A Mighty Fortress (119 page)

“That’s quite all right, Raif,” he replied, setting the cup on its saucer. “Dahnyld and I had just finished. What can I do for you?”

“Sir, we’ve just received a signal from
Messenger.
She reports five sail, all galleons, bearing almost due east. According to Commander Grahzaial, it’s a chase and four pursuers. And”— he met Manthyr’s eyes levelly across the breakfast table—“the lead ship is flying Charisian colors.”

Captain Caitahno Raisahndo stood on HMS
Rakurai
’s quarterdeck, hands clasped behind him, and watched with fierce anticipation as his ship slowly, slowly overtook the fleeing Charisian galleon while three of her consorts—including Captain Saigahn’s
Guardsman
— drove hard in her wake under all the canvas they could carry. Under normal circumstances, the Charisian would have been faster than they were, but she’d obviously been handled hard by the storm which had charged up the Gulf of Dohlar. It looked as if her mainmast might have been sprung during the storm. There had to be
some
reason she wasn’t carrying more sail when she was being pursued at four- to- one odds, at any rate.

At the moment, Raisahndo didn’t really care what her problem was. What he cared about was that the Royal Dohlaran Navy was about to exact its vengeance for the action off Dragon Island. And just as Earl Thirsk had promised, Raisahndo and his ship would be in the lead.

He turned and looked astern. Beyond HMS
Scimitar
, the rearmost ship of his own little force, he saw the mastheads and topgallants of at least two dozen other ships. Some were very nearly hull- up from
Rakurai
’s quarterdeck; the others were more strung out, scattered as each of them made the best speed she could in obedience to Earl Thirsk’s signal for “General Chase.” Some of the larger, purpose- built galleons, like Sir Dahrand Rohsail’s
Grand Vicar Mahrys
, which had been at the rear of the fleet’s formation when the chase began, were forging steadily ahead of their slower merchant- conversion consorts thanks to their bigger, more powerful sail plans. But none of them were going to overtake
Rakurai
before she overtook the Charisian she’d been pursuing since just before dawn.

“Excuse me, Captain.”

Raisahndo turned back forward and found himself facing Lieutenant Mahntee,
Rakurai
’s first lieutenant.

“Yes, Charlz?”

“Sir, the forward masthead reports the chase is signaling.”

“Signaling?” Raisahndo frowned. “I don’t suppose the lookout can see who she might be signaling
to
?”

“No, Sir. Not yet,” Mahntee replied . . . which came as no particular surprise. Whoever the Charisian was signaling to must be well ahead, still over the horizon from Raisahndo’s own more distant lookouts. Although, he reflected, whoever it was couldn’t be
too
far ahead if he was close enough to read the chase’s signals.

He felt his hands folding more tightly together behind his back. Signal flags implied someone to signal to, and Admiral Thirsk’s most recent intelligence reports indicated the Charisian admiral had decided to retire on Claw Island, at least temporarily, which probably meant they’d met the storm head- on. If they’d been scattered in the heavy weather, that might explain what the solitary Charisian fleeing from Raisahndo was doing this far east all by herself.

But it also meant he and the three ships in company with
Rakurai
might be rapidly closing with up to another twenty or so Charisian galleons.

That would be like the old story about the hunting hounds that caught the slash lizard,
he thought with grim humor.
On the other hand, I’ve got the Earl and all the rest of the fleet handy for support. For that matter, it’s always possible this fellow in front of me’s signaling to an empty ocean, hoping he can bluff me into thinking he’s got support handy
.

“Very well, Charlz. I don’t know if the rest of the fleet’s close enough to read our signals, but signal
Scimitar
. Have her repeat to the Flag. ‘Estimate unknown number enemy sail ahead. Chase signaling.’ She’s to keep that hoist flying until it’s acknowledged by someone astern of her.”

“At once, Sir.”

Mahntee saluted, then beckoned for a midshipman while Captain Raisahn -do gazed ahead once more at the weather-stained canvas of the ship he was slowly overhauling.

“Another signal from
Messenger,
Sir Gwylym.”

Captain Mahgail’s voice was harsher, and Manthyr warned his face to remain calm as he turned from the stern windows to face the flag captain. Lieutenant Commander Grahzaial had taken his small schooner farther to the east, trying to get into signal range of the Dohlaran galleon. That had taken her beyond any distance at which
Dancer
’s signalmen could read her own signals. Now, the better part of two hours later, she was clearly close enough for that once more.

“Yes, Raif?” he inquired levelly, and Mahgail glanced at the sheet of paper in his hand.

