It was half an hour after they moored when Mannoc made his way to the waist of Seahawk, calling across the narrow gap to Hal.
‘Mind if I come aboard?’
Hal smiled and motioned for him to step across. He saw with some surprise that Mannoc was accompanied by three other men. They were all somewhat older than Mannoc. The average age of the three of them would have been around forty, he decided. Their clothes were tar stained and their long hair was gathered in pigtails and queues. Their hands were callused and obviously well used to hard work. Sailors, he thought. Then he noticed an air of authority about them that marked them as separate from common sailors. Their clothes, although stained with tar, were more expensive in cut and fabric than the traditional rough wool that deckhands would wear, and two of them had gold ear rings.
Before Mannoc could introduce them, he realised who they were. They were the skippers of the trading ships Heron had helped rescue that afternoon. They stepped aboard, moving easily with the ship as she swayed under their weight. As Mannoc had done earlier that afternoon, they reacted with surprise when they saw how young the skipper of this ship, and her crew, were.
‘They’re boys,’ one of them said before he could stop himself. His face reddened instantly with embarrassment, but Mannoc stepped in to soothe any possible ruffled feelings.
‘They may look like boys,’ he said, ‘but they fight like men. Especially that one there.’ He pointed to Stig, who flushed with pleasure. Behind him, Thorn caught Mannoc’s eye and nodded almost imperceptibly. Good move, the look said.
‘Hal,’ Mannoc continued, putting a hand on the young skirl’s shoulder and drawing him forward. ‘These men are the skippers of the ships you saved this afternoon. Algon, Freyth and Crenna.’
Each of the men nodded as his name was mentioned, then stepped forward, offering his hand to Hal. Hal shook hands with them in turn, reflecting on the roughness of the calluses that hardened their palms.
‘Delighted to meet you,’ he said, feeling a little foolish. He wasn’t quite sure what was the correct thing to say under such circumstances. Perhaps he should have said something seamanlike, like avast there and belay, shipmates all, let’s splice the mainbrace, but he would have felt even more foolish saying that. The captains didn’t seem to mind.
‘That was well done this afternoon, young Hal,’ said Crenna, who appeared to be the oldest. He hesitated, then added, ‘You don’t mind me calling you “young Hal”, do you?’
‘Not at all,’ Hal replied, grinning. ‘That’s what I am, after all.’
‘It was well done indeed,’ Algon put in. ‘No matter what your age.’ And the other two mumbled their agreement. They stood nodding their heads and smiling at Hal and the rest of the crew. Finally, Mannoc prompted.
‘Algon, was there something else you wanted to say?’
Algon gave a start of surprise, and reached inside his jerkin to produce a soft leather bag that chinked in a most attractive way.
‘Aaah, yes. Well, we reckoned that you lads saved our bacon today.’
‘And a good more besides,’ Freyth put in. ‘Reckon you saved our cargoes as well.’
‘’At’s right,’ Algon continued, holding out the leather sack to Hal. ‘So we reckon we owe you the going rate for escorts – same as we pay Mannoc here.’
‘And that’s five per cent of the value of our cargoes,’ Crenna said. ‘So we collected it up and there you are.’
Algon thrust the purse out to Hal once more and the young skirl, somewhat taken aback, accepted it awkwardly.
‘Well, we’re very grateful,’ he said, ‘but it hardly seems fair to pay us the same as Mannoc. After all, he protected you all the way downriver. We only took a hand –’
‘When we were in trouble,’ Freyth completed the sentence. ‘Take the money, Hal. It doesn’t reduce Mannoc’s payment one penny piece. But you boys earned it, well and truly.’
Hal glanced quickly at Mannoc, who was standing slightly behind the three men. He gave Hal a small nod of confirmation.
‘Freyth’s right,’ he said. ‘You’ve earned the money. Matter of fact, I’d like to talk to you about joining us in our convoy escort business. You could make a lot of money escorting traders on this river. Particularly with that giant crossbow you’ve mounted in your bow. I’ve never seen the like of it.’
Hal put the money sack down by the steering platform and made a deprecatory gesture to Mannoc.
‘I appreciate the offer,’ he said. ‘I’m sure we all do. But we’ve got other business to take care of first.’
‘Ah yes. Zavac and his crew,’ Mannoc said. ‘Well, I wish you well with that. I’d be glad to see this river rid of that cursed black ship of his. But if you won’t join us on a more permanent basis, how about joining us tonight, for a feast? I’m paying.’
