“Let’s hope so, Mr. Loholo. Faster than the pirates, anyway. Get your men to lookout stations, if you please.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Loholo turned to his crew. “Banta, up those shrouds. Move along there, lad, and keep your eyes open. Fast as we’re going, we’ll be in pirate waters soon.” He strolled along the deck, expertly keeping himself erect, as he placed crewmen in the bow and sent the rest to the waist.
“How does she sail, Captain?” MacKinnie asked quietly.
“Well enough, Trader,” MacLean answered. “A little better to windward than I’d thought she might. Doesn’t point as high as a proper keelboat would, but with a full keel we couldn’t beach. As it is, we can go closer to the wind than anything the pirates have got. That’s how I expect to outrun them. They’ll have to use sweeps, and I don’t think they can catch us going to windward. We’ll leave the bastards behind … uh, your pardon, freelady.”
“Don’t apologize on your own ship, Captain MacLean. I think it’s wonderful what you’ve managed to do with this primitive boat.” She looked up at him, then at MacKinnie. “Can I get you anything, Captain? Trader?”
“Chickeest,” MacKinnie said. “If you can cook in this.”
“If she can’t we’ll have cold food the whole voyage,” MacLean snapped. “This is perfect weather, Trader. By afternoon we’ll face some real waves. I’m not looking forward to the tide either. You may not have noticed, but we had the aid of a strong tidal current going out. It should be even worse when it turns. Best get some practice in the galley now, freelady. Take young Brett down to help you.”
“All right, Captain,” She stumbled across the deck, looking for handholds, then let Brett take her arm to guide her to the companionway. The ship was heeling sharply, the deck standing at perhaps forty degrees off the horizontal.
It took her nearly half an hour to heat last night’s chickeest, and she spilled part of it bringing the pot and cups up to the quarterdeck, but Mary Graham seemed proud of her achievement even so. Now she had the same slightly green cast as Kleinst, and MacKinnie looked around to see the scholar grimly holding the rail and staring at the distant shore to starboard.
“Sail ahead,"the lookout called. “Two sails.”
Loholo scampered up the shrouds like a monkey, shading his eyes and staring off where the lookout pointed. He bounded down to the deck and trotted panting to MacLean. “Pirates right enough, off the port bow, Captain. Under sail.”
MacLean nodded. The pirates were to windward, using square sails to run down toward Subao. “Steady as she goes, Mr. Todd. Mr. Loholo, it might be best if you stood with Todd at the tiller. Steering to windward’s trickier than just watching the compass, and we’ll need more experienced helmsmen. Have you any of your crew who might have some ability?”
“None, Captain. They’re all landsmen. Willing lads, but no sea legs.”
“You’ll have to do it, then. Take your post, mister.” MacLean cupped his hands to shade his eyes and stood easily on the pitching deck. True to his earlier promise, the sea was running higher now, and Subao heeled farther, making it impossible for anyone but the three sailors to stand without something to hold on to.
“Best tack now and get sea room,” MacLean said. “Stark, get your hands to the jibsheets. The gaffs will take care of themselves. Snap to it, man, we haven’t all year.” Hal and his guards ran to the foredeck, motioning to some of the oarsmen sitting idle in the waist to join them.
“Stand by to let those sheets go,” MacLean shouted. MacKinnie was surprised to note that the Navy man’s voice carried easily into the wind, although Brett repeated the order from his post at the mizzen.
“Put her helm down, Mr. Todd.” The ship swung into the wind, through it, the booms snapping across the deck. One of Loholo’s men scrambled to get out of the way, flinging himself to the deck to allow the main boom to pass over him, while the quarterdeck crew, copying MacLean’s example, ducked low. The jibs backwinded, pulling the bow around. “Let go the jibsheets,” MacLean shouted. “Now trim them in on the port side. Snap to it. Man the leeboards! Smartly, men!”
The port leeboard was pushed down, and tackles strained to raise the starboard one. MacLean stamped with impatience until the task was done, then turned to MacKinnie. “She’s lively enough. Bit slow, easy to get caught in stays. If I end up out of action, remember that. Leave the jibs cleated until the bow’s well around, or you’ll be in irons.”
Nathan fervently prayed he would never have to work the ship himself. At least there was young Todd if MacLean were killed.
Now they were approaching the pirate ships rapidly, and the lookout called down, “Five sails beyond the two ahead, sir.”
“That’ll be more of the pirate fleet,” Loholo said. “Beg your pardon, sir, but the reefs are over there.” He pointed off to starboard and ahead.
MacLean nodded coolly. “We can’t make that course yet, Loholo. When we’ve sea room, we’ll try your advice.” He gauged the distance to the rapidly closing pirate vessels. As they watched, the enemy ships extended their oars, the sweeps working rhythmically, rippling down each of the vessels. The pirate ships were much like Subao had been before MacLean’s modifications, with more beam to weather storms in the shallow sea but generally resembling her. On the bow of each was carved one of the large tentacled creatures MacKinnie had seen in the water, the stays to the stubby masts running into the nest of arms which jutted forward and upward.
“Idlers below,” MacLean ordered. “Freelady, Professor Longway, Mr. Kleinst — go below and stay until you’re called, if you please. Mr. Loholo, I can spare you from the tiller until you get your men under arms.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” Loholo padded forward to the waist to arm his men.
MacKinnie watched Hal break out crossbows, handing one to each of his Samualite guards and posting them along the waist. The pirates had noted that Subao was going to windward without oars, and adjusted their courses to intercept well forward of their present position, so the ships were not closing as rapidly now, but slowly they drew up to three crossbow shots away to port and as many forward.
“I doubt there will be a battle,” MacLean said quietly. “Unless they are very much faster with those oars than I think, they cannot possibly catch us.”
As if to make his captain a liar, the lookout shouted, “Three sails off the starboard bow. Three sails ahead, sir.”
MacLean shook his head. “If they adjust to our strange antics as quickly as these did, we’ll have to fight after all.” He eyed the distance to the nearest pirate ship. “Mr. Stark, I’ll thank you to go forward and stand ready to bring the ship about again. Don’t cast off that jibsheet until I tell you. And give me five men on the leeboards.”
“Aye, sir.” Hal took his men forward, carefully seeing that each man stowed his crossbow along the rail on the low side. MacLean shook his head. “Put them on the starboard side, Stark. I don’t need loaded weapons clattering about my decks when we go about.
“Stand by, Todd. I want to cut this as close as possible without letting them ram us.” The pirate ships drew closer now, angling in toward Subao’s bows in a staggered line. “Fall away a point,” MacLean said softly. The ship gathered way, leaping through the water. “Stand by … Put the helm over!”
Subaobrought up into the wind sharply, hung for a moment, and fell off to the starboard tack. “Let go the jibsheets. Now get them sheeted in. Haul those leeboards, you sons!” MacLean was icy calm as he watched the armored prow of the nearest pirate approaching. The sweeps on the enemy vessel were moving faster and faster, and they could hear a drum amidship beating the count.