Taghri's Prize

by Peter Grant

  “Agreed, sir,” Elhac confirmed. “Also, the slingers will need to be clear of the standing rigging, so it doesn’t get in their way. I’d say put the slingers on the rear grating, behind the poop deck, well aft of the mizzenmast. The archers can go in front of the mainmast. They can use the linstocks of the cannon there to light their fire arrows.”

  After further discussion, they adopted Elhac’s placement. The slingers filled several jars with seawater and practiced hurling them at debris floating on the sea. They found they could throw the heavy jars with sufficient accuracy out to thirty yards or so, and the archers confirmed that at that range, they could put their fire arrows where they’d do the most good – or harm, depending on one’s perspective. Together, they worked out tactics in case of need, and pulled sacks and boxes from the hold to build makeshift barriers against incoming arrows from enemy archers.

  Taghri gathered the rest of his guards together, and taught the newcomers the stamp-and-slash fighting formation they’d practiced before the Quwain raid. “You form a line from one bulwark to the other, and move forward together as one. Use your dagger to protect your left side while stabbing or slashing with your right. Your power comes from everyone moving forward together, half a step at a time, pushing your enemies together in a mob ahead of you where they get in each other’s way. It’s a rhythm: left step, thrust, right step, slash, left-thrust-right-slash, like this.” Taghri demonstrated with a couple of his more experienced guards. “Take a half step, not a full one, to keep your balance, then slash or stab. Keep your weight forward, and stamp on every step to keep the rhythm. Now, you try it.”

  The newcomers soon picked up the drill. One asked, “Sir, what if the deck narrows – say, on a galley, where it’s broader at the bow and stern, but then becomes a narrow walkway between the rowers on either side?”

  “Than you change formation to match the width available. Two or three usually fight abreast on a walkway like that. The rest form single file behind them. If one of the front men is hurt or gets tired, he can fall back, and another can move up into his place at once. Oh – another thing. Don’t waste your swords on the rowers. They’re almost certain to be slaves. They don’t want to be there, much less join in the fighting when they’re chained to the ship! Save your blade for the enemy.”

  Meanwhile, Elhac exercised the sailors at changing the sails and yards from one side of the mast to the other. “That’s the biggest weakness of the lateen rig, sir,” he explained. “It’s very good at sailing into the wind, but you can’t tack in anything but light airs, otherwise you risk breaking the yard against the mast when the sail pushes it against it. You usually have to wear ship, turning away from the wind rather than into it. That means furling the sail, lowering the foot of the yard to the deck, moving it around from one side of the mast to the other, and then raising the yard and hoisting the sail again. With three masts, that takes ten to fifteen minutes, even using all the gunners to help the sailors. During that time, we can’t fight. In fact, we may have to sail away from the enemy, to get enough space to change course like that before they can catch up to us.”

  Taghri frowned. “But then how do chebecs fight each other, if they take so long to come to grips with the enemy? Battles must be a few shots now and again, separated by long gaps to reset sails.”

  Gunner Prasad grinned. “With lateen sails, yes, sir, it can be like that in a strong wind. That’s why, on true fighting chebecs, some have gone to a square rig on one or more masts, or to a gaff rig, a four-sided sail attached to booms top and bottom, clamped to the mast. Either allows you to tack, no matter how strong the wind, and to change course without having to lower the sails and booms. A fighting chebec needs that advantage, but a cargo chebec doesn’t, so most – like this ship – have stayed with lateen sails.”

  “Why haven’t we seen more of those rigs here?”

  “Because you don’t use sailing warships, sir. Your waters are shallower and more coastal, ideal for galleys, so you’ve used them as warships for centuries. The chebec came into use in the Western Sea, where there’s a lot more open water far from land. There are still galleys there, but fighting ships are more and more switching to sails. In the Feringhi lands, we’ve adopted a similar design, and we’re copying the gaff and square rigs too. We learned about them from ships that came around the Dark Continent from the lands bordering the Western Sea and the Great Ocean.”

