Passages

by Olan Thorensen

  The first morning after sailing from Heliom, Mark woke to the gentle swinging of his hammock. He looked down over the side to check Maghen’s and Alys’s hammocks. His daughter was held by her mother, and both were asleep, Maghen faintly snoring. All three had had trouble falling asleep. Neither his wife nor daughter had been on deep water before the Timbar Sea crossing, and those waters had been unseasonably calm, according to the fishing boat’s owner. This passage would be different. The constant rolling from eight-foot seas unsettled Alys. The motion was far stronger than during the Timbar crossing that she’d enjoyed. The new experience might have been worse, but during the first hours Maghen held Alys and unconsciously swayed to counter the ship’s motion, damping the effect for the child. It also served to focus Maghen’s attention on her child and thereby diverted her from her own feelings.

  Neither Mark nor Maghen exhibited symptoms of seasickness, as they had in the first days on the Timbar Sea.

  Is it the elements Hal said they gave me? Mark wondered. The AI only talked about disease, but could dampening seasickness be a side effect? If it is, it’s one more positive. I just wish Hal had been more thorough in explaining what I could expect. That’s assuming Hal and the aliens knew all the side effects. I shouldn’t take for granted that they’re capable of anything just because their technology is so much more advanced than Earth’s.

  The family settled quickly into a routine in their tiny cabin. They became accustomed to the chamber pot’s odor even after it had been emptied and rinsed with seawater. They ate on deck if the weather permitted. They walked around the deck for exercise when the weather and the crews’ work allowed it. And they rested or slept in the hammocks. Alys caused a problem only when she got bored playing with the toys left from the few they’d started with. A trip to the deck usually brought back her good humor, and several of the deck hands played peek-a-boo with her when the captain wasn’t looking.

  One morning at sunrise, a sixday from Rumpas, the first mate knocked on their cabin door.

  “Word from the captain. Rough weather coming, so best if you stay below deck for your own safety and keep out of the crew’s way.”

  They never saw what the sea looked like because they followed that advice. Yet neither Mark nor Maghen slept for twenty-four hours because the hammocks swung so fiercely. They took turns holding Alys, safe in their sheltering arms.

  CHAPTER 31

  INTERCEPTED

  When the seas calmed, the two adult Kaldwels joined Alys in a deep sleep. Mark woke up first, carefully dismounted from his hammock, donned his boots, and went on deck. The storm had passed, but the seas were rougher than the Timbar Sea during their first voyage. The wind blew whitecaps off the tops of waves the ship plowed through. It wasn’t quite raining, but the wave spray and a moderate fog limited visibility to a few hundred yards.

  Crewmen moved around the deck. Mark’s only previous experience with sailing before Timbar was a one-week tour on a training ship after his first year at the Naval Academy. Still, he knew enough to recognize the constant tending of sails. He didn’t understand the language being used, but he watched for half an hour and began to get the gist of commands connected to tasks involving ropes and canvas.

  Captain Partinel came from somewhere aft and spoke with two crewmen toward the prow. Once he’d accepted he had passengers, Partinel warmed to Mark. Gulgit overheard him tell one of the ship’s officers that Mark was strangely naïve about sailing vessels but still asked insightful questions.

  Mark waited until the men left for whatever tasks had been under discussion, and he approached the ship’s master.

  “Good morning, Captain Partinel,” Mark said in Suvalu.

  The man glanced at Mark, nodded, and returned to looking into the mist.

  “How long do you think the passage will take?” Mark asked.

  “All depends,” said Partinel without looking back. “The winds are against us in this direction, so we’ll be tacking most of the way. I’ve sailed these waters for years. The weather is going to be in our favor with moderate to strong winds, but from here on, we’ll pay a price with rougher seas until we get within a few hundred miles of Rustal. Then the coast and mountains provide a degree of protection. Once we’re within sight, we’ll parallel the coast until we reach Orano.”

  “Have you been stopped by the Narthani before, Captain?”

