“Sako Pizi.” Kostek was the first to see where Dason had been leading them. “Me and Nitch was assigned to keep him away from Hargen after he got whipped.”
“Some Knifehands wanted to start something with me,” Sev added. “But they backed down when they saw Sako watching.”
“And to this day, no Hangmen dare to set foot in the Dalarian Arms,” Dason finished. With a flourish, he presented the checkered headcloth to Sako. “Will you be our Captain? Sir?”
Sako didn’t reach for the headcloth immediately, but took a few moments to study each hand. “Is this what youse want?” he asked quietly. To a man, they answered in the affirmative.
Sako nodded and took the checkered cloth. He tossed it over the side. “Won’t be needing that. Youse know who I am.”
“Did you really crunch Stowe’s bones?” Finve asked in tones of awe.
Sako just shrugged. “He was already dead. Couldn’t kill him again.” He said to Tirpa, “I’m going to shake up the officers a bit; I want you as boatswain again.”
“That’s being fine with me.”
“What about me?” said Chos.
“What about you?”
“Am I to be the Mate again?”
“No. Dason’s the Mate. He got me into this, he’s going to share it with me.” Dason smiled.
“So it’s back to hand, is it?”
“Chos, I don’t like you, but you’ve earned your place in this Crew. Besides, you’ll make more as a hand under me than you did as Stowe’s Mate. That I promise you.”
“Who is to navigate, Captain?” Thard asked.
“I’ll handle both jobs. It’s one less officer come divvy time.” Sako paused. “Unless…Afnir?”
“What, apprentice Navigator? To you?” Afnir scowled. “I don’t have the patience to learn all that. Nor do you have the patience to teach it.” Then he brightened. “As a hand, my share of the debt is reduced, isn’t it?”
“That’s right,” said Ellor.
“All right,” said Sako. “I want everyone to rest until dawn, no work except masthead watch. We’ll tow again at daybreak, with Afnir in my spot in the schedule. Any other business for Council? No? Council’s over.”
Afnir and Sako switched berths. It wasn’t hard for Sako to move into the captain’s cabin as he didn’t have much gear. He ignored his own directive and spent the evening prowling about the ship, looking at everything with new vision.
The Crew had elected him, but were they really his Crew? I have to remember to treat Chos fairly. Otherwise he’d be guilty of holding to the old port watch/starboard watch mindset. I had to put him down, though; Tirpa’s the better sailor, and Dason’s the most loved and trusted man aboard. He was the perfect complement to Sako’s solitary and broody nature. Acceptable in a Navigator, not so much for a Captain. Sako was not given to self-examination, but he knew himself that well. Only with Dason could he again be the free and easygoing boy he’d been at his parents’ inn. Then was there, now is here. Our luck’s about to change. I can feel it.
30
Aboard the Death’s Head
The captain of the Death’s Head snapped his glass shut and stood still for a moment, fingering his newest eye patch. This one featured a large ruby cut to look like an iris. There was an emerald in the center where the pupil should be. He’d been told it looked ghastly, which appealed to his dark sense of humor.
Other than the hideous patch, he was a handsome man with wavy dark hair that was graying at the temples. He looked and dressed like an Agresian aristocrat, and ran his ship like the naval vessel it had once been. The men didn’t mind; most of them had been Navy to the core and had only lost faith in it after the betrayal of their captain. They were currently in the Chains, headed west.
Deadeye shook off his reverie and looked again at the ship that was closing steadily. She was a Jono frigate, well-armed, and heavily manned. She was sleek, dangerous and flying Royal Navy pennants. She was just entering signal range so that Deadeye could read her flags.
‘HMF Sword’s Edge. I-Y.’ ‘I-Y’ was a standard abbreviation used with signal flags. It meant ‘identify yourself’.
“Your orders, sir?” That was Balwerre, formerly a Commander of the Royal Agresian Navy, now a fugitive like himself.
Balwerre was still his First Officer. A commoner, but the closest friend Deadeye had ever had. The Death’s Head was a light frigate, smaller and lighter than the Sword’s Edge but unquestionably a warship. There was no masquerading as a merchant runner. Perhaps…
“Run up my old coat of arms and the Agresian colors. Send ‘Privateer Victorious of Hanarre in Agresian service’.”
