“Hey!” called Father Hallam’s voice. It was suddenly loud, and the little priest, who had for a moment seemed to go entirely to pieces, now stood up straight, pointing out to sea and called to Thorvald and Anne to look. They did so, breaking off their embrace to stand beside the fire and look where he indicated. There was a second ship, bearing up behind the first.
“It’s the Grants!” cried Hallam. “That’s Iain Grant’s ship! I recognise it from the port at Kirkwall, when they arrived. Oh, now if only they can get here before...”
At that moment, there was a sudden rolling boom, so loud that it seemed to make the ground shake beneath their feet and the air crackle in their ears. A cloud of smoke enveloped the Endeavour. Captain Morton had given the order to fire on Neil Gow-Sinclair’s ship. The Caithness Seal rocked where it was, but it was swinging round to answer with a cannon-blast of its own.
As the two ships faced off, they both kept moving, and now they were close enough that Anne, Thorvald, and Hallam could see the people on board both. As they watched, the Caithness Seal manoeuvred itself so that it sat in between the island and the Endeavour. From the seaward side, there was a rattle of small arms fire, which was returned by the Endeavour, but on the side that faced the little island, all four of the Caithness Seal’s landing craft were being winched down toward the water. They were packed with men, and even at this distance, Anne could see the figure of her uncle in the first boat that touched the water.
“It’s madness,” gasped Anne. “He’s risking everything tae get at us.”
“I think he is mad, now,” said Thorvald. “I remember the look in his eyes when we saw him before. Will his men follow him, do ye think?”
“Oh, aye,” said Anne grimly. “They’ll follow. They’re too afraid not to.”
As she spoke, the deafening roar of the cannons rent the air again, both ships firing almost simultaneously, the smoky haze obscuring all but their dim shapes for a moment. When the smoke cleared, they saw the landing craft making steady progress toward them.
“We must make a spot for our defence,” said Thorvald grimly, “even if we do not hope to survive, we will not go down without a fight!”
They glanced around.
“The mast,” she said. “There’s no need tae use it for a signal flag any more, and we can use it as a barrier. Here, help me haul it down.”
As they built their makeshift defense, pulling the mast into place and piling rocks around it, Thorvald spoke to Anne.
“The fire will defend our right-hand side,” he said, “and the approach is long and narrow.”
“That’s really the only advantage this place offers for defense,” said Anne. “We must make full use of it.
Hallam helped as best he could, but he was weakened and reeling, and there was little he could do. For all that, he gathered smaller rocks and stones and piled them up at one end of their makeshift defense, intending to hurl them at the attackers if they got the chance. When they were done, they looked at their weak protection, and Thorvald laughed.
“Well,” he said, hands on his hips as he looked out to sea, “there are at least forty men in those boats against the three of us. Somehow I don’t think our little fortress here will stand up to the besiegers for long.”
“We’ve done all we can do,” said Anne, drawing her sword and gazing critically at its edge. “Now we must man our barricade and wait.
* * *
Onboard the Endeavour, Captain Morton presided over the attack with grim competence. He had got his wish, firing his cannons before the Caithness Seal could bring hers to bear, and getting off a devastating volley that had taken out two of the Seal’s guns before the engagement had even begun. But he was not content to stay at a distance and exchange fire. He assumed – correctly – that under cover of the smoke and noise of the cannons, the pirates would be mounting a landing operation to capture the valuable escapees who were stranded on the island.
“I judge,” he explained to Iain and the Earl, “that they can hold out against us for long enough tae capture their prisoners and get them back tae their ship. Unless we actually demast or sink them – and both of those things are harder tae do than ye might think – they will be able tae get their captives and then put out sail again and getaway. With this wind behind them, they will be able tae outrun us, even if they were severely damaged by our cannon. No, we must be bold and capture them and their ship. That’s the only way tae resolve this.”
“Aye, very well, Captain Morton,” said Neil. “Ye are my superior in the knowledge of warfare at sea, and there’s no doubting that. And I’ll be pleased tae come tae grips at last with this pirate who has caused us so much trouble.”
Captain Morton smiled at the compliment, knowing how rare such self-awareness was, even in experienced men. Sickert, his first mate, stood ready at his side as always.
“Sickert,” said the captain, “give the orders for the soldiers tae prepare grappling hooks and get ready tae board. Let’s move the Endeavour closer, and keep up a rolling barrage against her guns while we do so. Once the orders have been given, come back tae me here.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” said the little man and hurried off.
“Mr Hamilton,” said the captain to another officer who waited nearby, “prepare two of our landing craft to be lowered on the side of the ship away from the Caithness Seal, and tell the Orcadian party tae be ready tae disembark.”
“We must not let this distract us from our goal,” said the Captain to Iain, once the officer had hurried off. “Sir Magnus Bain is loose out there, and I don’t doubt that Neil Gow-Sinclair is landing a party of his own men, too.”
“We cannot see Magnus Bain through this smoke,” said the Captain, “but he will be able to see us, no doubt, and he will be making his way here with all speed. If he is as formidable a character as he appears, then we may need to fight him as well, even if he is not in league with the pirates.”
