Because of the delay as her captain went back and forth between her guns, the Fang was firing slightly slower than her opponent, and the enemy was beginning to play havoc with their rigging. But ah, the precision, the deadly, exact placement of the Fang's shots. As they closed with the enemy Ship its fire was like a shotgun blast in their rigging. But Melville's fire was like the steady blows of an ax, cutting and hacking deep into the enemy's heart.
It was only a matter of time. It was only a question of how much damage the enemy could do to the Fang's rigging before they died. For die they must. Die they would. And die they did.
The Fangs all cheered as the enemy Ship began to sink. Melville had lost track of where he was and how many shots he had fired, but he felt this last, killing blow sink home.
Above and below the plane of two-space the view was the same. First the Guldur Ship's hull sank from view, then her mainsails, her topsails, and finally her topgallants disappeared. In the end there was only a short stub of her mainmast standing up, with a cluster of terrified Guldur and Goblan clinging to it, striving and fighting for a few last seconds of life. Then they too disappeared into the cold depths of interstellar space.
If they could have reached them the Fangs might have tried to rescue even the most despised enemy from this fate, but they were too far away. The only boats the Guldur carried were their jollyboats, and there wasn't even time for the enemy to get those off.
Every soul aboard the Fang shuddered to see hundreds of sentient creatures die such hideous deaths. Dying in the cold embrace of vacuum was every sailor's fear. How did Tennyson put it? Melville thought. "Faultily faultless, icily regular, splendidly null." Tennyson was describing a woman, but those words well depicted the frigid, grand, ghastly, awesome nothingness of interstellar space, and men rightfully feared it.
But Fang and her guns did not shudder at their enemy's demise, they exulted. There was no pity in them, no empathy. And Melville shuddered anew as he felt the cold touch of those alien minds in his soul.
Then Melville rolled off the platform and stood swaying. He put a hand on the shoulder of the man who stood beside him and hung his head, suddenly exhausted and panting with exertion.
"A masterful piece of gunlaying, sir!" said the man with sincere appreciation and admiration, reaching over to slap the captain on the back.
Melville turned to look at him, staring with blank eyes. Then he realized it was Cuddle's gun captain. He was Jose Perrera. Li'l Jose. A stocky, bantam dynamo of a man, full of life and humor, with a wife and children waiting at home. Melville felt dazed and confused. Cuddles had fired the killing blow, and this man, this brother, was alive because of Melville. This man, and all his friends would survive for a little while longer. They were alive! And felt good to be alive!
Like a cleansing flood washing through his soul, Melville looked up at the stars and felt the life of his brother, Jose Perrera, beneath his hand. Melville felt this man's happiness to be alive, to be victorious. He felt the joy of every living creature on his Ship, sent to him, transmitted to him by his Ship (his Ship, by God!) through his bare feet. For a brief instant he felt what it was like to be the Ship, in empathic contact with the whole crew. And, in turn, his Ship felt through him what it was like to be human and to rejoice in being alive. Without Fang Melville could not have felt the emotions of his crew, and without Melville Fang could not have comprehended the emotions.
It is good to be alive, the captain and his Ship told each other. And, by God, they intended to stay that way.
As Melville stood, shaking with exhaustion and emotion, McAndrews poured him a mug of hot tea as the steward's monkey added sugar and lemon. All around him the gun crew was working feverishly, checking their equipment and refilling the shot garlands in preparation for the next battle. Melville smiled and nodded his thanks to McAndrew as he took a sip of tea, sweet and tart, exactly the way he liked it. The captain's monkey reached out its accordion neck for a drink and he delighted in the little creature's shudder as it sipped the steaming hot fluid. His steward was an unctuous, overbearing albatross around Melville's neck, but, damn it, the man did have his moments.
