The men proceeded to fill the target with leaded bolts at the twenty-pace range, and very few bolts missed the target. Evidently these sailors shooting had mastered the knack of coordinating sloping deck and swelling waves so as to accurately place their shot. At medium range, fewer men shot, and about half the bolts made their mark. At the farthest target, only two men shot. The first was the sailor Vaughn, a quiet grizzled seaman with salt and pepper hair who had been with Halence for as long as anyone could remember, and who had spotted the problem with their shooting. The man had a knowing gaze and a quiet competence. All his shots made the mark at every range. The other sailor shooting was a quiet young man with silky black hair. His eyes were almond shaped, the epicanthic folds pointing to an origin he didn't speak of, though it was guessed he was from the south. Most of his shots also hit the target.
"That's Sebrie. He joined us last year." Bates smiled. "Truth to tell, he knew nothing about boats, he just looked hungry and barely spoke a word, but for some reason, the captain took him on. I'll give him this, the boy was determined to learn. Sebrie's okay in my book, but he's a quiet one, if you take my meaning. Kinda shy. But he does his work without complaint, and the captain says you can't ask any more from a man than that."
Sorn smiled, thinking of a certain sandy-haired young man who just a couple days before had been catching his rest while his crewmates were busy packing grain. Bates, however, seemed to have a knack for staying on everyone's good side, with a cheeky grin when he was caught taking his ease, such that no one seemed to mind Bates too much, whereas if another sailor were caught lounging about, Sorn imagined it would be quite a different story. Now that he thought of it, Bates seemed to spend a lot more time hanging out with them, being their instructor to shipboard life, as he put it, than he did actually working the ship. Perhaps Bates's unofficial job was to act as a concierge of sorts for any investors or passengers that the ship had, a charming, gregarious presence to keep them company, and to at least be sure their needs were met. Certainly Bates didn't seem to mind a chance for socializing while his crew mates were hard at work.
That evening found Sorn gazing once again at the beautiful panorama of the star-filled heavens above, reflected like sparkling jewels dancing upon the peaceful sea below.
"Good evening Captain," Sorn said a short time later, acute ears picking up the minute sounds and vibrations of the captain's presence to his rear.
Captain Halence gave an appreciative chuckle. "I swear you have the senses of a cat, Sorn. Only Sebrie senses my presence so well when I come on deck. I swear the lad's got eyes in the back of his head. You, however, don't have that excuse, as night has already swaddled us in her starry embrace."
Sorn smiled. "It is a beautiful night. I have to hand it to you, Captain, you keep a very well trained crew. I was surprised to find Bates so well informed at to tactics and the ins and outs of crossbow usage on the high seas."
Halence chuckled. "Bates is a good lad, if a bit more prone to socializing then working. He hasn't been any inconvenience to you?"
"Quite the contrary. My cousins and I enjoy his company. Truth to tell, I was wondering if he was sort of a ship’s diplomat, for paying passengers or stubborn traders who just have to be on board like myself." Sorn said wryly.
"Well done, Sorn," Halence commended with a nod. "Let's just say Bates's personality and friendly nature makes up for whatever shortcomings he might otherwise have. He actually has a sense of how to act around people of different social standings, something not all sailors are comfortable with."
Sorn grinned. "However well or not your men know their way around various social straits, they certainly know their way around sail, saber, and crossbow."
The captain, Sorn could sense, was smiling. "That they do, lad. That they do. I find the best insurance against pirates is to show them how dearly a price they will pay, if they attempt to make us a mark for plunder. A time or two we have been approached, but a look at my men armored and ready on the mid deck while those on the top deck were firing bolts that made their mark while under excellent cover themselves served as ample deterrent. The investment in hauberks, shields, and crossbows has paid for itself many times over with just one saved cargo load. For though my ship will out-sail any trade ship even near its size, a fast cutter could potentially overtake us."
"That may be, Captain, and a wise precaution. I get the feeling though, that most ships fail to invest in the tactics, training, and supplies that you do."