  “Twice stopped by Narthani cutters, but I still have my head. One time, I knew the ship’s captain. He was a Rustalian who had pledged to the Narthani but had no love for them. He inspected our cargo personally and passed us on after I paid him more than we were being paid for our cargo. The other time we were running empty—something I’d cursed at the time but which turned in our favor.”

  “How are the cutters armed? I note you don’t have cannon.”

  “It’s not practical. We can outrun most ships. The Dancer may not look it, but she’s fast. A cutter’s cannon aren’t that much of a threat, as long as we can maneuver. If a slope or frigate corners us, no cannon we could carry would help.”

  Mark remembered Gulgit’s admonition about the captain’s feelings for his ship.

  “I’ve noticed how she cuts through the water,” said Mark. “Is this a common design, or is it your own? I would think others would copy the Dancer.”

  Partinel smirked. “Almost no one ever sees what she can really do. When we approach harbors or pass other ships, I have a specially designed feature that creates drag, so we slow down while keeping full sails.”

  For the next four sixdays, they alternated between sailing northwest and southwest, as Partinel worked with the prevailing winds. Mark happened to be on deck when he overheard the captain talking to Gulgit in Suvalu.

  “We just passed Cape Harbor. I hate being this close to the shore so far from our destination, but the winds dictated it. We’ve a good seven hundred miles to go. I’ll turn us a little farther south at first light tomorrow, then parallel the coast about a hundred miles offshore. Then hope the Narthani patrols aren’t out that far.

  “That last series of squalls we plowed through cracked the bowsprit. We’ve done the best we can to repair it, but we can’t use all three jib sails. One is all I can risk, which means we’re slower than we should be, and I can’t guarantee we can outrun a Narthani cutter.”

  Mark didn’t tell Maghen what Partinel had said. There was nothing she could do, so why disturb her? He didn’t notice her sharp look when he unwrapped the two doomster rifles and cleaned them—a habit he unconsciously reverted to whenever he was worried.

  A sixday later, they were only three days’ sailing from their destination, according to Gulgit. All three Kaldwels were on deck taking in mid-morning fresh air and getting whatever exercise they could by walking on the ship’s deck.

  A crewman at the top of the main mast shouted something. Mark’s pulse quickened at the commotion the cry created. Crewmen rushed about, and Gulgit came barreling up a hold and dashed over to where Captain Partinel stood at an aft rail, looking northeast.

  “Maghen, take Alys below to our cabin. I’ll see what’s happening and come tell you.”

  “Oh, Mark, we’ve come so close to land! What do you think it is?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ll find out.”

  The truth was, he didn’t know, but from Partinel’s previous worry, Mark was afraid the lookout had seen a Narthani patrol.

  Gulgit saw him coming and stepped away from the captain shouting orders.

  “Narthani?” Mark questioned.

  A grim nod was the initial answer, as Gulgit kept watching the horizon. “The lookout says a cutter has a heading parallel to the coast. Partinel is going to turn south and try to put more separation between us before the cutter spots us. After all the weather we’ve had so far, today has to be the day the sky’s clear and winds moderate,” Gulgit said in disgust.

  “If we were heading the other direction, there’s always the chance we might dump the muskets and powder overboard and clai
m to just be a small trader who is headed to Drilmar to find a cargo. Unfortunately, no Narthani officer who’s not totally stupid would believe a ship heading to Rustal would be empty. He’d assume we were smugglers with a cargo we didn’t want them to see. The best we could hope for is they’d capture us and take us to a major port to imprison us. Worst case is they just execute all of us and dump our bodies overboard.

  “I’m Rustalian, so I’ve got no convincing story for why I’m sneaking back into Rustal. As a Frangelese, you and your family might survive if you came up with a plausible story for why you’re on the Dancer.”

  Mark’s expression conveyed his lack of confidence in that tactic.

  “Yeah,” said Gulgit. “I wouldn’t lay any odds on that working either.”

  Mark wondered whether the Narthani running patrols had been warned to be on the lookout for him. If yes, no story he concocted would help.

