In Search of Spice, page 36
Pat blushed again. “No sir. Thank you, sir. I don’t really want it, sir.”
“We all do things we don’t want, young man. Now, show me your watch.”
Pat turned and led the Captain to the front row, seeing with relief the girls were modest again and looking impeccable. The Captain went down the row half-heartedly, nodded to Pat and walked on to inspect the Bosun’s people before going out to take up a position in front of the three watches, accompanied by Brian and a Boatswains Mate with pipes. The soldiers arrayed to his left, with the Spakka resplendent in kilts on the far side of them and the various other departments under the Bosun to the right. Pat noticed for the first time Sam was there with his boar, impeccably clean and garlanded in flowers. Mot laughed at him from beside them, also with flowers, her tongue hanging out. She was noticeably fat, he thought as they waited. Exactly the same as Pahipi, the kai Viti had overcome their initial fear and fallen in love with her, feeding her constantly wherever she went and the children were always playing with her.
On either side of the Harrheinians the beach filled up with kai Viti, women and children. They left a broad pathway down from the town, at least a hundred yards wide. As Captain Larroche took up his position, there was a loud “Hau! Hau!” and a shield wall ninety yards wide strode out of the village, perfectly aligned. It stopped at the top of the beach, the warriors thumped their shields on the ground and slammed their axes against the shields, raising a wall of sound that crashed down the beach and sent the seabirds screaming into the air in a whirling cloud.
The warriors started to sing, the farewell song, of the paddlers fatigue as they sailed into the setting sun. They advanced slowly, using the song to keep in step and the shields as drums, thumping them into the ground. As the song came to a mournful end, the shield wall stopped in front of the Captain. It parted and the Great Ratu strode forth, bedecked in his finest regalia and towering high over the Captain.
As he approached the Captain, his eyes flicked to Pat, and he missed step as he realised Suzanne wasn’t there. Pat was close enough to see the question in his eyes, and the way his eyes scanned the crew. Pat knew damn well Suzanne had created the protocol for the farewell and dictated what was going to happen, so prepared himself for a surprise. He was fascinated to realise the Ratu had no idea what was happening.
Captain Larroche started speaking, in Belada, thanking the Great Ratu for his hospitality, to which the Ratu replied in kind, and then presented him with a Royal Guard, who strode out of the village, marched down and through the gap in the shield wall and took up position beside the soldiers.
As the Great Ratu and Captain Larroche turned back to each other, both hesitated, not certain what was supposed to happen now as it was Suzanne’s turn to speak. Pat knew that and saw Sara take a step forward, clearly intending to take Suzanne’s place.
As she did so, a shriek rose from a hut some way to one side of the pathway. Immediately, every woman in the crowd started screaming and wailing and pulling at their hair. Everyone stared in astonishment, this was unexpected and only Sara and Mactravis had the court experience to continue as if nothing was happening - however Sara did stop her step.
A ghostly white figure appeared from the hut, and an unearthly scream came from it. The women continued to ululate and rend their hair, the children adding to the noise by screaming with laughter and excitement. Pat noticed the Ratu take an involuntary step back, and the shield wall lose its discipline. Not surprising, this figure appeared to be some ghastly spectre, some unknown god of the island, or the ghost of somebody eaten long ago.
A path appeared between the women as they moved aside, leading straight up to the Great Ratu. The figure started down the path, and Pat’s keen eyes saw it was female, with huge breasts and his eyes focused on the face and he smiled.
She was stark naked, and a ghastly white, the colour of mourning and death, even her hair which was done up to twice the size achieved in the past. Her lips were stained a horrible blue, like a corpse washed up from the sea, and her skin appeared to be shedding, bits trailing behind her in the wind, and pouring from her hair in a steady cloud. Her eyes were black pits, huge, staring and quite terrifying. She swayed down the path, moaning, gibbering and letting out an occasional unearthly scream.
Pat looked around; he was the only one to recognise her. Many of the warriors looked on the point of fleeing. Every pair of eyes locked on the spectre as she undulated down the path, coming closer and closer to the Ratu. He recognised Suzanne at the last moment, and appeared to think she had been murdered in the night. The supernatural was one thing he wasn’t prepared to face.