"Ah, sir, look what you've done to yer best uniform," said McAndrews as the steward—and his monkey—regarded the captain mournfully. Melville looked at the friction burns on his pants from sliding down the ladders, and the rips where his jacket had been snagged as he rolled off the firing platforms of the guns, then he looked at McAndrews with a sigh. His steward didn't really scold, he just slumped his shoulders and shook his head with a woebegone look on his face, as though the weight of the world had been placed on his shoulders due to his captain's irresponsibility.
"Ah, McAndrews. What would you do without me to fuss over?" he murmured as he reached down to pat his dog and took another sip of tea.
CHAPTER THE 3RD
Stern Chase:
"The Great Stern Gun Shot Fair and True"
She opened fire within the mile—
As ye shoot at the flying duck—
And the great stern gun shot fair and true,
With the heave of the ship, to the stainless blue...
"Ballad of the Clampherdown"
Rudyard Kipling
Five topmen had been killed by the enemy fire during this engagement. One of them was struck by cannonballs and two were thrown out into space when rigging snapped. Two others had tumbled to their deaths, landing with awful thuds upon the deck far below. There were scarlet streaks on the deck planks to mark where they had landed and the fresh spilt blood was still being slowly soaked up by the white Moss. Even now a topman was trying to lower himself to safety with one blood-soaked leg hanging from his body by a muscle.
There were many holes in the sails, and a fair amount of damage in the rigging, but the most telling blows were a 24-pound ball that had snapped the upperside foreyard
clean in two, collapsing their foresail. Another shot had clipped the top quarter off their upper mainmast, taking down their maintopgallant and the royalsail that rode above it. To balance the thrust they immediately slacked the equivalent sails on the lowerside.
Melville estimated that this was about fifteen percent of their overall thrust, combined with another ten percent or so lost from various holes shot through their sails. A new foreyard and topgallant mast were being swayed up, and the holes were being patched, but still this was enough of an advantage for the enemy Ships to close the distance with them. His mind was spinning with calculations.
"A cast of the log, if you please, Mr. Hans," Melville said to the old sailing master.
"Aye, sir," Hans replied with an approving nod.
Melville could see some of the quarterdeck crew looking at him questioningly. They couldn't see why the captain needed a cast of the log while the Ship was in such mortal danger, but Hans understood. They needed to calculate exactly how fast the Ship was going, so the captain could know how the battle would play out. This kind of situational awareness was their young captain's strong suit. He might not be a master o' the riggin' and sails like the legendary Captain Jack Aubrey, thought Hans, but 'ats what I'm 'ere for. And damned if 'e can't see a plan an' call a battle like nobody's business.
Hans and the quartermaster went aft with the little half-minute glass and the small piece of Keel which served as the log. The log was cast, and the quartermaster's arms vibrated as he held the reel above his head.
"Nigh on to eight knots, sir," reported the quartermaster to Hans.
"Just shy o' eight knots, sir," said Hans to Melville, who was standing right beside him and had heard the first report full well. "We'll pick up a li'l speed as repairs an' jury masts go up, but we know the Guldur can do close to ten knots, even with their sorry riggin' an' sails."
Melville nodded as his brain raced. The situation was worse than he'd thought. Their old Kestrel had been one of the fastest frigates afloat, able to do fifteen knots any time she chose. Hans had re-rigged the Fang after they had captured her, spreading a gloriou
s array of royals, studding sails, and a spritsailtopsail that brought her up to almost thirteen knots. But now their glorious array of sails and rigging had been shot to hell.
The Fang and her crew had punched a hole in the net that the enemy had cast around them, and they were escaping through that hole as fast as they could. The Ship that had been dead ahead of them was now dead, indeed. The two that had been to the Fang's left and right were currently closing in behind her. The fourth Guldur Ship was also closing in, since the Fang's speed had been reduced so badly, but it was still far behind.
If Melville kept on the current course the two enemy Ships immediately behind them would catch up with the Fang at about the same time, so he gave the order to cut to the left, or greenside. This would give them a chance to engage the enemy to their left before the one on the right could open fire. Melville estimated that in about an hour the first enemy would be close enough to start firing.