  “We’ll have to suit our tactics to the wind, sir,” Elhac pointed out. “We’ll have to approach a galley with the wind behind us, if possible, and slow down so we don’t overtake them. That way, we can shoot at them, but they can’t fire at us with the cannon in their bows. If they change course to aim at us, we can cut around them, wind permitting, and keep shooting into their stern. If the enemy’s another sailing ship, well, we’ll have to learn as we go. The only consolation is, I’ve never seen a cannon-armed sailing ship in these waters before, so I don’t think we’re likely to come across another one.”

  “Not yet,” Taghri agreed. “If we can come up behind a galley, how about concentrating our fire on its rudder or steering oar? If we break that, they’ll have to steer her by main oars alone. That’ll be slow and cumbersome compared to a helmsman, particularly in heavy seas. It should cause them so many problems that we can keep out of the way of their bow cannon.”

  “Good idea, sir. Prasad, can your gunners be that accurate?”

  “If you get them close enough, sir, I think they can. Spitting distance would be best.”

  “I’ll try, but I hope they’re good at long distance spitting!”

  In the small hours of the morning, Elhac called for all hands. “The wind’s coming up, sir, and changing direction,” he explained to Taghri. “It’s on our beam now. I’d rather rig the smaller, stronger storm sails now. If we have to fight in the morning, we’ll be too busy to do it then.”

  “You’re the captain. Do as you see fit. I’m still learning the basics. Give me an enemy on land, and I’ll know what to do. Out here, I’m a novice.”

  “We all are, sir, as far as fighting from a sailing ship is concerned. Everyone’s accustomed to fighting from galleys. It’s going to be interesting.”

  When the sails had been reset and the crew, except for the watch on duty, had gone back to sleep, Taghri paced the deck. The wind was whining in the rigging. Whitecaps glistened in the moonlight, which began to fade as scudding clouds moved in. I hope we’ll still be able to maneuver and fight if it turns stormy, he thought to himself. The only consolation is that galleys will have an even more difficult time in heavy seas. It’s hard for their rowers to keep time when their ship is rolling and pitching heavily. At least we’ve still accustomed to the motion after our recent voyaging, so not many of us are seasick.

  He ended up leaning on the bow railing, looking out ahead, straining to see any sign of another ship. He stood there for almost half an hour, but saw nothing.

  At last he heard the padding of footsteps behind him. It was Gunner Prasad. “Still a couple of hours to dawn, sir, and a way to go yet,” he said gently. “You’d better get some sleep. If things turn out as you foresee, you’ve got a busy day ahead.”

  “I suppose so, although it’s probably going to be as a spectator. You people will be sailing the ship and manning her guns. I don’t know enough to command this fight.”

  “Yes, you do, sir. It’s as if you were a general in the army. He doesn’t do the fighting himself. He just sits there on his horse, looking impressive and pointing now and again, while couriers dash to and fro issuing his orders. His soldiers look up and see an inspiring leader, even though he may be blind as a bat, deaf as a post, and senile, too. If they win, they credit his leadership. If they lose… well, they won’t have to worry about credit or blame, because most of them will be dead. You be that general, sir. Be the figurehead to inspire us. We’ll do the hard work. And who knows? If it comes to a boarding fight, you’ll be in the thick of it along with the rest of us. You can show u
s some more of that swordplay I’ve heard your people boast about.”

  Taghri laughed softly. “All I want to do is get the Malik and the Princess safely home. If we can do that without fighting anyone, I’ll be happy. If we have to fight, that remains our purpose. Even if we lose the ship and everyone aboard her, they must be kept safe.”

  “I’ll make sure the gunners know that, sir.”

  “Thank you, Prasad. Get some sleep yourself.”

  “Aye, sir. Pleasant dreams to you.”

  Taghri’s dreams were pleasant indeed. Princess Gulbahar featured prominently in them, of course.

  14

  Dawn broke over a choppy, restive sea, spray coming over the bow as the chebec thrust herself bodily through the waves, her wake creaming out urgently behind her. Her storm sails were bellied out hard by the wind, pushing her over at an angle, her masts and rigging creaking under the strain.

