Buxacan Spicerunner Page 10
After Stowe had sorted out who was who, they were told to stack their gear along the opposite rail and help with the loading. Since this was not a merchant runner and they had no schedule to keep, there was no real rush. Tirpa, the boatswain, seemed to know his job, but only had monosyllables for Afnir’s friends. In fact, none of Stowe’s men even so much as introduced themselves.
By midafternoon the Bellflower was ready for sea, but they had over an hour to wait for the next tide. Stowe renamed the brig Merciless and sent Forkbeard over the side in a sling to paint the name. Thard, Ellor and Sako headed aft with their gear, but were confronted by Chos. He stopped them with a hand on Sako’s chest
“Where you think you’re going?”
“To stow our gear,” Sako replied quietly.
“Cabin’s full. I don’t care if youse think you’re officers; your place is forward.”
In the crew’s quarters, they found that Stowe’s men had taken the port side. They strung their hammocks and stowed their gear on the starboard side with their friends. There were several minutes of uncomfortable silence.
Dason, ever the diplomat, stepped right up to one of the port watch. “My name is Dason.” He’d picked the bald man who’d stopped Afnir from leaving.
The sailor just looked at the offered hand. “Kostek.”
“How long do you think the captain will be angry about having us forced on him, as he seems to think?”
Kostek almost smiled, then lowered his heavy brows in a scowl. “Decades. Or until you tars prove yourselves.”
“Just give us a chance—wait till we’re at sea. You’ll know our worth then.”
“Maybe,” Kostek snorted. “Youse gotta pass shakedown first.” He turned his attention away. It was clearly a dismissal. Most of the starboard watch wandered back to the weatherdeck. Afnir found Thard and Sako smoking by the mainmast.
“Not only are there more of them,” Thard was saying, “But they have more experience than we do. Stut! Half of us have never worked a deck, and half of those have never even stood on a deck!”
“So we make sure we pair experienced hands with each of our virgins,” suggested Sako. “Put Brog and Olik with the Bandos, Samdin with Dason, Finve with Afnir and Arno with Chos Tavven. A willingness to learn and work hard will go along way with the port watch men.”
“What about Drac and Sturo?”
“They know their way around a ship.”
“At sea?”
“Things will work out.”
“Not with that drunken lout in charge,” Afnir said quietly. “Youse both know a bully captain can ruin virgin sailors more thoroughly than a storm. Chos and Tirpa aren’t much better.”
Thard disagreed. “It will be those who have been on other ships who will take it the hardest. We know how we should be treated—the virgins don’t. They won’t have any idea that anything’s amiss.”
When the Merciless put out, the starboard watch learned exactly how the cruise was going to go for them.
“Starboard watch, get aloft!” Stowe bellowed. Apparently it was the only mode of speech he could produce. Chos stormed along the deck, a length of knotted rope in his hand. Anyone Stowe pointed at collected a lash. Some got extra.
Of the starboard watch, only Thard and Sako had time to note that the port watch continued at their previous tasks. Balgo was at the helm, Forkbeard and Tirpa coiled the lines that had held them to the dock. The rest lounged, diced and drank. Thard drifted to the rail and took out his favorite pipe, only to lose it overboard as Chos’ rope-end snapped at his hand.
“Get aloft, you piece of stut!” the Mate snarled.
“But I’m the surg—” snap. Thard put his sore hand on his sore shoulder and stared in shock as the rope-end whistled in for a third time. Chos didn’t need to keep lashing at Thard to get him to scramble for the lines, but he continued to do so until the surgeon was out of reach.
Sako, unaware of the action behind him, reported to Captain Stowe most formally. “Where would you like to cruise, sir? I’ll set a course to get us on-station in the shortest possible time.” Sako hoped he didn’t sound too false. He wasn’t good at groveling.
With a wordless shout of rage, Stowe kicked Sako between the legs and smashed him in the jaw with his rum bottle. Sako went to his knees. Dazed and gasping, he listened as Stowe told him with much vilification that any idiot could see they were sailing to the west, he didn’t need a navigator to tell him so, why wasn’t he aloft as ordered and on into incoherent growling until Chos arrived and ‘helped’ Sako to the nearest shrouds. Even with a high percentage of sea-virgins handling the sails, Merciless managed to leave Swag Island in her wake.