  Because the Narthani ship wasn’t yet visible from the deck, Mark figured it would be an hour or more before they knew if the captain’s tactic had worked. He went below to their small cabin.

  “What is it, Mark?”

  “They think a Narthani ship is patrolling between us and the Rustal coast. Partinel is turning us south before we’re spotted.”

  “But you said the Dancer is faster than any patrol might be.”

  “That’s what Gulgit told me, but there was some damage in the storm we went through. The crew repaired as much as possible, but they can’t raise all the sails. If the Narthani spot us, we might not be able to outrun them.”

  “What can we do?”

  “Nothing right now. It’ll be a while before we know whether turning south works. If it doesn’t, it’ll be many hours before the Narthani ship can catch up, and Partinel will do everything he can to elude them until dark. I know waiting is hard, but there’s nothing we can do. We’ll stay out of the crew’s way, but you and Alys can go back on deck.”

  Three hours later, a grim Gulgit came to where Mark was holding Alys near the bow. Maghen stood next to him with her arm through his.

  “It’s confirmed. They spotted us and are closing the distance, according to the lookout. We should see the tops of their sails any time now from the deck. Partinel hopes to stay far enough ahead of them until darkness when he can change heading and lose them.”

  The hours crept by. Mark wasn’t the only one scanning the horizons for signs of clouds, to no avail. The Narthani ship’s topsails first appeared, then more as the ship closed the distance.

  Another four hours passed, and it was dark before they knew the captain had failed.

  “Curse all the Gods, if they exist,” Partinel spit out to Gulgit and Mark. He called out to gather his crew near the ship’s wheel. Lanterns lit the deck, there being no reason to hide with the Narthani cutter a thousand yards to their starboard. Once the crew assembled, the captain spoke to them in Rumpasian.

  Gulgit whispered a translation for Mark. “They came up on us faster than he’d hoped, and with clear skies and first one moon, then the other up tonight, they’ll be able to follow us until tomorrow. That’s when they’ll order us to heave to. Evidently, the Narthani captain doesn’t want to risk maneuvers or boarding at night. With the weather so much in their favor, he’s decided to wait for morning.”

  “How is the cutter armed?” asked Mark.

  “That’s the only place we’ve had a little luck. She’s one of their smaller cutters with a crew of sixty or so and six 9-pounder cannon, three to a side. Their captain is assuming he can stand off and put holes in us until we heave to or sink, but he’ll be in for a surprise. Dancer’s hull looks decrepit, but Partinel keeps it looking that way deliberately. Behind two outer inches of balmer wood is a foot of creolin timbers. The lumber is a bitch to work with but is almost as strong as poor-quality iron. The cutter’s 9-pounders will shred the outer layer, but it will take hundreds of hits to breach the creolin. The main mast is also made of creolin for the first twenty feet, in case a ship tries to cripple the Dancer’s ability to maneuver.”

  “But they’ll just shift to the other masts, bowsprit, and sails,” said Mark.

  “There’s that. It’ll take more time, but they’ll be close enough to get occasional hits, even with the motion of both ships.”

  “What’s their normal procedure?” asked Mark. “Come right alongside or what?”

  “There have been cases of smugglers with small cannon, so once we stop, the Narthani usually stand off a couple hundred yards and send a longboat over to the ship to be searched. If we refuse to let the search party board or fire at them, the ship will start firing after closing the range.”

  “What if we force them to stay backed off?”

  “Well, that would buy a lot more time, but how would we do that?”

  “With my two rifles, I should be able to discourage them from getting too close. The ships are both moving, but the seas are calm enough that I can make it very uncomfortable for anyone exposed on their deck.”

  Gulgit whirled and called out to Partinel. He stopped watching the Narthani ship and came over to them.

  When Gulgit relayed what Mark had said, the captain chewed on strands of his beard for almost a minute, then turned to Mark.