  Elhac sent a sailor up the mainmast. He peered all around the horizon, then came scrambling down, his clothes marked with streaks of tar and grease. “No sign of other ships, sir. The coast is barely in sight to starboard – just a hill here and there.”

  “Thank you, Essa.” Elhac glanced at Taghri. “Sir, I suggest we alter course slightly to close the coast. The galley probably did that last night, to seek shelter as soon as she could see where she was going. If the weather gets any worse, she’ll want to ride it out in a sheltered bay.”

  “As you wish. You know far more about this than I do.”

  Over the next hour, the coast came into sight from the deck as they drew nearer. A hint of a white line at its base showed where the waves were breaking hard against the shore, throwing up spray. “It can’t be easy to close the land in that wind,” Taghri observed.

  “No, sir, it isn’t. If you’re looking for shelter, you have to stand off until you can reach a bay with a wide enough entrance that you can get through without coming too close to the sides. In this wind and sea, a misjudgment can put you aground before you can recover.”

  They were interrupted by a shout from the bow. “Ship on the starboard bow, sir! Single mast, steering for the coast!”

  “Essa, get aloft and tell me what you can see!” Elhac ordered.

  The lookout scrambled up the mainmast, peering ahead, and shouted down, “It’s a big galley, sir. She’s rowing as well as sailing – I can see the oars on either side. And… sir, there are three more ships on the larboard bow, single-masted, probably galleys too. They’re hull down from us, but it looks like they’re heading across our bows, coming from the open sea, heading for the first ship. They may be trying to catch her.”

  “I was right!” Taghri slammed his fist on the railing of the poop deck.

  “It looks like you were,” Elhac confirmed, looking at him with wide-eyed respect. “What now, sir?”

  “You’re the sailor, not me. What do you suggest?”

  “Sir, the Malik’s galley is well-founded, and she has a lot of fighting men aboard. She can hold her own against any one ship of her type. Against two, she might struggle, but she still has a chance. Against three, she has very little. We need to cut down the odds against her. I suggest we attack the last enemy ship in their line, and try to disable it by shooting at its rudder or setting it on fire. That’ll even the odds, two ships against two. We can then turn our attention to the second ship.”

  “Do as you see fit. I’ll watch and learn.”

  “Aye, sir. I suggest you get your guards together ahead of the poop deck, to board an enemy ship if that’s needed, or to stop them boarding us.”

  “Very well. Can we catch up with them in time to stop them attacking the Malik’s galley?”

  “Not all of them, sir. I think we have time to deal with the rearmost ship, but by the time we come up to the middle one, the leading vessel will have reached the Kalba galley.”

  “So we’ve got to deal with them one at a time.”

  “That’s right, sir. For our first target, I’m thinking one shot from each cannon, aiming at her rudder. At the same time, we’ll have the slingers put as many naphtha jars as possible onto her stern, then see if the archers can light them.”

  “Do it!”

  As they drew nearer to the ships ahead of them, it became clear that the three rear vessels were, indeed, galleys, using sail and oars to try to close on their prey. They had hoisted standards to their masts that Elhac recognized. “They’re Abu Reis’ ships, sir! I’d know that bastard’s standard anywhere. I sailed under it, chained to an oar, for four cursed months until you freed me!”

  “Then we know what to do. It looks like they’re stringing out.”

  “Yes, sir. This choppy sea is making it tough for their rowers, and they don’t have smaller storm sails hoisted, which makes it harder to control their ships in strong gusts. With luck, we’ll damage them enough to keep them out of the fight, or at least discourage them from joining in.”

  Taghri nodded. “We’ll have to trust the Malik’s men to deal with the leading ship until we can get close enough to help. That rear ship looks like the identical twin of the galley you were on, and the foremost ship too. The middle one’s bigger.”

  “That’ll probably be Abu Reis himself, sir. He always takes the biggest, strongest ship.”

  The chebec was scudding along under the pressure of the wind in her storm sails. It didn’t take long before all four ships ahead of her were hull-up, clearly visible even from the deck. As they watched, the rearmost ship began to furl her sail.

  “She’s seen us, sir!” Elhac snapped. “She’s stripping down for a fight. She’ll turn to face us, so she can shoot at us with her bow cannon.”

