Watho: A Novel of Gal ... by Bob Nelson - Episode 24

The fishing smack was still a dozen rods from us, and slowing down – a collision at speed would not disturb the great bulk of Shomoah... but the smack could be shattered.

"Stay down!" I yelled. My sailors crouched behind the gunnel, as several unseen bolts whispered their passage above us. "Anyone have an arbalete?" I asked. No one. I moved several rods aft, rose just high enough to lean my arbalete on the railing, aimed and let fly. I ducked, reloaded, moved nearer my lads, popped up, and loosed again.

We all felt as much as heard a powerful thump, as the smack slammed into Shomoah.

A grappling hook came flying over the gunnel and almost snagged a man's leg. He yelped and snatched the limb out of the way as the hook caught the gunnel. One of my sailors cut its rope before it was of any use to the attackers. They had a problem: their deck was more than a rod lower than ours, and there was no means for climbing. Another grapnel hook met the same fate as its predecessor.

Four Marines appeared beside me. "Master Ross sends us, Sir – it's calm over t' 'is side now..." one whispered loudly enough to be heard a league away. All four had arbaletes.

"Two of you go two rods for'ard. Watch me. Do as I do, but only when I signal." Then, to the other two, "You two come with me..." I led them a bit further aft than I had been for the previous episode.

Taking a deep breath, I repeated my earlier action: arbalete on railing, loose, duck! A cry came from the smack. Bolts hummed through the air above us. I signaled to the two Marines up forward, who did as I had done, and more cries came from the fishing boat. In the instant I had had, it had been clear that the boarders were in confusion.

Sergeant Shearan arrived, then, with another three Marines... and two heavy cat balls. "I brought a couple presents for yer friends, there, Master Fochen!" He was grinning evilly.

"They're right below my mob, there, Sergeant, hard against our side. You may deliver the presents there!"

As the Sergeant and his men waddled off with their heavy loads, I told my two Marines to be ready. When the first ball was heaved up on the railing, and then shoved as hard as a very large Marine could do... it fell only a rod from our own hull... and that was far enough! More screams, and a crash of shattering wood.

"They'll be crowding to the far side of the smack," I whispered. "Maybe even pushing off. But they won't be looking back here."

And indeed... the second ball made only a great splash... Our three bolts, on the other hand, found targets.

"Pull away!!" I couldn't be absolutely certain that was the proper translation of the panicky shouts from the smack... but I was pretty sure.

I had just begun to feel relief, when Ross yelled, "Boarders on the starboard quarter!"

Sergeant Shearan's hand snapped out to grab my wrist. "I'll get 'em, Sir... You'd best see 'bout Master Kort..."

Gods!

"Keep watch, lads! Keep 'em off," I told the sailors, who yelled their determination back at me. My two Marines were still beside me. "Come on!" I cried and sprinted aft.

Menk's stern was free from the pier, straining toward us, pulled by the tow line. I could hear sounds of battle beyond the ship, but I could see nothing in the gloom beyond the little area lighted by the lantern at Menk's mainyard.

"Menk, there!" I shouted, not expecting to be heard across thirty rods of water, with a battle raging just beyond.

To my surprise, a sailor popped up from behind Menk's aft railing, and waved. "Master Kort told me to say, 'Marines is already comin' aboard, Master Fochen! We'll cut loose in just a few minutes!' " I must have looked as dumbfounded as I felt, because his face screwed up and he yelled, "D' ya hear me, Sir?"

I nodded vigorously, my throat being too constricted to allow words to pass.

I actually saw Menk shiver. Her masts vibrated as the forward mooring was cut. The sailor at the aft railing staggered... and in just a few seconds I could see dark water between Menk and the pier.

A barrage of hourahs flowed aft from Menk's bow, across the length of the ship... and then was taken up by my people on Shomoah.

