Guardsman of Gor (4 page)

I recalled the yellow paint, splashed on the pylon. Doubtless, too, other points of weakness had been similarly marked. Even now, behind the shield of the northern fleet, it was not improbable that the ships of the southern fleet were proceeding unimpeded between the pylons. The chain had held long enough, however, to permit us to draw southward along the chain and group. Too, of course, it held, still, protecting our left flank, in our immediate area.

"We have little hope," said a man.

"They are forming the wedge," said another.

"Where are the ships of Callisthenes?" asked someone.

"'They will be here," said another man.

"Captain," said one of the officers to Callimachus.

"Yes," said he.

"Shall I order that the ships be chained together?"

These signals could be conveyed by flags and horns.

"No," said Callimachus.

"How else can we withstand the weight of such a wedge?" inquired the officer.

"We will not impair our mobility," said Callimachus. "We will not render our rams and shearing blades useless."

"We must be a floating fortress of wood," said the officer. "At such a citadel the wedge must pound in vain."

"The ships of our interior line would be prevented from engaging," said Callimachus. "We would be then nothing but a tethered, placid target, one impossible to miss. If our flank were turned, too, we could no longer protect ourselves. Only our undefended strakes could be presented to the rams of the enemy. In an Ahn your floating fortress of wood could be a wreckage, awash, of timbers and chains."

"Then let us withdraw," said the officer.

"It is too late for that," said Callimachus.

The officer, white-faced, looked over the rail of the stem castle. "The fleet is moving," he said.

"Yes," said Callimachus.

"What can we do!" cried the officer.

"We must hold the line until the arrival of Callisthenes," said Callimachus.

"We can never withstand the strike of the wedge," said the officer.

"Here are my orders," said Callimachus.

It was a galley, heavy class, fit for the open sea. It was the point of the wedge. I had never seen a galley move with such speed. There were two men to each oar. Our bow was aligned, as though to take its ram on the ram shield. The strike, should it occur, I feared would snap our keel.

To our port side, gunnels almost touching, lay the Mica, our sister ship, from Victoria.

I saw, some hundred yards away, on the stem castle of the

speeding galley, her captain move his arm. Almost instantaneously the galley, responsive at that speed to the slightest rudder pressure, veered a point to her starboard. It was her intention not to be stopped at the
Tina
but to shatter between us and the
Mira,
opening the line. At her stern quarters, like running, heeling sleen, were two other galleys, to exploit the opening the point must make. Fanning out, too, behind the supporting galleys, were others. And, in the wake of the first galley, plowed several others. Our line, it seemed, must be cut. Our communications, it seemed, must be disrupted Enemies would be among us. Flanks to be defended would be multiplied. We would be divided, handicapped in our attempts to reinforce and support one another. Divided, hunted, we could be herded, and surrounded. We might then make good sport for the pirates. The Voskjard had been held at the chain in the south. I did not think that this would have pleased him. I did not expect that prisoners would be taken.

"Now!" cried Callimachus.

There are three poles which, customarily, with Gorean ships are used in casting off, in thrusting away from the wharves. There were, of course, three such poles on the
Tina
and on the
Mira.
Our oars were inboard.

Suddenly, as the enemy galley veered to knife between us, and the
Mira
men with poles, and, too, with oars, on our ship, and on the
Mira,
thrust the ships apart. There was a shattering and a scraping but the enemy galley, which had thought with force to press us apart, meeting little resistance was, by her momentum, almost immediately astern of us. Almost simultaneously other men, on the Tina and
Mira,
with ropes and grappling irons, drew the ships more closely together. The two ships following the first galley had intended to follow her into our line, exploiting the breach. But now there was no breach. The point of the wedge, harmlessly, save for splinters and paint torn from our hull, was behind us. The two supporting ships ground their hulls together. Burning pitch and arrows rained upon their decks. I heard rams clash to port and starboard. Then one of the supporting galleys was struck in the stern by a following ship, unable to check its momentum. The pirate galleys began to back oars, frantically to extricate themselves, but, clumsily, half swung about, they must accept our fire. Two other ships from be

hind them, unable to slow themselves sufciently, struck into the milling ships.

