Brotherband 4: Slaves of Socorro

by John Flanagan

  ‘That’s not how it worked when we fought those river pirates,’ Thorn pointed out. ‘Stig and I boarded one and you went off after the others with the Mangler.’

  Hal considered the point. What Thorn said was true. He frowned as he tried to think of a solution, but Thorn had one ready.

  ‘Let Stig and Lydia both practise with the Mangler,’ he said. The two younger men both reacted with surprise.

  ‘Lydia?’ they said in unison.

  ‘Lydia,’ Thorn replied. ‘She’s probably the best marksman on board. You’ve seen how good she is with those darts. She’s an expert when it comes to judging range and deflection. And Ingvar does all the heavy work training the Mangler.’

  Stig and Hal exchanged a glance. ‘But she’s so good at keeping enemy archers occupied while we’re approaching,’ Hal said.

  Thorn made an expansive gesture with both hands. ‘Then let Stig handle the big crossbow while we’re approaching. Then, once he and I board, Lydia can take over the Mangler. In any case, it makes sense to have more than one person trained to use it.’

  Again, Stig and Hal exchanged a glance. ‘He’s right,’ Hal said.

  Stig nodded agreement. ‘That’s brilliant, Thorn.’

  ‘Of course it is,’ Thorn grunted. Then he pulled the bearskin up over his head and stretched out again. After a second or two, they heard his voice from under the heavy fur.

  ‘Don’t tell her I said she was the best marksman on board.’

  ‘She’ll never hear it from me,’ Hal said.

  The rain eased, then died away midafternoon. The Herons stowed the tarpaulin they had been sheltering under and took their normal sailing stations. Hal turned the helm over to Edvin, showed him the bearing he wanted him to follow on the sun compass and then set to with his tools and some spare wood and canvas. Kloof nosed around him curiously, her head to one side, trying to divine what he was up to.

  After an hour or so, Hal sat back and displayed his work.

  ‘A raft?’ Stig said. Two casks were joined together, and a framework was mounted about them, with a piece of canvas stretched across it.

  ‘A target,’ Hal told him. ‘You and Lydia can start practising with the Mangler this afternoon. We’ll see how good you are.’

  In the middle of the afternoon, they set the target raft adrift over the side. Then Hal swung the Heron into a wide sweeping turn, taking her away from the target. When it was just a small light-coloured dot bobbing on the waves, he swung back, heading to intercept it at a slight angle. The Mangler could not shoot directly over the bows. It had to be aimed a little to either side. Of course, it could traverse to a ninety-degree angle on either beam, but the narrow head-on angle was an easier shot and Hal thought it was wise to start that way.

  Lydia, Stig and Ingvar stood beside him as he turned back towards the target.

  ‘We’ll do a few dry runs first, to help you get the feel of it. Then we’ll let you both try a shot and see how you do.’

  They nodded and trooped forward. Ingvar took the training lever from where it was fastened to the mast and fitted it into the back of the Mangler. Stig and Lydia hesitated, not sure who should go first.

  ‘You go,’ Lydia said. ‘You’ve been on board longer than I have.’

  Stig nodded and climbed onto the small seat behind the Mangler. The rest of the crew members were clustered near the mast, eager to watch. Ulf and Wulf, of course, were at the trimming sheets. They’d be adjusting the sail as Hal brought the ship in to a shooting position.

  Stig busied himself getting set behind the huge crossbow. He flicked up the rear sight that Hal had designed. It was marked in fifty-metre increments, from three hundred metres down to one hundred. He crouched and leaned forward, aligning the rear and front sights with the small bobbing target. He noticed how the ship’s motion caused the sights to rise and fall on the target.

  I’ll have to anticipate a second or two so that I shoot when the sights are on line, he thought. He decided he’d wait until the target was a hundred metres away. At that distance, the Mangler shot in an almost flat trajectory.

  ‘Can you call out the range as we get closer?’ he asked Lydia.

  She nodded. ‘When do you want me to start?’

  ‘Start at two-fifty and call it each fifty metres,’ he told her. Her years of practice with the atlatl made her an expert when it came to judging range.

  She stepped up onto the mast support to get a clearer view past Stig, Ingvar and the huge crossbow. Heron swooped on, with the wind over her starboard quarter. As Stig watched, the sights continued to rise and fall over the target. The ship was coming in at a slight angle, travelling from left to right. He decided he’d set the Mangler’s point of aim a little to the left, so that the ship’s course would bring it onto the line of the target.

