Once again, she cursed those who had thought up this scheme. A blockade was a useful tactic for dealing with a port or river mouth, but impractical to apply to an entire country. Even if every ship of the federation was pressed into service, it would be impossible to keep watch along the entire coastline. All that Ysobel and the other captains could do was to watch the major ports and send periodic patrols out to catch those trying to sail around the blockade.
Before the blockade, Kazagan had dozens of thriving ports, serving local vessels as well as traders from Ikaria and Seddon. A few ships still sailed the traditional routes, submitting to the required inspections with poor grace. Others took to the open sea—perhaps because their cargoes could not stand inspection or because their captains did not trust the integrity of those enforcing these blockades. Some of these ships reached harbor safely, while others simply disappeared, their fates unknown.
Harbors that had once welcomed the rare goods brought by federation traders had turned hostile, and those who dared venture into Kazagan ports often found no one willing to buy their goods.
Established trading houses stood to lose fortunes if the disruption of trade continued, while the people of Kazagan would learn to adapt. What they could no longer gain from the sea, they could trade for overland from Ikaria or Thrasi. The longer the blockade wore on, the less important the sea trade would become.
The federation’s strategy made no sense to Ysobel, and she wished she had been present for the deliberations of King Bayard and his councilors. Were they hoping that the Kazagans would recognize the federation’s strength and be willing to join an alliance against Ikaria? Such a tactic might have worked if the Ikarian legions that occupied western Kazagan had been called north, but so far there was no sign of the hoped-for civil war. Instead of impressing the Kazagans with their strength, the federation had only succeeded in convincing them that they were not to be trusted.
No one with any sense believed that the federation was solely interested in pursuing pirates, though Ysobel did her best to ensure that the ships under her command followed their orders to the letter, offering no provocation to honest captains regardless of which country they claimed as their home port.
Originally, she’d stationed the two navy ships at the mouth of the Naryn River. Any ships entering or leaving the river knew that they would be searched, so it was unlikely they would find any contraband.
Captain Zorion and the Swift Gull had been dispatched to keep watch on the coastline to the west, investigating the numerous small coves and sandy beaches for signs of smugglers. She sent Captain Durand along with him. Should they encounter anything larger than a coastal dhow, they were instructed to observe and report back rather than engaging. But the slower speed of Durand’s vessel made it an awkward match. Eventually, she detached him to duty at Naryn with Captain Sydney, and had Captain Orville join the Swift Gull on her patrols.
Zorion had not wanted to be parted from her, but logic dictated that Ysobel and the Dolphin should sweep the eastern routes. Of all the merchants, the Dolphin—with her armaments and contingent of marines—was best equipped to sail alone.
Her own patrols consisted of long periods of routine punctuated by a few brief hours of excitement. Thrice they had caught sight of sails fleeing their approach—one out-sailed them, but the other two were caught and boarded.
There was little finesse required in these encounters—once they drew close enough, the ballistae fired linked chain shot to foul her opponent’s rigging. Grapples joined the two ships together, then Lieutenant Burrell and his marines led the boarding party. The first ship fought back, its crew managing to kill two of the Dolphin’s sailors before being overpowered. The second ship was a dhow with a mere dozen aboard who surrendered at once when faced with the formidable Dolphin.
Neither of the captured vessels contained obvious contraband, but according to the rules of engagement, flight was seen as an admission of guilt. She seized the ships, placing their officers and most of their crews in chains for the journey back to Naryn. There she put the crews ashore, over the objections of Captain Sydney, who would have hung them as pirates.
Sending the vessels to Melene required prize crews she could not spare, but neither could she endure ordering good ships burned for no reason. In the end she cobbled together a small prize crew for each, with instructions to return on the next supply ship.
Every two to three weeks a ship came from Melene, bearing sealed dispatches and fresh provisions. Yesterday’s ship had brought instructions from Commodore Grenville that they were to remain on blockade throughout the winter.
It was a risky gamble—merchant ships did not sail during the winter months, when frequent storms would catch ships on open water, driving them against reefs and coastlines. Storms arose with little warning—a fair day could turn into a tempest in mere hours. Sail too far out to sea, and a captain risked being caught by the worst of the storms, as she herself had been on one memorable occasion. Sail too close to shore and a ship would have no room to maneuver when caught by contrary winds. Only a sheltered anchorage provided safety, and the Kazagans controlled the best anchorages.
Only the foolhardy or those with no other choice sailed the winter seas. Which would make the task of enforcing the blockade simpler, since it could be assumed that any ship she saw was a smuggler or an enemy. Earlier dispatches had contained the news that the Ikarian navy was on the move, once again patrolling their coastline. Whether they would choose to challenge the federation’s blockade during winter was anyone’s guess.
Grenville had sent supplies, but provisions, canvas, cording, and spare timbers could only do so much. Ships needed time at dock to scrape the weeds off their hulls, replace aging spars or masts, and purchase any items that the crew could not fashion for themselves. Each of the ships in her command had scars to show for their encounters, and it was only a matter of time before one was damaged too severely to be repaired at sea.
