In Search of Spice, page 12
Lieutenant Mactravis climbed wearily up to the poop. He saluted the Captain who regarded him bleakly.
“Are you injured, Lieutenant?”
“Just a bang on the head, Sir. Helmet did its job.”
“And your men?”
“Scratches, mostly, one broken bone, but all will heal. It’s not an easy thing, climbing into a shield wall.”
“Crazy,” murmured Brian. “I can’t understand the Spakka. They never had a chance.”
“Oh, I’m not sure,” said the Captain. “I think that was a well worked plan that had a very good chance. If they had caught us of guard, they would swarm over us and we’d have been disabled. They still had a chance till they found the shield wall, and if Pat and the ballista hadn’t reduced the numbers, they could have come round the sides.”
“Not sure what you did, sir,” said Mactravis, “but I think that if the ship has slowed much after the impact, we would have had another load to contend with. That would have been warm work.”
“Indeed, there are still a few longships astern of us looking for wreckage. Now, Lieutenant, tell us about these Spakka Sara has landed us with.”
“I don’t really know, sir. Spakka I have fought have always died, never surrendered. There are stories of how to get them to surrender, and Sara must know them.” The Lieutenant eyed the Captain and Brian thoughtfully. “More than any mercenary would. She took command of my men without even thinking about it. Not many outsiders have heard us sing and fight.”
“Yes,” said the Captain slowly. “I wondered about that. She seems very young for a mercenary leader of such ability.”
“Well, you’ll need to promote her now, sir. All of a sudden your little topsails girl has thirty odd big hairy savages who will obey her and only her.”
“Really?”
“You saw her welcome ceremony, sir. They put her feet on their heads. Drank her blood. But she has told them to do what I say, which apparently they have accepted for training purposes.”
“Will they sail?”
“”If she tells them to, I guess they will. They are all happily learning Harrhein this evening as she decreed it to be the most important thing. I never heard of a Spakka learning another language.”
“Hmmmph. Well, I agree with you on the promotion anyway. She’s now a Midshipman.”
Sailing
With the Spakka galleys falling behind over the horizon, the Queen Rose maintained a steady south east course. She listed right over to one side as all the Bosun moved the ballast and cargo to starboard to keep the damaged side planks out of the water.
The carpenter managed a quick rough repair, stuffing the holes with canvas for the night, and the next day went over the side in a sling along with his assistants and experienced seamen. The Bosun oversaw from the deck, with the new recruits kept well away and out of mischief. Sara objected vociferously to her promotion but couldn’t find a suitable argument. Once Brian pointed out that it was out of character for a mercenary to refuse more money, she submitted with bad grace, but insisted on remaining a topsailsman until the Spakka spoke enough Harrhein to incorporate them into the crew. She would need extra time as a Midshipman to learn her future duties.
While overseeing the repairs, the Bosun conducted interviews with the released slaves. There weren’t many of them, for it seemed the Spakka preferred to row themselves for fitness. Slaves were not a permanent position - it was the bottom rung of society from which you could rise and become Spakka yourself. There were half a dozen Harrhein slaves, and she spoke to them first. They were a little reticent, one admitting to have been a slave for three years, the only one thankful for his release.
The Bosun came up to the poop to report to the Captain, with Taufik in tow. “Captain, I think we’ve picked up a right rum lot here,” she reported without preamble. “I reckon most of them were pirates and wouldn’t trust them an inch. Almost worth turning back to port to dump them.”
Captain Larroche stroked his beard and prepared to speak when Taufik interrupted. “Captain, you must kill some of them.”
Brian stopped his navigation lesson, he, Suzanne and Sara turning to listen with interest, as did Walters and Perryn, busy working on the report of the allegiance ceremony.
“Humph. I don’t tend to execute many men, Master Taufik.” Captain Larroche regarded him with a quizzical eye, hand still resting on his beard.
“Sir, they are Havant,” said Taufik with the air of someone who has explained everything in full.