“Yeah yeah, sir.” The colors and signal streamed out with naval precision.
After a few moments the masthead lookout reported.”Deck! New signal, sir!”
Deadeye raised his glass again. Now he could see several officers with telescopes pointed at him.
‘Pirates in area. Where bound?’
Deadeye responded quickly. ‘Ordered to Port Therma. Who pirate?’ The two ships continued to close.
‘Evil eyes over bloody sword on black. Brig Golden Sunrise.’
“That would be that new Crew, sir, the Smilers,” Balwerre said. “I can’t remember the kid’s name, sir.”
“Sanfora. I met him—”
“Permission, sir!” the helmsman said.
Deadeye turned a cool gaze on the sailor. He didn’t care to be cut off in mid-sentence unless it was very important. “Speak.”
“If they get much closer, sir, they’ll be able to read our escutcheons.”
Deadeye nodded appreciatively. That was important. “Good man. Turn five degrees to starboard. Let’s try and keep our distance without altering course too noticeably.”
“Five degrees, yeah.”
“Deck! She’s running her guns out, sir! New signal coming!”
“Stut!” said Balwerre. “He must have a Viste aboard!”
“Indeed. Call battle stations if you please, Commander.”
Deadeye looked for the new signal as Balwerre relayed his command to the senior non-officer. That one blew his whistle in the distinctive pattern that meant ‘to arms, battle stations’ in the Agresian Navy.
The sailors scrambled to comply. Deadeye’s guns were manned before he completed reading the signal.
‘No quarter Deadeye.’
“Send an acknowledgement, please.”
“Yeah yeah, sir!”
“And harder to starboard, helm. Give me one solid broadside at his bow…”
And the dance began.
The fight was evenly matched. Though smaller and lighter, the Death’s Head was manned by hardened veterans who knew their trade well. This offset the firepower and manpower advantage of the Jonos. The Sword’s Edge was newer and should have been faster, but the repairs from the reef were not quite a hundred percent, while the sailors of enterprise had careened just two weeks past.
Both ships enjoyed excellent leadership; a maneuver by one was answered properly by the other. Deadeye soon realized he was facing one of Jonos’ best. The surgeons on both ships got very busy as the pounding of the guns took effect. Finally, the Edge rammed the Death’s Head, but Deadeye’s men were able to repel the boarders after some stiff fighting.
“Time to teach them a lesson, it seems. BOARDERS AWAY! FOLLOW ME!”
Deadeye himself led a party over, but was forced back by superior numbers. The Jonos cleared wreckage and unfouled the ships efficiently. Deadeye wouldn’t waste men trying to prevent them—he correctly surmised that interfering would cause the Royal Captain to send over a second boarding party. He didn’t intend to make the task easier.
“Muskets! Pick off those men!” Marines aboard the Sword’s Edge returned fire in such volume that it was worth a man’s life to be forward of Deadeye’s foremast.
The ships were finally disengaged and the sailors of enterprise tacked out while the naval ship wore away.
“He’s given us
the weather gage, Commander.”
“Yes, sir. Load starboard guns with shot, port with chain!”
“Helm, I want to crush them with shot first.”
“Starboard guns, yeah.” Death’s Head drove in, fired and began to turn so that the port broadside would be fired almost point blank. But the Sword’s Edge was far from finished and responded with a disciplined broadside of her own.
The impact knocked Balwerre down. He recovered quickly, only to have blood fountain into his face. It happened two more times, each fountain weaker than the last.
Balwerre knew what that meant—someone had been struck in a major blood vessel and was going to die. Who? He cleared his eyes and found himself facing forward. Twenty more men were down, and four guns were destroyed or off their carriages. Then he found the source of the blood.
“Pol!”
Deadeye lay nearly at his feet, a large splinter protruding from the creamy lace that adorned his collar.
They were nearly on top of the Jono, and in firing position. Balwerre wasted no time. “Fire!”
The chain flew out and destroyed the Edge’s sails.