She did not intend to be caught short, nor to have her ships fall victim to the storms. She knew she could not rely upon the navy to provide for her, so she sent Zorion, with his long experience of trading in these waters, to sound out the Kazagans. The river port would not have them, but to the west, the town of Samos had a decent harbor, and there were those there that still thought well of the house of Flordelis even as they despised the federation navy. Ysobel’s personal guarantee of the debt brought agreement that their ships—including the two navy vessels—could anchor there in foul weather and obtain the services of a shipwright if needed.
She’d sent news of the agreement to Melene along with a request that the navy send the necessary funds. But she suspected that she would receive a letter praising her initiative while absolving the navy of any responsibility for her debts.
Making a final notation on the chart for her next patrol, she turned her attention to the list of supplies that Grenville had sent. As soon as Zorion and Orville returned from patrol, she would ask for a list of their stores on hand, so she could best determine how to allocate the supplies among her command. She had much to do, and little time before winter came.
Ysobel stared across the wardroom table at Captain Ancelin. “What would you have us do? We have a dozen ships between us, nearly half of them merchant vessels. The Ikarian navy has two dozen ships in the harbor—and the support of the natives.”
“Our duty is to take Izmar and destroy the Ikarian vessels within,” Captain Ancelin replied.
“We might as well challenge the Sea Witch,” Ysobel said.
She was amused to note that Ancelin instinctively made the hand gesture to ward off evil as if he were a common sailor rather than a veteran naval captain.
Though what benefit his years of experience provided, she could not say. Responsible for patrolling the area west of her station, he’d reportedly seized numerous pirate vessels and hanged their crews, though in the privacy of her own thoughts she wondered just how many of his victims had deserved their fates.
Ysobel was especially troubled by the silver—an impractical luxury aboard a ship where it would swiftly tarnish in the salt air. His crew must have spent hours polishing the silver in preparation for this dinner and would spend hours polishing it again after it had been used.
Captain Ancelin’s orders gave him seniority over her, and his every action seemed designed to put her in her place. She wished that Elpheme were here, or Burrell, or even Captain Zorion, though their relationship was still chilly. But Ancelin had summoned only herself and the navy captains in his command to join him. The merchant captains were ignored, as were Captains Sydney and Orville, who were evidently tainted by being under her command.
The dinner consisted of seven courses, an unheard-of indulgence on shipboard, and Ancelin refused to allow any discussion of business while they ate. Instead he recounted stale gossip and tales of the exploits of his youth.
Only when the plates were removed did the conversation turn serious.
“Tell me, how is it that such a large detachment was able to reach Izmar undetected?” she asked.
Ancelin grimaced. “I was engaged elsewhere, as were most of my ships. I’d left one ship on station to watch Izmar, but they saw a strange sail on the horizon and sailed in pursuit, leaving the port unguarded. When they returned, they saw the masts of the Ikarians in the harbor and prudently retreated so they could report.”
It was no explanation at all. Izmar was the most important port in his patrol area. It was a medium-sized town whose value was its proximity to the capital of Kazagan, which lay a week’s ride inland. A broad road connected Izmar and the capital, and thus it was often used to supply the Ikarian troops garrisoned in the capital.
Anyone with the sense of a clam would have recognized that the road ran both ways. Izmar could be used to send supplies into the capital, or serve equally as well as a staging area for soldiers sent to help break the federation’s blockade.
Ancelin should have stationed at least half of his ships to guard Izmar. A single ship was useless. Perhaps the captain had indeed sailed off to investigate another ship, or perhaps he had simply turned tail and fled when faced with such overwhelming odds.
Though in some ways one had to admire the Ikarians. They were merely adequate sailors, but nonetheless had undertaken an ambitious voyage in the midst of winter. Their presence signaled a change in imperial strategy. So far the ships had not challenged the federation patrols that still passed along the coast, but their mere presence at Izmar was a threat.
She knew Septimus from her time in Ikaria, and knew him well enough to know that his ambition would be tempered by caution. He would not have sent the ships here on an idle whim. Their presence was a reminder to the federation that Ikaria claimed all of Kazagan as its protectorate, from its beaches to the inland plains.
The Ikarians now had the advantage of numerical superiority. Should they seek out a sea battle, the sheer numbers of the Ikarian ships would overwhelm them. Fortunately, most of her ships held the advantage of speed and could simply sail away from danger.
But sailing away meant abandoning the blockade, and that they could not do.
Ancelin had dispatched one of his ships to Melene, requesting reinforcements and instructions. He’d dispatched a second ordering her to join him in keeping watch over Izmar. She and her ships had spent a week here on station, waiting for orders from Melene that never came. Either their message had never reached Melene, or Commodore Grenville had far weightier matters on his mind than the fate of two of his patrols.
Too impatient to wait any longer, Ancelin had summoned her to discuss plans for an attack. In vain, she tried to point out the folly of such a move, but he overrode her objections. His orders gave him seniority, and it was clear that he relished being able to put a master trader in her place.