Suzanne timed it with perfection. Another step and he would have broken, leading the warriors in a race for the middle distance.
She stopped and her voice rose, soaring over the multitudes on the beach, speaking first in perfectly accented Vituan, then in Belada.
“Oh Great Ratu, see my despair and grief at this parting! You are my world, my star and my hero, leaving you turns this life to ashes. You are the mighty one, who conquers all the islands and my love for you is as wide as the great sea. Aaaaaah!” She cried again, despair and agony echoing with the scream, and the whole crowd, entranced, moaned with her.
“Duty! What a cruel burden that drags me from your side, for today I must go! My place is beside my Princess.”
The Ratu recovered brilliantly and leapt into the drama with both feet. He ripped off his headdress, throwing it dramatically to the floor, the other hand going to his necklaces which broke, scattering shells and flowers in all directions. Suzanne watched him, eyes bright with anticipation. He bellowed like a wounded leviathan as he stripped his grass skirt away to leave himself equally naked and jumped forward to scoop her up, high in the air and turned in a circle that spread ashes over the nearest warriors, then hugged her to his chest.
“Ah, my Golden Queen! How will I survive without you by my side! Your beauty is without equal, you give me the will and strength to rule and conquer. NO! I cannot let you go!”
There was a surge from the women, who rose up, led by his seven wives, and gently but firmly pried his arms from around her and pulled them apart. The Ratu made no struggle, but fell to his knees, spread his arms apart and watched events mutely and whitely as the ashes from Suzanne’s body now covered him as well.
The women lifted Suzanne to their heads and held her above them as they walked slowly to the sea, Suzanne lying flat like a stranded starfish with her head trailing down, looking back at the Ratu. Now the women sang their own farewell song, remembering the dead, and the women left alone by the fire pit. They took her down to the jolly boat and placed her in the end.
The Bosun snapped an order as soon as she saw the direction in which they headed, and was waiting in the bow, 6 female sailors at the oars, six brawny men ready to push the boat out, which they did while Suzanne stood in the stern, arms raised to the heavens. The boat rowed terribly slowly out to sea.
Pat thought fast and spoke sharply. “Edgar! Get them in the boats. We must make the ship before her!” In a trice the Second Watch were afloat and rowing fast back to the ship. The rest of the crew flowed after them and it seemed the entire Vitu Nation took to the canoes and followed until the water was black and seething from the paddle strokes.
Pat’s keen eye noted the Ratu’s wives produce a container and empty it over the Ratu, more ashes, so he was also white as he climbed into the Royal Barge. He wasn’t alone, as many of the women, accomplices all, brought their own ash and now covered themselves as well, while the soldiers did their best, scooping up white sand and pouring it into their hair so it streamed down steadily as they rowed.
Brian was proud of the speed with which the crew vacated the beach and climbed aboard, stowing the boats rapidly. The only one to give trouble was the pig, and Mot soon had him under control, though he squealed loudly all the way to the ship.
The capstan turned, pulling the ship slowly towards the open sea, while the sails shook out and the canoes raced about in front of them, laying a fragrant carpet of hibiscus and frangipani flowers through which she sailed majestically. A massed choir of over a thousand kai Viti in their canoes sang battle hymns as the Queen Rose sailed away from the sunset.
Sung
Ship life went back to normal as they sailed north east. The kai Viti fitted in, sharing a large cabin with the Spakka and the laughter level on the ship lifted, while the sea shanties sung in the evening improved beyond measure. They even started adding verses in Harrheinian, pretty poor at first. They were an excellent influence on the Spakka, who at last started to become part of the community. Stiphleek in particular spent time with them for these brother axemen would let him sing, even encourage him and join in. Esbech struck up a firm friendship with Wiwik after a vicious fight ended in a draw, both laid unconscious by the Bosun to the loud protestations of the onlookers. The Bosun actually broke a marlinspike in the process.