“
Messenger
signals, ‘Chase bears east- by- north, distance from Flag thirty miles. Chase identified HMS
Talisman
.
Talisman
reports damaged mainmast and four Dohlaran galleons in pursuit, range twelve miles, own speed six knots. Also reports many additional sail in sight to eastward.’ ”

“I see.”

Manthyr turned back to the windows, listening to the sounds transmitted through the deck overhead as
Dancer
’s crew attacked her repairs with redoubled energy. Not that it was going to make a great deal of difference.

Thirty miles to Captain Tymahn Klahrksain’s
Talisman
. Twelve more to her pursuers, and, say, twenty to those “many additional sail” Klahrksain had reported. Fifty miles, then. The wind had freshened and backed still farther to the east. It was blowing a stiff topgallant breeze by now—not enough to significantly hamper
Dancer
’s repairs, but it wasn’t going to make them go any quicker, either.
Rock Point
was going to be rather more bothered by it, trying to replace her entire foremast, of course.

But what mattered was that
Talisman
was making at least six knots, even with damage—
And how much damage?
he wondered—aloft. If she could do that much but was still being overtaken, then her pursuers had to be capable of at least, say, seven. At the moment,
Dancer
could make possibly three, and
Rock Point
was even slower than that. Which meant the Dohlarans were overhauling him, whether they realized it or not, at somewhere around five knots.

Ten hours,
he thought.
No more than five before their lookouts are able to see us, and it’s not even lunchtime yet
.

The long summer Safeholdian day stretched out before him. There were at least another fourteen hours of daylight, and as if that weren’t bad enough, the moon was just past full and he didn’t see a cloud in the sky.

They’re going to overhaul you, Gwylym,
he told himself coldly.
It’s going to happen. Now, what do you
do
about it?

Lywys Gardynyr, the Earl of Thirsk, looked down at the chart spread on his cabin table while he considered
Rakurai
’s signal.

By Thirsk’s best estimate, anyone the fleeing Charisian galleon might be signaling to had to be at least fifty or sixty miles ahead. Normally, the chance of overtaking Charisians in this sort of weather wouldn’t be very good—on average, Charisian galleons were bigger, able to carry more sail for a given wind condition, and despite any improvements to the Dohlaran Navy’s sail plans, Charisian sails were still individually larger and more efficient.

But that assumes they’re undamaged, Lywys
,
and it’s pretty obvious the fellow in front of Raisahndo
isn’t
undamaged. Which means.
...

He suppressed the surge of anticipation, but it was hard. And what made it even harder was that the scenario unfolding in his mind’s eye seemed so plausible.

He and his own galleons had been fortunate to make it into the shelter of Saram Bay when he realized the weather was making up. There, sheltered by the sharp fishhook shape of Cape Samuel, they’d ridden out the howling storm safe and snug. Even in their sheltered anchorage, two of his ships had dragged their anchors, but they’d managed to lay out additional anchors in plenty of time, and no one had ever been in any danger.

He’d been relieved by his ability to find shelter, because he’d been confi-dent that, despite the vast improvement in his crews’ sail drill, they would have lost ships if they’d been caught at sea. It wouldn’t have been anyone’s fault, either—just the consequences of inexperience, one of those little things landsmen didn’t consider when they started blithely talking about throwing fleets around. He’d wondered at the time if any of his opponent’s ships had been caught on the open sea, and he’d gotten his answer shortly before dawn.

Captain Raisahndo wasn’t the only person pursuing a Charisian galleon this morning. Three more of Thirsk’s galleons were the better part of forty miles to the
south,
pursuing a second Charisian at that very moment. Whether or not they were going to overtake her was another matter, but they were to windward of her, forcing her to flee farther
east
— deeper into the Gulf—to elude them. Unlike Raisahndo’s quarry, the second Charisian’s rigging appeared undamaged, and she was managing to open the range between her and her pursuers, albeit slowly. But even if she managed to shake them off completely, she’d still have to get back past the rest of Thirsk’s fleet eventually if she wanted to escape the Gulf.

More to the point, the Charisians had no more than twenty galleons, all told, and if he already knew where
two
of them were, there couldn’t be more than another eighteen—maximum—over
Rakurai
’s western horizon.

And even allowing for the ships off chasing the second Charisian, he had
thirty- nine
.

“Ahlvyn,” he said, never looking away from the chart.

“Yes, My Lord?” Commander Khapahr replied.

“Have Captain Baiket signal all ships in company. ‘Suspect maximum eighteen enemy sail bearing approximately due west, distance fifty miles. Make all possible sail. Prepare for battle.’ ”