"Suit yourselves," Bates said with a sigh, wandering off to join his shipmates in practice.
Sorn turned to his cousins. "Shall we, guys?" And soon enough they were paired off, circling each other in pairs on a clear patch of the lower deck before springing forward to do battle. The muted crack of practice blade against blade rang fast and furious, a rapid counterpoint to the slower thrusts and parries of the crewmen as the youths went at one another; parrying, thrusting, twisting and counterstriking at a blistering pace before breaking off and circling one another again. The sounds of their connecting sticks, though muted, was considerably louder than the sparring pairs of sailor's blades.
"Oh, nice one, Fitz," Hanz said, shaking his wrist after having over-extended, leaving his arm vulnerable to a snapping blow from the quickly dodging Fitz. It was a blow that had landed hard enough that a few of the sailors watching their entertaining passengers fence couldn't help but wince, certain that a bone had been cracked at the very least. Yet Hanz seemed fine, and within moments the youths were sparring yet again.
"Your getting better," Sorn conceded with a smile, after Lieberman had managed to tap his shoulder. "That's two taps you have on me today."
"Yes, one point for every three you scored on me," Lieberman replied with a smile of his own. "Whats say we call it a day, cousin?"
"Sounds like a plan," Sorn concurred, noting the increasing amount of attention the youths' sparring had garnered them, hoping that it was just out of curiosity for the newcomers to the ship as much as anything else. "Shall we call it a morning, Hanz, Fitz? I don't know about you, but I could do with something to drink. Besides," Sorn added to their nods of agreement as he led them back down to their quarters for cups of watered ale, "we have other things to practice besides swordcraft alone." To which Sorn chuckled at the rolled eyes and sighs sent his way. "Relax cousins, nothing too arduous. After all, I wouldn't want you to burn down the ship!"
Sighing, the triplets accepted their fate with equanimity, knowing that no matter how exotic the local, or amazing their adventure, Sorn would always find time for stuffy lessons.
"The sea is beautiful at night, no?" Halence asked Sorn that evening, moving to stand beside Sorn at the prow and share the view as Sorn gazed out to sea. Sorn’s eyes were continually drawn to the horizon, that special place where the quiet lapping blackness of the sea met the starry heavens above, the night sky at its most majestic.
"Good evening, Captain. And yes, it is a beautiful night."
Halence nodded reflectively out of habit, as few would be able to see the gesture in such darkness. "It's peaceful. Helps a man reflect, gather his thoughts, prepare for what's to come. You note the stars above?"
"Yes," Sorn said, realizing the captain could hardly see his slight nod.
"They are all a good captain needs to navigate the seas. Far more reliable than the sun, in fact. Few things are more valuable to the sailor traveling out of sight of land than a compass and a good set of star charts. With them, you can travel anywhere, Sorn. Anywhere at all."
Sorn smiled. "I get the feeling that you are a more resourceful trader than most, Captain Halence."
"Sorn, I shall take that as a complement," Halence said warmly.
Sorn nodded. "You not only have your crew's respect, but their friendship as well. This, I have seen, is not always the case, though my experience is only limited to one other ship."
Sorn found himself thinking of Riegland, not a bad captain for all his rough edges, but it had seemed that the crew had little love for the man. Though they had respected his strength, they certainly wouldn't call him friend. And the trader Kalek, such an incompetent drunk, even his own crew found his humiliation at Sorn's hands a source of vindictive amusement and nothing more.
"I'm also impressed with how well you keep your crew supplied in terms of arms and armaments. Bates says you even train them on how to take their gear off in times of emergency, should they fall overboard or such."
Halence acknowledged the compliment with a nod. "A good captain needs first and foremost his crew's respect, Sorn. If he doesn't have that, and the discipline in his crew that such implies, then that can only spell disaster for everyone. The captain, or the first mate when the captain is off duty, is, in a sense, the head of the ship. He has to be able to take in all the information available, whether it be land or ships spotted by the man in the crow's nest, or problems with the sails as reported by his men, as well as what his own senses tell him, and translate all that information into a specific set of commands. If those commands are not carried out promptly, it could spell disaster for ship and crew alike. Whether it's avoiding a reef or repelling enemy boarders, the ship has to be able to respond as a single unit.
