Gunpowder

by G. H. Guzik

  - You're right, Hans. Tis’ not the time to hesitate. Let’s drink up and go to sleep. Tomorrow will most likely be a long day.

  - For you it will be tomorrow. For me, it will still be a long evening. This pub closes in the early hours of the morning, and I don’t want to leave Anne alone with all the drunkards.

  Next day went according to plan. Kristoff oversaw the reloading of barrels onto merchant’s carts. He took care of all the necessary errands and herded the crew onto the ship from all the surrounding pubs and brothels. In the evening, they loaded the purchased, preserved food rations and supplies of fresh water. In the evening briefing the captain forbade his crew to drink alcohol and swear excessively during the forthcoming voyage, which was met with understandable disapproval of the sailing brethren. The crew had dispersed to their duties, preparing the ship for sea. When the eastern sky began to turn visibly grey, Miss von Blitzen arrived on the waterfront in the company of a rather short, young porter. For all the luggage she only had a medium-sized trunk. Porter put the trunk on the ground, got some coins from the girl and vanished.

  Miss von Blitzen looked at an inconspicuous, shabby sloop swaying softly by one of the inferior wharves of the largest port in the world and it was clearly visible how her eyes start watering with tears, and all hope is leaving her forever. Kristoff ran down the gangplank to the pier and whistled for two sailors to carry the travel trunk aboard. Seeing the horror on the face of a young noblewoman he spoke reassuringly.

  - Do not worry miss. She doesn’t look beautiful, but I can assure you that she will do the job better than any other ship in this port. - He pushed her gently toward the gangway.

  Miss von Blitzen was walking step by step on slightly soft legs. She walked unsteadily up the gangplank, and stumbled on the descent onto the main deck and landed in the broad shoulders of the nearest seaman. The young lady gasped frightened, and the rest of the crew roared with laughter. The crew, by the way, was surprisingly modest: captain, first mate, boatswain, ten shooters-gunners and only twelve sailors. It was hard to believe that they are able to lead the ship on the high seas.

  The bosun blew the whistle and the seafarers rushed to work. Mooring lines were thrown, the gangplank was dragged aboard, and the ship was pushed with long oars away from the waterfront. The traveller, feeling that she is only in the way of the general on-board bustle, went down to her cabin. For the duration of the cruise the captain moved into the cabin of the first officer, and the first officer hung his hammock in the corner usually occupied by the boatswain. Thus, the boatswain, willy-nilly, had to move below the main deck, where simple sailors slept together with the artillerymen. Thus, the passenger had the best cabin on the ship at her disposal.

  They have already passed the head of the harbour’s breakwater when Miss von Blitzen reappeared on the main deck. At the sight of her the crew sounded whistles of admiration. The noblewoman was quite transformed, and nothing like the uncertain and fearful young lady from a good family. The plumpness of her cheeks disappeared, along with protruding teeth and freckles. Speechless sailors were looked at by grey, cold eyes of a determined and tough woman, who emanated power and dangerous sensuality.

  Her head was topped with a leather hat, under which flaming curls were waving instead of plaits, and she was wearing a white shirt with slightly puffy sleeves, onto which she put a heavy vest of thick leather. Her legs were covered by tight breeches tucked into high leather boots with semi-flat heels. A rolled up sharp-whip was swaying by the belt on the right and a long holster hiding a broad, slightly curved blade was strapped to her left thigh. The weapon was neither a knife nor a cutlass but something in between. The passenger looked very alluring and very... dangerous. Her every step, every gesture betrayed that she carried the weapons by her belt not just for show and often had had the opportunity to use them.

  The girl, not minding the attention of the crew, went straight to the captain standing at the helm. She stopped beside him and turned towards the bow. “Thunder Led” was going with the wind. The deck was leaning gently towards the rear of the ship. Miss von Blitzen was standing on a low, aft-castle deck, almost equal in height to the main deck, waiting for the reaction of the captain. One had to admit that he kept a cool head ignoring her remarkable transformation and remained focused on leading the ship to the open sea.