Iain himself went with the party of Orkney-men in the landing craft, refusing Alice and John as both of them tried to go with him.
“Stay here,” he said, pressing the packet of papers that was Thorvald’s inheritance into John’s hands. “Ye two have yer daughter, little Flora, tae think of. Stay here, and if Thorvald and I both die, open that packet yerselves and do what ye think fit with what it contains.”
Alice embraced her father-in-law and watched with a lump in her throat as he was lowered down in a big rowboat along with all the men from the village of Skylness and another ten of the soldiers from the ship, down the seaward side of the boat, away from the roar of the cannons.
Even as they disappeared over the edge, the cannons boomed again – a terrifying noise that made their ears hurt and knees tremble even if it was expected. Anne and John stood with the captain on the quarter-deck, and Anne admired the resolution of the uniformed soldiers who sat hunkered in the protection of the bulwark of the ship, grappling hooks in hand. As soon as the landing craft was safely away from the Endeavour, Captain Morton gave the order to begin boarding, and the soldiers leapt up and flung their grappling hooks across the short distance between the two vessels. They were met with a volley of gunfire, but they ran backwards, hauling the ropes with them, and their comrades leapt forward to the bulwark, firing their rifles across the short gap at the pirates as the cannons’ thunder rolled once more.
All was smoke and chaos as the two ships crashed together, and men leapt from ship to ship with a great yelling and clashing of arms. Alice looked at John, who nodded to her. They might not go in the landing craft, but they would not stay entirely out of harm’s way. Behind them, the Earl of Caithness drew his sword, and John and Alice followed suit.
Together, they stepped down into the fray.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“They have a cannon!” said Thorvald in surprise. It was true. He, Anne, and Hallam hunkered behind their crude barricade, awaiting almost certain death, but this was not what they had expected. Instead of rushing up the beach,
the crew of the first boat that landed immediately began to haul a small brass artillery piece out of the ship and up the rocky shore. They ignored the defenders who crouched by the fire, instead setting up the gun and heaving the boat up into the rocks.
“They’re fortifying the island against another landing party,” Anne said as she realised what was going on. As the second boat landed, it went through the same procedure, hauling the boat up the shore and unloading a small artillery piece, turning it to face the sea. It was only when the third boat landed and unloaded, with Neil Gow-Sinclair himself in the crew, that the pirates began to form up and pay some attention to the beleaguered defenders. Behind them, the fourth landing craft seemed to have got into some difficulty. Instead of landing on the beach, it wavered, swinging about in the water, the men inside gesticulating wildly. Beyond them, Thorvald and Anne saw the landing craft from the Grants’ ship pull round beside the two engaged battleships and make for the shore.
“There they come,” they heard Neil call to the men with the cannons. “Load up and prepare to fire on my order.”
Despite herself, Anne quailed at the sound of her uncle’s harsh voice.
“Oh, this is worse,” she muttered under her breath. Thorvald looked at her in surprise, and she caught his eye.
“This waiting,” she said in explanation to his look. “If he came up here, and I could match him blade tae blade, then I think I would feel happier. But this... I am forced tae sit here like a cornered rat while he fortifies his position, ignoring me!”
“He seeks tae defend against reinforcements coming from the other ship,” said Thorvald. “What’s that last landing boat doing?”
She looked where he pointed. On the water, the fourth pirate ship did an about-turn, rowing back toward where the Caithness Seal was engaged with the Endeavour. The Endeavour’s landing craft would have to pass them to get to the island, and Anne could see men there readying their weapons to fire.
On the shore, men were priming the cannons.
“Form up!” Neil yelled to his soldiers, and the ragged group of pirates drew up into a line, seven or eight across by three deep. The old pirate looked them up and down, then took a step forward, shouting up toward Anne and Thorvald.
“If ye come down here without a fight, I’ll show mercy!” he called. “If ye make me come up there and bring ye down, then I’ll get ye back tae my ship and skin ye alive, all three of ye, and damn the reward! How about that?”
He laughed, and Thorvald heard Father Hallam groan in terror at his side.
“Don’t worry, Father Hallam,” he said quietly. “It will not come tae that.”
He stood.
“If ye come up here, Neil Gow-Sinclair, I shall strike yer head from yer shoulders and have done with ye!” Thorvald called back down in answer. “Yer ship is being boarded, and reinforcements are coming from the sea. Ye are mad! Give it up, man. Who is paying ye tae risk yer life and yer crew? Come on, give it over, and perhaps I will be able tae get them tae show ye mercy at yer trial!”
It was lame, and they both knew it. Neil Gow-Sinclair would never be shown mercy by a jury if he allowed himself to be taken alive. They heard him laugh, harsh as a crow, and the edge of madness in that laughter was plain for all to hear.
“I’ll see ye in Hell first!” he cried to Thorvald, and then shouted to his fighters, “go on up and take them!”
As the soldiers shuffled into a reluctant charge, Neil ordered the gunners, “Fire! Fire on that boat!”