"If they did, I doubt that there would be any pirate ships left!" Halence laughed. "Still, as I said, the investment in supplies has paid for itself many times over. And as for training? When the waters are calm and all is steady, my men have all the time they need to train, so that, in a sense, doesn't cost a thing, save a few spent crossbow bolts."
"I'm not the only one who lost a bolt today," Sorn mumbled.
"That may be true, lad, but from shooting at a target on mid deck?" Halence grinned. "Don't worry, Sorn. I am not making fun. Even the most skilled have to start from somewhere, and we've all had our share of mistakes in the training. That is what training is for, in a sense. To teach you not only the skills you need for battle, but also to have you practice long enough that your teacher can see what mistakes you are making, both obvious or subtle, that could get you killed in a real fight, and so train you out of them."
"Dare I say it, Captain, you know an awful lot about war craft, for a seaman."
Halence stared thoughtfully out to sea for a long moment before replying. "That may be true Sorn, that may be true. In any event, the skills that my men have gained will give them the confidence they need to make this run, and to keep a cool head, should trouble arise. Who knows? Their training might just see them through."
Halence turned to face Sorn. "In any event, we will be at the northern tip of the continent in a few days, which is where Caverenoc lies. At that time we might start to see evidence of a blockade, if indeed there is one."
"I know I’m no naval expert, but I’m going to guess that your concern is that the ships may not be heavy warships at all, but cutters. Am I right, Captain?"
"You got it, Sorn. My concern is cutters."
"But if they're smaller, and you have some twenty fighting men, will they truly have that great an advantage?"
"Ah, but keep in mind, Sorn, that whereas my hold is filled with your grain, their hold, though less than half the size of mine, could be filled with nothing but troops and supplies, if it is a true military vessel. They could easily have a total of forty fighting men. Twenty or more of which could be trained bowmen."
"But Bates was telling us that with cover, line of sight firing, and your men's training in regards to hitting other objects at sea, you guys had the advantage."
Halence sighed. "Bates believes what he was told, Sorn. And for the most part, it's true. Crossbows do have an advantage. The chief advantage is that it is a far easier weapon to master. It is true that our cover and a rocky sea works in our favor. But twenty skilled longbowmen could rain arrows down upon us, and it would only be the rocking sea that would give us a chance of surviving the encounter. Make no mistake, Sorn. Were it any other terrain save firing from fortified cover, longbowmen would beat crossbowmen three times out of four. On the sea and in my ship, our odds are a lot better, perhaps better than fifty percent, but that is only if the numbers are even. If we sight a war ship, even a cutter class, our best bet will be to run, with Vaughn and Sebrie taking pot shots at any man they can at a range beyond where arrows can be predicted to hit at sea. Even then, any score with their bolts will likely be luck."
"Well look at the bright side, Captain, they might not be too big on bows."
"Really, Sorn?" Halence's reflective tone turned hard. "And what do you know of naval battles, if anything? A good cutter's best strength is to harry enemy ships and take on unprotected trade vessels. They harass by bow, hoping to kill as many crewmen or soldiers who don't get below as they can, before they even think
of boarding. And if it is a heavy warship and the men answer with arrows or bolts in turn, the cutter will simply disengage. A cutters' chief strengths are in its speed and its bowmen, when it's not just being used for quick troop transport. Besides, who is to say that they have not had the sense to choose the crossbow for sea engagements as we have? Or perhaps they have crossbowmen and archers both? No, Sorn, our best bet is not to engage them at all if we can help it," Halence finished, his tone reflective once more.
"A fair point," Sorn allowed.
Halence chuckled. "Having second thoughts about making this voyage, Sorn?"
Sorn smiled before answering, though he doubted the captain could see it. "I think, Captain, that any ship that attacks us will get more than they bargained for."
If Halence thought Sorn's answer at all curious, he chose not to comment on it, and for a while, both were content simply to gaze at the starry heavens above.