  ‘Ingvar?’ he said.

  ‘Ready, Stig.’ The big boy’s barrel of a chest gave him a deep, resonant voice.

  ‘Train a little left . . . more . . . more . . . that’s it!’

  ‘Two-fifty,’ said Lydia.

  Stig checked his sights. The target was gradually coming from right to left. Maybe he needed more angle.

  ‘Left a little more . . . That’s it!’

  ‘Two hundred metres.’

  Stig smiled to himself. The whole thing was coming together nicely, he thought. Kloof stood close by, her eyes darting from Stig, to the Mangler, to the target bobbing up and down on the waves.

  ‘One-fifty.’

  Stig planned to shoot when Heron was at the top of her rising and falling action. He could see that the Mangler was trained slightly low. He wound the elevating wheel and watched the front sight rise. The target was drifting faster now.

  ‘Right a little . . . stop!’

  He peered down the sights. The line was right. The elevation was right. He waited till Heron rose on the crest of a wave and tapped the side of the big weapon to simulate pulling the trigger lanyard.

  ‘And . . . shoot!’ he called, at the same instant that Lydia gave the range as one hundred metres. He turned and grinned triumphantly.

  ‘Hit it dead centre,’ he told her.

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘In your mind,’ she said sceptically.

  They changed positions as Hal took Heron back to her starting position. The halyards squealed through the blocks as Jesper and Stefan hauled down the port sail and raised the starboard.

  ‘I’ll get you to call the ranges for me too, if you will,’ Lydia said.

  Stig nodded. With enough practice, he’d be able to judge range as well as the line and the elevation. But for now, the extra assistance had been useful.

  They spent the next hour making dummy runs, and gradually, Lydia and Stig became more familiar with the workings of the big crossbow.

  ‘Those sights are an excellent idea,’ Lydia said. She was used to estimating direction, elevation and range when she cast an atlatl dart. The sights on the Mangler, graduated for elevation and allowing the shooter to line the target up exactly, were a big improvement.

  Finally, Hal hove to and walked down the deck to where the two new shooters stood by the Mangler.

  ‘Ready for a real shot?’ he asked.

  Stig and Lydia exchanged a glance and both nodded.

  ‘Who’s going first?’ Hal asked.

  This time, Lydia wasn’t about to defer to Stig. Both of them were keen to test their new skill with a loaded weapon.

  ‘Rock-paper-knife,’ Stig said and Lydia nodded. They faced each other and both counted, ‘Ro-sham-bo!’ On ‘bo’, they shot their right hands out. Stig’s was clasped in a fist – rock. Lydia’s hand extended the first two fingers straight out, the sign for knife. She was crestfallen.

  ‘I was sure you’d go paper,’ she said.

  Hal shook his head pityingly. ‘Stig always goes rock,’ he told her. ‘You should have known. Look at him. He’s a rock sort of person.’

  Stig raised an eyebrow, not sure if he’d just been handed a compliment or an ins
ult. Then he turned back to the Mangler and straddled the seat.

  Ingvar leaned forward and seized the two levers, heaving them back until the heavy cord was latched into the cocked position. As he opened the locker that held the bolts for the Mangler, Kloof came sniffing around, eagerly trying to see what was inside.

  ‘Close that before she chews them all!’ Hal ordered immediately. Ingvar grinned. He selected a bolt and closed the locker, much to Kloof’s disappointment. Hal shook his head. In the two days they had been at sea, Kloof had managed to chew several items belonging to the crew.

  ‘I’ll get back to the tiller,’ he said. Hal turned away, then stopped as a thought hit him. ‘When you’re actually shooting,’ he told Stig, ‘there’s a slight delay between pulling the lanyard and the bow firing. About half a second.’

  Stig frowned. ‘What causes that?’

  Hal shrugged. ‘Not sure. Could be the lanyard stretching a little. In any event, remember to allow for it when you shoot.’

  He made his way back to the stern and took the tiller. Ulf and Wulf were watching him, ready to bring the sail back under control.

  ‘Sheet home!’ he ordered. They hauled on the sheets and the sail filled, shaping itself into a perfect swelling curve. The ship tried to come up head to wind, but Hal heaved on the tiller and she swung nimbly away, gathering speed as she came round.