The three small cannons all fired at almost the same time, sending their charges spinning out with lethal force over the water. One landed near the boat, and two flew over, but there were no hits. The landing craft with the Grant soldiers continued to row steadily toward the island, while the landing craft from the Caithness Seal ignored everyone, and began to pull away from the scene entirely. Evidently, those of Neil’s men who were in that boat had decided enough was enough and were chancing their luck at heading back to the mainland on their own.
Anne and Thorvald stood, swords at the ready, as Neil’s soldiers charged up the beach toward them. That was when they heard Hallam cry out.
“Look there!” he called, and his surprise overcame his terror for the moment. “It’s Magnus Bain!”
And so it was. Into the surf came Magnus in a little single-sailed craft, alone, driven up against the rocky shore with his sails full of the wind, going as fast as it was possible to go. Before the boat had stopped moving, he vaulted over the side with his axe in his hand and began a lumbering sprint toward the artillery.
Neil’s first assault reached Anne and Thorvald before Neil realised there was a newcomer on the scene. Not waiting for them, Anne leapt over the barrier with her sword flashing in the firelight, meeting their massed charge with her lighting fast steel. Hallam flung stones, and Thorvald heaved a burning chunk of wood into their midst, where it exploded in a shower of sparks and glowing cinders, making the attackers leap back, cursing.
“Come on, you bastards!” Thorvald heard Anne shout as her blade swung and flashed. “Come on, if ye think ye can best me!”
Two fell to her blade, then a third, and then Thorvald ran in with his crude sword, beating down a man’s guard and sending him tumbling back into the mass of his fellows, clutching at his chest. The two young people fought with the reckless abandon and ferocity of those who have nothing left to lose, but Neil’s men fought with the reluctance of those bullied into a dangerous duty that they neither desired nor fully understood. Hallam sent a rain of rocks down on them, encouraged and surprised by how effective this was. Men fell back, cursing, but Neil was roaring at them to reform, to finish it, and they were regrouping for a second charge.
“They’ll be in earnest this time,” said Anne. She and Thorvald had retreated behind their barrier again.
“Aye, love,” said Thorvald. “But we already are.”
The men were about to charge when they heard a roar and a scream from down on the beach. Sir Magnus Bain was there, looking like some demon from an old Norse tale. His face was sick and gaunt, and his eyes bulged. He fought with a ferocity that was unequalled in any of their experience. Like some kind of dervish, wielding his gigantic axe and moving with a speed which Thorvald would have thought impossible in one so heavily clad, the red-haired giant charged the nearest of the cannon.
“He’s in earnest, too!” said Anne, laughing wildly. “Whoever he is, and whatever his motive, I welcome him now! Look, he’ll go for their cannons now, and the reinforcements from the ship will get here!”
Sure enough, with one mighty kick, Sir Magnus knocked one of the wheels from a cannon, and it listed over, lying uselessly in the muddy sand. Quick as a striking snake, Magnus bent to scoop up a cannonball in one massive hand and fling it at the other artillery crew. The men who were attacking Thorvald and Anne began to fall back in confusion and fear as Magnus swung his axe at the second artillery crew, knocking three men flying with a single blow.
“Go on, go on!” Neil was screaming. “Take the boy! Never mind the giant! Take the boy!”
For once, nobody was listening to him. Magnus grabbed the second cannon, and with a roar of effort, he tipped it over on its side. The crew of the third turned and fled, running back toward their boat.
“Thorvald!” roared Magnus, as if it was a war cry, and he turned and charged up the slope toward Neil and his men. On the water, the boat from the Endeavour was closing the distance fast, and Thorvald could see a grey-haired older man leaning forward in the bow, watching the proceedings on the shore with fearful eyes. The men behind him strained at their oars.
“Here he comes!” said Thorvald.
“He’s like something out of a tale!” replied Anne. Neil’s men were no longer paying any attention to them but were trying to reform to meet Magnus’ onslaught.
When Sir Magnus reached Neil’s men, he crashed into them like a landslide, scattering men in every direction as he swung from left to right with his axe. Blows landed on
him, only to bounce off of his heavy plate armour or get tangled in his chainmail. Thorvald saw one man lifted in the air, hands and legs flailing, before being tossed aside by Sir Magnus and crashing against a rockface, where he flopped to the ground like a broken doll.
“Come on!” yelled Anne in triumph, leaping across the barrier and wading into the melee, setting about with her sword among the panicked, fleeing pirates.
Thorvald did not immediately follow. He looked for Father Hallam, but the priest was crouched behind the barrier, peering over the trunk of the tree and watching the scene in horror. The pirates were scattering, and the boat from the Endeavour was about to make landfall when Thorvald saw Neil.
The pirate captain had run down the beach, away from the fighting, but he had not fled. With the help of one man who remained loyal and kept his head, Neil had turned the last of the three small six-pounder guns and loaded and primed it, turning it round to face up the beach toward them.
Fighting For A Highland Lass (Defenders 0f The Highlands Book 3) Page 23