  “What will you do?”

  “Edge out to seaward, sir, so that if she turns, she’ll have to take the waves on her beam and bow as she tries to aim. That’ll make it very hard for her gunners.” Without waiting for permission – something of which Taghri entirely approved – he began shouting commands at the helmsman and sail handlers. The chebec’s bow nudged further to port, away from the land, as the galley’s broadside silhouette ahead of them began to narrow.

  Gunner Prasad had watched proceedings carefully. Now he shouted, “Gun crews, action to starboard!”

  Elhac added, “You’ll get one chance only as we round her stern. We’ll be very close to her. Remember, aim low, for her rudder!”

  The half-crews on the port side guns hurried across the deck to join those on the starboard side. All the cannon were long since loaded, needing only to be primed to be fired. The now-complete crews opened the gun ports and ran out the four nine-pounder cannon. Each gun captain stabbed a thin, sharp-pointed rod down the touch-hole, piercing the main charge of gunpowder in its cloth bag, then inserted a bird’s quill, shorn of its feathers and filled with gunpowder. When touched with the smoldering match of a linstock, it would ignite, sending the flame down the quill into the main charge and firing the cannon.

  “Swivels, load with grapeshot!” Prasad called. “Your target is the people on the galley’s poop deck. Sweep them away!” The two swivel guns on each side, one forward, one aft, could each fire nine arquebus-caliber lead balls at once. The starboard gunners shoved powder charges down the barrels, followed by wads and cloth bags containing the balls, then prepared their touch-holes in the same way as the cannon.

  Prasad turned to the slingers. “Try to get your naphtha jars to burst just below the poop deck, on the balcony running behind the cabin windows. If you can smash them through the windows into the main cabin, so much the better. Try to launch as many as you can by the time we draw level with her, to give the archers time to set the naphtha ablaze.” They muttered their agreement, eyes on their rapidly approaching target.

  “I’ll go tell the archers,” Taghri offered.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  He hurried down to the group of archers ahead of the mainmast, and told them where the slingers would try to place their projectiles. “See if you can set her on fire there,” he urged the
m. “If the fire gets into the cabin, it’ll be a lot harder to fight. They’ll have to dip buckets of seawater, then carry them inside to throw them on the flames. That’ll slow them down.”

  “Got it, sir,” the leader of the bowmen assured him. “Wet your arrows, boys.”

  The archers hurried to where the slingers stood, used one of the jars of naphtha to dampen the cloth tied around the head of each fire arrow, then ran back to their station. They would light the cloth from the nearest cannon’s linstock before launching the arrows.

  Taghri moved back to his guards, who were gathered at the break of the poop deck. Some had their weapons already drawn, and he shook his head at the sight. “Sheathe your swords and daggers,” he ordered. “You’ll have time to draw them if anyone boards us; and if we have to board them, you’ll need both hands free to climb across. Wait until you need them.”

  The pirate galley seemed to race across the water towards them, even though she was turning only slowly. Taghri gulped with anticipation, but Elhac seemed unperturbed. He gauged the gap carefully, eyes narrowed in concentration, then suddenly shouted, “Tiller hard to port! Sail party, trim for wind from astern!”

  The helmsman behind Elhac instantly thrust the tiller over to the left, pushing the rudder below out to the right side of the ship. The chebec began to heel as it turned sharply. Elhac shouted to the slingers, “As soon as you’re close enough, start throwing,” and then to Prasad, “Fire as you bear, gunner!”

  “Aye, sir!”

  The chebec cut around to starboard as she passed the galley, which had not been able to turn fast enough to bring its bow cannon to bear. As she curved in behind it, Taghri realized that Elhac had timed his maneuver to perfection. They were going to pass no more than twenty to thirty feet from the enemy ship. Archers on the galley’s deck were already lofting arrows at them, but they were firing into the wind, which made it hard to be accurate. Most of their arrows went wide, but some stuck in the gunwale and the makeshift barriers erected to protect the slingers and archers. One gunner shouted in pain as an arrow pierced his left arm.