Once again he intended to gather his witnesses and wait until the enemy opened fire first. Westerness obstinately refused to join in this war, no matter how bad the provocation, but they could not deny him the right of self-defense.
Even when the enemy did open fire it would be a long, drawn-out battle. A stern chase was a long chase, and there would be time to feed the crew.
The Westerness Navy had consciously modeled itself on the legendary British Navy. Not much was known about those distant, semi-mythical times. When mankind had first entered into two-space they brought back the Edler King's Gift: a two-dimensional virus, a living creature that had created the Crash, a devastating collapse of virtually every database and electronic system that existed on Old Earth. Much of mankind's knowledge was lost forever, but they did have the multi-volume biographies of legendary naval heroes, such as Horatio Hornblower and Jack Aubrey, to build on. Just as the Iliad and the Odyssey provided the only available knowledge about that period in ancient Greece, so did Hornblower and Aubrey provide most of their insight into the era of naval combat in wooden ships on Old Earth—an era so very much like their own. Fortunately, there were many more volumes of valuable material in these British Naval biographies than in Homer's two works.
The British Navy had always tried to feed their men before a battle, and Captain Melville believed in doing the same. Just minutes after he gave the order their cook, Roxy, and her mates had their "burners" set up under a big pot of chili and another pot of macaroni. These burners were yet another special adaptation of a Keel, designed to release energy as heat, since normal combustion generally didn't work in two-space.
Meals in the Westerness Navy were a carefully managed social occasion. Roxy would set up her kitchen on the upper gundeck on one day, and the next day she set up on the lower gundeck. This made the upper and lower crews socialize during meals, which contributed to the cohesion of the whole Ship. Today it was the lowerside's turn to host dinner, and the whole crew rotated in to share a hot meal.
As Midshipman Hayl sat down to a steaming hot plate of chili-mac he couldn't help but think of the remaining three Ships that were coming to kill them. He couldn't avoid thinking of the hideous demise they had just inflicted upon the first enemy Ship, and he understood deep in his gut that the same thing could happen to them. Death was dominant in his mind as he sat down to eat. While he thought on these grim matters, his body absentmindedly took a bite of his food, and since he was a healthy lad with a day of hard work and excitement under his belt, his stomach discovered that it was good to eat. His youthful body reminded him that however his heart might feel, his body needed fuel. So he began to eat, and he found that the act of eating made him feel better. This was a new discovery for young Hayl, but it was an old, tried and true friend to the rest of the crew as they ate their meals.
As he was eating, Hayl suddenly had the disorienting experience of scooping a full spoonful from his plate, only to place an empty spoon in his mouth. The first time it occurred he was completely baffled. A few bites later it happened again. He was beginning to doubt his sanity and he started to keep a careful eye on each spoonful of food. He realized what was happening when he saw his monkey snag a mouthful of chili-mac in its tiny, three-fingered paw.
Hayl looked at the baby monkey on his shoulder and he couldn't help but laugh and shake his head. It eeked happily back at him, bobbing up and down on all eight legs, and the young midshipman couldn't find it in him to begrudge the wee creature its small tariff on the goods that went from his plate to his mouth. Then the two of them both got down to some serious eating.
Melville stood on the upper quarterdeck and watched the squealing, shrieking movement of a 24-pounder into the upper stern gunport as he gulped down his own plate of chili-mac. Melville's monkey also took periodic "tariffs" on his food, but by now the experience had become so common that the captain barely noticed when an empty spoon came up to his mouth. He was watching the mass of men as they heaved the groaning gun down the well-greased tracks, but his mind was elsewhere. Finally he shook his head and turned to the boy who was serving as his runner.
"My compliments to the Ship's carpenter, and will he please report to the captain at his earliest convenience."