I could see nothing of what was happening on the pier or on Menk's bow. If any of our Marines had not made it aboard Menk before the mooring was cut, there was no possible means of recovering them. I considered for an instant putting a boat in the water... but a glance around the inlet showed several fishing boats, still loaded with would-be boarders. They waited, hoping for an opening.

As I watched, Menk's mainsail unfurled and was braced parallel to the wind so as not to perturb our towing operation... but to be ready as soon as we let fly the tow line.

The water was full slack, now, but still rising, slowly.

Menk was already a good thirty rods from the pier. Midshipman Ach'Ahim appeared at Menk's aft railing. Kort's Second on this operation. My heart froze: was Kort down?

"Lieutenant Kort's compliments, Sir," the Midshipman shouted, "and we're ready to loose the tow line whenever you wish!"

The wave of relief I felt at hearing Kort was unharmed surprised me.

"Prepare, then, Master Ach'Ahim! We'll let fly in a minute or two!" He waved acknowledgment, and headed forward. (We were towing Menk by the stern, remember.)

"Topmen to the tops'l yard! Marines to the braces. Master Ross – you have the braces. Sergeant Shearan: keep a good watch to all quarters! This is when we'll be most vulnerable!" With everyone needed to handle the ship, there was no one to repel boarders. But now the Jenkarans would have to chase us, and board on the fly... from little fishing boats.

I took my station near the wheelhouse. Looking aft, I saw Ach'Ahim had already returned to Menk's stern railing, with two sailors ready to let go the tow line. I felt an urge to remind them that a heavy line under tension was a very dangerous thing... but their wary manner told me they were aware.

"Let slack the braces!" I called to our Landsmen, and Shomoah almost instantly lost headway, as the tow line slowed her. Menk's inertia kept her moving, so the strain on the tow line lessened considerably. I turned and shouted "Let fly!" to the men on Menk. I heard a sharp "crack" as the line's end slapped something – I hoped it wasn't "someone" – and came flying over Menk's aft railing.

"Brace the topsl's!" I shouted to my Landsmen, standing ready; and Shomoah gathered way almost instantly. The fishing boats that surrounded us had not had time to react.

"Lay her on the port beam," I called to the helmsman. Only one was at the wheel, but another was standing by. "Walk the braces across, Master Ross!" As Shomoah turned, Ross's men kept the topsails almost perpendicular to the wind, still blowing gently offshore.

"Tie the braces, Master Ross. Then go forward to guide the helmsman." He signaled to two sailors to accompany him.

"Center of the channel, Helmsman!" The port was nicely equipped with buoys marking the channel. The fact that those buoys were still in place was more proof that the "Jenkarans" had never imagined that we might attack them.

Astern, Menk was falling off before the wind, turning to starboard. Now that Sartine's Marines were aboard, Menk was at no risk. The Jenkarans had no chance at all of retaking her. A few minutes later, she was on station in Shomoah's wake.

"Helm, there!" came Ross's voice. "A point to starboard." It was a small adjustment, so I knew that Shomoah was fairly well centered and oriented.

"Aye! Point to starboard!" acknowledged the helmsman.

I just stood for a while, at my place near the wheel, on the centerline. My eyelids... slowly... fell... and with a start I realized that I had almost fallen asleep, standing up! If I was that exhausted, the lads probably were, too. I had to keep them active.

"Helm, there! ... A point to starboard!"

"Aye! Point to starboard!"

I went to the wheelhouse – the space around the wheel was called that, even though the "house" was disassembled under normal sailing conditions. The helmsman was just making the last adjustment that Ross had called for. His replacement sat on a stool that apparently was there for that purpose.

"She's easy, Sir," the helmsman said. "She answers easy and quick."

"That's good. It would be a pity to do all we have done, and then run her aground!"

"The channel's deep, Sir, 'n the current is weak. Shou'n't be no prob'em."

"Alright, then... I'll go for'rd and make sure Master Ross doesn't fall asleep..."

