Alexis Carew: Books 1, 2, and 3

by J. A. Sutherland

  Almost unnoticed as she examined the image for any sign of a ship’s sails or lights, there sounded the paired ding-ding of the ship’s bell, followed by a second, calling out the time, four bells of the morning watch. Lieutenant Caruthers heard it well enough, however, and straightened from his own scanning of images on the navigation plot.

  “Four bells, Mister Carew,” he said. “Time to go in and look about this place. Signal the captain, if you please.”

  “Aye sir.”

  Alexis was reaching for her console to wake the captain when the spacer at the tactical console suddenly straightened and peered at his monitor.

  “Transition, sir! At the L5 point.”

  Caruthers smiled. “Do let the captain know that as well, Mister Carew. It appears our wait is over.”

  As Alexis called the captain and passed along the message, she heard behind her, “A second transition. Also at L5.” A pause and then: “The first ship has her sails up, bearing away from us four points off the starboard bow and down twenty. Twin masts, I make her a sloop, sir. The second’s charged sail as well, but only one mast — I make her a pinnace.”

  “Very good, Stein.”

  Within moments, Captain Grantham strode onto the quarterdeck. He took in image of the other ship’s and their course.

  “We’ll give them a few minutes to settle on a course,” he said finally. He stepped to the tactical console. “Replay their transition for me, Stein. I’d like to see their sail handling.”

  “Aye sir. It’s sloppy, sir,” the spacer said, playing the recorded images.

  “Quite so,” Grantham agreed. He returned to the navigation plot. “Rouse the men, Lieutenant Caruthers, I’ll have all plain sail and add the royals for good measure.” He turned to the helmsman. “We’ll parallel their course for a time and make up distance when they have to tack at the system’s edge.” He waited while the orders were passed and until the bustle of activity across the quarterdeck from men called to man the sails faded.

  Merlin’s mains, topsails, topgallants, and royals went up quickly and were charged. Alexis added a small copy of the navigation plot to a corner of her own monitors, watching as the ship settled onto a course that paralleled the two others and, perhaps, four kilometers behind. Within minutes of Merlin’s sails being charged, lights began flashing on the masts and yards of both ships.

  “They’re signaling, sir,” she announced. She watched the lights for a moment but didn’t recognize their meaning, or for those she did, they had no business being strung together like that. “I can’t tell what their saying, though, sir. Neither can the computer.”

  “An organized bunch,” Caruthers said, “to have their own private signals.”

  “Yes,” Grantham said. “Raise our colors, Mister Carew, and signal Heave To, if you please.”

  “Aye sir.” Alexis watched her console for a response from either of the other ships but there was none. “Nothing sir. They’re still signaling but it’s gibberish.”

  “Very well.” Grantham looked up from the plot. “Bring the hands in by divisions for breakfast, Mister Caruthers. We’re in for a long stern chase, it appears.”

  They were, indeed. A chase that stretched out over several hours as Merlin slowly but steadily closed with the two other ships.

  At one point, it had appeared that the two might separate, forcing Merlin to choose which to pursue, but they soon came back together. Captain Grantham mused that they might have been merely testing the winds, using the smaller, somewhat handier, pinnace to see if another point of sail might not allow the pair to begin pulling away from Merlin.

  Slow as it was, Merlin did close with the pair, finding the pinnace at the rear, the faster sloop clearly hanging back with reduced sail to stay nearer her slower consort.

  Captain Grantham gave the order to open fire with the bowchasers at their extreme range. Bolt after bolt of the wide chainshot flying across the space between the ships, its path clearly visible, and behaving as no laser Alexis had ever seen in the odd conditions of darkspace. The captain had ordered chain, hoping to disable the smaller ship quickly and take it out of the fight before they engaged the larger sloop, a vessel almost Merlin’s equal in firepower and certainly so in the size of her crew, pirates tending to be severely over-manned in order to take vessels whole by boarding and man their prizes.

