a series of tattered ribbons fluttering on the yards. He could feel the ship swinging round as if it had a mind of its own and wanted to lay its bow back to the sea.
‘Bring her around!’ Esumaro did not mean to scream the order but he saw the danger of capsizing before many more moments had passed.
The men on the tiller, already alert to the danger, were throwing their weight against it, defying the rage of wind and sea. The waves were coming higher and were more curling than before, throwing themselves at the ship like anxious, clawing hands, accompanied by a deafening shrieking wind. Esumaro was praying silently, his skin cold and not from the weather conditions. His breath came in quick, short gasps. For a moment or two, the ship seemed to stand still, defying man and weather to move her, and then, reluctantly, slowly, she swung her bow back on course.
Esumaro’s jaws clenched tight and he peered anxiously forward. They must be nearing what the locals called Island Point and Black Point. He knew there were shallow banks there but with such a sea running he should be able to negotiate his way through with plenty of water under his keel.
‘A light dead ahead, captain!’ cried Coros.
Esumaro stared in surprise into the blackness of the sheeting rain.
He thought that he was near the turning point where the land called Inis jutted out into the bay. It was a small islet separated from the northern mainland only during the high tides, and he had to steer south to avoid it. But there was a light to the south and it was bobbing up and down. Only another vessel could cause that motion. What was a ship doing there and in this weather? It must be anchored in the shelter of the southern shore. He decided that he must be too far to the south.
‘We’ll pass her on our starboard side,’ he yelled quickly. ‘Give her sea room.’
They pulled the tiller over a little to pass north of the light.
A moment later there came a panic-stricken cry from Coros.
‘Oh, God!’
Esumaro heard the cry a split second before he saw the white line in front of the Sumerli’s bows. Then there was an awesome crashing sound, the vessel swung round in her own length and rolling waves crashed against her wooden planking, carrying her sideways against a shallow rocky shoreline. Now he could not hear the screams of his men at all but saw several of them simply washed away even as the deck slid from under him and he grabbed out at the ship’s rail to prevent himself from following them.
The merchantman heeled over on its port side, broadside on into the shallows with monstrous seas washing over her. There came the sound of cracking as the masts broke with a splintering crash. Then a cataract of solid water was rending the wood of the vessel. Plank after plank was ripped away under this assault of Nature. With the deck at a forty-five-degree angle, clinging with both hands to the taffrail, Esumaro realised not only that his ship had been driven aground but that he and his crew were lost.
Around him, the sea was like a boiling cauldron. He could hear the fearful roar of the undertow sucking the pebbles from the shore, before another great wave smashed over the vessel.
Esumaro glanced around, trying in vain to look for survivors, but he was alone. He gave a gasping cry, begging God for help, and knowing
Esumaro was not one to be sentimental but now the images of his wife and children back in his home port of An Naoned swam before his eyes and he sobbed with a great, choking sound. Yet it was no good feeling sorry for himself. Even a rat fought when it was drowning. Now was the time to fight, whatever the outcome.
Once he heard that grim, sucking undertow passing below, he let go his hold, trying to control his forward motion as best he could as he slithered down the sloping deck. He hit one knee painfully on the far rail and then leapt over it, landing on all fours in the shingle. Fear drove him on. He was up, scrambling through the wet, slippery pebbles which did their best to clutch at his ankles and delay him. Several times he fell, yet terror forced him to pick himself up and move painfully forward. He could hear the roar of the approaching wave, hear it smashing the timbers of the ship behind him.
He restrained himself from looking round but he knew the wave was close. Immediately in front of him a sharp rock rose up, and he flung himself down, clasping his arms round it as one would hug a beloved after a long separation, as the raging, foaming waters hit and flooded over him. For a long, long time, or so it seemed, the waters boiled over him and he became desperate for air. He was tempted to release his clasping hands and try for the surface. Then he felt the powerful tug of the water as it began to recede. It was dragging him, dragging his hands apart. He exerted all the power he could to keep them clasped tight together. Abruptly, the water was gone and he heard the ominous grinding sound of the pebbles as the tide dragged them down in its wake.
Gasping, spluttering, moaning involuntarily in his fear, Esumaro clambered to his knees, peering round to get his bearings and then scrambling
It was still dark when he came to but the wind seemed to be dying away. He could hear the rumble of thunder in the distance and lightning silhouetted the tops of nearby mountains. Esumaro raised his head cautiously. He had been lying face down, where he had fallen, in the middle of an area of some undergrowth. He could hear voices in the distance and he blinked once or twice to clear his eyes. Then he made to get up but found he was quite weak with exhaustion.
He levered himself up on his elbows and manoeuvred himself round to face the dark blustery sea. He was on a grassy knoll above a wide stretch of shoreline that faintly gleamed white with sand. Men were walking along with lanterns held high to illuminate the scene. The stretch of sand was littered with wreckage and bodies. To his right, where he had come ashore, the land rose up and was protected by a rocky coastline against which the Sumerli had been driven aground.
He shook his head to clear it and was about to call out to the men below to announce his presence. Another second and he would have done so. But then he heard a voice calling out in the language of the Eireannach, which he had learnt well during his years of trading with them.
‘This one’s alive, Olcan.’
Esumaro actually saw a man begin to raise a heavy wooden cudgel in the lantern light.
‘Wait!’ Another figure appeared holding a lantern in one hand. ‘Stand him up!’
Figures bent down and dragged a man up into the light. From this position Esumaro could not see the features but it was clear that the figure must be one of his crewmen.
‘Do you understand my language?’ came the voice of the man who had been addressed as Olcan.
The sailor who had survived coughed and tried to find his voice. Obviously he had indicated that he understood for Olcan’s voice came again.
‘What ship?’
There was a pause and the question was asked again more sharply.
‘The Sumerli, from Gaul.’
Esumaro, watching the scene with confusion, recognised Coros’s voice.
‘Gaul? A merchantman?’
‘Aye, sailing out of An Naoned.’
‘What cargo?’
‘Wine, and some gold and silver for the artisans of the abbeys.’
Olcan gave a curious chuckle that sent a shiver through Esumaro’s body.
‘Excellent. Kill him!’
The heavy cudgel descended and the figure of Coros dropped to the beach without another sound.
‘We’ll start salvaging at first light and stack the booty in the tower. Gold and silver, eh? We might have struck lucky.’
One of the men called: ‘Shall I take the lantern off the horse?’
‘That you may. The beast has served us well in luring this ship ashore.’
‘How did you learn that trick?’ The man who had killed poor Coros seemed to be cleaning the blood off his cudgel by wiping it in the sand.
‘Trick? That a lantern fixed to a horse’s head, bobbing up and down, can easily be mistaken in darkness for the light of a ship? Indeed, it is a good enough trick. The master taught me that. Make sure the men stack everything they find in the old tower. We have to be ready to leave soon after first light. We can return for the booty later.’
‘I don’t understand why we cannot stay and make a better job of it, Olcan,’ protested one of the men.