“Don’t get me wrong, lad. Friendship is also a nice thing to get from one's crew. It makes them all the more loyal, and it’s good to have men you can laugh with in port, so long as they listen without question at sea. Above all, a good captain should be fair to his men, Sorn. They will look out for you, if they know you are looking out for them.
"As for the ship's armaments, the best defense a ship has is a well-trained crew. Not only in terms of riding out a storm, but for repelling raiders as well. Not too many captains invest in hauberks and shields for their men as well as blades, but it is worth the expense, I think, when one considers the capital truly at risk. Consider, Sorn, the fact is that the sight of grim-faced men fully armed and armored, just waiting for the opportunity to sink their blades into some pirate's hide, is more than enough to cause most pirate ships to seek easier prey. Thus we may win the most important fight of our lives without swinging a single blade. And since I do train my men in earnest, should any pirate vessel be so bold as to still engage us, I guarantee they will have a fight on their hands they won't soon forget. In short, it is an investment that pays for itself many times over if just one valuable cargo haul is saved as a result. Not to mention the fact that it might just save your skin and your crewmen's both."
Halence smiled. "Ah, but wait ‘till tomorrow, Sorn. You will get to see the men practice with the float. That's probably our best defense yet."
"What exactly is the 'float'?" Sorn asked.
"You'll see, lad. Now I have stars to navigate. Why don't you go get yourself some rest?"
12
The float, as it turned out, involved crossbows. This was patiently explained to Sorn after being woken up far too early for preference by an apologetic Bates, who went on to inform Sorn that all who were going on deck for the morning had best be up now. This, Bates explained, was because the captain would be locking the cabins until noon for everyone's safety, as on this, the fourth day out, the crew would be practicing with crossbows.
"Our captain takes care of us good, that he does," Bates said proudly. "Not only are we the best trained fighters on the sea, but when a privateering vessel, that's pirates mind you, comes close to our ship and they see men in armor with shields and swords ready, and on top o' that have to deal with another group of men all gettin' them in their sights on the upper deck, they tend to turn tail and run. After all, as the captain always says, 'there's no profit in it if the cost is too dear!' You gotta respect our captain, he says your crew is your most important investment, and he treats us like brothers and trains us like soldiers and on my mother's heart I ain't ever heard of a better captain in all my years."
Which wasn't saying much, considering that Bates was no more than seventeen if he was a day, and probably younger, Sorn thought bemusedly.
Thus it was three very excited brothers and one bleary-eyed cousin that made their way from their cabins below to the upper deck to watch the shooting about to commence, the golden-haired youths in particular anxious to try out the crossbows for themselves.
The set up was efficient. Two very thick targets filled with a layer of hay and one of double oiled tarp-wrapped sand were placed so that one target was on the lower deck, and one was right on the stern, thus giving the sailors the chance to get a feel fo
r shooting at different angles. As the crossbow was designed for line of sight shooting, and the bolt came fast and hard at these close distances, there was little concern about altered trajectory at short range.
Bates, it turned out, was all too happy to explain the reasoning behind their style of crossbow practice. "Captain wants us to be good at shooting from different angles, you see. Captain says in a real fight you never know what angle you'll need to cover your man, so you have to get used to crouching at different angles to make your shot. And no matter what, you are never to stand up straight when you shoot," Bates emphasized. "You make yourself a bigger target. See the wooden guard here walling off the top deck from the bottom?" Bates said, smacking the wooden flair that rose like a miniature wall dividing the top deck from the lower, save at the stairs. Sorn noted a gate presently tied back from the steps which could presumably be closed if needed.
The wall had an interesting wave design on its top, where the well-polished oak wood raised and fell. Sorn had originally thought it a fancy accessory of the ship, little more than a quirk of the design. It turned out such was not the case, as Bates was quick to explain.