I turned about. The first galley, isolated behind our lines, was trying to swing to the southeast, to avoid the chain and find the open water to the cast. As she did so the Tais, come from our right flank to reinforce the line, circling about her, took her full in the port side. The strike was high, but water poured into her hold. I saw men dive from her decks. She lay then in the water, listing, unmanned. As she lay the rupture in her hull was lifted above the water line. I saw men from the Tais board her, moving about on the tilted deck. Then, in a short time, they returned to their ship.

"Run flags on the stem-castle lines," called Callimachus. "Blood for Port Cos!"

There was a cheer from our benches.

I watched the Tais draw away from the disabled vessel. Then I saw the stern of the vessel swing eccentrically about.

"She is caught on a bar," said a man near to me.

"Yes," I said. No longer did she move sluggishly, turning, carried by the current, toward the chain.

"It is the Tuka," said a man near me.

"Is that a well-known ship of the Voskjard," I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"It is the wedge againl" cried a man.

I looked out, over the railing, northward. The enemy fleet had reformed.

The crew of the Tuka had swum west of the chain.

"They are approaching at only half stroke," said a man.

"They will not repeat their first mistake," said another.

This time it was their intention to force our line apart with consistent pressure, not as a shattering bolt, but as a flood, a pressing, an avalanche of wood and steel, regulated, controlled, responsive to the tactical situation instant by instant. Not again would the point of the wedge be lost fruitlessly behind our lines, spending itself in vain against emptiness and spray.

Flags, torn by the wind, snapping, sped to our stem-castle lines. Signal cloths, pennons and squares, in mixed colors and designs, acknowledging these commands, ran fluttering and streaming onto the stem-castle lines of the Tais.

"She is at full strokel" said a man.

The Tais, her stern low in the water, her ram half lifted from it, knifed to the northeast.

"The wedge of the Voskjard approachesl" called an officer on our stem castle.

"Let us chain the ships together, while we mayl" begged another officer.

"No," said Callimachus.

"Look!" cried a man, miserably, clinging to a projection on our stem castle. "Look!" he cried. He was pointing to the east. "The Tais is leaving our lines! The ships of Port Cos attend herl"

"Our flank is unguarded!" cried a man in fear. There seemed consternation on our benches.

"The Voskjard is committed to the wedgel" I said to the man next to me.

"Our flank is in no immediate danger," said he. He set an arrow to the string of a short ship's bow.

"No!" I cried laughing. "No! Look! It is the flank of the Voskjard which is now unguarded!"

The Tais and her swift, lean sisters, emerging unexpectedly, circling, from behind our lines, stern quarters low in the water, rams half lifted from the water, wet and glistening in the sun, at full stroke, oars beating, drums pounding, like loosened weapons, sped toward the wedge.

Our oarsmen stood on their benches cheering.

The lead ship of the wedge was trying to come about, swinging to starboard. Her immediate support ship, fifty yards astern, could not check her flight. Her ram took the lead ship in the stern, tearing away wood and breaking loose the starboard rudder. Almost at the same time the seven ships of Port Cos, fanning out, each choosing an undefended hull, exposed, helpless before the hurtling strike of the ram's brutal spike, to the tearing of wood, the rushing of water, the screaming of men, made contact with the enemy. Efficiently did they address themselves to the harsh labors of war.

I did not see how Ar, in her disputes with Cos upon the Vosk, could hope to match such ships and men. The ships of Ar's Station, with the fleet, seemed more round ships than long ships. Some lacked even rams and shearing blades. All were permanently masted. Few of these ships boasted more than twenty oars. All seemed undermanned. Ar, I thought, might be advised to tread lightly in her politics on the Vosk.

The ships of Port Cos, led by the Tais, backed from the subsiding, shattered hulks they had smitten. The Voskjard's fleet was in confusion. Ship struck ship. Signal horns sounded frantically. Ships struggled, crowded together, trapped in the wedge, to come about. Again, and again, hunting as single marine predators, the Tats and her sisters, prowling the outskirts of that confused, sluggish city of wood, almost at will, almost fastidiously, selected their victims.

How could Ar, I asked myself, compete with such men and ships upon the mighty Vosk?

Laughable were the miserable, squat ships of Ar's Station when compared with the sleek carnivores of Port Cos or, indeed, those of Ragnar Voskjard.

"The Tais has made her third kill!" cried a man.

There was cheering upon the Tina.