  ‘Stand by up for’ard!’ he called.

  Stig raised a hand in acknowledgement, then bent to the sights. Ingvar stepped forward and loaded the bolt into the grooved section on top of the Mangler. Kloof watched him do it, dancing on her toes, rearing back slightly onto her rear legs and letting her front legs come down together on the deck. Her tail lashed from side to side with excitement.

  Lydia couldn’t help but smile at the dog’s prancing. Kloof obviously sensed the anticipation in the small group around the crossbow. Then Lydia shook her head and ignored Kloof, resuming her position on the mast support once more.

  ‘Two-fifty,’ she called.

  Stig waved a hand to her but said nothing. He was concentrating on his sights.

  They came in at speed, the wake hissing down Heron’s flanks, spray sheeting back as she occasionally cut deeper than normal into a wave. Stig kept up a muttered string of directions to Ingvar. He wanted this shot to be perfect. This was for real, after all.

  Kloof! said Kloof, rising and falling onto her forepaws once more.

  ‘Shut up,’ Stig told her, concentrating fiercely. She didn’t bark again, but she began to whine in expectation and excitement.

  They passed the one-fifty mark, Lydia calling the range as they did. Ingvar was busy, constantly making the tiny corrections that Stig was calling for.

  ‘Ready?’ Hal called from the stern.

  They all ignored him. Stig peered down the sights, winding the elevation up, watching the target drift from right to left again. He took the firing lanyard in his left hand, took up the tension on it. Mindful of Hal’s warning, he smoothly pulled the lanyard just before the target drifted across his sights. There was a slight delay, then . . .

  SLAM!

  The Mangler bucked with the recoil. The bolt streaked away.

  And Kloof, with an excited yelp, hurled herself over the railing, hitting the water with an enormous splash and striking out after the streaking bolt.

  For a second, they were all struck dumb by the dog’s unexpected action. Jesper and Stefan collapsed with laughter, closely followed by Ulf and Wulf. Stig, who had been concentrating on his sights, hadn’t seen the dog leap overboard and was looking around, a bewildered expression on his face. In all the confusion, nobody saw where the shot had gone – except, presumably, Kloof. Hal yelled at his dog to come back – a command that went totally unheeded as Kloof ploughed on determinedly through the water. Lydia and Thorn exchanged puzzled looks, wondering what had come over Kloof. It was Edvin who first realised what had happened.

  ‘She’s going to fetch it!’ he said. The laughter redoubled from the twins, Jesper and Stefan.

  Ingvar had only seen a blur of movement from behind him and had heard the massive splash as Kloof hit the water. ‘What happened?’ he said.

  Lydia quickly explained the situation and a crooked grin settled over the big boy’s features.

  Thorn turned a withering look on Hal, who was red-faced with rage as his dog continued to ignore his shouted commands.

  ‘Where did you say you found this dog?’ he asked.

  Hal shook his head dismissively. ‘Never mind that. We’ll have to go get her.’

  ‘Why?’ Thorn asked. ‘She seems perfectly happy out there, swimming off into the distance.’

  The ship and the dog were on slightly divergent courses, so that Kloof was moving further and further away.

  ‘We’ll have to go round to fetch her,’ Hal called. ‘Lydia, keep an eye on her so we don’t lose her. Stig, get ready to haul her on board. Sail handlers, get ready to go about.’

  ‘Is there anything you’d like me to do?’ Thorn asked, smiling sweetly.

  Hal glared at him. ‘I suppose it’d be too much to ask you to shut up?’

  ‘Absolutely too much,’ Thorn said.

  They came about, describing a giant circle, then heading back in to intercept the dog, still swimming strongly in the direction she had seen the bolt disappear. Lydia had mounted the bulwark and was standing next to the bowpost, keeping the small black and white shape in sight as Kloof bobbed up and down in the waves. She held the bowpost lightly for balance with one hand, and pointed the direction for Hal to follow with the other.

  ‘I’ll bring her alongside the starboard rail,’ Hal called to Stig, who moved to the rail and peered ahead. He could see the dog now, still ploughing along determinedly.

  ‘Get ready to grab hold of my legs as we come alongside, Ingvar,’ Stig said. ‘I’m going to have to lean way over to get her.’

