A Mighty Fortress (106 page)

Of course, first he had to get back to
make
that report.

Zhon Pawal’s head jerked up as something cracked thunderously overhead. For a moment, he didn’t know what it had been, but then his eyes widened as he saw the entire main topmast beginning to topple.

Oh, shit
, he heard a mental voice say almost calmly, and then he was dodging as the wreckage began to plummet.

“
Yes!
”

Captain Ahndair Krahl of HMS
Bedard
realized the voice shouting that single word was his own. It probably wasn’t a properly heroic thing for the captain of a king’s ship to be doing, but at the moment, he didn’t much care. His gun crews had been pounding away at the lead Charisian for what seemed like hours, what ever his lying pocket watch said, without any apparent effect. He hadn’t even been able to convince the bastard to divert any of his fire to
Bedard
. Instead, the enemy had continued to hammer mercilessly at
Rakurai
. Krahl couldn’t see the flagship clearly, but he
could
see Raisahndo’s sails becoming more and more tattered, and, difficult as it was to form any accurate judgment in such a bedlam, it sounded to him as if
Rakurai
’s fire had begun to drop.

Now he watched his target’s main topmast, topgallant, and royal pitch slowly to larboard like some falling forest giant. The mizzen royal went with it, and for a moment, he hoped the foremast might go, as well. He was disappointed in that, but the Charisian galleon seemed to stagger as over half her set canvas went thundering over the side.

Now
what, you bastards?
he thought.

Dart
slowed precipitously with the abrupt loss of power. Captain Pawal was astounded that the fore royal and topgallant didn’t go, as well, but he felt the sudden drag of the wreckage landing in the water alongside, still tethered to the ship by shrouds and stays, only too clearly. The overhead nettings—still more or less intact, although they’d snapped like cobwebs where the butt of the main topmast had fallen across the larboard bulwark—were littered with broken wood, fallen blocks, and long snakes of cordage.

Somehow, the men on the wheel managed to maintain control, and axes and even cutlasses were flashing amid the tangled- snake chaos of fallen rigging as the bosun and his mates led parties of seamen to cut away the wreckage. Until they could, though, almost half of
Dart
’s larboard guns were blocked by the debris lying across their ports. That was bad enough, but the lost speed meant the Dohlarans would begin drawing ahead. They were going to be able to bring all five of their ships into action against the head of Pawal’s own line.

He’d lost his speaking trumpet in the scramble to avoid the plummeting wreckage, so he cupped his hands around his mouth in an improvised substitute.

“
Master Daikhar!
”

Dart
’s first lieutenant managed to hear him despite the tumult, and Pawal pointed urgently at the suddenly stubby- looking mainmast.

“Get the course on her!” he shouted.

Daikhar looked at him for a moment, then nodded in obvious understanding. The course wasn’t part of the ship’s normal fighting sail. It was too big, too cumbersome, and too close to the upper deck when it was set. The loss of the main topsail and topgallant sail had to be compensated for somehow, though, and the first lieutenant started dragging men out of the damage control parties and off of the disengaged guns and starting them aloft.

Pawal left him to it, turning his own attention back to the enemy, and his jaw tightened as he saw the Dohlaran sails beginning to move ahead, exactly as he’d feared.

Harys Aiwain swore vigorously as
Dart
slowed. He had no choice but to reduce sail himself if he was going to keep station on the flagship. Part of him wanted to overtake
Dart
, instead, and get around in front of her. But if he did, his own guns would be masked by
Dart
’s hull as he passed along her disengaged side, preventing him from firing a shot until he’d cleared Pawal’s ship.

His mind worked feverishly, considering alternatives. At the moment, he didn’t know whether or not the Dohlarans meant to push the engagement fully home. If they wanted to break off, satisfied they’d protected their convoy, the damage to
Dart
’s rigging offered them the perfect opportunity to do just that. If, on the other hand, they wanted to stay and fight it out, that same damage would give them a pronounced maneuvering advantage.

There was no doubt in Aiwain’s mind what a
Charisian
squadron would do, but Dohlarans weren’t Charisians. They might decide to content themselves with the knowledge that they’d already done far better against Charisian war galleons than anyone else had managed, and the convoy—currently under attack by
Flash
and
Mace
— was their primary responsibility.

Best stay where we are and pound their trailers as hard as we can
, he decided, but he also beckoned one of his midshipmen to his side.

“Get forward, Master Walkyr,” he told the white- faced twelve- year- old flatly. “I want you at the fore topgallant crosstrees. You watch the flagship—don’t take your eyes off her! If she alters course or you see one of these bastards working around ahead of her, you get your arse back down here and
tell
me! Got it?”

“Aye, aye, Sir!” the youngster replied, and went scampering off through the smoke and the thunder.

Ahndair Krahl’s ship crept steadily farther forward, running broadside- to-broadside with the bigger, more powerful, but lamed Charisian galleon. Round shot hammered back and forth, and despite her damage aloft and the growing number of shot holes Krahl could see in her bulwarks and side, the Charisian was still giving as good as she got.

And her guns were still heavier than anything he had, a point driven home as a Charisian round shot crashed through
Bedard
’s side, killing a dozen men and shattering the carriage of one of her gundeck twenty- five- pounders.

He looked aft, to where
Grand Vicar Mahrys
was finally beginning to draw clear of her duel with the second Charisian. Krahl was no fonder of Sir Dahrand Rohsail than Rohsail was of him. Despite that, he had to admit the arrogant, aristocratic prick was no slouch.
Grand Vicar Mahrys
had taken a severe hammering from her opponent’s more powerful artillery. Krahl wasn’t positive, but he thought he could actually see blood trickling from the scuppers of Rohsail’s ship. Despite that, her guns were still in action, and as he watched, they switched targets and began pounding the leading Charisian along with
Bedard
while Mahrdai Saigahn’s
Guardsman
took up the second Charisian’s challenge.

Ahrnahld Stywyrt made himself stand motionless, hands clasped behind him, face expressionless, as the Dohlarans crowded in on
Shield
and
Dart
. The smoke was so dense now that he could see only the upper masts of the enemy galleons, but it was obvious what was happening. With
Dart
slowed and
Shield
trapped behind her, the lead Dohlaran galleon was forging steadily ahead of the two Charisian ships. It wouldn’t be long before she was in a position to swing farther to the west, trying to head the Dohlaran line, possibly even get into a position to rake
Dart
from ahead.

And I’m
still
not in a position to engage!

He glared up at his own sails, then made his decision. “Shake out the topsail reefs, Master Mahldyn!” he said crisply. “And after that, we’ll have the royals on her, if you please.”