On each of the ships of Ar's Station there were long, heavy sets of planks, fastened together by transverse crosspieces. These heavy constructions were some twenty-five feet in length, and some seven or eight feet in width. They were mounted on high platforms near the masts, one at each mast, and could be run out on rollers from the mast, to which they were fastened by adjustable lengths of chain. At the tops these constructions leaned back toward the masts, to which, at the top, they were secured by ropes. Projecting outwards from the top of each of these constructions there was, like a curved nail, a bent, gigantic, forged spike.

"The fleet is coming about!" criers a man.

To be sure, amidst the wreckage and crowding, and even grinding against the chain, the fleet of the Voskjard had managed to come about.

"Fleet" cried a man near me to the crews of the Tais and her sisters, as though they could have heard him over the water. "Fleet"

"They must run or they will be crushedl" cried a man. The rams of the Voskjard's fleet swung toward the Tais and her sisters. Between them, drifting apart, listing or awash, lay what must have been the wreckage of some eighteen ships. Several had already gone down.

"Runt Runt" cried more than one man near me. But the Tais and her sisters of Port Cos lay to.

"The fleet of the Voskjard has been marshaled," said a man next to me.

"Pity the brave lads of Port Cos," muttered a man.

"Stroke!" called Callimachus.

"Stroke!" called his officer.

"Stroke!" cried the oar master. The ringing of the coppercovered drum struck with the fur-wrapped wooden mallets suddenly rang out behind us.

"Yes, yes!" I cried. "The Voskjard has exposed his flank to us!"

The Tina and her line movers forward.

"Withdraw! Reform!" called Callimachus.

That island of wood in the midst of the Vosk, those grating, striking ships, twisted at the chain. Rams now, and concave bows, threatened us.

We backed from the wreckage.

We, the line of our ships, had caught the fleet of the Voskjard in its right flank, as it had turned to confront and punish the Tais and her sisters of Port Cos. This audacious act on our part had taken the fleet of the Voskjard by surprise. That ships such as those of Ar's Station and of the independent towns, mostly refitted merchantmen, would dare to leave the security of their lines to launch their own attack, not bolstered by the ships of Port Cos, had not entered its ken. They did not know, perhaps, that one named Callimachus stood upon our stem castle.

We backed from the wreckage, much of it flaming. The smell of pitch was in the air.

Dozens of ships, trying to come about, maneuvering, milling, struck by other ships, had been trapped against the chain.

There were hundreds of men in the water. Hundreds of oars, like sticks, had been snapped in the stresses involved, even against the hulls of their own vessels.

Archer shields, of heavy wicker, floated in the water, and ruptured posts and strakes, and parts of oars.

Vosk gulls dove and glided among the carnage, hunting for fish.

"Back oars! Reform our lines!" called Callimachus.

I saw a pirate galley slip under the water, near the chain.

"Back oars! Reform our lines!" called Callimachus. He was no fool. He would not risk open battle, not even on even terms, with ships such as those of the Voskjard

"We have been fortunate," said a man.

"Yes," said another.

"The Voskjard will be angry," said another.

"I fear so," said another.

"There is still time to gee," said another.

Then the Tina, with the Mira to starboard and the
Talender
to port, lay to in our lines. The ships of Port Cos, now only the
Tais
and four others, resumed their station at our right flank. Had it not been for these ships of Port Cos it is difficult to know how we might have fared. They had taken heavy toll of the enemy before he had turned the wedge to face them, and then, as confused, he, struck by our unexpected attack, that of the independent ships and those of Ar's Station, had turned to face us, the
Tais
and her sisters had renewed their attack on his flank. I thought it not improbable that the Voskjard had lost in the neighborhood of thirty ships. Yet now we conjectured some fifty ships still faced us, for the chain, clearly, no longer provided a barrier north of his position. Those ships which we had for so long prevented from joining him had, by now, amplified his forces. I could not but think, bitterly, that if the Voskjard, truly, had had only some fifty ships, as we had gathered from the intelligences supplied to us by Callisthenes, we, if supplemented by the twenty ships of Callisthenes, yet to appear, would now have outnumbered him. In such a situation it was not unlikely that he would have come about and, at his leisure, still in strength, withdrawn to the west. We lay to, waiting. Now, in our lines, there were only seventeen ships, including those of Port Cos, on which we so crucially depended.

"The enemy fleet is marshaling," said a man.

"Is it again the wedge?" asked a man.

"One ship is astern and to the starboard of another," said a man.