20
Aboard the Merciless
It was two weeks before the Smilers even so much as spotted another sail. They gave chase for several hours, only to discover that the stranger was flying Kimbulan colors, and therefore not a target. Cursing roundly, a for once sober Stowe ordered a continuation of their westward voyage. It would be two more weeks before they found another ship.
For the young tars of the starboard watch, it was a month of pure hell. Instead of alternating watches with the port watch men, which would have been normal, Afnir and his friends stood all but two watches—the afternoon and second dogwatch. Working eighteen hours a day for a month, even Finve and Samdin became hardened fair weather sailors.
Sore and tired from the hard work, the men of the starboard watch were also bruised from the constant attention of Chos and Stowe. Thard and the other ‘officers’ were merely deckhands to Stowe and his men. Sturo made no repairs; in fact his tools had been appropriated by Forkbeard. Sako had no idea where they were and Ellor suspected that Stowe would do his own accounting, if they ever were fortunate enough to find and take a prize. One morning before sunrise, Chos Tavven broke two fingers when Finve released a line too early. Thard was not permitted to set them until they were off watch.
The port watch never spoke to the starboard except for instructions or insults, usually together. Kostek was coldly neutral, as were Nitch and Tirpa. Unlike the captain and the mate, Tirpa actually waited for a hand to make a mistake before resorting to his rope and pretended not to notice if an exhausted man moved a little more slowly to obey an order.
Then there was Clenchjaw, the gunner. He didn’t appear to speak to anyone at all. Afnir, Sako and Dason did their best to keep up morale, but it was a losing battle.
“Things will change once we get a prize,” Dason kept saying. “Just you wait.”
Finally they encountered a runner called the Tiger Lily, from Jonos. Runners from that kingdom were the least favorite prey of the sailors of enterprise. Kimbulans were immune from the Brotherhoods, but they routinely fought off Rumtowners and other unaligned pirates. Only Spiderhead had ever taken a Kimbulan. But Jono ships would usually fight when ships from other nations would flee or surrender.
Tiger Lily was no exception. Not long after Stowe had ordered the Bloody Smile hoisted, she turned and fired an eight-gun broadside. One of the balls took out the first gun on the starboard side. Ellor, Dol, Buck and Nitch disappeared in a welter of blood and debris. The rest of the round shot went high and damaged sails and rigging.
The two ships traded broadsides a few more times and the sailors of enterprise gave better than they got. Finally the Tiger Lily lost a mast and the Smilers fouled the two ships and boarded. The Jonos continued to fight. At one point Brog was surrounded and had to be rescued by Afnir and Olik, as none of the port watch men moved to help. At nearly the same time, Sako and Dason cut their way through a ring of men on the helmdeck to save Balgo from certain death.
When the battle ended, there were eighteen Jonos alive, ten unwounded. The Smilers had one dead and four wounded. Dol Bando had been killed outright in the first salvo that had destroyed the forward starboard gun. Ellor’s back was broken, Buck had a broken hand and Nitch had multiple large splinter wounds. Balgo had been slashed across the chest. Thard did what he could for each, wit
h Kostek’s help. The port watchmen would recover, but Ellor Dayne would never walk again.
The Smilers took their time looting, and stripped the Tiger Lily clean. When they had taken what they wanted, they left the Jonos aboard and set her adrift. Hargen Stowe stood at the forward edge of the helmdeck with a stolen bottle of Sevulian burgundy, Chos by his side. “To victory!” he bellowed. The port watch cheered enthusiastically, the starboard watch a little less so.
“I estimate our haul at five hundred Tayan crowns,” he announced. “According to the custom of the Featherheads we used to be, the total is two hundred shares. Fifty crowns is reserved for Cap’n Anford. That’s twenty shares.” Stowe paused to take a healthy slug of wine. “Ten shares goes to me; I’m the captain! Each officer gets two shares: that’s five crowns to Chos, five to Tirpa and five to Clenchjaw. Balgo gets a share and a half—he held the Lily’s helmdeck by himself and dropped six men unaided!”
Balgo strutted as the port watch cheered. Sako and Dason stared in openmouthed shock. Stowe smiled and took another drink.