  Kristoff, tall, thin, with sharp facial features secretive under a wide-brimmed leather hat ornamented with peacock feathers, held the helm. The smuggler’s hat was just as surprising as his ship. Among the feathers, it had hidden straps, which after tying the brim with them, changed the hat into a classic triangular headwear of the battleships’ captains. What's more, Kristoff’s jacket had similar straps on its shoulders and at the back of the collar allowing to transform the hat into a storm hood by attaching it to the jacket. Truanpago's pragmatism showed in every detail of his character.

  After a few minutes of silence the woman decided to start a conversation.

  - Forgive me, mister, but I was forced to use a disguise in Haaven.

  - A change for the better. - He smiled taking his gaze away from the sea and looking closely at the noblewoman from head to toe. His eyes stopped first at her rounded hips highlighted by her tight trousers, then at her chest, released from the corset, outlined under her shirt. - Yes... definitely a change for the better.

  He expected to get a slap in the face, but it never came. The provocative statement, aimed to embarrass Miss von Blitzen, evoked only a smile of satisfaction on her face. For a moment they looked into each other’s eyes, then they both turned to the sea. They travelled quickly, and the “Thunder Led” looked beautiful under full sail. Smiteverden was a little over five hundred and fifty miles. With favourable wind the slender ship could deliver them to the blockaded port in a little over a day and a half. The trip was planned in a way to give them the opportunity to slip into the blockaded port the following day, after dark.

  - Would you, Miss, wish to shed more light on your story, or would you rather prefer to keep your humble servant in the dark? - The captain apparently tested the possible limits of impertinence. He should have been slapped in the face after his first words, but since that did not happen, he plunged on.

  - It’s not much of a story to tell. My father set off on a trade expedition, which was supposed to bring new business opportunities. In his absence, his partners took over his share of the company and left us with its debts, which led my mother to her grave. After her funeral, as an only child, I had to take care of myself, and my first instinct was to look for my father. Under the guise, to protect myself from the creditors, I set off from our family estate in Rixburg, which incidentally my father’s dishonest partners were to seize in the following days, to find at least some trace of my father. I took with me a considerable fortune once hidden in numerous caches of our home, and thus I did not want any publicity. I wandered following my father’s trade route through Mondsburg and Daelwynn to Haaven, where the trail led, and there it turned out that my father hired a ship and sailed to Smiteverden in the spring of this year, which had been barely a month before the port was blockaded.

  Kristoff looked at her closely. The girl told the tale convincingly, but she did not look like a poor orphan, especially after her surprising transformation. Besides, the captain was disturbed by her story because it was suspiciously close to something that he could have come up by himself to deceive an unsuspecting victim. The story was logical at first glance, but if one looked deeper into the details, it did not hold water. How did the bankrupt noble family manage to preserve hidden assets, or on the other hand, if the family did actually have the hidden wealth, why did it go bankrupt in the first place? What kind of business was her father’s trade expedition meant to acquire? If the father was stuck in Smiteverden, why didn’t he just return by the overland route? After all, for a citizen of the Northern Kaesary, it should not be that much of a problem. The smartest thing in all of this was that an orphan looking for her father most probab
ly wouldn’t know the answers to these questions, so there was no point in asking them. They stood there measuring each other with their eyes. The smuggler decided that further questioning was pointless and returned to steering the ship. The girl also recognized the conversation as finished, looked around and faced the wind embracing the atmosphere of sailing into the unknown.

  The first day at sea was promising to be delightful. The weather was excellent, the sea was calm, and the ship responded to the slightest breeze. Truanpago set out to open sea early in the morning using the remnants of the night breeze. The eastern sky glowed in the distance ahead around the rising sun throwing its first rays on the milling squalls’ belt, where the breeze transformed into a considerably stronger open sea wind.