We exchanged nods and I went forward. Midships there was a clump of Marines on the starboard railing, and a clump of sailors on the port railing. There was no tension between the two groups – they weren't "separated" so much as each was an agglutination of similars. I exchanged a few words with each group and then continued forward.

"The helmsman says she answers quick and easy, Master Ross."

"Yes, Sir. I could feel her answering well when I called for a correction."

We were silent a while.

"Well... I must go below and visit the wounded." I sighed. "It's not a job I desire, but duty requires it... I'll come see you again before dawn, I hope." I turned to go aft.

"Sir!" Ross almost squeaked. His nervousness was palpable.

"Yes, Master Ross?" I asked, settling back against the railing to signify that he had all the time he needed to collect his thoughts.

As though unburdening himself of a heavy load, he blurted, "Thank you Sir... Thank you for bringing me along..."

That took me aback. "It wasn't any kind of favor, Master Ross," I answered. "I needed a solid hand on the pipe-organs, and I think you're the best of the Midshipmen. There was nothing personal in the choice..."

He nodded. "Yes, Sir. I understood that. That's what I was thanking you for."

I was lost. He was making my simple choice of expertise into something much more grand, but I couldn't see any way to continue the conversation without making things worse. So I just said, "Right, then..." and went aft and below.

Sergeant Shearan had our wounded men laid out on the berth deck. A couple of lanterns gave enough light to see comfortably without insisting on the horror of what was to be seen.

I nodded to two or three men with bandaged limbs. They were in pain, but not really in danger. Then I came on a Marine who was not just in danger; he was certain to die. He had taken a bolt in the lower belly. His insides were ruptured, spreading infection and death inside him. I knelt beside him.

"It will be dawn, soon..." I said, trying very hard, but not very successfully to keep my voice from shuddering. "We'll take you across to Hawk. The Healer will know what to do."

The Marine looked at me and... smiled... "Thankee, Sir... The Healer will indeed know what to do."

My face must have been pitiful, because this dying Marine felt a need to comfort me! His hand grabbed my sleeve.

"Don't fret, Master Fochen... You done as good as any man could..." He coughed. "I'm a Marine, 'n bein' a Marine is a right good life... right up to the time it ain't no life at all." His eyes closed, and he took a ragged breath. " 'Ere's two ways for a Marine to go, Sir. Some retires, 'n plays with chil'en... 'n some don't never retire. We all knows it, Sir... It's part o' being a Marine. So don't you fret, Sir. You just take the best care you can o' me mates..." He released my sleeve. I had been dismissed.

I mumbled something and fled. I don't think I will ever forgive that moment of cowardice.

The fishing boats had followed Menk for a few minutes, but a few baskets of small-shot from the stern-chaser cat convinced them to give up. Both Shomoah and Menk hoisted all the lanterns we could find, so the two ships were pretty easy to spot from a distance, as we sailed slowly from the estuary mouth twenty minutes later. To the south, no more than a league away, another ship sent lanterns aloft. We dipped ours, and she dipped hers... twice. It was Hawk. We had succeeded...

§      §      §

Our Marines had paid the highest price in this operation. As soon as we were clear of the estuary, I let Shomoah's sails fly just a moment, so that Menk could come within hailing distance. Three of Sartine's men were dead, and six badly wounded – two probably fatally. Kort had lost one dead and eight wounded, which was a very small loss, considering that Menk had been assaulted by more boarders than Shomoah.

There was nothing to be done for the men until we could transfer them to Hawk, and that would have to wait for dawn. For that matter... there was nothing for me to do until dawn. I felt curiously empty. There was elation at our success... balanced by sadness at our losses.

I had the helm set course northwest, under light sail, so that Hawk, coming due north under full sail, would catch up quickly. She took in sail when she was abreast, so that all three ships were barely making way.

Lots of eyes were straining toward Hawk in the thin predawn light, when she finally brought down her lanterns and sent up signals that everyone knew: Captains come aboard.