"This buttress here is perfect for crouching behind and firing from, as only part of your head is exposed, and as you can see, all the crossbowmen have half-helms on. This lets us hit any enemies trying to board our ship from behind good cover. All in all, it's good odds for us, guys, because we get the opportunity to fire nice, wide-open shots from a position that looks down at the unprotected enemy, whereas all they get to aim at are the eyes getting a bead on them from above. Not only are they unlikely to make that shot, if they take too long trying to aim, more than likely they will be skewered by one of our men wearing the hauberks fighting on the decks below us." Bates smiled. "So you see, guys, we have plenty of time to take careful aim at their whole bodies, while they gotta fire snap shots at nothing but the tops of our heads! And the moment we fire, we can duck back down and re-cock our crossbows with our bodies completely out of sight."
Bates pointed to a man who, with almost military precision, fired his crossbow crouched expertly behind the wall, hitting the target dead center, Sorn noted with approval. The man then turned away and fell to his back, placing his foot in what almost looked like a small stirrup welded to the end of the crossbow, re-cocking his weapon in one smooth, steady motion while flat on his back and under cover. Sorn also noticed that the bow piece was wider than those of other crossbows he had seen.
"Each crossbow has a draw in excess of a hundred pounds," Bates continued. "You see the wide bows welded to the stock? The captain says these wider bows are what lets us load them with our foot prods in a fraction of the time it takes a man to crank up a crossbow with a shorter bow and a really heavy draw. Those crossbows can pierce armor, but take a good handful of minutes to crank up. The heaviest crossbows able to pierce thinner steel plates might only be used once per engagement, unless you are under siege. Fortunately, most foes are not heavily armored on the sea, so our bows are more than good enough to do the job."
Bates shrugged. "One thing I can tell you for sure is that these suckers hit dead on. The only thing better on land than these types of crossbows would be if you were trained on the yew bow or a compound bow. Then you could shoot even faster, but they take years to learn to use properly, and are pretty rare in any case. And the captain says that even with all that training, you may still be better off with our foot prod crossbows in a battle at sea because whereas a longbowman has to stand up, or his shots are really awkward, we can crouch down under almost perfect concealment. And you can learn to shoot these things accurately and well in a matter of weeks, at least at close range, like at the targets placed on this ship."
"Way things are, captain thinks even if we went against, say, ten trained longbowmen on another ship, especially with our fancy buttress around the top deck for cover, we would definitely win the day. Not only do we have near total cover with our metal helmets on, whereas those bowmen would be standin' on their deck, open as you please, we actually train for hitting a moving target on the sea."
"But what if you had to go up against a warship with say, I don't know, twenty longbowmen?" Fitz queried.
Bates sighed, suddenly looking a bit troubled. "Well, that's the thing, isn't it? It's not like numbers are exactly fair on the seas or in battle, right? That's another thing the captain said. Above all else, the most important complement is nerve. You gotta have the nerve to stay the course. To just load, aim, and shoot. Do it smoothly, do it well, and never panic. Panic is what will really kill you, either on the sea, or the battlefield."
"It sounds like Captain Halence knows an awful lot about war craft," Sorn reflected.
"Ay, that he does!" Bates smiled proudly. "There are few like our captain on the seas, that's for sure!"
"Say, fellows, would you like to try a shot or two?" Bates offered, being handed a crossbow by a smiling sailor who had just finished his shot.
Strangely, perhaps, Sorn found himself reluctant to touch the thing, and he chided himself for it. Even though the crossbow was one of the few weapons he had any true fear of because it just might have the penetration power to wound him severely or even kill him, it was, for all that, just an inanimate object made of steel and wood. "All right, Bates, I'm game," he said to Bates' cheerful grin.
"Okay mate, that's the spirit. Hey, you're right proper quick at cocking the thing! Stronger than you look, aren't you fellows? Okay, Sorn, just crouch over the wall, that's it. Look down the sight at the target below. Got it in sight? Just squeeze the trigger, gently like… hmm."
"That was an interesting shot, Sorn," Fitz said sheepishly.
"Yes, cousin, very interesting." Hanz grinned.