Hal looked around the crew and saw nothing but grins of anticipation. ‘Well, since you put it that way, we’d love to,’ he said.
They gathered later that night in one of the more pleasant taverns, a little removed from the rough and ready venues that were to be found close to the waterfront. Mannoc had secured them a large, low-ceilinged private room, with a log fire blazing at one end. The Herons, the three trading captains, Mannoc and his first mate gathered round the giant table, eyeing a row of glistening ducklings that were roasting on a spit in the fire. The fat hissed and spluttered as it hit the coals. While they were watching, with stomachs rumbling, the innkeeper entered with two huge game pies, covered with golden brown flaky pastry. As Mannoc cut into one, steam erupted from inside, along with an even more delectable smell than the ducks. The diners fell to eagerly and, within minutes, there was little left of the pies but a few crumbs and a stain or two of gravy.
There were bowls of steamed green vegetables, the ducks, and a leg of pork roasted so that the skin was crisp and crackling. Potatoes were served. They had been baked in their jackets in the coals of a fire. They were black on the outside, but the charred outer skin peeled away to reveal that they were beautifully crumbly and moist inside. Stig heaped a couple on his plate, cut them open and slathered them with butter.
‘This is the life!’ he exclaimed. The rest of the crew agreed noisily.
‘I hate to say it, Edvin,’ Stefan proclaimed, ‘but I prefer this to your cooking.’
Edvin regarded him for a moment. Then, with a completely straight face, he replied, ‘I hate to say it, Stefan, but so do I.’
As the meal continued, the sound of talking died away as the diners concentrated their attention on the food. Hal looked around the sumptuous spread and turned to Mannoc, who was seated next to him.
‘Are you sure you can afford this? It looks pretty expensive.’ Hal was speaking from experience. His mother ran an eating house in Hallasholm.
Mannoc grinned. ‘I can afford it, all right. An escort ship is paid for results. If the pirates had taken those ships today, I would have ended up with nothing. So this is well worth the price.’ He paused, looking at Hal, his head tilted slightly to one side. ‘I wish you’d reconsider joining us,’ he said. ‘Good fighting crews are hard to find and I think we’d make a great team.’
Hal nodded his head at the compliment. ‘I wish we could,’ he said. ‘But we need to settle with Zavac. Maybe after that.’
‘Ah yes, Zavac. That reminds me.’ Mannoc beckoned to the waiter and, when he approached, he spoke quickly to him. ‘See if Doric has come in yet, will you? If he has, ask him to join us.’
‘Doric?’ Hal asked. ‘Who’s he?’
‘He’s skipper of another escort ship. He’s due in tonight. He was bringing a convoy upriver, past Raguza. He may have sighted the Raven.’
A few minutes passed and the door reopened to admit the waiter. A few paces behind him was a broad-shouldered, dark-haired man. He had a long scar across his face and wore a mail shirt and war belt, from which hung a long sword and a heavy dagger. As the food had disappeared, the babble of talk had swelled up again. He looked round the noisy room
and saw Mannoc. He smiled and headed towards him.
‘This is Doric now,’ Mannoc told Hal. ‘Let’s see if he has news of the Raven.’
After introducing Hal to the newcomer, Mannoc asked how his trip had been. Doric shrugged.
‘No trouble,’ he said. ‘We had four fighting ships with the convoy, so those scum from Raguza weren’t going to try anything on with us.’
Mannoc turned to Hal and explained. ‘The north-bound convoys come up past Raguza. We always provide a strong escort for them. That’s why I was on my own today.’ He turned back to Doric. ‘Hal helped me out of a nasty spot this afternoon. We were hit by a fleet of longboats. He and his men sank two of them.’
Doric looked at Hal with new interest. Previously, he had paid little attention to the young man.
‘Good work,’ he said, sizing him up. Young, he thought, but he’s got an air of confidence about him. Looks as if he knows what he’s about.
‘Thing is,’ Mannoc went on, ‘Hal and his crew are hunting the Raven. Did you see any sign of her today?’
‘Zavac’s ship?’ Doric said, scowling. ‘Yes, I saw her all right. She was heading downriver and came sniffing around the convoy. But once Zavac saw that I had four fighting ships to back me up he took off quick smart. Headed into Raguza with his cowardly tail between his legs.’