"Aye, sir," replied the boy with a gulp. "Ship's carp'ter ta the cap'n at 'is soonest conven... soonest conven'ance."
"Aye," Melville replied with a nod and an encouraging smile.
The boy sketched a salute and scampered off.
In just a few minutes the carpenter, Mr. Tibbits, was standing in front of Melville.
"A hatch through the decks?" asked Tibbits, rubbing his bald spot. "Aye, sir, I guess we could do it fairly quick like. An' the goal is for you to have a ladder straight down to the lowerside?"
"Aye, Chips. Except I'd just dive straight down, pop through to the lowerside, and then climb up the ladder on the far side. Then I'd reverse the process going the other way. The objective is to get quickly from one side to the other so I can fire both of the stern guns as fast as the crew can load them."
The old carpenter had been a traumatized, exhausted man after their old Ship, the Kestrel, had died. The only thing that had kept him going was his sense of duty to this new Ship, but by now he was completely bonded with the Fang, and her captain. Today he was a new man, and he seemed to have absorbed some of the youthful energy of his Ship and his captain.
"I've seen it done before, sir," Tibbits replied with a nod. "I was a Ship's boy on the old Heinlein. She had her hatches set up in line like that. When we have to pass a lot of cargo, say, from the upper maindeck to the lower hold, sometimes we dropped it straight through the hatches like that, and then the boys on the lowerside could just snatch it, clean as a whistle, as it popped in. As a boy I used to jump straight through like that, just like you're sayin'. But, by the Lady, not many folks want to try it! If you miss by just a smidgen, you'll hit the edge of the hatch at high speed in 1.5 gees, and it'll cripple or kill you deader'n hell. An' there's things that seem to pull you to the side sometimes, like maybe there's variations in the way the gravity pulls at you."
Melville nodded and considered. "How about if we ran a line through, nice and taut, like a fireman's pole?"
"Aye," the old carpenter replied thoughtfully, "you could do that. This hatch'll tie up more deck space where you'd want to put cargo, and I'll tell you, sir, the one bad thing about our Fang here—much as I'm loath to admit any flaw in her—is that she ties up a lot of cargo space. These damned tracks to run the big guns on prevent you from putting in much deck cargo if you're gonna keep the tracks clear, and keeping these hatches clear will tie up more space on the gundecks and in the hold."
"Aye, good point, Chips. But we can keep them covered, stack cargo on top when we have to, and only clear them when we need a particular gun. We'll try it first with a hatch by the stern guns. Make it happen, Chips."
"Aye, sir. We'll get right on it," he replied rubbing his hands and nodding his head with an air of sincere satisfaction. "Would you mind walkin' over with me and chalking out the exact sp
ot where you want it?"
Melville felt a surge of pleasure as he considered the old carpenter's enthusiasm. Tibbets had become like a doting, protective father to Melville, willing to give staunch support to his captain's initiatives. The young captain was still uncertain and insecure in his position, and the unconditional, professional support of a man like Mr. Tibbits meant the world to him.
In just minutes the carpenter's mates were cutting a hole in the upper gundeck, beside and well to the rear of Malicious Intent, the 24-pounder that was now sitting at the stern gunport. By the time the first of the three pursuing Guldur Ships began to fire at them, a vertical corridor had been cut all the way through to the lower gundeck, where Rabid was in position at the lower stern gunport. Melville had positioned the hatches so that a taut line running from the upper mizzentopmast yard could run through the center of the hatches to the lower mizzentopmast yard.
Once more, Melville was laying on the platform above the gun, with his group of witnesses waiting beside him in the lower stern. With the exception of a few dedicated lookouts, virtually every eye in the Ship was looking back at their foe, with hearts pounding in their chests. Then the Guldur fired on them. As the enemy's 24-pound balls screamed overhead, punching through their sails, Melville once again had his witnesses confirm that the Guldur had fired first, and then he returned fire.
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The Guns of Two-Space Page 7