Hal took his men forward, carefully seeing that each man stowed his crossbow along the rail on the low side. MacLean shook his head. “Put them on the starboard side, Stark. I don’t need loaded weapons clattering about my decks when we go about.

  “Stand by, Todd. I want to cut this as close as possible without letting them ram us.” The pirate ships drew closer now, angling in toward Subao’s bows in a staggered line. “Fall away a point,” MacLean said softly. The ship gathered way, leaping through the water. “Stand by … Put the helm over!”

  Subaobrought up into the wind sharply, hung for a moment, and fell off to the starboard tack. “Let go the jibsheets. Now get them sheeted in. Haul those leeboards, you sons!” MacLean was icy calm as he watched the armored prow of the nearest pirate approaching. The sweeps on the enemy vessel were moving faster and faster, and they could hear a drum amidship beating the count.

  Zing!MacKinnie heard something snap over his head, and looked up to see a round hole in the mizzensail. Then there was a chorus of sounds, the bolts thudding into the bulwarks. “Get down!” MacKinnie called. Stark, crouching low, half ran the length of the ship to seize his crossbow. All they could see was the great bow of the enemy thirty yards away, white water curling from each side and the beak of the ram protruding slightly from the water in front of it.

  The pirate ship bore ahead. MacKinnie stood in silence. There was nothing to do but wait. The iron ram grew larger and larger. Then it seemed to slip behind slightly.

  Subaogathered more way, and the pirate ship was no longer aimed amidships. “Hold your course,” MacLean said quietly. As MacKinnie watched, the pirate ram fell further behind, tried to turn more toward Subao, and caught her sail aback. “Steady as she goes,” MacLean murmured.

  The pirate ship passed astern so close they almost touched the oars. A cloud of arrows flew from it toward them, and Stark replied with his own volley of steel bolts. There was a shout from the pirate, then it was gone.

  “He’ll have to get that sail down before he can row to windward,” MacLean remarked casually. “Never catch us now. Masthead! Where are those other ships?”

  “Off the port bow ahead, sir!”

  “They’re directly to windward,” MacLean said. “Let’s see if they have any sense. Mr. Loholo, you can come back to the quarterdeck now.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.” As Loholo approached, they could see blood on his hands. “One crewman dead, sir. Arrow in his throat. Some holes in your sails, too.”

  “Yes. Where are those reefs of yours, and when will the tide be out?”

  Loholo pointed to a cleft in the hills along the shoreline. “Right off there, sir. Tide’s full now. Going out starting in an hour.”

  “Excellent. Todd, steer for those reefs and get the picture of them from Loholo. We may make use of them yet. Mr. Loholo, how many men does one of those pirate vessels carry?”

  “Seventy, maybe a few more, sir. Not all of them sailors.”

  “How many of them can fight?”

  “Most all, sir. That’s why they’re aboard.”

  MacLean nodded. “As well they can’t board us. Mind your luff there, Mr. Todd, you’re too close.” MacLean looked along the coast, then thoughtfully tossed a light line over the stern and watched the angle it made with the centerline of Subao. “Making more leeway than I like,” he remarked to MacKinnie. “And that fellow out there seems to have some sense. The others are trying to close with us, but he’s standing well out to keep to windward of where we’ll be. This could be rather interesting.”

  They sailed on. The afternoon sea breeze brought a shift in the wind, backing it around to nearly directly offshore, as the tide turned, running little trails of bubbles out to sea. The first group of pirate vessels was lost behind them, and they were easily outdistancing the second, which made the mistake of closing with Subao and ended up under her lee before trying to stroke back to her in the heightening seas. Although they gained at first, the effort was too great for them, and they soon fell farther and farther behind. Now only one enemy vessel remained between Subao and open water.

  As the chase went on, the shoreline fell away to northward, bringing the wind more directly off Subao’s beam, and increasing her heel. The animals in the hold below screamed their protest, a shrill, keening sound unnerving to anyone not familiar with it, causing Brett to rush below to comfort his horses. The pirate ship ran along the shoreline parallel to Subao, slowly drawing closer but taking no chances of losing her prey as the others had done. Her captain had trimmed the great lateen sails the boat carried, and kept only a few men at the oars. MacLean stood anxiously at his post, with Loholo now holding the tiller. The crew master learned the task far more easily than MacLean had thought he would, and now held the huge wooden bar easily, balancing himself against the rolling of the ship and watching the shoreline.

  “Where are we now, Mr. Loholo?” MacLean asked.

  “In shoal waters, Captain. With the tide running out, we’ll come to ground in a quarter hour.”

  “Yes.” MacLean looked out at the pirate vessel. “Nothing for it but to work out some more, even if it lets him get closer. Hands forward to trim sheets,” he called. “Take her a point closer to the wind if you would, Mr. Loholo.”

  “Aye.”

  On the new course they closed more rapidly with the pirate ship, the tide helping to cancel their leeway. In minutes, the current was running so strongly that the line over the taffrail stood off to a sixty-degree angle from Subao’s stern.

  “Going out fast, Capta
in,” Loholo remarked.

  “Mr. Todd,” Mac Lean ordered, “get forward with a lead to call soundings.”

  The cadet perched himself at the shrouds, leaning out to cast the lead line and calling back in a clear voice. “Three meters… and a half two … three meters…”

  “He’s closing with us now, Trader.” MacLean looked at the pirate thoughtfully. “Guards in armor, please. He may be able to board.” Subao’s ability to point higher than the pirate vessel was almost negated by the strong tide of the lee bow, and the longer waterline of the enemy ship gave her an advantage in hull speed. MacKinnie looked around the horizon. There were no other ships in evidence.

  “As good as we could expect, Trader,” MacLean said softly. “We expected to fight a dozen enemies, now there’s only one.”

  “And a half two …"Todd called. “Mark two … and a half one…”

  The tide was racing out now. MacKinnie had never seen anything like it, and asked MacLean how the current could be so strong.

  “Those two close-in moons make for strong tides,” MacLean answered, “and this big shallow basin doesn’t really hold much water. Won’t take a lot of vertical rise and fall to empty it.” The captain looked carefully at the current. “We’re going aground in a few minutes, Trader. If we try to run with the tide to keep afloat, that pirate will have us. At least if we’re run aground, he can’t ram the ship. Might be quite a fight when he sees us high and dry. Or he might decide to run out with the current and get his friends. You’ll have to decide whether to go ashore in that case.”

  MacKinnie nodded. It seemed to him the enemy ship was staying close to Subao. The pirate might be trapped as well. If they really didn’t know these waters all that well, the might think Subao’s crew intended to stay afloat.

  The leeboard scraped bottom, heaving up ponderously before settling back to its position, then hit again.

  “Hands to the halyards!” MacLean shouted. “Get those sails down. Move, damn you!” Then in a calmer voice, “Mr. Loholo, put your helm to weather if you will … ease her against the current … steady … Sergeant Stark, get your men’s backs into it!”