Hal’s face fell. ‘He’s already in Raguza?’
Doric nodded. ‘He is. And you’ll have a tough time winkling him out of there.’ He looked around the table, counting the crew of the Heron. ‘There are dozens of ships in port, most of them pirates. You’ll be a little outnumbered if you try to barge in there and fight them.’
But an idea was beginning to form in Hal’s mind. He realised it had been flitting around the edges of his consciousness most of the afternoon, when he had realised that Zavac would probably make it to Raguza before the Herons could catch up with him. Now it began to crystallise.
‘Maybe we shouldn’t fight them,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Maybe we should join them.’
‘Join them?’ Doric said, and Mannoc frowned at his young companion, equally puzzled. Hal smiled at them.
‘That’s right. My crew and I are going to become pirates.’
Hal said no more about his plan that night. It was a rough idea only and he wanted to flesh it out before he discussed it with the others. He spent the rest of the evening quizzing Mannoc about Raguza: who ran the port, how ships gained entry and protection, what were the rules of the city, and any other detail he could think of. He wanted to gain as full a picture of the pirate haven as possible. Later, after he and the crew returned to the Heron, he sat for long hours in the bow, his back resting comfortably against the shrouded mass of the Mangler. He watched the moon traverse the sky, and the stars slowly wheel around the dark night in their stately procession, as he thought the idea through. Finally, yawning, he pulled his sheepskin up around his ears, tugged his watch cap down and slept.
He woke stiff and cold to the delicious smell of fresh coffee. He opened one bleary eye. Edvin was crouching over him, a cup held enticingly under his nose.
‘Where did that come from?’ he asked, his voice thick with sleep. Edvin grinned as Hal took the cup and sipped it, closing his eyes with pleasure.
‘Freyth’s ship was carrying a cargo of it,’ he said. ‘He insisted on giving us several kilograms. Naturally, I objected – for approximately two seconds. Then I graciously accepted.’
‘Lorgan’s ears but it’s good,’ Hal said. The coffee they had brought with them from Limmat had been mediocre, to say the best. This was rich and powerful. Best of all, it was freshly ground. He sipped again and felt the hot drink draining through his entire body, sweeping away the stiffness of his muscles.
Around him, the ship was slowly coming to life as the crew woke, rose and stretched. When they were safely moored like this, Edvin could light a cook fire on board – the charcoal grill resting in a tray of wet sand. The smell of the coffee, and sizzling bacon and eggs in his large cook pan, wafted to the boys’ nostrils and brought them out of their sleep.
‘Nothing wakes a boy like the smell of food,’ Thorn observed to nobody in particular. He eyed Hal curiously. ‘Spend the night there, did you? Something on your mind?’
‘You could say that. I was thinking about our problem with the Raven. I think I’ve come up with a way to get us into Raguza without having the locals attack us.’
Lydia had approached while Hal had been speaking. She caught the last few words.
‘Is that what you were talking about last night?’ she said. ‘When you said we should become pirates?’
‘Well . . . yes,’ said Hal, a little stiffly. He had been hoping to state that part of his plan as a dramatic denouement. Now Lydia had jumped in and pre-empted him. Girls had no sense of drama, he thought, frowning. No wonder none of them were saga-tellers.
Thorn, however, looked interested in the idea, drama or no drama. ‘How do you propose we do that?’ he asked. In answer, Hal pointed to Seahawk bobbing gently on the wavelets beside them.
‘I was thinking about the way Zavac tricked his way into Limmat harbour,’ he said. ‘I thought we might take a leaf out of his book. If we turn up outside Raguza, with Seahawk in hot pursuit, chances are they’ll take us for another pirate.’
Lydia frowned. ‘Zavac will hardly fall for his own trick,’ she said. ‘In any event, he knows the Heron. He’s seen her.’
‘That’s the point,’ Hal replied. ‘We don’t have to convince Zavac. We have to convince the man who is in charge at Raguza – Mannoc told me he has some strange title, the Kropajo or something like that. We’ll say Zavac recruited us for the raid on Limmat, then left us in the lurch – along with Stingray. That’ll give us the high ground if Zavac tries to discredit us. Of course he’d turn on us if he’d betrayed us and left us to die. He’d have to.’
Thorn stroked his chin with his forefinger and thumb as he thought over what Hal had said.