13
The fifth morning went much as the fourth, the captain choosing to hold crossbow practice on a consecutive day. This was definitely not standard procedure according to Bates, though no one begrudged the opportunity to earn another copper feather. Sorn and his cousins couldn't help noting a certain amount of underlying tension in the movements of the crew this morning, quiet intensity replacing the light-hearted banter of the day before. It was as if the reality of what they were doing was finally sinking in. Their gamble was no longer a risk to be taken in the future. The time in which the ship would hit the blockade and see an enemy ship if it was to be seen would soon be upon them. Fanciful boasts when one was full of ale and bravado were being replaced by the cold realization that no one knew how the tale was going to turn out, only that the cost for failure was a brutal death at sea. Sorn wondered to what extent, if any, the sailors themselves were having second thoughts about this voyage, now that they were fast approaching Caverenoc, only about a day's journey away, from what Sorn understood.
Only Bates and the triplets seemed completely free of worry, Bates spending his free time, of which he seemed to have plenty, regaling Sorn and his cousins with stories of past brushes with pirates, all of whom broke off after several volleys of bolts had swept their decks.
"Don't worry, lads. First sight of an enemy ship, and our boys will send them packing sure as anything. Blockade or no, they've never tangled with a trader like us before. Won't know what hit them!" Bates assured.
For once, Sorn noted, Bates's fellow crewmen seemed less than amused by his enthusiasm. The salt and pepper haired sailor Vaughn was the only one to voice his irritation, however.
"Bates. A good crossbowman uses his eye, not his mouth. If you can't be quiet, go up to the crow's nest and keep a look out. Do something useful with those eyes of yours," Vaughn admonished.
Bates of course, was all too happy to oblige. "Right you are, sir. I'll keep a sharp lookout for enemy ships. No one's getting past our watch. Come on, fellas!" This last bit to Sorn's cousins, and the four scampered off, quick as monkeys, to the crow's nest. At this point Sorn smiled, thinking to do a bit of reconnaissance on his own.
"Cripes all mighty! Look, lads, there's an actual crow up here!" This from a shocked Bates who had spent the better part of two hours regaling the triplets with accounts of the captain's sailing exploits, and of course, of Bates's own derring-do. It would seem, according to Bates, that without him the ship would have been doomed long ago. Whether it be hitting shoals, being taken unawares by pirates, or even the good captain being screwed over by unscrupulous merchants, only Bates's timely intervention managed to save the day. Even the last five minutes that Sorn had listened in on, having quietly flown down to roost on the rail unawares, painted Bates as silent partner and confidant to the captain himself. Finally, Sorn found it a bit too much, though his cousins seemed enraptured by the tale as they were by any good yarn, and he let loose a caw.
"How in the name of bloody barney did a crow get up here?"
"He's a bird, right? Don't birds always fly near ships? Nothing unusual in that, I would think. Especially if we are getting close to land," Fitz said.
"That's seagulls, mate, not crows!" Bates corrected.
"Well then obviously it should be a seagull up here and not a crow," Lieberman commented, with a pointed look at the bird in question, who made an immediate show of preening his feathers.
"Yes, obviously," Hanz chipped in, also giving the crow a look, and smirking.
"Yer darn right lads," Bates concurred, oblivious to the unspoken chiding. "Wait ‘till I tell the captain. He'll have to recheck to make sure we're not closer to land than we thought. Either that, or we got a bird's nest up here somewhere that I haven't seen. You lads wait here, I'm gonna go tell the captain." Bates scampered down the webbing to the ship below.
"Finally," said the crow. "I thought he'd never shut up, let alone leave."
"Hey, cousin, what's up?" Fitz queried in greeting.
"Yeah, Sorn, what's with the crow form? I thought you wanted us to blend in, right?" A curious Hanz asked.
"I had it in mind earlier to do a little reconnaissance. I was thinking that maybe I could help us avoid any unpleasant situations altogether if I could spot enemy ships before they spotted us. That would give us a chance to avoid them. To tell you the truth, cousins, I think I should have thought of this, days ago."