  At the extreme range, few of Merlin’s shots hit home, and far fewer of the pirates’, once they were in range of the pinnace’s smaller guns. But as the range closed, shots began striking home on both ships, and Alexis winced inwardly at any that came close to Merlin, worrying about the men working the sails and even a bit over Roland in the exposed compartment of the bowchaser. More and more of Merlin’s shots struck the smaller ship, holing sails and slicing through rigging — every bit of damage slowing the other ship and allowing Merlin to gain more quickly.

  Ahead of the pinnace, the larger sloop showed no signs of coming to her consort’s aid. She sailed blithely on, not pulling away from Merlin, but leaving the other ship unsupported.

  Another shot flashed out from Merlin’s bow and cut through the pinnace’s maincourse. The sail sagged, then filled again and shredded into tatters that arced and flashed with azure sparks before going dark. The ship’s other sails went dark as well, and her signal lights went a solid white along her masts, yards and hull. Striking her sails and colors in a signal of surrender.

  “She’s doused her sails, sir!”

  “Inform Mister Roland to cease firing and Mister Easely to reload the main guns with solid shot, Mister Carew.”

  “Aye sir.” Alexis turned to the signals console and spoke into her microphone. She held her earphone to her head tightly, listening for their acknowledgments over the static-filled suit radios of the two on the gundeck and bowchaser. “They’ve acknowledged, sir.”

  “The Chase is turning, sir.”

  Alexis watched as the sloop, close enough after the continued chase that she could see vacsuited figures in her rigging without magnification, turned slowly to port, presenting more and more of her side to Merlin. The pirate ship had seen the futility of running and begun furling sail in preparation for battle. Merlin had followed suit, and both ships were sailing under well-furled main courses on both the main and mizzen masts, tops, and topgallants furled and doused.

  “Steady on,” Grantham ordered. “We’ll see if their broadside gunnery is anything like their sternchasers, and we’ll be up beside her before she can come about a second time.”

  Indeed, the exchanges between Merlin and the other ship so far had been quite one-sided, with Merlin’s bow gunners sending bolt after bolt into the other ship’s stern while being struck only a single time in return. That shot had splashed harmlessly off her bow, ‘with nary a scratch’, as the carpenter had happily reported. Now the other ship was turning, giving up the scant lead she still held in the hopes of raking and possibly disabling Merlin with a single broadside.

  “For what we are about to receive,” Alexis heard the helmsman mutter, receiving a sharp glance from Caruthers in return.

  The broadside, when it came, was more of a stuttering sparkle than a single flash, with first one gun then another firing with no pattern and no two guns at the same time. Only two actually struck Merlin, one grazing her port side and the other coming in along the bowsprit, narrowly missing the fore-stays and crashing into the sail locker’s outer hatch, though the hatch held and the shot failed to penetrate the locker itself.

  “Steady on,” Grantham repeated as Merlin continued to close the distance.

  Merlin’s bowchasers fired in unison, both shots slamming into the other ship’s hull above her gunports, some ten meters apart, but there was no indication they’d penetrated. Another shot came from the other ship as one of its guncrews seemed faster at reloading than the others. The bolt, perhaps from the same crew that had struck the sail locker, flashed into the upper bow.

  Alexis heard bursts of static and confused voices from the bow
chasers and when it was finally sorted out, she got a report from the port bowchaser, with only silence from the starboard where Roland had been stationed during the chase. She gestured to one of the spacers designated to relay messages.

  “Get me a status from the starboard bowchaser, please,” she said, then to the captain as the spacer rushed off the quarterdeck, settling his vacsuit helmet over his head. “I’ve lost communication to the starboard bowchaser, sir. I’ve sent a runner.”

  “Thank you, Mister Carew. Let me know as soon as you have a status, please. And inform Mister Easely, he’ll have work to starboard in a moment.”

  Even as Alexis was contacting Philip to relay the order, Grantham was saying to the helmsman, “Hard to port and keep the distance thus. Undermanned as we are, I’ve no wish to try a boarding against a pirate crew.”

  Merlin had no sooner begun her turn when shots flashed out from the other ship again. With Merlin closer, more of them struck home and one of them struck and parted two of the forestays before striking the mainmast just below the sails.