‘It’s not a bad idea,’ he said. ‘Of course, it’ll depend on us reaching this head man and putting our case before Zavac does.’
Hal shrugged. ‘It’ll be better if we can, but it’s not essential. In any event, once we’re in Raguza, we’ll have a chance to get on board Raven and find the Andomal.’
‘How do you propose to do that?’ Lydia asked.
Hal shrugged. ‘I haven’t quite figured that part out yet,’ he admitted. He paused, thinking for a few seconds. Then his mind went off on a tangent. ‘It’s a pity we don’t have any of the emeralds from Limmat,’ he said.
Thorn cocked his head in question. ‘Why’s that?’
‘I was talking to Mannoc about it last night. The system in Raguza is that each ship pays ten per cent of her plunder to a central council. That’s what buys them the protection of the port. That means Zavac will have handed over a share of the emeralds he stole. If we could produce more of them, it’d strengthen our story that we were at Limmat with him. They’re pretty distinctive, after all.’
Lydia cleared her throat noisily and they turned to look at her. A slow smile was spreading over her features.
‘What is it?’ Hal asked. She paused, trying to fight past the smile, then spoke.
‘Remember that parcel I gave you when we left Limmat? You put it in the strongbox.’
Hal nodded. ‘Yes. What about it? I assume it’s some particular valuable of yours.’
‘Actually, it contains eight Limmatan emeralds,’ Lydia told them. She enjoyed the way both of her listeners’ jaws dropped.
‘And . . . where did you get them, may I ask?’ Hal finally managed to say.
She shrugged airily. ‘I took them. They were in the Counting House. They were part of the last batch delivered from the mines. But Zavac missed them. After all, he was in a hurry to leave. Nobody had noticed them. They were left in a linen sack on a table in the Counting House anteroom. I looked in the sack and saw them, and I figured you all deserved some reward for saving the town. I al
so figured Barat would never pay you anything. So I . . . took them.’
‘You stole them?’ Hal asked, and she scuffed her shoe on the deck, not meeting his eyes.
‘I . . . liberated them. In the name of a deserving cause.’
Thorn emitted a low rumble of laughter. ‘Ah, girl,’ he said, ‘you definitely are a keeper.’
Lydia flushed with anger. ‘I’ve told you not to call me that, old man,’ she said, a warning glint in her eyes. Thorn continued to smile at her, totally unabashed, and she finally had to look away, shaking her head. He was incorrigible, she thought, not for the first time.
‘The thing is,’ she said to Hal, ‘if we show them, and hand over one of them in payment, it’ll be pretty obvious that they’re from the same source as the ones Zavac paid over.’ She spread her hands out to either side, palms upwards.
‘So it will appear that we were working with him,’ Hal said slowly. ‘That’s excellent! That’d be worth handing over all of the emeralds!’
‘Let’s not be hasty,’ Thorn told him. ‘Whoever’s running Raguza will expect us to try and hold back as much as possible. Pirates aren’t known for their generosity, after all.’
‘That’s why they’re pirates, in fact,’ Lydia said, smiling.
Hal finished his coffee and rose to his feet, yawning and stretching. He returned the empty cup to Edvin’s cooking area, then glanced across to the decks of Seahawk. There was a small guard left on board, but the majority of the crew had gone to their homes. He could see no sign of Mannoc yet, but the skipper had said he’d come down to the ship during the morning.
He and Stig spent the next two hours going over the ship, checking sails, masts, halyards and standing rigging for any sign of wear and tear. It had been some weeks since they had had enough free time to attend to such matters and soon the entire crew were hard at work making minor repairs – splicing ropes, greasing blocks and pulleys and re-tarring the stays where there was any sign of fraying.
When Hal had shot the massive bolt into the bottom of the pirate longboat, he’d noticed a slight extra movement in the massive recoil of the giant crossbow. It had seemed to lurch a little to one side. He removed the canvas covering and crouched to examine the two leather restraining straps that absorbed the recoil. He hadn’t checked them since the battle at Limmat and he found that the starboard side strap had frayed slightly where it passed over a timber piece of the crossbow’s frame. The timber was hard edged and the constant rubbing back and forth as Hal had shot had caused wear on the strap. As the strap thinned, it had stretched a little, leaving the Mangler slightly unbalanced.
The Hunters Page 20