A week’s voyage with the prevailing winds brought them to a string of small islands, coral atolls, most of which were inhabited. The occasional inhabitants fled at the sight of the Queen Rose and Captain Larroche didn’t stop.
Another four days brought them to a larger island, still tiny compared to Vitu Levu, and something about the haze of the island caused Captain Larroche to send Pat up the mast with Nils. They sat in the crow’s nest and discussed what they could see, Nils explaining to Pat how to compensate for the haze and see through it, not an easy trick. To make it more difficult, the sea-birds swirled around the island and the distance made them appear as a moving cloud.
“That’s no mountain,” grunted Nils.
“Village on fire,” said Pat. “Under attack.”
“Not kai Viti,” said Nils. “They wouldn’t fire a village, they’d take it over.”
“Pirates?”
“Well, it’s the sort of thing the Spakkas do. Come on, we’ll learn nothing more till we get round the point. Let’s tell the Captain.”
They slipped down the ropes to the mainsail spar, slid down the mainsail to the main deck and trotted up to the poop where the Captain waited. He listened to the report, and called for his officers. Aware Pat was showing his youth by his excitement and eagerness, he took care to project steadiness and calm to quieten the lad.
“When we come round the point we will find at least one pirate ship. I have no idea whether it will be a galley or a sailing ship, but there will be a number of fighters, for sure. We will sail to the windward of them, and as we go past, Nils, you will fire the ballistas on my order. Pat, the archers can start firing as they come in range. On my order, we will come about and close with them. Lieutenant Mactravis, you make the decision and lead a boarding party of soldiers, Spakka and kai Viti aboard the largest ship as the hulls touch. Repeat for each ship, Brian. Any sailors you want in the parties?”
“No sir, keep them in reserve.”
“Princess,” continued the Captain, emphasizing the title, “kindly prepare the kai Viti and Spakka but you are NOT to accompany them, which is an order.” Sara’s lips tightened, but she nodded.
“Brian, when Mactravis has the situation under control, lead a boarding party and take control of the main ship. Make four parties ready, for other ships, to be led by Delarosa, Stevens, Starr and the Bosun. Go by boat, the pinnace for the largest ship. Any questions?”
There were none and the officers went to brief their crews.
As they rounded the point, Else stood in the rigging with most of the girls to operate the sails if required. Coming about, the deck crew would handle by the timing of turning the rudder and pulling on the stays, but the sails would need to come down as they closed with the enemy. Pat led a band of archers on the foredeck while Little commanded the crossbow men on the poop deck. They found a bay with a village by the usual small stream. Flames licked from the rooftops and some white robed people were taking naked villagers in chains to a ship in the bay. The ship was a long low shape, with a small cabin area at the stern and a single mast near the bows, from which came out a long spar running low above the deck. A dirty white sail fell roughly around the long spar running down the centre of the deck and the ship seemed to have stripes down the side.
“What is it, sir?” Suzanne asked.
“It’s a dhow,” answered Taufik before the Captain could speak. “Umayyads.”
“Why have they painted stripes on it?” Sara asked innocently.
“That’s shit,” said Taufik. Sara looked again with distaste. The whole ship was filthy.
The appearance of the Queen Rose caused consternation on the dhow, while the sight of the slavers caused a growl amongst the crew.
The slavers on the beach left the slaves in chains and ran for their boats, climbing in with desperation and causing a confused commotion as they tried to row without being in time. The one full boat at sea raced to the dhow and was hauled aboard, slaves and all, to be dumped on the deck and ignored while an empty boat, going back to the beach for more slaves, turned for the dhow.
The Queen Rose laid a course to block the dhow; Pat judged it would take them twenty minutes, as they tacked across the wind to gain the weather gage, the advantage of coming down the wind. Navigation lessons made a great deal of sense as he realised the ship was moving sideways almost as fast as forward, and he finally understood what Brian meant when he explained about the slippage when they tacked. The Captain demonstrated an awe inspiring level of skill to manoeuvre the ship. Pat felt he could never become a real officer. He noticed Brian, Suzanne, Sara and Stevens watching intently, doing their own calculations. He switched to studying the slavers, wondering if they were Umayyads. He catalogued them with care, choosing targets. He nudged Grey Fox.