  “You’d have to fire from the lookout platform, so you’d have a downward angle on their deck,” said Partinel. “The closer they are, the better chances of your hitting the crews manning the cannon. Of course, that makes you a better target at the same time. Conversely, if they stay farther away so it’s harder for you to hit the crews, that makes it harder for them to hit you. You really think you can hit anything at a couple hundred yards, firing from our lookout platform to another ship?”

  “I can’t guarantee how often I can hit one of their men, but I should be able to distract the gun crews. It would help if you could slow the Dancer’s motion.”

  “But then the Narthani could close to us faster,” protested Gulgit.

  “Wouldn’t make any difference at that point,” said Partinel. “Running at full speed is only relevant until they get up to us. After that, all I could do is maneuver to make it harder to board us. That wouldn’t do us much good if they’re pounding our rigging with shot. And even our creolin hull will eventually fail if they’re persistent enough.”

  The captain tapped the railing with a fist while he thought.

  “All right. I don’t see any downside to letting you try this, Kaldwel. If you can’t hit anything, we’re no worse off. I’ll have some crewmen rig up something to provide protection from musket balls when you’re on top of the mast.”

  Partinel scanned the horizons. “Still no weather help. The damned Narthani will just keep firing until they do so much damage that we can’t maneuver. Our only chance is if you can force them to either break off the pursuit or come at us full speed to grapple and board us. I’d prefer the first possibility, but if it’s the second, we still have a chance. They’ve more men, but ours will give a good account of themselves. It would be nasty, as all boarding actions are, but we’d be more desperate.”

  Mark assumed the boarding action would be similar to ones he’d seen in movies: men would fire muskets and pistols, then drop the firearms that couldn’t be reloaded in time and switch to swords, axes, and any other sharp weapons.

  “If it comes to boarding,” said Mark, “We’ve got Gulgit’s cargo of muskets, powder, and shot.”

  Partinel grasped Mark’s idea without elaboration. “Yes!” he exclaimed and turned to Gulgit. “We’ll open up your crates and load every musket. We’ll need to wait until they’ve tied to us, so they don’t back off. It’ll even up the sides before it turns into hand to hand.

  “Gulgit, take three men and start loading your muskets. Let’s be sure each man has three or four. More will only get in the way. Before it gets light enough tomorrow morning for them to see what we’re doing, station the muskets out of sight on deck. We don’t need full sail crews because we’re only keeping pace with the Narthani. So ever
yone needs to sleep as much as they can.”

  Maghen paled when he returned to the cabin and laid out the situation.

  “You’ll be on top of the mast with the Narthani firing cannon at you! That’s insane, Mark!”

  “You’re right. It is crazy. But we don’t see many options. We can still hope there will be a weather change or the Narthani captain breaks off pursuit for whatever reason. However, I think we have to plan that it will come to a fight.”

  “If it does, then I don’t intend to sit here with Alys and pray,” Maghen said, determined. “We can lock her in the cabin, and I can handle firearms probably as well as many of the crew, maybe better than some.”

  Mark didn’t know whether her voiced confidence was accurate. Yet she had proved herself during the ambush of the men who followed them from Landylbury and in fighting off the zernik pack. He was instinctively loathe to put his wife into a fight with firearms and blades, but anything that added to their defense increased their odds of surviving.

  “I know, dear. When the time comes . . . if the time comes . . . I’ll want you positioned where you can use the shotguns and your pistols to help cover below deck. I’m so sorry I’ve gotten you and Alys into this and all the other situations we’ve been in.”

  “The way of the world, Mark. You haven’t done anything deliberately to put us in danger. None of us knows God’s plans or how we fit into the world. All we can do is the best we can.”

  Mark knew he needed sleep to be ready for the next morning—which would come in only six hours. Maghen fed a drowsy Alys and held her in a hammock, letting the sea rock the child to sleep and falling asleep herself. Mark watched both of them before forcing himself to relax and drift off.

  Mark dreamed he was hunting destrex, and as a creature charged at him from thirty yards away, his doomster misfired. Pounding on their cabin door chased away the dream.