“Maintain heading, helm. He can’t chase us anymore.”
“Maintain heading, yeah.” Both men were too professional to let their dismay show.
“Deck! Signal, sir!”
Balwerre didn’t need a telescope. ‘We’ll meet again Deadeye.’
Balwerre sighed tiredly. “Acknowledge that, please.”
The Death’s Head ran to the east, away from the site of her famous commander’s death.
31
Sako’s Plan
In the morning they began to tow again. After two boat crew changes, Aler noticed that they kept losing tension on the towrope. He reported this to Dason back on the ship.
“Take a break from rowing,” Dason shouted back. “I’ll have Sako cast the log.” The ship gained slowly on the boat as that was done.
“He’s right,” said Sako. “We’re making almost a knot. Must be the Sevulian Current—if it is we should gain speed.”
“Should we leave off towing, then?”
“Yeah, but leave the boat in without a crew, in case we need to pull out of the current later.” Sako rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “Belay that. Bring the boat in. There’s nothing we need to fear in this direction at this speed.”
“Okay.” Dason shouted to the boat crew to come back aboard.
They drifted with the current, and picked up two more knots by the end of the watch. They were still becalmed, but towing was unnecessary. The men relaxed and waited for something to happen.
On the masthead, Balgo scanned the horizon complacently. There had been nothing to see for quite some time. No sails, no whales, few clouds, and a distant storm to the fore. Storm? “Deck! Storm on the horizon, five points off the starboard bow!”
“How big is it?” asked Dason.
“I can see the edges but it’s closing.”
“Just rain? Or are there whitecaps?” Sako asked.
“I think there’s caps!” Wind. The Smilers cheered at that. Perhaps their luck was finally changing. Sturo ran below and returned with Tirpa’s telescope, which he gave to Sako without a word. Nodding his thanks, the young captain opened it up and studied the storm for a few moments.
“Definitely whitecaps,” he announced. Sako lowered his voice to address Dason. “Get some canvas up, storm furled. See if we can get some steerage.”
Dason gave the necessary orders as Sako continued to watch the closing storm. The swells increased slowly.
The men in the crosstrees felt it first; whoops of joy let those on deck know that the first breeze had finally arrived. Sako passed the looking glass to his first mate.
“Storm’s moving on an oblique; closing, but on a course to pass to our portside, I think.”
Dason looked at the storm for a few moments and agreed. “You want full sail and a course to the north?”
“Let’s stay storm-rigged for now, but steer one-nine-five. We’ll pass Hanarre on our starboard beam; my plan is to try cruising closer to Sevulia.”
“Sevulia? I thought we were looking for spicerunners here in the Chains. Cargoes out of Sevulia are pretty well guarded.”
“Not going in, though.”
“Well sure, tools and building supplies and such like won’t be well guarded, but what would we do with that?”
“Not ordinary goods—slaves.”
“Slaves!” Dason’s confusion quickly became anger. “Sure, they’re valuable. If you sell them in Sevulia. But slavery’s abhorrent! I’ll not trade in slaves and neither will any man aboard, I can tell you that! I can’t believe you would consider it!”
“Keep your voice down!” Sako hissed. “Who said anything about trading slaves? I want to bounce this idea off you first, then see if the crew will buy it. You willing to listen?”
Dason nodded reluctantly but kept his arms crossed.
“We’re going after small spicerunners and whatever else we can get, right? But that’s not where the real money is. How many prizes would we need to take just to get out of debt? We’d become known. You think the Jonos, Tayans and Agresians aren’t hunting known sailors of enterprise? That Jono fired on us just because they suspected us.
“What I want is a Chains and Clavvish Enterprises ship, or a Northern Trading Company ship. But to take one we need men, right? Well, where are we gonna find them? We think slavery’s abhorrent—how do you think the slaves feel? And those on a slaverunner bound for Sevulia won’t be born slaves: penals, debtors, criminals—there’s bound to be some genuine sailors and genuine fighters. As for the rest…if anyone can turn sea-virgins into real salts, it’s us.”