“As long as they do not challenge us, there is no need for undue haste,” she said. “The Swift Gull is the fastest of our ships. Let her carry your message to Melene, so that we may be certain that whatever we do next is in accordance with Commodore Grenville’s will.”
Heads nodded around the table, as no one wanted to take responsibility for provoking the Ikarians into open warfare. Though Ancelin’s officers held their tongues, unlike a council of merchant captains that would have broken into lively debate. She had been told that such blind obedience was a sign of discipline, but to her it was far more frightening than the presence of the Ikarian fleet.
Ancelin stroked his chin thoughtfully, and for a moment she thought she had won. But then he spoke and dashed her hopes.
“No, I will not dally and be thought a coward,” he said. “My orders were that no ships would be allowed to pass unchallenged. The Ikarian ships are a threat to those orders and must be destroyed.”
She could not reason with him. He was the personification of the worst of the navy—overconfident in his prowess and slavish in his adherence to orders, even when circumstances had changed.
Had he been in a merchant’s service, he would never have risen to an officer’s rank—yet he now controlled Ysobel’s fate and the fate of those who followed her.
It was almost enough to make one believe in the meddling of a malevolent god. Zorion would say that the Sea Witch was still angry with Ysobel for choosing politics over seamanship, though Ysobel had long ago repented that choice. Would that she could take comfort in believing herself a helpless pawn of the gods, but she knew that her own actions had helped to bring her here. Though there was blame enough to share, from King Bayard and his councilors, to Commodore Grenville, who had failed to keep Ancelin in check, down to the cowardice of those captains who sat at this table and yet refused to point out the risks inherent in Captain Ancelin’s plan.
It was left to her to salvage what she could from this mess.
“Tell me of Izmar harbor,” she said. “Have you been able to spy out where the ships are anchored? How many other vessels are wintering over?”
Her abrupt change of subject caught Ancelin by surprise. He blinked once, then turned to his aide, Lieutenant Danel.
“Fetch the charts, and I will explain my plan,” Ancelin said. “I think you will find that I have thought of everything.”
Ysobel shivered as the damp winter wind cut through her cloak and tried not to think about how much colder the sea would be. From above her came the distinctive crack of canvas catching the wind, and she peered up into the darkness to see that the first course of sails had been set, the weathered canvas merely a lighter shade of gray in the dark night. In moments the second course was set and the sailors began to scramble down to the deck.
There were no shouted orders, and only the thin sliver of the waning moon to guide them as the sailors made their way to the port side and scrambled down the nets to the waiting rowboat. Ysobel waited by the tiller until she saw Captain Elpheme wave her right hand, indicating that the rowboat was safely away. A second rowboat was then launched, the six-man crew moving to take their position at the edge of the breakwater.
Crossing to the center of the deck, Elpheme uncovered the barrel of lamp oil that had been placed there, and tipped it over. A second barrel followed the first, and a thick pool of oil began to spread over the deck.
“Now,” Ysobel said.
Lieutenant Burrell swung his axe and cut the anchor rope in two. The Dolphin lurched into motion, the fierce winds catching the sails. Ysobel held the tiller with both hands as the ship heeled to port, then righted herself and began heading for the mouth of Izmar harbor.
Behind her, spread out in a staggered semicircle, were the rest of Ancelin’s ships, her own Swift Gull among them. They had spent the last four days refining their plans as they waited for t
he winds to turn in their favor. The winds were not as strong as she would have liked, but they were finally blowing onshore, and if they did not attack tonight, they would have to wait days before the moon would be bright enough to try again.
Ancelin lacked the patience for waiting, and Ysobel had not tried to dissuade him. It was victory enough that he had agreed to her plan. And if it must be done, it was better done swiftly.
As she passed the breakwater that guarded the harbor, she could see the dark bulk of the close-packed Ikarian ships, their masts like skeletons reaching toward the stars. There were faint pinpricks of light from each ship, showing that there were men on watch. She strained her eyes but could see no signs that an alarm had been raised.
They were complacent, confident in their superior numbers. The ships had anchored side by side, so close that sailors could jump from one ship to another at need. In case of an attack, defenders from the inner ships could quickly swarm to the defense of those on the edges of the anchorage.
The tight group of Ikarian vessels occupied the whole of the northern end of the narrow harbor, while native craft took up the rest. There was very little room to maneuver, which was precisely what Ysobel was counting on.
Captain Elpheme came to her side as they passed into the inner harbor.
“We’ll hold to this course,” Ysobel said.
As Ysobel held the tiller steady, Elpheme lashed it into place. Elpheme’s face was studiously blank, showing none of the emotion she must feel. Ysobel wondered if her own visage was as bleak as she felt.
“We’ve been spotted,” Burrell said, pointing off to starboard, where Ysobel could see someone standing in a small boat, waving a lantern in challenge. Ancelin had reported that there were no nightly patrols, but either his intelligence was faulty or this was something new since the Ikarians had arrived.
It did not matter. There was nothing the Ikarians could do to stop them.
Ysobel imagined she could hear the sound of bells as crews were hastily called to duty, shouted orders mixed with the sound of pounding feet.
The Sea Change Page 24