  Ingvar nodded and moved to stand just behind him. As they came closer, Hal leaned out as well, measuring the angle and the distance and the speed of the ship. When he judged the moment was right, he yelled.

  ‘Let go the sheets. Down sail!’

  The wind spilled from the sail and Jesper and Stefan worked quickly to bring it down, gathering in the billowing folds and stowing them roughly into the rowing well. Hal’s forward vision was now unrestricted. He saw the dog close ahead, then saw Stig lean over the rail, supported by Ingvar’s powerful grip. He edged the bow to port slightly.

  Thorn, watching from alongside Stig’s inverted form, turned and waved. ‘Hold her at that!’ he said. He shook his head in admiration. As ever, Hal had judged the moment exactly.

  The speed fell off the ship, and Stig grabbed the swimming dog by the scruff of her neck, hauling her in alongside the hull. Kloof looked up at him, surprised.

  A wave broke over Stig, drenching him from head to waist. But he maintained his grip on the dog. Then, as the wave passed, he changed his hold so that he had her under the shoulders.

  ‘Heave away, Ingvar!’ he spluttered, spitting out sea water. Ingvar reared back, hauling Stig and the sodden dog up the side of the hull. As Kloof came free of the water, her dead weight doubled and Ingvar grunted with extra effort. Then he felt Thorn’s arms around him and the two of them hauled Stig and Kloof on board, sprawling in a heap on the foredeck.

  Kloof was first to recover. She bounded to her feet, then crouched. Lydia realised, too late, what was about to happen.

  ‘Look out!’ she called, then Kloof shook herself, hurling sheets of sea water from her thick double coat and thoroughly drenching her rescuers. Ingvar and Thorn yelled curses at the dog. Stig, already soaked to the waist, shrugged philosophically.

  ‘A little water never did a true sailor any harm,’ he told Thorn, who was glaring at the dog.

  ‘I’m beginning to think Erak had the right idea,’ Thorn said grimly.

  Hal decided they had spent enough time on target practice. They retrieved the target raft and hauled it aboard. Stig
was gratified to see a triangular rent in the canvas.

  ‘I hit it,’ he said triumphantly, as he and Thorn stowed the raft in the bow of the ship.

  Hal signalled for Lydia to join him at the tiller as they got under way.

  ‘Sorry you missed your chance for a shot. It was starting to take up more time than I’d allowed – what with having to fetch Kloof on board again,’ he said.

  Lydia shrugged. ‘I’m sure I’ll get another chance.’

  ‘When we get to Araluen, we’ll set up a target onshore and practise on that. That way we won’t be losing all our bolts. After all,’ Hal added with a wry grin, ‘I’m the one who has to make them.’

  ‘Fair point,’ she said. ‘And in any event, Stig would have been unbearable if I’d missed. He’d have bragging rights for the rest of the journey.’

  Hal shook his head. ‘Not really,’ he said, lowering his voice. ‘That hole was already in the canvas when we put the raft over the side.’

  An hour later, they sighted a crippled Gallican ship.

  Edvin was on the bowpost lookout. ‘Ship!’ he called, pointing to the south-west.

  At first, Hal saw nothing. But as Heron rose onto the crest of a wave, he saw a dark shape, low in the water. Stefan, who had the keenest eyesight, had leapt up onto the starboard rail, steadying himself on one of the thick stays.

  ‘She’s dismasted!’ he called. ‘She’s in trouble!’

  Hal glanced quickly at the wind telltale on the top of the sternpost. The wind was from the north-east. There was no need to tack. He swung the tiller and brought Heron round to intercept the other ship. As the wind came further astern, Ulf and Wulf let out the sail to take full advantage of it.

  ‘We’ll go aboard if she needs help,’ Hal called. ‘Stig, Jesper, Stefan, Ulf and Wulf – you come with me. Ingvar, get the boat hook on her and keep us alongside. Edvin, come aft and take the tiller.’

  As they came closer, he could see that the other ship was obviously holed. Her bow was low in the water and she rose and fell sluggishly on the swell. She was a trader – a wide-beamed, slow-sailing ship with plenty of room for cargo. Her mast was gone, snapped off a metre from the deck and trailing overside in a tangle of canvas and rope. Hal counted two of her crew struggling ineffectually with it, while another three were for’ard, working on damage to the hull close to her bow.