“Ah,” said Captain Larroche, “I believe I have heard of Havant. Bishop, isn’t it a country to the east of Spak?”
“Indeed, sir,” replied Bishop Walters in his best tutor’s voice. “It is supposed to be quite a large country and a veritable maritime power. They are always fighting with the Spakka, though, so we have little knowledge or trade with them. Most of our knowledge comes from Taufik here.”
“So, Master Taufik, they are Havant and that is a reason to kill them? Why?”
“Sir, the Havant control all the Western trade with Hind. They are very jealous of it, and they are a very warlike people. We are expressly forbidden to trade to the West, and indeed it was only due to a storm we came this way. If the Havant find out we are trading in Hind, they will send warships to track us down and sink us.”
“Do they have ships as big as this?” Captain Larroche asked, a shade contemptuously.
“Yes sir, many of them. This design is a carrack, and they also have caravels which they claim they invented. Caravels are smaller but faster. If they know about us, they will blockade the sea lanes. You must kill them. You cannot take the risk of them escaping. When we get to Hind, they will just steal a boat and slip ashore, then make their way home.”
Silence spread across the poop deck. The sound of hammering rose from the side where the carpenter worked on the holes, and Little could be heard swearing in the distance. Hens cackled and a cockerel crowed
Captain Larroche looked at his officers, including Taylor, the third mate who materialised in time to hear. “Thoughts?”
Nobody said a word, though the Bosun began to look decidedly grim.
“Right, everyone,” said the Captain, “imagine you are King of Havant and you are the sole trader established with all of Hind. Another country appears, one you don’t trade with. Do you seek to encourage their trade, or repress it? If you repress it, how would you do so?”
Captain Larroche saw with interest the hard, determined expressions appearing first on the girls faces, as Sara and Suzanne came to the same decision as the Bosun. Bishop Walters joined them, while the other men still looked disturbed.
“Perhaps with some discussion and negotiation,” began Brian and trailed off as he looked around and saw a lack of support.
“Who’s going to kill them?” Taylor asked, a tough squat man. Married, and he saw no reason to put his wife in extra danger. “I can see the necessity, but I ain’t doing it.”
“And when?” The Bosun put in, her face troubled. “I don’t want my crew upset by this. Needs to be done fast before they make friends. Not that they will. Take out the pirates too.”
The silence deepened. Sara shook herself, and thought about responsibility. ‘I’m growing up too fast,’ she thought miserably, ‘this was supposed to be a fun trip. Go on girl, sort it out. They won’t, and we must do this for the country. I must do it fast or they will find a reason not to do it.’ She stepped forward and cringed inside as she saw the faces brighten, a look of relief appearing fleetingly on the Captain’s face.
“It’s my fault they are here,” she said clearly and confidently, no trace of her anguish. “I will sort it directly. Sir, you will explain why to the crew afterwards.”
Captain Larroche nodded, “I can do that, but what will you do?”
“I will have the Spakka slaughter them. They will do what I say, and I will tell them it is a test. They must also slay any Spakka once of Havant.” The iron grip she held on her emotions to stop the revulsion made her words come out hard and cold, which matched her face.
The Captain sighed. A way out, so tempting. Sternly he gripped the rail. “No. That is not the way. It would upset the crew who would never trust the Spakka. We need a trial before we hang them. I know, I know!” He put up his hand to stop Sara’s angry protest. “This is a ship, not the army, we don’t do decrees here. Every member of the crew is entitled to understand what is happening.”
The Captain moved over to Sara, put his hand on her shoulder and murmured, “It is a good thought, but this is better for the ship.” He stepped back and continued a little louder so others could hear. “If you could use your Spakka to arrest the slaves, we”ll try them straight away. I want them all held individually. You will do the translating at the trial.”
The congregated crew grumbled and shuffled, not happy. Life as a galley slave amounted to the depths of hell, and they wanted to celebrate the rescue. Why put them on trial?