“Two on the helm.” It was not a wheel like the Queen Rose, but a long rudder at the back, a simple arrangement, very heavy, and took two men to operate.
“Then Greybeard”. Grey Fox spoke in an equally terse and laconic manner. A man with a long, matted grey beard shouted orders at the crew of the dhow, most of which seemed to create no effect.
They watched the second boat swing aboard and an argument develop over the chained slaves on the deck.
“Hey, Cap’n!” Little, always wise in the ways of the world, called from the main deck. “If’n you want to rescue them slaves, you’d better get a move on. Betcha they ditch ‘em.”
“Sara,” called Captain Larroche, “take your boarding party and the best Pahippian divers, see if you can rescue any of them.”
“Jolly boat sir?” Sara asked as she moved to the head of the stairs. He nodded and she jumped down to the deck, issuing orders and calling for Hinatea.
The slavers hauled at their anchor, till a burly man came running over and cut through the rope with a few slashes of a huge, wide sword. “Scimitar,” Grey Fox murmured to Pat. “Spakka sometimes use them.”
Seeing the dhow start to swing into the wind and raise the huge triangular sail, the remaining slavers in the last boat dropped their oars and dived over the side, swimming to the dhow, grabbing ropes trailing from the side, and deserting their boat. As they came aboard, one of them grabbed the nearest slave and threw him overboard. Chained together, but sensing freedom, the rest followed on, falling into the sea on top of each other.
“Little!” Pat cried, “crossbow range, let go!”
The heavy twang of the crossbows sounded and two of the crew, hauling on ropes, fell over the side.
Pat and Grey Fox waited a moment longer, nodded to each other and raised their bows. Both the men on the tiller slumped, one falling over the low side. Greybeard was next, followed by the burly man, while the rest of the crew dived into shelter. The dhow’s sail shuddered, and the dhow slowly turned into the wind, coming to a halt.
Sara cast off in the jolly boat, moments before Little’s crossbow men got off a second volley. Pat and Grey Fox picked off anyone who moved, then Nils let off the ballista, using a heavy bolt which crunched through the walls of the small cabin area, causing it to collapse and some of the robed slavers emerged to be skewered by Pat and Grey Fox.
Captain Larroche called out his orders, the Queen Rose swung around and fetched up along side the dhow, which banged and ground its way along the side of the ship causing the Bosun to wince and swear.
At the noise, robed men rose out of the shelter of the side of the dhow, waving swords and scimitars. The Spakka didn’t hesitate. Boersma leapt first, and three swords raised, prepared to skewer him as he landed. At the last possible moment, he swung his axe in a practised motion beneath his feet, smashing all three swords to one side and going through to land feet first on the chest of one of the slavers. Stiphleek and Esbech landed moments later, either side of him, Esbech also needing to clear a couple of swords out of the way. Stiphleek landed cleanly on the balls of his feet and in one motion reversed his axe to remove the hand of the Umayyad about to skewer Boersma who recovered his balance a trifle slowly, with his axe stuck in the chest of his landing pad.
The landing point made, the first three whirled their axes into the surrounding throng while more Spakka leapt into the space created, pushing forward into the expanding area. The Umayyads appeared uncertain as to how to handle axemen, and although many stood their ground bravely, too many watched the axes gleaming in the sunshine rather than the eyes of their opponents. The Spakka revelled in their inexperience, joyfully cleaving into the defenders.
A few paces down the ship, the kai Viti betrayed their inexperience. The first to land swung at the waiting swords and collected two, but two more transfixed his legs as he dropped. He shouted in pain and fury, swinging his axe wildly to kill one slaver and cripple another, before a third stepped forward and lanced his body, only to have Maciu land on his shoulders and remove his head. More kai Viti arrived, several taking stab wounds to the legs, but once aboard they tore into the wavering defenders
Stiphleek paused, letting his bloodthirsty brethren move past him, a gleam came across his eyes and he threw back his head and started to sing, bellowing out the Saga of Stiphleek the Bold.