“All right, what about those we free who won’t join us? What about women and children?” Dason pulled out two cigars and passed one to his friend. Both lit up and puffed a few times before continuing.
Forward, Ellor watched the two men as he puffed contentedly on his pipe. Now there’s a winning combination. The accounter was more comfortable with his ship’s leadership than he’d been since the Albatross. Afnir wasn’t too bad a leader, but there’s a world of difference between leading a gang of boys and men on a ship.
Ellor had fully expected Afnir to quit if things got too rough or complicated. Sako, on the other hand, will jump through fire, and drag the rest of us with him. With Dason as the Mate to moderate Sako’s rashness, we can take on the world. There was a new plan coming just as soon as those two had worked out all the details.
“Feed them to the fish?” Sako said. “After all, I’m supposed to be so vicious…”
Dason just gave him a look.
“Okay. I figured we’d just put them ashore.”
“Maroon them? Women and children?” Dason was no longer speaking in sarcastic anger.
Sako knew that meant that he’d bought the plan. “Yeah, maroon ‘em,” Sako said. “About a day’s walk from the nearest settlement, either on Sevulia or here in the Chains. They wouldn’t have a chance on Clavland without tools and supplies…but they’re not our problem after we free them. We’ll have the ship, too. That’ll be worth something.”
“I doubt it. You ever smell a slaverunner?” Dason made a disgusted face. “Stut and piss, vomit and misery. There may be some coin aboard but no; the ship will be worthless. All we really get from this is the additional men. More hands to split the next haul with.”
“That makes it a bad idea? I’d rather split five hundred crowns among ninety than twenty-five among twenty-one, wouldn’t you?”
“Ninety? Where’d you get that number?”
“Let’s say the ship we hit has three hundred ‘head’ as they call it. About a third will actually be useful for our purposes. I figure a third of those won’t join. Seventy or so plus our twenty-one is ninety or so; plenty to hit a Company runner.”
“Whose cargo will be worth way more than five hundred!” Dason finished enthusiastically. “Plus that ship will be larger and better
armed than this tub. Take her, sell the Sunrise and we’ll actually show a profit. I like it!”
“You think its good enough to tell the Crew?”
“Yeah yeah!”
The Crew reacted to the plan pretty much as Dason had—with skepticism followed by enthusiasm. They continued through the Chains, keeping well away from the inhabited islands. As they sailed, Sako initiated battle-drills. The Smilers practiced their gunnery a bit, but Sako wanted everyone to concentrate on close quarter fighting.
Anyone off-watch in daylight was required to practice for the full watch. The captain did not exclude himself from the drills. He crossed blades with everyone at least once. Even Ellor practiced the pistol under Dason’s tutelage.
Two weeks of steady sailing brought them within sight of the Clavvish coast. They spotted a small sloop flying a Hanarran banner and took it without a fight. They gained much needed food, a little tobacco, and twenty-six Agresian embers.
Afnir was secretly amused by the meager haul. So far Sako was doing no better than he had. Then they found the Tama, of Sevulia.
Neither side used their cannons. Sako didn’t want to risk hurting any of the slaves and the Tamas were too surprised to load.
They fought well on deck and didn’t surrender until the captain fell wounded. There were seven other survivors. Of Sako’s men, only Balgo and Brog were hurt, neither seriously.
Tirpa found the keys and freed the ‘cargo’. Sako ordered them assembled on the deck of the Tama. They were a pitiful sight, filthy and bedraggled. Some were naked, many were sick. All looked hungry. Sako climbed up onto the rail of the Sunrise so he could be clearly seen and heard by all.
“My name is Sako Pizi. You may be asking yourselves why youse care what the name is of the man who will sell youse. I will not sell you. You are no longer slaves. But now youse have a decision to make. Why would I take this runner if not to sell the cargo for profit? Because I need men! If you are male and over sixteen years of age, I invite you to join my Crew. The world has decided that youse are fit to be nothing but slaves. I say: To Stessaca with the world! Come with me, sail where you will and take what you want from the sea! We’ll become rich, or die trying, but we will always be free! Those who wish to join: welcome.
Buxacan Spicerunner Page 17