“Full hands get a full share each. That’s two and a half crowns! Not bad for an hours’ work eh, lads?” The port watch cheered again. The starboard watch was silent. “Finally, a fifth of a share to each of our brave boys from the starboard watch, and the rest goes to ship’s fund.”
Afnir stood up with an angry look on his face. “Why are we entitled to only a fifth of a share?” he demanded.
“Say ‘sir’, damn your eyes! I’m the captain!”
“Sir,” Afnir spat. “Why?”
“Because on my ship, not a swingin’ stap of youse has proven himself!” He took another huge swallow that emptied the bottle. “Five battles, then youse get full shares.”
Stowe’s face was beginning to turn red, but Afnir wasn’t done. “What about the officers from the starboard watch? Is that a fifth of an officer’s share?”
“NO! If any one of them was worth a stut, I might.”
“Sir,” said Thard. “Are you saying that I’ve been of no use in the aftermath of this action?”
“That’s right, boy!”
“Then, sir, I hope that Nitch’s wounds don’t fester, because he’ll need a surgeon’s attention, and that’s a fact!” Thard sat back down.
“If the starboard watch is done whining, there’s work to do! I’m the captain and my word is final! We’ll be sailing to the southeast. Move!”
“All right boys,” said Chos, as he took out his rope. “You heard him! Let’s get those lines spliced, sew up the holes in the sails, and we got a bulkhead to fix!”
Repairs took two hours, and a half hour after that Sev called down a sighting from the masthead.
“Where?” Chos called back. Stowe was drinking in his cabin.
“Dead astern!”
“Tirpa…”
“On my way.” Tirpa went below, retrieved his telescope and climbed the mizzen rigging within a minute. Sev pointed and the boatswain raised his glass. “She’s big,” he reported. “And coming on under full sail. I’m thinking it’s a frigate giving chase!”
“Must’ve found the Tiger Lily,” Chos said to Afnir, who was on the whipstaff.
“If so, we should have seen her while we were looting.”
“Well, I wasn’t looking, were you?”
“No.”
“Frigates are fast. We can see her so I don’t think we’ll outrun her. Stut!” Chos raised his voice. “All hands aloft, break out all sail! Kostek! Go wake up the captain. Helm, bring her a few points to starboard.”
Kostek was almost at the companionway when Hargen Stowe stumbled up, staggered to the lee rail and vomited overboard.
Tirpa slid down a stay and jumped lightly to the helmdeck. He handed his telescope to the captain.
“What’s on?”
“Frigate giving chase.”
“To be this close now, they had to’ve seen us at the Tiger Lily,” Chos said, as Stowe looked through the glass.
“Meaning they won’t be fooled by Kimbulan colors,” Stowe finished sourly. “How long do we have?”
“Two hours at the most, I make it.” It was three hours to sundown. “I was figuring to run before the wind as long as we could, then turn and start tacking and wait for sundown. Maybe we can sail closer to it than him, then douse all lights and switch to the other tack.” Chos spat out his quid and cut himself a fresh one.
“Sounds good to me,” said Stowe. “I’m goin’ to the head.” He left and Chos lifted the telescope again.
“I think she’s a Jono. That’s worse than the Tayans you wished on us a few weeks ago, Sanfora.”
“I spoke in heat, sir.”
“You got balls, boy, and you’re not a half bad sailor, but none of that will do a damn bit of good when we gotta face his broadside.”
The Merciless ran as hard as she could, but it was like a crab evading a shark. Their best chance of escape would be in shoal waters too shallow for the warship, but the water was blue from horizon to horizon. She was in signal range much sooner than the Smilers had hoped.
“Deck! Signal from the frigate!” Sev called.
Chos examined the other ships flags through the telescope. “Her Majesty’s Frigate Sword’s Edge. No quarter for pirates,” he reported.
“Stessaca laughs at us,” Stowe muttered. “That’s Valmed! Clenchjaw! Double load all with grape and chain and run ‘em out! Let’s see if we can slow him some!”
Clenchjaw nodded and started pointing, wordlessly directing hands to the guns.
“Deck! She’s running out her guns and altering course!”
“Yeah, Bando! I see it.”