“We all do things we don’t want, young man. Now, show me your watch.”
Pat turned and led the Captain to the front row, seeing with relief the girls were modest again and looking impeccable. The Captain went down the row half-heartedly, nodded to Pat and walked on to inspect the Bosun’s people before going out to take up a position in front of the three watches, accompanied by Brian and a Boatswains Mate with pipes. The soldiers arrayed to his left, with the Spakka resplendent in kilts on the far side of them and the various other departments under the Bosun to the right. Pat noticed for the first time Sam was there with his boar, impeccably clean and garlanded in flowers. Mot laughed at him from beside them, also with flowers, her tongue hanging out. She was noticeably fat, he thought as they waited. Exactly the same as Pahipi, the kai Viti had overcome their initial fear and fallen in love with her, feeding her constantly wherever she went and the children were always playing with her.
On either side of the Harrheinians the beach filled up with kai Viti, women and children. They left a broad pathway down from the town, at least a hundred yards wide. As Captain Larroche took up his position, there was a loud “Hau! Hau!” and a shield wall ninety yards wide strode out of the village, perfectly aligned. It stopped at the top of the beach, the warriors thumped their shields on the ground and slammed their axes against the shields, raising a wall of sound that crashed down the beach and sent the seabirds screaming into the air in a whirling cloud.
The warriors started to sing, the farewell song, of the paddlers fatigue as they sailed into the setting sun. They advanced slowly, using the song to keep in step and the shields as drums, thumping them into the ground. As the song came to a mournful end, the shield wall stopped in front of the Captain. It parted and the Great Ratu strode forth, bedecked in his finest regalia and towering high over the Captain.
As he approached the Captain, his eyes flicked to Pat, and he missed step as he realised Suzanne wasn’t there. Pat was close enough to see the question in his eyes, and the way his eyes scanned the crew. Pat knew damn well Suzanne had created the protocol for the farewell and dictated what was going to happen, so prepared himself for a surprise. He was fascinated to realise the Ratu had no idea what was happening.
Captain Larroche started speaking, in Belada, thanking the Great Ratu for his hospitality, to which the Ratu replied in kind, and then presented him with a Royal Guard, who strode out of the village, marched down and through the gap in the shield wall and took up position beside the soldiers.
As the Great Ratu and Captain Larroche turned back to each other, both hesitated, not certain what was supposed to happen now as it was Suzanne’s turn to speak. Pat knew that and saw Sara take a step forward, clearly intending to take Suzanne’s place.
As she did so, a shriek rose from a hut some way to one side of the pathway. Immediately, every woman in the crowd started screaming and wailing and pulling at their hair. Everyone stared in astonishment, this was unexpected and only Sara and Mactravis had the court experience to continue as if nothing was happening - however Sara did stop her step.
A ghostly white figure appeared from the hut, and an unearthly scream came from it. The women continued to ululate and rend their hair, the children adding to the noise by screaming with laughter and excitement. Pat noticed the Ratu take an involuntary step back, and the shield wall lose its discipline. Not surprising, this figure appeared to be some ghastly spectre, some unknown god of the island, or the ghost of somebody eaten long ago.
A path appeared between the women as they moved aside, leading straight up to the Great Ratu. The figure started down the path, and Pat’s keen eyes saw it was female, with huge breasts and his eyes focused on the face and he smiled.
She was stark naked, and a ghastly white, the colour of mourning and death, even her hair which was done up to twice the size achieved in the past. Her lips were stained a horrible blue, like a corpse washed up from the sea, and her skin appeared to be shedding, bits trailing behind her in the wind, and pouring from her hair in a steady cloud. Her eyes were black pits, huge, staring and quite terrifying. She swayed down the path, moaning, gibbering and letting out an occasional unearthly scream.
Pat looked around; he was the only one to recognise her. Many of the warriors looked on the point of fleeing. Every pair of eyes locked on the spectre as she undulated down the path, coming closer and closer to the Ratu. He recognised Suzanne at the last moment, and appeared to think she had been murdered in the night. The supernatural was one thing he wasn’t prepared to face.