The first ex-slave brought forward came from Harrhein. Captain Larroche explained the tribunal consisted of an investigation to find out how he came to become a slave, and was rewarded with a long involved tale of a fishing boat being shipwrecked and his being rescued by Spakka who enslaved him. The crew listened appreciatively and hummed at his bravery. Sara translated his story to the Spakka, without him hearing.
The ex-slave finished his impressive tale and smiled at the crew. A large Spakka warrior grunted and muttered to Sara. “Captain, I have further evidence.” The Captain nodded.
“This is Boersma. He remembers his capture.” She indicated the warrior, who grinned theatrically at the crew through a large scar down his cheek, exposing several missing teeth. The crew frowned, not a popular witness. “He was a sailor on a pirate ship they caught. Along with four others over there. It was the Gull.”
The crew gave a sharp intake of breath, the mood changing in an instant. The Gull had been a particularly bloody pirate ship. But Boersma wasn’t finished.
“He says this one had no honour,” Sara translated, stone faced. “He didn’t fight to the death, begged for his life.” Boersma took a step forward and spat in the direction of the ex-slave, who went white and sank to his knees. Other Spakka warriors pulled forward the other four men, and the five of them shrank before the glare of the crew.
Captain Larroche looked down on them. “Do any of you have anything to say?” He waited, one sank to his knees and started to sob, the others just looked down. The Captain looked at his crew, to see if any of them wanted to speak, but mention of the Gull changed opinions. Even the recruits knew of her. “We will not have creatures like you in our crew. You will be hanged after the tribunal.”
Sara spoke a few words in Spakka and the warriors laughed, dragging them off to the side.
Next up came a hulking young man with a flat face and black hair, who looked at them expressionlessly. A northerner who spoke only Spakka. His name was unpronounceable, and it wasn’t clear whether he didn’t understand the proceedings or didn’t care. Seeing two others of similar ilk, the Captain called them in as well. The crew wanted blood now, and seeing foreign northerners in front of them were ready to see them hang as well. But the Spakka weren’t helpful.
“Good fighters, hard workers. One day make Spakka. Have to knock them out to catch them.” That was about the limit of their description. They shrugged when asked about their capture, and Janis said the Spakka were always fighting the northerners. Captain Larroche resorted to questioning them in Spakka through Sara.
“Will you work hard in the ship for us?”
“If you feed us.” Sara tried not to smile as she translated.
“Will you run away?”
Shrugs. “Who knows? If the food better and the work not hard, we stay.”
“Will you fight for the ship and the people in it?”
“Fighting fun. Give spear, we use.”
The Captain looked at the Bosun, who shrugged. “Very well, they stay on probation. Who’s next?”
A young boy with broad shoulders from rowing who claimed to be a fisherman. He said the Spakka had taken his ship and killed his father and uncle. He was from a fishing village on the east coast of Harrhein. A Spakka warrior confirmed his story, and added that he was a good boy who had stood over his father despite being small. The Captain passed him into the crew where one of the Bosun’s mates took him under her wing.
A blonde giant came forth next, and a very similar one pushed out to join him. The second spoke up without being questioned, in broken Harrhein.
“We are Uightlanders! We on ship, raiding Spakka, Harrhein, anywhere we can. If not raiding, we trade. Sometimes we trade with Harrhein, sometimes we raid - depends on how good defences.” He smiled. “Usually good, so trade! You take us, we part of crew, work, fight, trade. In maybe one year, maybe two, we ask for money and go home. We like to be on ship with women!” He grinned at the girls in the crew.
Captain Larroche spoke quietly to Brian. “They look likely lads. What do you think?”
“They’ll be fine. Good lads, these Uightlanders, always an asset to the crew. Can start fights when they’re drunk, but always in good spirits.”
“OK Bosun, they’re all yours.” Captain Larroche called down to the deck. “Are the remaining ones all one nation, Midshipman Sara?”
Sara narrowed her eyes at the title, more so at a couple of titters from the crew. “Yes, Captain. All from Havant. They don’t speak Harrhein.”
“Very well. Find out if they have a spokesperson and what the Spakka have to say.”
