“Good fortune,” they both repeated in low voices. Then the three companions turned to the work ahead.
First they visited the ship’s armory. Hamil expertly picked the lock, and Geran helped himself to a good cutlass. With a little work he rigged the scabbard to lie across his back, where a hooded cloak might help to hide the fact that he was armed. Then, in the privacy of the arms locker, Geran quietly invoked the swordmage wardings and spells, which served as his armor, for the first time in days. They were not normally noticeable, but someone trained in the arcane arts might sense their presence, and anyone who struck at him-for example, the first mate with her cudgel-would likely notice their effect, which was why Geran had gone without the wardings. He hoped he wouldn’t need them, but it was better to be ready. Tonight would be a night of decision, and the time for fitting in with their fellow corsairs was drawing to an end. “All right, let’s head up for watch,” Geran told his friends.
They quietly closed the arms locker and went up on deck, reporting for their watch under the second mate, Khefen. Although Khefen’s watch consisted of a full third of the ship’s company, twenty men weren’t needed on deck at all times. Normally Moonshark sailed with the mate and a helmsman on the quarterdeck, a lookout in the bow, a lookout aloft, and a couple of roving deckhands who kept an eye on the rigging, tended the braces and stays, and looked after the lanterns belowdecks. Their primary task was to go below and rouse more of the watch if the mate had to change the set of the sails. Some minor adjustments could be handled by a couple of men easily enough, but other adjustments-for example, breaking out or taking in a mainsail-required the whole watch. Those men who weren’t on deck were allowed to catch as much sleep as they could, so long as they were quick to come up on deck when summoned. Over the course of a watch it was customary for the helmsman, lookouts, and rovers to trade places with their watchmates so that most of the crewmen had a chance to sleep at least four or five hours a night. However, Moonshark’s stronger fists made new and unproven hands stand more of the watch than they should have. For tonight that would serve Geran and his friends well.
Geran took the helm after the watch change, while Sarth was kept on as roving hand, and Hamil was sent aloft to the crow’s nest. The night was cool and dark; the moon was hidden behind thick clouds, and a light drizzle fell. Moonshark rode sluggishly on a west-northwesterly track as the wind was light, and she still didn’t have her full spread of canvas aloft. For half an hour he held the ship on course, biding his time to make sure the second watch was settled below. Khefen said little to him, sipping from his flask as he leaned against the lee rail.
Finally he decided the moment was right. He looked over at the second mate. “Take the wheel for a moment, Master Khefen?” he asked. “I need to relieve myself.”
Khefen sighed, but he shook himself under his damp cloak and nodded. “Don’t be long,” he said.
Geran let the man get his hands on the helm and stepped back. Then he quietly drew a leather sap from beneath his cloak and struck the second mate across the back of the head. Khefen groaned and slumped; Geran caught him and lowered him softly to the deck. Quickly he looped a keeper over the topmost spoke of the helm, then dragged Khefen to one side. He arranged the unconscious man against the rail and liberally sprinkled him with the contents of his own flask. Things would go hard for Khefen in the morning, but at least it wouldn’t seem overly suspicious. Then he hurried forward.
Hamil dropped lightly to the deck from the foremast as Geran approached. The halfling winked at him, and together they moved forward to take care of the remaining two men on watch. But atop the fo’c’sle they found that Sarth had caught both the forward lookout and the other rover together. Both men lay sprawled on the deck in an enchanted slumber, overcome by the tiefling’s spells. “Did you deal with Khefen?” Sarth asked.
“Not as neatly as you managed these two, but it’s done,” Geran answered. Together he and Hamil securely bound and gagged the unconscious men then hid them under a bit of spare canvas.
“The deck’s ours for the moment,” Hamil said. “So what now?”
“Now we run toward Hulburg at our best speed,” Geran answered. “If we can get within a dozen miles or so of the northern shore, we’ll put the longboat in the water and part ways with Moonshark. With luck we’ll reach Hulburg by noon and warn the harmach about the pirate raid. But I think we’ll need a good three or four hours on a northerly course to get close enough for the boat, and then we’ll have to get the boat in the water without waking half the crew.”
“What can I do?” Sarth asked.
“Go forward and act like you’re on watch. If anyone comes up on deck, try not to let on that anything’s out of the ordinary. Hamil, you’ll do the same. I’m going to turn us slowly to our new course and see if I can’t quietly put on a little more sail without anyone noticing.”
“If this works, I’ll be astonished,” Hamil muttered. “But I guess it’s worth a try.” The halfling shrugged and moved to take up his position near the mainmast.
Geran returned to the quarterdeck, checked briefly on Khefen-the mate seemed to be well and truly out-and took the wheel again. Working just a few degrees at a time he brought their course a good fifty degrees over, settling on a heading just a little east of due north. Then he put the keeper back on the helm and hurried down to the main deck to help Hamil and Sarth square the yardarms back around, now that they were sailing further from the wind. Geran sorely wanted to break out more sail, but he’d need most of the watch for that. He might be able to bluff his way through by propping Khefen up at the rail and telling the watch that the second mate wanted more sail on, but there were just too many things that could go wrong if he roused a dozen more of their watchmates. He settled for having Sarth and Hamil quietly break out the staysails, which were comparatively small, close to the deck, and easily handled. They didn’t add much to Moonshark’s speed, but every little bit helped, and the wind was beginning to pick up a little bit.
They ran for most of the night with little difficulty. Several times sleepy crewmen came up to the deck to answer calls of nature. None seemed to notice that the ship was not on the heading she was supposed to be on, but that didn’t surprise Geran. Very few deckhands knew anything about navigation, and Narsk was hardly in the habit of informing the crew exactly where he was bound at any given moment. Usually no one other than the mate on watch and the man standing at the helm knew what course the ship was steering, if there weren’t any landmarks in sight. One or two noticed the staysails and said something, but Hamil deflected the questions easily enough by simply saying “the captain told Khefen to break ’em out.” The deckhands took Hamil at his word and made their way back down to their hammocks.
Two hours before dawn, Geran judged that they’d pushed their luck far enough. In an hour or so Tao Zhe would be rising to begin making breakfast. Geran wanted to be off the ship before then. He was just about to call Hamil and Sarth to the quarterdeck when he heard heavy footsteps on the portside ladder. A moment later, Sorsil appeared on the quarterdeck. “How goes the night?” the first mate asked. Then her eye fell on Khefen’s motionless form, propped up by the rail. “What in the-Is that miserable bastard asleep on his watch?”
Geran stared at her in horror. Fortunately, Sorsil’s attention was fixed on Khefen. The first mate crossed the quarterdeck and kicked Khefen savagely. The second mate fell over with a strange grunt but didn’t awake. “By Cyric’s black blade! He’s dead drunk!” she fumed.