Suzanne timed it with perfection. Another step and he would have broken, leading the warriors in a race for the middle distance.
She stopped and her voice rose, soaring over the multitudes on the beach, speaking first in perfectly accented Vituan, then in Belada.
“Oh Great Ratu, see my despair and grief at this parting! You are my world, my star and my hero, leaving you turns this life to ashes. You are the mighty one, who conquers all the islands and my love for you is as wide as the great sea. Aaaaaah!” She cried again, despair and agony echoing with the scream, and the whole crowd, entranced, moaned with her.
“Duty! What a cruel burden that drags me from your side, for today I must go! My place is beside my Princess.”
The Ratu recovered brilliantly and leapt into the drama with both feet. He ripped off his headdress, throwing it dramatically to the floor, the other hand going to his necklaces which broke, scattering shells and flowers in all directions. Suzanne watched him, eyes bright with anticipation. He bellowed like a wounded leviathan as he stripped his grass skirt away to leave himself equally naked and jumped forward to scoop her up, high in the air and turned in a circle that spread ashes over the nearest warriors, then hugged her to his chest.
“Ah, my Golden Queen! How will I survive without you by my side! Your beauty is without equal, you give me the will and strength to rule and conquer. NO! I cannot let you go!”
There was a surge from the women, who rose up, led by his seven wives, and gently but firmly pried his arms from around her and pulled them apart. The Ratu made no struggle, but fell to his knees, spread his arms apart and watched events mutely and whitely as the ashes from Suzanne’s body now covered him as well.
The women lifted Suzanne to their heads and held her above them as they walked slowly to the sea, Suzanne lying flat like a stranded starfish with her head trailing down, looking back at the Ratu. Now the women sang their own farewell song, remembering the dead, and the women left alone by the fire pit. They took her down to the jolly boat and placed her in the end.
The Bosun snapped an order as soon as she saw the direction in which they headed, and was waiting in the bow, 6 female sailors at the oars, six brawny men ready to push the boat out, which they did while Suzanne stood in the stern, arms raised to the heavens. The boat rowed terribly slowly out to sea.
Pat thought fast and spoke sharply. “Edgar! Get them in the boats. We must make the ship before her!” In a trice the Second Watch were afloat and rowing fast back to the ship. The rest of the crew flowed after them and it seemed the entire Vitu Nation took to the canoes and followed until the water was black and seething from the paddle strokes.
Pat’s keen eye noted the Ratu’s wives produce a container and empty it over the Ratu, more ashes, so he was also white as he climbed into the Royal Barge. He wasn’t alone, as many of the women, accomplices all, brought their own ash and now covered themselves as well, while the soldiers did their best, scooping up white sand and pouring it into their hair so it streamed down steadily as they rowed.
Brian was proud of the speed with which the crew vacated the beach and climbed aboard, stowing the boats rapidly. The only one to give trouble was the pig, and Mot soon had him under control, though he squealed loudly all the way to the ship.
The capstan turned, pulling the ship slowly towards the open sea, while the sails shook out and the canoes raced about in front of them, laying a fragrant carpet of hibiscus and frangipani flowers through which she sailed majestically. A massed choir of over a thousand kai Viti in their canoes sang battle hymns as the Queen Rose sailed away from the sunset.
Sung
Ship life went back to normal as they sailed north east. The kai Viti fitted in, sharing a large cabin with the Spakka and the laughter level on the ship lifted, while the sea shanties sung in the evening improved beyond measure. They even started adding verses in Harrheinian, pretty poor at first. They were an excellent influence on the Spakka, who at last started to become part of the community. Stiphleek in particular spent time with them for these brother axemen would let him sing, even encourage him and join in. Esbech struck up a firm friendship with Wiwik after a vicious fight ended in a draw, both laid unconscious by the Bosun to the loud protestations of the onlookers. The Bosun actually broke a marlinspike in the process.
A week’s voyage with the prevailing winds brought them to a string of small islands, coral atolls, most of which were inhabited. The occasional inhabitants fled at the sight of the Queen Rose and Captain Larroche didn’t stop.