The Spakka herded them forward, a round dozen of them. Big men, with a browner skin than most Harrheinians, and prominent noses and black eyebrows. Sara spoke to them, one answered for the others. A Spakka intervened and the conversation went back and forth.
Sara turned, looked disdainfully at the Havants, and spoke. “All pirates, sir. Not very nice ones, either. Apparently they all liked to decorate themselves with human body parts when they went to attack another ship - hands, fingers, that sort of thing. This one,” she pointed, “even wore a baby’s head.”
The crew growled, the mood turning black. The Havants looked worried, sensing something amiss and the spokesperson spoke urgently to Sara, who shrugged.
Captain Larroche felt something out of place. “All of them? From the one ship?
“Oh no, sir,” said Sara with certainty. “Apparently there are lots of pirate ships in Havant, and these are from several ships. This one used fire arrows and looted the victim before it sank, leaving the victims behind, while these ones were slavers, raiding hamlets and fishing villages when the men folk were away, killing the old people and babies while taking the children and women.”
The crew moved restively, an angry murmur coming from them. The Captain moved decisively.
“Very well. There is only one punishment for pirates. Hang them.”
Some of the brawnier crew members pushed forward to help the Spakka, who seemed to guess their intentions and were not selfish. They and the Harrhein pirates were dragged over to the railings where Else and Pat had been busy putting nooses over the spars under the direction of Little, who had anticipated this with some relish. He grinned up at the Captain, seeing Brian reluctantly making his way down to the deck.
“Hey, Captain, you want us to get on with it or do you have a ceremony to go through?” Little shouted up, causing a number of crewmen to pause and look at the Captain for his reaction.
“Just get on with it,” said the Captain with distaste. “But make sure it is quick, with a drop, not a slow death.” He turned away, most of the officers going with him as the first screams rent the air, as the Havantines realised what was happening. Sara came up the ladder to join them and he eyed her, measuring her mood. He jerked his head. “My cabin. Now.”
On the deck, Little took charge of the hanging detail and checked the knots for the nooses with Husk’s assistance. “Got to be a big knot, Husky mate,” he said, “so the head gets pushed over and the neck breaks.”
Husk grunted. “Tell me something I don’t know.” He placed the noose around the neck of the first prisoner, one of the Harrhein pirates and grimaced in disgust. “Ah you bastard, you’ve shat yourself! Be a fucking man and die well.” He pushed him over the side and watched the man fall, then his body twisted and he could hear the neck break as the weight hit the knot. When the body stopped jerking, Husk sliced through the rope just above the head, allowing it to drop into the sea and be washed away. Pat efficiently pulled the rope up to create a new knot.
The soldiers were brutally efficient in hanging the men, the Spakka watching with great interest. Most of the crew gathered around watching, only a few mothers attempting to stop their children from seeing the show. Nobody spoke, content to watch. Hanging was a common enough event in Harrhein.
In his cabin, Captain Larroche helped himself to a drink of brandy, offering the bottle to Sara in silence, who accepted it. He knocked back a substantial slug and allowed the aroma to swirl up through his nose. Finally he looked up at her. She sipped her drink, ignoring him.
“You’re a lying fucking bitch,” he said. “Thank you.”
Sara sighed. “It worked. But I can’t let myself feel anything right now. How long does it last, this empty feeling?”
“A day or so. When it goes too quick, you know you’re not human any more. That’s when it’s time to stop being a captain and take shore leave. I guess it’s a good mark for a mercenary to judge themselves by as well.”
“I’ve killed people, and it was hard the first time. But I’ve never ordered an execution before.” She looked bleak. “Yes, I know, you did the actual ordering, but I set it up for you and I am responsible. It feels a damn sight worse than your first kill.” She dropped her glass, her face broke and fat tears pushed their way out of her eyes. She cried in great, racking sobs and the Captain leaned forwards and enveloped her in his arms. His face sombre, he stroked her hair softly, as shudders ran through her. He let her cry herself out and felt her pull herself together, whereupon he released her and looked at her with a critical eye.
