“As good as we could expect, Trader,” MacLean said softly. “We expected to fight a dozen enemies, now there’s only one.”
“And a half two …"Todd called. “Mark two … and a half one…”
The tide was racing out now. MacKinnie had never seen anything like it, and asked MacLean how the current could be so strong.
“Those two close-in moons make for strong tides,” MacLean answered, “and this big shallow basin doesn’t really hold much water. Won’t take a lot of vertical rise and fall to empty it.” The captain looked carefully at the current. “We’re going aground in a few minutes, Trader. If we try to run with the tide to keep afloat, that pirate will have us. At least if we’re run aground, he can’t ram the ship. Might be quite a fight when he sees us high and dry. Or he might decide to run out with the current and get his friends. You’ll have to decide whether to go ashore in that case.”
MacKinnie nodded. It seemed to him the enemy ship was staying close to Subao. The pirate might be trapped as well. If they really didn’t know these waters all that well, the might think Subao’s crew intended to stay afloat.
The leeboard scraped bottom, heaving up ponderously before settling back to its position, then hit again.
“Hands to the halyards!” MacLean shouted. “Get those sails down. Move, damn you!” Then in a calmer voice, “Mr. Loholo, put your helm to weather if you will … ease her against the current … steady … Sergeant Stark, get your men’s backs into it!”
The sails were hauled down, the men pulling desperately. Heavy canvas billowed across the decks, and the Makassar crewmen leaped to subdue it. It was bulkily piled on the booms and lashed in place. The ship swayed, blown against the current by the strong wind, held in place until there was no way on her at all, then began ponderously to make sternway. Loholo balanced off the helm without orders, obviously accustomed to taking ground with ships in the shallow seas of Makassar. As the tide raced away, she settled bow first, straightened, and came to rest on the sandy bottom, angled toward the shore.
“We’re fast,” MacLean said. He looked out at the pirate ship three hundred yards away. “By the Saints, he’s caught! He can’t make it against the wind.”
The enemy crew was straining at the oars, while others gathered the lateen sail against the mast, but even as they watched, the stern touched bottom. The tide race was incredibly swift, and within seconds the pirate was stuck as fast as Subao.
Brett ran to the waist of the ship. He struggled with the hatch cover until Vanjynk rushed up to help him. MacLean shouted from the quarterdeck. “What in hell are you doing?”
“We must get our mounts up from the hold,” Brett called. “Master Vanjynk and I would fight on our horses, Captain.”
“Let them,” MacKinnie told MacLean. “We’re outnumbered, and having a cavalry force can help. Look there.” He pointed to the pirate vessel. Men were boiling off its decks, but instead of rushing toward Subao, they formed ranks on the hard sand alongside their ship.
“My turn,” MacKinnie said. “You men see to your armor. Hal, help Brett sway those animals up out of the hold.”
The hatch cover was already off, and using the main boom held at an angle by the peak halyard, the two chargers were lifted by bellybands, swayed over the side, and set in place on the sand. Brett and Vanjynk scrambled to saddle their beasts and cover them with chain mail skirts.
“What are they waiting for?” MacLean asked, pointing at the pirates.
“They don’t know how many we are, or if we have star weapons,” Loholo said softly. “They will listen to their leaders tell them of rich loot, and the insults they have endured from Jikar, and finally they will attack. It will be best if our men are already on the sands unless you intend to fight from the ship.”
“Not from here,” MacKinnie said. “They’ve got axes. Give one of them a few minutes unmolested and we won’t float off here with the tide. Hal, form the men on the sand behind the ship so the enemy can’t see what we’ve got!”
“Right, Colonel.” Pleading and shouting, Stark managed to get the native crew into a semblance of order while his Haven guardsmen took places in a group at one end of the line. Shields glinted in the sun as the men stood nervously.
“Serve out those pikes, Mr. Longway,” MacKinnie ordered as the Academician appeared at the companion-way. “Then you and the others stay below.”
“If you order us, Trader,” Longway said. “But I can fight.” He came fully out on the deck, and MacKinnie saw that the scholar’s portly figure was cased in mail over leather. Together they took the pikes from their racks along the bulwarks and handed them over the sides to the waiting troops. Each of the Makassar natives wore a breastplate and greaves, a metal cap, and a shortsword, and held a round shield on his arm. The Samualites had mail as well. With their pikes in hand, MacKinnie’s small force seemed more disciplined, ready to face an enemy.
“They can fight well if told what to do,” Loholo said. “They are young men, but the Guilds begin their training early.”
MacKinnie eased himself over the rail to join the small group, leaving MacLean and Loholo on the ship. He turned to face his men.
“The important thing is to preserve discipline,” he said. “If you stay in ranks, there’s not much they can do to you. Keep your shield wall up as long as they aren’t close, so they can’t bombard us with arrows, and advance when I tell you. I want to hit them with a solid force, not a ragged group of individuals. Hal, have your Haven men form a reserve group behind the main body, and keep their javelins and crossbows ready. I want a solid volley from the crossbows as soon as the pirates get in range, and keep that up until they’re too close to reload. Then hold those javelins until I give the order to cast.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then wait for my orders. Brett, you and Vanjynk stay with me until I give you the word.”
“It is not proper that we stay behind and allow these groundlings the honor of opening battle,” Vanjynk said slowly.
“Proper be damned. Vanjynk, if you or Brett start a charge without my orders I’ll have Hal shoot you out of the saddle. I ask nothing dishonorable, Master Vanjynk, nothing save winning this battle.”
“We have agreed to serve the star man,” Brett said. “It is proper that we take his instructions, my friend.” He clapped Vanjynk on the shoulder. “Besides, what honor have pirates? What is propriety to them?”
“Here they come!” Longway shouted from the quarterdeck.
MacKinnie strode to the bow of the ship and looked around. The pirate group, nearly a hundred strong, was moving slowly and in good order across the sand toward Subao. “Hal, get your crossbowmen out at the stern and stand by. Fire when you think they’re in range.”
“Yes, sir. Guardsmen, right face. March.” Stark took his tiny group to the stern and deployed them just beyond it. This put them closer to the enemy than MacKinnie’s detachment at the bow.
Nathan eyed the advancing ranks of pirates, now broken up by small tidal pools until there were definite gaps in the formation. There seemed to be no effort on the part of the pirate officer to reform his men. From what MacKinnie knew of similar groups on South Continent, it was a masterpiece of tactics for the pirates to have formed at all before starting a wild charge.
They came on, and Hal shouted to his men. “Ready! Fire!”
Several fell to the volley of crossbow bolts, but the rest came on. MacKinnie watched, but gave no signal. Behind him Brett and Vanjynk talked calmly to their animals, but their voices were rising in pitch. Their eagerness to join the battle sounded through the soothing words.