The galley, seeing the maneuver, put up her helm also and let her sails flap. Barnevelt realized with a sinking feeling that she could now cut across the hypotenuse of a right triangle to intercept them, since neither was now depending on wind.
"Lower away!" yelled Chask, and down came the great yard, stretching the whole length of the Shambor.
The sailors glowered at Barnevelt, and he caught one tapping his forehead. But the boatswain gave them no time to grumble. A rattle of orders sent some to cast off the stays and knock out the wedges that held the mast. Chask put men holding guys at bow, stern, and sides. Others hauled the mast out of its step and set the butt of it on deck beside the partners.
Meanwhile, the sailor who had cut holes in the foot of the sail did likewise along the leech, while another cut the straps that held the sail to the yard. Then all hands except the rowers turned to, to step the yard in place of the mast. By hauling on the halyard, they hoisted the bare pole up to the head of the old mast, now serving as a gin-pole, and manhandled the butt end into the partners vacated by the mast. The tall spar swayed perilously; the men at the guys screamed; but the stick finally went home with a thump that shook the ship and was wedged into place. Then, by shifting the guys to the yard and slackening off the old halyard, they lowered the former mast to the deck.
The galley, with sails furled, crept closer. Barnevelt heard a faint hail come up the wind.
When the new and taller mast was in place, they triced the short edge of the sail to the ex-mast, reeving a light line through the holes in the sail and helically around the spar. Then they triced the intermediate edge of the sail to the ex-yard, now the mast, by reeving short lengths of rope through the holes in that edge and around this spar and tying them with reef-knots to form rings. As these rings were installed, the men hoisted the sail.
"Make haste, rascallions!" shouted Chask. "Yare, yare!"
A louder hail came from the galley. The finishing touch was to lash the yoke that had formerly topped the ex-mast to the ex-yard, loosely enough so the ex-mast, now the boom, could swing, but tightly enough to hold it fast.
On the galley a catapult whanged. A black dot grew into a leaden ball which arced across the water and plunked in a couple of oars' lengths from the Shambor.
Barnevelt told Zei, "Go into the cabin, Princess."
"I'm no coward. My place is…"
"Into the cabin, dammit!" When he saw her starting to obey, he turned to Chask. "Think that lashing'll do?"
"It must suffice, Captain."
A sharp whistle, as of a whip, made Barnevelt wince. He saw a man on the bow of the galley start to wind up a heavy crossbow. A second bolt whizzed close.
However, the endless work on the new rig seemed finally done. The sail was fully hoisted. Chask shouted, "Belay the halyard!"
The sail hung limp, flapping gently. Another minute would tell whether Barnevelt's scheme was sound. He didn't like the look of that limber new mast, but it was too late for regrets now. He hopped up the steps to the poop and took the tiller from the seaman.
The catapult thumped again. The missile sailed past Barnevelt, skimmed the deck, and carried away a piece of the port rail with a splintering crash. The rowers flinched as it passed them, breaking stroke. The bow of the galley loomed close, clustered with men.
Barnevelt pushed the long tiller arm to starboard. The Shambor responded, her nose swinging to port. The wind ironed the ruffles from the sail, then filled it. The Shambor heeled sharply as the sail took hold, bringing water in the lee oar-ports and breaking the rowers' stroke again; then recovered as Barnevelt corrected his turn.
The whizz of crossbow bolts was punctuated by sharp drumlike sounds as the bolts tore through the taut sail. Barnevelt could see the two little holes from where he stood. Let's hope they don't start tears! he thought. That sail's a precarious enough proposition with all those ungrommeted holes in it.
Chask, having gotten the crew straightened out, came to stand beside him. He said, "Methinks we gain^sir."
Barnevelt took his eyes off the sail long enough for a quick glance back at the galley. Yes, she did look a shade smaller… or was that wishful thinking?
The sound of the catapult came again. Barnevelt caught a glimpse of the ball flying past him. Then it headed straight for the mast. All they needed now was to be dismasted by a lucky shot!
Closer flew the missile to the mast… and missed it by an eyelash, to graze the roof of the cabin with a loud bang and bounce off into the sea. It was followed by another whizz of crossbow-bolts, one of which struck the wood nearby, plunging down at a steep angle.
"They're lofting 'em at us, being too far for direct aiming," said Chask. "In another twinkling shall we be out of range entirely."
The next catapult missile splashed astern of the Shambor. Little by little they drew ahead. Barnevelt, still tense as a spring, glanced back. The galley, finding oars insufficient, was shaking out its sails again.
However, as the minutes passed it became obvious that the Shambor—with Barnevelt's eye on the sail and hand on the tiller to get every possible degree of close-hauled sailing out of the new rig—could now sail at least a point nearer the wind than her pursuer. Hence the ships were on diverging tracks. The galley, making good time, drew abreast of the Shambor, but too far down-wind to be dangerous.
Barnevelt waited until the galley stood out in profile, then put his helm up sharply. Without hesitation, the Shambor luffed and heeled into the other tack. The galley shrank fast, because the two ships were now sailing away from one another. Barnevelt saw frantic activity on the galley's decks; but, by the time the lateen sails had been laboriously shifted to the opposite reach, she was too far behind for details to be made out.
As the sun climbed towards the meridian, the galley receded until her oars were hidden by the bulge of the sea. However, if anybody expected the pursuers to withdraw in baffled rage, they were disappointed. Unable to keep up with Barnevelt's short quick tacks, the galley plodded on under oars alone.
The Shambor seemed to be doing so well, though, that Barnevelt passed the word to reduce the oar crew to eight men to give the others more rest. He thought the men's attitude towards him improved a bit also.
Then it occurred to him that he was hungry. He had eaten hardly anything in the last tense forty-eight hours, and his animal self was beginning to protest. He turned the tiller over to Chask and started for the forward cabin, hoping for a bite in Zei's company.
"O Captain!" said a voice, and there were three sailors, including the argumentative Zanzir.
"Yes?"
"When shall we have water, sir?" said Zanzir. "We die of thirst."
"You'll get your next ration at noon."
"We ask it now, Captain. Without it we can't row. Ye wouldn't hold out on us, would ye?"
"I said," said Barnevelt, raising his voice, "you shall have your next water at noon. And next time you want to speak to me, get Chask's permission first."
"But Captain…"
"That's enough!" roared Barnevelt, his fury aggravated by the knowledge that the crew's indiscipline was partly his own fault. He went forward to the deckhouse, hearing behind him a mutter in which he caught the words, "*.• . . high and mighty emperor, is he?…"
"What ails my captain?" said Zei. "You look as sour as Qarar when he'd been deceived by the King of 'Ishk."
"I'll be all right," said Barnevelt, slumping down on a bench. "How about a spot of sustenance, girl?" He felt too weary to worry about the fact that this was not the usual way of addressing a princess. "That is, if you know how to rustle food."