Shomoah carried both a longboat and a larger-capacity pinnace. I had had our worst wounded put in the longboat, even before she was swung out. Then I scrambled down a rope ladder, and a half-dozen sailors began rowing for Hawk. The pinnace, already lowered to the fairly calm water, immediately left for Menk, to collect more wounded and ferry them to Hawk. The boats would make as many trips as necessary.

We met one of Hawk's boats, carrying Ensign Wainterin and some sailors. We waved, but did not speak. My exhausted sailors and Marines were being relieved. Another of Hawk's boats, with Ensign Chanchargin, was on its way to Menk.

Captain Crain greeted me – quite formally, I thought – at Hawk's railing. We waited while Menk's boat arrived with Kort and Sartine. The Captain's greeting was, once again, anything but effusive. He gestured, and we followed him to his cabin.

The Captain's servant – Hakardis was his last name – had glasses on the table, and was ready to pour. At the Captain's signal, he did so. "A toast, Sirs!" the Captain said in a soft but firm voice, "To Hawk, the best ship in the world, because she holds the best men in the world!"

Kort and Sartine looked to me, the curs! Could we decently toast ourselves? ... ... Of course we could! "To Hawk!" I said very firmly, and the two knaves followed my lead.

The Captain looked slowly around the three of us. "You have done well. Remarkably well." He paused. "Now... go get some sleep. I will have you called at noon. You will take lunch, and then we will speak." He looked at me in particular. "Take a moment to clean up and change uniforms, First..." I hadn't thought; I still had a spray of blood across my neck and chest.

Once in my cabin, I began to clean myself up... but then decided that that would have to wait. I fell on my bed and was gone.

The Marine on guard at my door woke me at noon. The wardroom was not very crowded, with Wainterin and Chanchargin absent, and Kolenter still convalescing. I was surprised to see Midshipman Parenter present, though.

"Ready for duty, Sir," he said, looking ready to fight me on the subject. "I'll do whatever's needed."

I wasn't going to look any gift-horses in the mouth. "Excellent news, Master Parenter. I'll be drawing up a new roster this afternoon, and you'll be on it!"

I saw the Captain only briefly. He asked my opinion about the prizes: should we send them back with skeleton crews, or keep them with Hawk? I recommended that we stay together, and he was of the same opinion. Then he asked if I had finished the duty roster yet. I think he was joking.

There was no way around it: We would all have to stand watch-and-watch, on all three ships, and even so, I was again short by two officers:

   Shomoah:

      Wainterin, with Alinin

      Ach'Ahim, with Ross

   Menk:

      Chanchargin, with Dulass

      Kort, with Pasharin

   Hawk:

      Fochen, ??

      Parenter, ??

So... I "requested and required" that Bosun Perinalitilis give me someone – I presumed it would be Jehenn Bretter, and indeed it was. Not a brilliant man, but solid. He would be opposite me, and would surely call me if anything seemed to be getting out of hand.

And I informed Navigator Willder that he would stand watch, opposite the still-injured Midshipman Parenter. He could hardly refuse to stand the same duty as an injured boy...

The crew was spread almost as desperately thin as the officers. I gave Wainterin and Chanchargin the minimum, with just a few Marines each. I wanted Hawk to conserve enough people to be able to fight correctly. She would have to protect the other two.

Captain Crain accepted the new roster without comment.

I went forward, to the Healer's ward, to look in on my people. I couldn't find the Marine with the gut wound.

"He's gone," said the Healer. "I gave him a strong sleeping potion, and he slipped away without waking." I began to protest that the Marine hadn't been at death's door, but the man's words came back to me, Thankee, Sir... The Healer will indeed know what to do. My shoulders slumped... I breathed a deep breath... and I thanked the Healer for his care.

At dusk, we again buried our dead. The plaque on the aft railing had a new list of names.

We were lucky enough to encounter two Gallian merchantmen on our way north. Twenty-eight of their people "volunteered" to join the Duke's Navy.

Previous installment

Next installment (link not yet active)

Galian Novels: Information and Maps