  “That guncrew becomes tiresome,” Grantham said. “Lieutenant, please see to the sails — we must maintain this distance, but still be able to catch her up if she tries to run.” Caruthers donned his helmet and headed for the sail locker. “Mister Carew, please inform the gundeck that there’ll be a guinea from my own pocket for the crew that disables that ship’s number four gun.”

  Merlin turned easily, coming to parallel the other ship’s course, and Alexis could hear Philip on the gundeck, calmly ordering the crews to wait, to hold their fire until all of Merlin’s broadside could be brought to bear at the same time. The turn completed, and now both ships sailed next to each other, no more than two hundred meters separating them.

  “Fire!” Alexis heard Philip call, and all six of Merlin’s guns fired as one, all striking home and sending gouts of vaporizing thermoplastic flashing from the other ship’s hull.

  The pirate crew returned fire raggedly, a shot or two into Merlin’s hull, one into the rigging and the rest missing entirely.

  The spacer she’d sent to check on the starboard bowchaser returned. “Inner hatch is fused, sir,” he told her. “Shot must’ve come straight in and melted it right shut.” Alexis’ heart fell as she thought of Roland and Breech, along with their crew, in the cramped space of that compartment with a shot coming inboard. “Carpenter’s working on the hatch, but no word as to what’s inside.”

  “Thank you, Humphrys,” she said and turned to pass the status on to the captain.

  “I heard, Mister Carew, thank you.”

  More fire was exchanged, Merlin’s broadsides striking home again and again, but the pirates seeming to improve with time and more and more of their shots found the ship’s hull and rigging.

  Alexis sat the signals console, passing messages and orders throughout the ship, but feeling her stomach clench with anxiety and frustration. There was still no word from the bowchaser about Roland or the gunner. She could hear Philip exhorting the guncrews, urging them to reload and fire faster.

  A shot from the pirate’s number four gun, still firing despite the best efforts of Merlin’s guncrews to take the captain’s guinea, struck the mainmast just at the crosstrees and the suddenly free yardarm was pulled forward by the wildly flagging sail. Merlin lost way and the pirate began pulling ahead, taking advantage of the situation to edge closer and closer to Merlin in preparation for boarding where her larger crew would give her the advantage.

  “My compliments to Lieutenant Caruthers,” Grantham said, “and I should like my main course back instanter. Barring that, let loose the topsail and topgallants — I’ll not have that broadside at our bow again.”

  Alexis nodded to one of her runners and he headed for the sail locker even as she began entering the order to display outside, wanting to ensure that Caruthers received it.

  “Sail, sir!” Stein on the tactical console announced. “The pinnace has charged her sails and she’s coming up to port.”

  Alexis’ eyes widened in shock at this announcement. A ship struck its colors to acknowledge defeat and avoid undue death and destruction. To reenter the action once struck was to act without any honor whatsoever. Of course, they’re pirates though, so what else should we expect?

  Grantham narrowed his eyes. “Please inform Mister Easely that he’ll soon have to fight both sides of the ship, Mister Carew.”

  “Aye sir.” Alexis passed along the order, wondering how Philip would manage it with only enough men to fully man the guns on one side. There were no more to spare with the sails in such disarray and every man on the sail watch needed to put them to rights.

  She watched her copy of the navigation plot, seeing the pinnace draw closer, almost up to the, as yet, unmanned port side. The other ship edged closer, Merlin as far up into the winds as she could come with her damaged sails and unable to turn away any further to maintain the distance.

  More fire was exchanged, and Alexis saw plumes of vapor spew from the other ship.

  “We’ve holed her upper deck,” Stein said.

  Alexis grimaced. It was damage, but she knew the pirate crew, like Merlin’s own, would be concentrated on the gundeck, quarterdeck and outside manning the sails. It was unlikely that holing their gunroom and masters’ cabins would cause them any real distress during the action.

  Suddenly Merlin seemed to surge ahead, though Alexis knew she couldn’t feel any difference, but the main topsail had dropped, filling and sparking with azure lightning as it was charged and began pulling the ship forward.