Another four days brought them to a larger island, still tiny compared to Vitu Levu, and something about the haze of the island caused Captain Larroche to send Pat up the mast with Nils. They sat in the crow’s nest and discussed what they could see, Nils explaining to Pat how to compensate for the haze and see through it, not an easy trick. To make it more difficult, the sea-birds swirled around the island and the distance made them appear as a moving cloud.
“That’s no mountain,” grunted Nils.
“Village on fire,” said Pat. “Under attack.”
“Not kai Viti,” said Nils. “They wouldn’t fire a village, they’d take it over.”
“Pirates?”
“Well, it’s the sort of thing the Spakkas do. Come on, we’ll learn nothing more till we get round the point. Let’s tell the Captain.”
They slipped down the ropes to the mainsail spar, slid down the mainsail to the main deck and trotted up to the poop where the Captain waited. He listened to the report, and called for his officers. Aware Pat was showing his youth by his excitement and eagerness, he took care to project steadiness and calm to quieten the lad.
“When we come round the point we will find at least one pirate ship. I have no idea whether it will be a galley or a sailing ship, but there will be a number of fighters, for sure. We will sail to the windward of them, and as we go past, Nils, you will fire the ballistas on my order. Pat, the archers can start firing as they come in range. On my order, we will come about and close with them. Lieutenant Mactravis, you make the decision and lead a boarding party of soldiers, Spakka and kai Viti aboard the largest ship as the hulls touch. Repeat for each ship, Brian. Any sailors you want in the parties?”
“No sir, keep them in reserve.”
“Princess,” continued the Captain, emphasizing the title, “kindly prepare the kai Viti and Spakka but you are NOT to accompany them, which is an order.” Sara’s lips tightened, but she nodded.
“Brian, when Mactravis has the situation under control, lead a boarding party and take control of the main ship. Make four parties ready, for other ships, to be led by Delarosa, Stevens, Starr and the Bosun. Go by boat, the pinnace for the largest ship. Any questions?”
There were none and the officers went to brief their crews.
As they rounded the point, Else stood in the rigging with most of the girls to operate the sails if required. Coming about, the deck crew would handle by the timing of turning the rudder and pulling on the stays, but the sails would need to come down as they closed with the enemy. Pat led a band of archers on the foredeck while Little commanded the crossbow men on the poop deck. They found a bay with a village by the usual small stream. Flames licked from the rooftops and some white robed people were taking naked villagers in chains to a ship in the bay. The ship was a long low shape, with a small cabin area at the stern and a single mast near the bows, from which came out a long spar running low above the deck. A dirty white sail fell roughly around the long spar running down the centre of the deck and the ship seemed to have stripes down the side.
“What is it, sir?” Suzanne asked.
“It’s a dhow,” answered Taufik before the Captain could speak. “Umayyads.”
“Why have they painted stripes on it?” Sara asked innocently.
“That’s shit,” said Taufik. Sara looked again with distaste. The whole ship was filthy.
The appearance of the Queen Rose caused consternation on the dhow, while the sight of the slavers caused a growl amongst the crew.
The slavers on the beach left the slaves in chains and ran for their boats, climbing in with desperation and causing a confused commotion as they tried to row without being in time. The one full boat at sea raced to the dhow and was hauled aboard, slaves and all, to be dumped on the deck and ignored while an empty boat, going back to the beach for more slaves, turned for the dhow.
The Queen Rose laid a course to block the dhow; Pat judged it would take them twenty minutes, as they tacked across the wind to gain the weather gage, the advantage of coming down the wind. Navigation lessons made a great deal of sense as he realised the ship was moving sideways almost as fast as forward, and he finally understood what Brian meant when he explained about the slippage when they tacked. The Captain demonstrated an awe inspiring level of skill to manoeuvre the ship. Pat felt he could never become a real officer. He noticed Brian, Suzanne, Sara and Stevens watching intently, doing their own calculations. He switched to studying the slavers, wondering if they were Umayyads. He catalogued them with care, choosing targets. He nudged Grey Fox.