Fitz smiled. "That's a good idea, Sorn. This way you can spot those cutters hours before they'll even know were out here."
Sorn preened. “Precisely.”
"Only one problem, Sorn," Lieberman cajoled. "It's seagulls that are supposed to be out here. Those big white noisy birds. Not you! Your too small and dark or something…"
"Yes, well, be that as it may, I never really had the chance to study seagulls, now did I? No, I don't think so, as you should know! None of us ever saw them before we got here, and I'm not going to try scouting about in some form I don't even understand! Can you imagine a bird my size with a head like a seagull's? I could barely keep the thing balanced. Fitz, quit snickering, I'm serious! How many weeks did it take you guys to get any skill at shifting into just one form? And at least you guys had a reference point. Right now I don't even have a single point of reference. I don't see any seagulls around, do you? I didn't think so."
Lieberman grinned. "Relax, cousin, I didn't mean to ruffle your feathers." This, of course, got Fitz and Hanz snickering, and it was all just too much for Sorn, who thought he made a good crow, and wasn't in the mood to go mucking about with other forms in any case.
"That's not the point!" Sorn cawed. "The point is that the captain's concerns are dead on! There are ships out there. They're smaller than ours but look to go pretty fast, and all have men with bows on board. One even tried to take a potshot at me! Not that he could have possibly hit one as adroit and maneuverable as I, of course. Besides, I was out of his range."
"Did you enact your wards before you changed?" asked a suddenly concerned Fitz. "The crow is a fragile form, you know. Even more fragile than…"
"Do you even have to ask?" Sorn cut in acidly. "Anyway, there are a couple of those ships relatively close to us here. If we swing west for a while, then head south, we should be fine. Now I'm going to rest for a bit, then do some more scouting. I want to see if I can make sight of land or spot any other ships out there we should watch out for. Fitz, tuck me in your shirt and bring me back to our quarters, okay? I need to tell the captain, and I don't want to fly down to our quarters now that Bates is down there alarming half the crew, as there is no way I can sneak back into our rooms. Hanz, see about bringing some biscuits to our quarters, would you?"
Sorn promptly tucked his head under his wing, and Fitz gently placed his cousin in his shirt, taking care not press Sorn too hard while he went down the webbing. Supernatural resilience and arcane protective magics notwithstanding, it was instinctive for Fitz, as it was for all of their kind, to be very gentle with a smaller form that he recognized as family.
A short time later a somewhat refreshed So
rn, appearing fully human albeit still surrounded by a slight glow that would indicate warding spells if one had the eyes to see it, knocked on the captain's door. "Yes, Sorn?" Halence was a bit red eyed, as he and at least half his crew had navigated and sailed through most of the night, as they did most nights when not in sight of land. Nonetheless, unlike many captains who would have simply yelled at any interruptions, especially those of a passenger or trader, Halence had the decorum to be civil, though he looked none too happy having his rest disturbed.
"Forgive me, Captain Halence, but there is something I have to tell you." Sorn spent a moment composing himself. He knew there was little chance that the captain would believe his cousin's eyes were so keen that they could spot a ship an hour before anyone else could, yet any other story had its own risks. He had finally settled on a story he felt was as believable as any other, and just as importantly in its own way, true. "You already know, of course, that my cousins and I had traveled from Pormar to York as the owners of grain formerly belonging to Lord Canterbier and were acting the part of traders hoping to make a profit. What we did not tell you, seeing as it had little relevance to our role as traders, is that it was also hoped that once at York, we would accept Lord Canterbier's sponsorship at the academies."
Halence went back inside and got himself a drink from his water flask, looking up at Sorn while he took a sip. Sorn could tell with his acute sense of smell that it was watered ale much like the stock in his own quarters. Halence waited patiently for Sorn to continue while sipping his drink, his gaze polite but curious.
Gold & Glory Page 25