  The cruise proceeded peacefully and the weather was conducive to sailing. According to their plan, they were to approach the blockade in the late afternoon the following day. After having sailed far right off the busiest route they circled around the blockaded city of Smiteverden to try to enter this heavily defended port from the east. Another hour and a half remained for manoeuvres before sunset. Then, along with the advancing darkness, they would try to cross the line of the blockade and after having avoided being tracked by the ships of the Eastern Company, hide within the range of the trebuchets, catapults and artillery of the Trade Guild’s former eastern stronghold to enter the port under their guard.

  At the last, fading glow of the setting sun, the sloop was well disguised as a powerful gaff junk, and on the mainmast hung the flag of the Eastern Company. Kristoff decided that the safest way across the blockade would be to pretend to be part of it, as a privateer hired by the blockading fleet, and junks were the most popular private vessels on the Inner Ocean. At the stern they were flying matching colours, and all the positional lamps, although not yet lit, were carefully replaced with lanterns glowing with pale aquamarine light. Of course it was impossible to change the western-looking silhouette of the hull itself, but in the darkness it was impossible to notice the difference without being right next to the ship, and Truanpago was not going to sail so close to the patrol ships.

  The crew of the “Thunder Led” was intently preparing to run the blockade. Each of the sailors stuck to his post. Cannons located at the bow and the stern of the ship were loaded with chains, to damage or wipe out the largest area of sails from the enemy unit’s deck, if the need arose. Four cannons on the deck were loaded with incendiary bombs and were supposed to start a fire on-board the aggressor ship. In the long run it was impossible to effectively combat warships bristling with guns, but one salvo could cripple an opponent for long enough to enable them to escape. Beside the mast and on the stern, flags of the Haaven Trade Guild and Free Karaham Islands were placed, ready to be exchanged, when the ship entered the perimeter of the port’s fort artillery. Kristoff quietly gave orders to the crew to bring up the rest of the masts and sails in the event of a closer encounter with the enemy. He did not want to demonstrate Miss von Blitzen the full capabilities of his ship, but if the push came to shove he preferred to save his life rather than the secrets of the “Thunder Led”.

  After dark, the captain directed the bow of his ship straight towards the harbour’s entrance to catch the fading window of silence before the change in the direction of the breeze at night. Entering the harbour at night and against the wind could pose a lot of problems, even without the additional danger of artillery fire from the ships of the Eastern Company or even worse, from the harbour’s own battery.

  Kristoff’s dark thoughts, estimating their meagre chances to enter the Smiteverden port without heavy losses, were lit up with a lightning crossing the sky in the distance astern. Once again, luck was with him. The storm was approaching as quickly, as it was unexpected. Only a few more minutes and the wind-borne “Thunder Led” would fly directly to the port, while being at the same time hidden in the rain. The captain immediately ordered the change of ship’s flags ship and lighting. In just a few minutes the sloop became once again a commercial ship from Port Sud. During the expected downpour, the smuggler preferred to bet on speed instead of camouflage.

  Under the cover of rain, at full sails, the sloop glided into the perimeter of the port’s fortalice. Miss von Blitzen stood bravely alongside the captain praying that overzealous guards wouldn’t mistake them for an enemy vessel and not send them right to the bottom just in front of the breakwater’s heads. The ship was lit with all available lamps now, and at the top of the mast a white flag was fluttering beside the Trade Guild’s one. The port was darkened, and its guiding lights were extinguished. In spite of that Kristoff steered the ship confidently and without hesitation. It was at the breakwater, when it turned out that they sailed away a good few dozen feet from the main fairway and thus they passed the head of the port’s entrance at literally an oar’s length.

  The docks were all quiet and the crew quickly shed the foresail and reefed the mainsail. Kristoff slowed the momentum of the ship with several skilful turns. He did not know the port, so he headed for the central dock, which was lit best. The port of Smiteverden was understandably overcrowded. All guilds’ ships, which the blockade did not surprise out on the open sea became trapped at the quays. Sailors served casually in voluntary defence regiments and in their free time they were getting sloshed in numerous taverns. The city lacked nothing because the land food transports were arriving daily, and although one could complain about the shortage of spices or especially rare vintages, decent vodka or beer was definitely in abundance. That of course did not change the fact that finding a mooring space bordered on a miracle. Finally, the “Thunder Led” approached a three-masted schooner mooring by the main quay under a Karahamian banner, and Kristoff talked her sailors, all watching the unexpected spectacle, into grabbing the tossed mooring ropes and dragging his ship to stop alongside their vessel. The huge sloop turned out only a little shorter and only slightly lower than the mighty schooner.