“Two on the helm.” It was not a wheel like the Queen Rose, but a long rudder at the back, a simple arrangement, very heavy, and took two men to operate.
“Then Greybeard”. Grey Fox spoke in an equally terse and laconic manner. A man with a long, matted grey beard shouted orders at the crew of the dhow, most of which seemed to create no effect.
They watched the second boat swing aboard and an argument develop over the chained slaves on the deck.
“Hey, Cap’n!” Little, always wise in the ways of the world, called from the main deck. “If’n you want to rescue them slaves, you’d better get a move on. Betcha they ditch ‘em.”
“Sara,” called Captain Larroche, “take your boarding party and the best Pahippian divers, see if you can rescue any of them.”
“Jolly boat sir?” Sara asked as she moved to the head of the stairs. He nodded and she jumped down to the deck, issuing orders and calling for Hinatea.
The slavers hauled at their anchor, till a burly man came running over and cut through the rope with a few slashes of a huge, wide sword. “Scimitar,” Grey Fox murmured to Pat. “Spakka sometimes use them.”
Seeing the dhow start to swing into the wind and raise the huge triangular sail, the remaining slavers in the last boat dropped their oars and dived over the side, swimming to the dhow, grabbing ropes trailing from the side, and deserting their boat. As they came aboard, one of them grabbed the nearest slave and threw him overboard. Chained together, but sensing freedom, the rest followed on, falling into the sea on top of each other.
“Little!” Pat cried, “crossbow range, let go!”
The heavy twang of the crossbows sounded and two of the crew, hauling on ropes, fell over the side.
Pat and Grey Fox waited a moment longer, nodded to each other and raised their bows. Both the men on the tiller slumped, one falling over the low side. Greybeard was next, followed by the burly man, while the rest of the crew dived into shelter. The dhow’s sail shuddered, and the dhow slowly turned into the wind, coming to a halt.
Sara cast off in the jolly boat, moments before Little’s crossbow men got off a second volley. Pat and Grey Fox picked off anyone who moved, then Nils let off the ballista, using a heavy bolt which crunched through the walls of the small cabin area, causing it to collapse and some of the robed slavers emerged to be skewered by Pat and Grey Fox.
Captain Larroche called out his orders, the Queen Rose swung around and fetched up along side the dhow, which banged and ground its way along the side of the ship causing the Bosun to wince and swear.
At the noise, robed men rose out of the shelter of the side of the dhow, waving swords and scimitars. The Spakka didn’t hesitate. Boersma leapt first, and three swords raised, prepared to skewer him as he landed. At the last possible moment, he swung his axe in a practised motion beneath his feet, smashing all three swords to one side and going through to land feet first on the chest of one of the slavers. Stiphleek and Esbech landed moments later, either side of him, Esbech also needing to clear a couple of swords out of the way. Stiphleek landed cleanly on the balls of his feet and in one motion reversed his axe to remove the hand of the Umayyad about to skewer Boersma who recovered his balance a trifle slowly, with his axe stuck in the chest of his landing pad.
The landing point made, the first three whirled their axes into the surrounding throng while more Spakka leapt into the space created, pushing forward into the expanding area. The Umayyads appeared uncertain as to how to handle axemen, and although many stood their ground bravely, too many watched the axes gleaming in the sunshine rather than the eyes of their opponents. The Spakka revelled in their inexperience, joyfully cleaving into the defenders.
A few paces down the ship, the kai Viti betrayed their inexperience. The first to land swung at the waiting swords and collected two, but two more transfixed his legs as he dropped. He shouted in pain and fury, swinging his axe wildly to kill one slaver and cripple another, before a third stepped forward and lanced his body, only to have Maciu land on his shoulders and remove his head. More kai Viti arrived, several taking stab wounds to the legs, but once aboard they tore into the wavering defenders
Stiphleek paused, letting his bloodthirsty brethren move past him, a gleam came across his eyes and he threw back his head and started to sing, bellowing out the Saga of Stiphleek the Bold.