  “A point to port,” Grantham ordered the helmsman. “Keep our distance steady.”

  The distance between Merlin and the larger pirate vessel steadied, neither able to come up more to the winds without being caught aback and losing way completely. Though with the pinnace to port, Merlin would soon be caught between the two other ships. Unable to turn away from either without giving the other a chance to board. The pinnace might have a smaller crew, but if they could come aboard the port side with all Merlin’s gunners engaged to starboard, they’d hold the advantage.

  Four of the pirates’ guns fired almost as one, their crews, perhaps, recognizing the advantage coordinated fire gave to Merlin. There was a burst of static and excited voices from the gundeck and Alexis struggled to make out what had happened. She sent one of her runners aft to see, but then received a coherent report from one of the gun captains and her blood ran cold.

  “The number two gun’s overturned, sir,” she told Grantham. “And Philip … Mister Easely’s been injured. Unconscious, sir.”

  Grantham looked up from the monitors and met her eye.

  “Take charge of the gundeck, Mister Carew,” he said. “Keep that pinnace off of us but maintain fire on the other.”

  “Aye sir,” she said, gesturing to one of her runners to take her place. “Man the console, Peters.”

  She clamped her helmet onto her vacsuit and rushed for the hatchway, wondering how she’d manage both with so few men. And anxious over how badly Philip might be injured.

  Alexis burst onto the gundeck, grimacing at the crackle of static over her suit’s radio. Only five of Merlin’s six guns to starboard were continuing to fire, the number two gun having been struck by the pirates’ shot, its housing melted and shattered. She froze for a moment as she saw a still form in a midshipman’s vacsuit being carried into the aft companionway by two spacers. Philip!

  But she had no time to think of him as she saw the pinnace rapidly gaining on them through the portside gunports.

  “Starboard six, move to port!” she yelled, hoping that the guncrew would hear her over the increasing static caused by the encroaching darkspace, and she wouldn’t have to cross the length of the deck to get their attention. “Starboard six, to port!” she yelled again, midway, and saw the guncrew respond, leaving their gun unloaded and crossing to the as yet unfired guns to port.

  “As you bear and move up the line, lads! Put it right into their gu
ns.” she yelled, intending the crew to fire the rearmost gun first and then move to the next while she reloaded behind them. With luck, they’d get six rapid shots into the pinnace.

  She moved to the shot locker and grasped one of the heavy canisters, readying to carry it to the gun as soon as the crew fired. The guncrew had slewed the heavy gun to point aft as much as it would bear, and were waiting for the pinnace to cross into the gun’s firing arc. She rested the canister on the half-empty rack of grapeshot and waited, while men from the starboard guns came to replenish their guns in a steady line and others brought replacements from the magazine below.

  With a start, she left the canister behind and rushed to the number five gun and threw open its breech. “Port six, belay firing!” she yelled, seeing the gun still loaded with chain shot. Shot that would never penetrate even the light hull of the pinnace’s gundeck in action. “Up five and fire for her sails! Reload with ball!”

  She closed the gun’s breech and rushed back to the shot locker as the guncrew adjusted and fired. The wide line of the shot caught the pinnace’s topsail and cut a wide, sparking gash through it.

  “Pour it on, lads!” she yelled, hoping the starboard gun crews could hear her over the interference. She grunted with effort and ignored the pain in her shoulder as she hefted the heavy shot and rushed to the just fired gun. The crew took aim and fired the second gun in line. This shot was lower and behind the pinnace’s mast so that it struck the other ship’s hull, still parting one of the mast’s backstays.

  As she slammed closed the breech on the gun, she saw with horror that’s Merlin’s next shot followed the second, slicing through a group of men who’d rushed onto the hull to repair the damage. The wide beam of the chainshot caught one of them squarely, cutting him in half and sending his torso drifting off toward the edge of the ship’s field, the lower half still standing on the hull, held in place by its boots’ magnets.

  Alexis felt her gorge rise at the sight, but she clamped her jaw and swallowed heavily. Not again. Not now.