"If you were aiming for the sea it was dead on!" Lieberman said brightly.
To this, the nearby sailors started chuckling good-naturedly.
"Shut up, Lieberman!" muttered a very embarrassed Sorn.
"Aw, don't worry about it, lad," Bates consoled. "Not everyone has the knack. And I'm sure it will come with time. Err, you do know you were aiming for the lower of the two targets, don't you? Not the one near the prow?"
"Yes. I know," Sorn huffed. What made it all the worse, Sorn thought, was that now Fitz was trying to hold back the snicker so hard, he was actually starting to tear up. This, of course, was all too much for Fitz' brothers who howled with laughter at the whole thing.
It wasn't necessarily that he was a terrible shot, Sorn consoled himself, looking down into the sea below at the ship's rear. Rather, the problem was that he was completely unused to this style of shooting. When he aimed arcane orbs or other spells, his finger was pointing forward, if he had a finger at the time, but it wasn't lined up with his eye like the crosshairs were. Also, directing arcane webs was as much via will as it was pointing at the target. At aiming spells, he was second to none, at least compared to his cousins. Still, it rankled, he had to admit, to be so remarkably maladroit at a skill so as to earn everyone's good-natured chuckle.
Sorn's cousins, it turned out, weren't doing too badly for beginners, as Bates pointed out to a sullen looking Sorn a bit later. "The lads aren't too bad," Bates allowed, seemingly unaware of Sorn's irritable mood. "First shots weren't too great. They also aimed a bit too high, but not past the prow, mind you! Their third shots all hit the targets, and their final two shots were solid sinkers as well. Not that I would want them covering me, if I were fighting on deck!" Bates chuckled. "Still, Vaughn thinks you guys must have bad habits to unlearn, the way you all jerk your hands before you pull the trigger. Why do you suppose that is, do you think?"
"I have no idea," Sorn lied, reflecting that that little snap of his hand was a habit he had always had when he was releasing a spell. It had always been a sympathetic physical response for him to the unleashing of arcane energies, even if he had mastered his spells to the point where somatic movements were normally unnecessary for him. Sort of like a final necessary gesture. Even as a crow he would snap
his beak when he released a spell in that form. It was a habit that was so integral it was below thought, and he didn't even know if he could cast without doing it. Evidently he had taught it to his cousins as well, and when they fired the crossbow they were jerking their wrists just like they would when firing a magical missile or the like. That would explain the shaky aiming, at least at the beginning.
With practice, it seemed that his cousins were learning to disassociate crossbow shooting with spell casting and unlearn the habit, at least with that tool. Sorn, however, didn't really have any desire to practice with it any further.
"Hey Sorn," Lieberman queried, "they're going to bring out the float now, want to watch them practice?"
"All right," Sorn allowed, curious despite himself. It turned out that the float was a paddle boat with a target placed inside, tied by a long line of rope to the prow of the ship, which would naturally drift as far out as the rope allowed.
Bates turned to Sorn and his cousins. "The way the captain does it, is he uses wooden bolts. But see, they're dipped in lead. They weigh about the same as a normal bolt, but they're far, far cheaper, and they won't penetrate the bottom of the boat, should you miss your target. Also, if the bolt's lost to sea, as most of them end up being by the end of a voyage, you're not out too many coppers."
Sorn noted the men aiming at the target with a quiet intensity. They seemed to be taking this shooting more seriously than the practice on the upper deck, for some reason.
"Thing is, each man has a peg stick kept by the captain. Every ten shots he makes on the target at long range is worth an extra feather. It's twenty shots at medium range and thirty at short. We only get ten shots each per day of shooting, though. And your peg score is saved between voyages, a little extra incentive to stick around, as the captain puts it. But think about it, guys, on a month-long voyage, a skilled crossbowman could win himself half a silver talon, just from shooting! Of course, you don't want to be shootin' at a range you're not ready for. We all gotta start at the shorter range and work our way up. You miss too many shots, and you're docked a half-feather, except if you're at short range, of course. Captain wants to discourage foolishness, not practice, as he puts it."
Gold & Glory Page 24