  Sailors did not have too much time to comment on the arrival of a new ship, as a regiment of the city guards was already marching on the pier in a compact formation and showing little respect for the onlookers and the protesting sailors, made its way onto the deck of the schooner and very efficiently scattered forming a single line to occupy firing positions along the side of the ship. The guard’s officer called upon the captain of the newly arrived ship and demanded the identification of the vessel. They had the height advantage, they outnumbered the sloop’s crew by more than two to one and most importantly they had in their hands ready to shoot blunderbusses with hooks to brace against the board, similar to those often used by the marines. Pacification of the deck of the “Thunder Led” would take them probably a dozen seconds. This made conversation seem very appealing indeed.

  Kristoff nodded to the boatswain and the whole crew moved to visible places with apparently raised hands. The captain called out to the guards officer and in colourful words told him a dramatic story of a poor merchant from Port Sud on his way to get Mandarin silk, who found himself together with his ship in the middle of a storm and was thrown, not knowingly, between enemy vessels blocking the Smiteverden port. The escape, as much lucky as it was panicky, forced him to enter the harbour.

  The Karahamian sailors, listening to his story, nodded their heads solemnly. They probably guessed that their countryman was shamelessly making it all up, but they did not let it be known. The commander of the guard believed in the smuggler’s storytelling only after seeing the documents of the last customs control of Haaven. The bribe presented by Hans to the chief of the customs house brought about completely unexpected benefits. The appeased officer recalled his soldiers who were slowly coming off the schooner onto the pier. Luckily no one asked about the woman on board. Apparently they took her for a crew member. Women were not uncommon on ships. It must be admitted that they did not usually serve in standard roles and mostly were contracted as navigators, or nurses, but a view of a woman on board, or even a woman officer was not surprising to anyone.
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br />   When everyone calmed down after a less-than-cordial welcome at the harbour and the crew just finished mooring the ship to the schooner and clearing the sails, the harbour commander himself appeared on the deck of the adjacent vessel and stated that he had found a place for them in one of the side docks. Sailors began to untie the moors of the ship with some murmurs of discontent, and the captain invited the significant figure on-board as a pilot. From the rank of the official involved, it was obvious that the blockade breakage caused a considerable stir in the city.

  The harbour commander escorted the “Thunder Led”, which was still passing as the “Underwater Goat” to the outsiders, to one of the few free places on a side, though not the most inferior, dock. In a short, substantive conversation with the captain he made an appointment with him for the next day and having said his goodbyes he has left the deck. It was late at night when the crew finished finally clearing the ship. The passenger did not participate in the bustle of seafarers. At the first opportunity she went to her cabin, to get up at dawn. She slept deeply, which did not hinder her from an early wake up.

  The morning came chilly but sunny. The storm had long passed over the city having purified the air and gutters. Miss von Blitzen stepped onto the solid ground. The girl was walking along the deserted street leading from the port to the city centre. It wasn’t far. In Smiteverden the port was one of the most important places in the city, so the centre started close beside it. In the warm morning the sounds of the shots fired from time to time by both shore forts’ batteries were carried with a rolling thunder over the city.

  The more she was moving away from the port, the less she was a noblewoman. She looked around discreetly more and more to see if anyone was following her, until finally she turned abruptly into a side street and broke into a run to the nearest block. She turned again continuing to run. Around the corner she mingled in a stream of people going towards the centre and walked briskly to the nearest gate. She stepped in and watched carefully the exit of the street from which she ran. There seemed to be no one after her. Then she finally ceased to be Miss von Blitzen seeking a father. At that moment she was finally herself. An intelligence officer freshly out of the academy with a task to perform.