A Mighty Fortress (107 page)

Oh, you bastard
, Zhon Pawal thought grimly.

Dart
’s deck was heaped with dead and wounded. The wreckage of masts, sails, and spars had been cleared away and the ship was under complete command once more, but even with the main course set, she was losing ground to her opponents. The lead Dohlaran was two ship’s lengths ahead of her, and the second ship in the Dohlaran line was starting to range ahead, as well. The third galleon had moved up to batter away at her, although that ship seemed to have been pretty well battered herself. Astern, he could hear
Shield
still in furious action—with the fourth ship in the Dohlaran line, now—and Pawal’s eyes were set and hard as he watched the angle of the first Dohlaran’s masts begin to shift.

She was making her move to cut across
Dart
’s course, and he turned to his own helmsmen.

“Bring her two points to starboard!” he ordered.

“Sir!
Sir!
”

Harys Aiwain turned towards the high- pitched voice. Midshipman Walkyr ran towards him, barely even hesitating as a seaman staggered back. Both of the wounded man’s hands flew up to clutch at the blood- splashed ruin where his face had been, and he fell to the deck directly in front of Walkyr. The boy simply hurtled over the body and slid to a stop, gasping for breath.

“What?” Aiwain demanded. “Sir,” Walkyr panted, “
Dart
’s altering to starboard! About two points, I think! And . . . and I couldn’t see for sure, but I think it’s because the enemy’s trying to get round in front of her!”

“Good lad!”

Aiwain slapped the boy on the back, then wheeled to his helmsmen.

“Three points to starboard!” he snapped, then raised his speaking trumpet.

“Hands aloft! Shake out the reefs and prepare to loose courses!”

Dart
swung to starboard, altering course to take the wind on her starboard beam, as
Rakurai
tried to get around in front of her.
Dart
was turning inside the smaller ship, giving her a shorter distance to travel, but
Rakurai
was considerably faster now, and the duel between them redoubled in ferocity.
Bedard
, keeping station on
Rakurai
, continued to fire furiously, pounding away at
Dart
’s quarter, and Pawal was devoutly grateful that the Dohlarans’ accuracy matched neither their discipline nor their determination.

Despite that, his ship was badly hit, and he knew it. He’d lost five guns out of his larboard broadside, and his starboard gun crews had been badly thinned by the need to replace killed and wounded in the other battery. He’d never had enough gunners to completely man both broadsides simultaneously; at this rate, he wouldn’t have anybody at all on the starboard guns entirely too quickly.

Someone cheered suddenly, and he wheeled back around just in time to see
Grand Vicar Mahrys
’ mizzenmast pitch over the side. The Dohlaran galleon slowed abruptly, and it was obvious the wreckage was hampering her steering. As Pawal watched, her main topgallant followed the mizzen and the battered Dohlaran fell off before the wind, drifting down to leeward.

Something loomed in the corner of his vision, and he looked to starboard just as
Shield
came forging up on his disengaged side, leaning hard to the wind with the reefs shaken out of her topsails and her courses set below them. Her lee gunports were barely two feet above the wave tops as she heeled heavily, and he knew instantly what Aiwain had in mind,

He snatched off his hat, waving it at the other ship. “Look at that, boys!” he shouted. “
Shield
’s going to bloody those bastards’ nose for them!”

At least some of his men heard him, and he heard them raise a cheer in reply. It wasn’t much of a cheer, not with so many of them already down, but it was far from defeated, and he bared his teeth in a fierce grin.

Of course, there’s still the two bastards Aiwain was fighting before
, he thought harshly.
I’m sure
they’ll
be alongside us soon enough. But let the lads cheer for now
.

Even with her increased sail,
Shield
had needed a good fifteen minutes to overtake and pass
Dart
. She’d been out of action that entire time, and Harys Aiwain had felt the dull ache of his clenched jaw muscles as he heard the renewed thunder of artillery from behind him. He knew the fourth and fifth Dohlaran galleons were crowding in on
Dart
, battering away at the badly wounded flag-ship with fresh fury, yet there was nothing he could do about that. Pawal was just going to have to hang on while
Shield
dealt with
Rakurai
and
Bedard
.

At least the respite had given time for him to reorganize his gun crews, reload carefully, and carry out some of the most essential rigging repairs while
Shield
forged ahead, leaning to the pressure on her canvas. He felt himself urging her along as she crept steadily ahead of
Dart
, and his brain clicked like one of the newfangled abacuses, calculating ranges and bearings.

“Brail up the courses!” he shouted as the abacus in his head came together with a glimpse of the lead Dohlaran’s mastheads above the thinning smoke. Hands dashed to sheets and tacks and clewlines, and the sails began rising like huge curtains drawn by invisible hands.

The smoke was even thinner now.
Shield
was well ahead of
Dart
and still traveling considerably faster, and . . .

There!

“On the
uproll
!” he barked, then paused a moment and—

“Fire as you bear!”

Caitahno Raisahndo stood drumming the fingers of his right hand on the binnacle and squinting against the omnipresent, choking smoke as
Rakurai
crept slowly but steadily ahead. Another ten minutes, fifteen at the outside, and he’d be far enough ahead to come still farther up to windward. With the Charisian’s rigging damaged,
Rakurai
was certain to be able to get closer to the wind. With just a very little luck, he was going to cross
Dart
’s bows and—

Another ship’s bowsprit and headsails pushed suddenly clear of the smoke, and Raisahndo’s squinted eyes flew wide. It was the second Dohlaran galleon, and she’d set her courses without his noticing through the smoke and the confusion.

And through my concentration on their lead ship
, he admitted, and cursed himself for letting it happen. He shouldn’t have permitted his attention to narrow, but it was too late for that now.

The Dohlaran captain was running a risk carrying that much canvas in the middle of a battle. The wind pressure on the additional sail area increased the strain on his rigging badly—even a normally minor hit aloft could produce serious damage to masts or spars under those conditions—and too much heel could drive his opened gunports under, flooding his ship. But he’d accomplished what he wanted, and his untouched courses, already disappearing as he cleared the obstacle of his flagship, looked impossibly white and pure against the dirty gray walls of smoke and the torn and stained canvas above them.

Raisahndo didn’t have long to contemplate their beauty, however. Even as he began to bark orders of his own, fire flashed in
Shield
’s gunports.

The range was just under two hundred yards. That was long range for a naval engagement, but
Shield
had been given time to get ready for it, and for the first time, she was firing on the uproll,
not
the downroll. The carefully aimed and prepared broadside scorched across the water between her and
Rakurai
, and the Dohlaran ship’s foremast disintegrated.

“
Damn it!
” Raisahndo swore viciously as his foremast went over the side. His main topgallant mast went with it, and
Rakurai
wallowed at the sudden loss of sail area. The abrupt disappearance of the headsails made bad infinitely worse. Their most important function was to counterbalance her rudder and mizzen during maneuvers; with them gone, she fell off even more quickly than
Grand Vicar Mahrys
had.