The Sword’s Edge was turning into the wind to present her starboard broadside to the stern of the brig.
“Hard to starboard! Port guncrews aloft! Clenchjaw, fire as you bear!”
The Merciless completed her turn first.
Clenchjaw waited for a crest, then, “FIRE!”
The brig rocked as the entire battery belched flame and smoke. Three sailors were blasted out of the rigging, several sails were holed and a jibsail flew as a stay was parted, but the frigate barely shuddered.
Stowe shouted orders to the topmen as Afnir strained to bring the helm about with Chos’ help.
The pirate captain meant to come about to bring his portside guns into play, as well as narrow their silhouette for the Jono gunners. There was a tense few moments as the Merciless was stern-on to the frigate—a raking barrage from twenty-two guns could spell the end for the Smilers. But the Jonos missed their chance and Clenchjaw was running out the port guns before the Sword’s Edge fired.
Most of the shot splashed harmlessly, but not all. Several balls struck at or near the waterline, smashing timbers and planking. One actually breached the hull above the waterline. Tirpa shouted for hands to man the pumps as the gunner prepared to fire. Though his battery had only five guns, Clenchjaw’s skill was such that he shredded the frigate’s spanker. The top four feet of the Edge’s mizzen crashed down, fouling several sheets. The frigate slowed and floundered as her captain tried to bring her back around to continue the chase.
Another broadside boomed out but did minimal damage as the brig was at the edge of gun range. Clenchjaw had earned them a respite.
Stowe studied the Sword’s Edge through the telescope. “He’s a little slower now, but we’re still no match for his speed.” He glanced at the sky. “Wind’s freshening.”
“Don’t know if that’ll help us,” said Chos. “But it’ll definitely help him.”
“Not if we’re tacking. Who’s hurt?”
“Forkbeard, Alsi and Nive got splinter wounds. Jinsen’s got it under control.”
Stowe nodded.”Bring us to as tight a starboard tack as she’ll bear. Maybe we can gain some room.”
“Yeah yeah, sir!” Twice more they took hits from the Jonos before the sun set. The stern was breached by three more balls and three feet of the taffrail were blown away, but miraculously, no one was killed. I
n these tropical latitudes, there was very little twilight. Stowe turned due south and forbade smoking. After a full watch, they came about to the east and ran under full sail until dawn.
21
Gull Stut Island
At sunrise, there was no frigate in sight. They were also completely lost. Sail was shortened and Sako was summoned to the helmdeck. Captain Stowe was already drunk.
“Where are we, boy?” he asked when Sako arrived.
“I have no idea, sir.” Sako was stiffly correct in his bearing.
“We need to find out.”
“Sounds like you need a navigator.”
“Don’t mock me, Pizi,” Stowe roared. “I’m not in the mood! Now do what you need to, to fix our position!”
“A navigator could fix our position by the end of the watch, sir. But I’m just a hand of the starboard watch.”
“Damn your eyes! You do it now! I’m the captain!”
Sako just stared at him. “I know you’re the captain. You tell us three times a watch.”
Stowe went from red to purple and threw a punch at Sako. The young hand had expected that and ducked under it. Howling a steady stream of invective, Stowe began to flail drunkenly at Sako. He managed to avoid or block most of the blows and made no attempt to strike back.
Suddenly Stowe had Sako by the throat and threw him to the deck. He grabbed a marlinspike and smashed Sako in the head. No longer struggling, Sako felt himself dragged to the mizzenmast. He was propped up with his face to it and his hands were quickly lashed on the far side. Stowe drew his knife and cut Sako’s shirt open, baring his back. Work slowed as the Smilers saw what was happening on the helmdeck.
The captain drew a cat-o-nine tails from his coat pocket and began whipping Sako as hard as he could. Tirpa ran aft and Kostek ran below while everyone else stared in shock. Kostek soon returned with a groggy Chos and the two officers managed to drag Stowe away from his victim.
Kostek and Thard cut Sako down and carried him below. Thard surveyed the damage after they had laid him out on the surgeon’s table. Only the first five or six strokes had left stripes from each individual tail. After that blood had matted the strands together and the wounds from the combined tails were far worse. Thard treated and dressed the wounds, slipped a pillow under Sako’s face and let him sleep.