Culin grasped his wrist sharply and Samir looked down and then across at the councillor in surprise, his words immediately forgotten.
“What?”
“Our pursuers! They’re almost on us. It’s not over yet.”
In which the brothers are beleaguered
Samir rushed to the port rail, cursing himself. He’d been concentrating so hard on catching and dealing with the Hart’s Heart that he’d paid scant attention to the vessel that had broken the line to pursue them. It had been unclear initially whether the captain of this last operational pirate vessel had been planning to launch an attack on them or try to flee past them to Lassos.
The latter course of action was no longer open to them anyway, given the fact that, of the two compasses that existed and could navigate the reefs, one was now at the bottom of the sea among the rocks and the other was on board Samir’s ship. Regardless, the objective of the pirates appeared to have been Samir and his men from the start. Rather than making course for the narrow channel that led into the reef or pulling about after the Hart had disappeared, the pursuers were bearing down on Samir at a surprising speed, both billowing sails and splashing oars bringing them to a ramming speed.
Samir eyed the iron spike on the ship’s prow; not the work of destructive art that adorned Faerus’ ship, but enough to punch a hole in the side of the Redemption and cripple her. Samir’s mind raced. They had a minute at most. Given their own ponderous speed since they’d come to a stop to fire the strange package among the rocks, presenting their portside to the enemy in the process, there simply was not enough time to get the ship out of the way. Their only hope, then, was to stop the enemy before they managed to ram.
He shook his head angrily. How the hell could they do that?
Turning, he saw Saja and Culin deep in panicked discussion, while Ghassan desperately shouted orders to the crew, trying to get the Redemption moving and out of the way of the ship bearing down on her.
“We’ve got to stop her! Ideas… come on!”
Saja and Culin glanced around at him as they argued, but neither looked hopeful.
“Ghassan?”
Samir looked across the command deck at where his brother had been only a moment earlier, shouting out commands. Now, however, there was no sign of him. Squinting, Samir cast his eyes around the ship and finally spotted Ghassan racing up the steps to the artillery platform amidships.
Running after him, Samir shook his head. There would only be time to get one shot off, and there wasn’t time to prime a fire shot. They might do a little damage, but not enough to stop them. As he reached the foot of the steps climbing up to the artillery castle, the lead casket still lying open nearby, he clambered up to see Ghassan in deep conversation with the young artillerist, waving his arms to illustrate some point he was making.
Samir stopped, panting, at the top of the steps and Ghassan turned to him, a look of quiet determination on his face. Behind him, two artillerists loaded heavy solid shot into the catapult.
“Ghassan? What are you up to? There’s no time for this.”
Ghassan nodded absently.
“There is. There’s time for one shot. Just pray that it’s enough and that your men are that good.”
Samir frowned at his brother and, as the artillerists began to line up the catapult, tightening the ropes a last few turns and checking their trajectory, he and Ghassan leaned over the wooden battlements and watched the scene unfold, their breath held.
The enemy ship was perhaps half a minute from them and still on a ramming course, having to adjust only a few degrees occasionally as the Redemption slowly slid forward.
“Gods, I hope you’re right, Ghassan.”
They stared bleakly at the ever closing bow of the enemy ship with that horrific iron spike, the oarsmen heaving like they’d never rowed before to achieve a crippling ramming speed. Samir closed his eyes tight and held his breath.
‘Crack’.
Behind them, the artillerists let loose the only shot they would have time for.
Samir opened one eye as the great, heavy shot sailed over their heads on a remarkably low trajectory. For an artillerist to manage such a low and straight shot from a catapult was a remarkable enough feat, let alone with the perfect precision targeting that the shot displayed.
Through his squinted eye, Samir saw the shot hit the banks of oars on the port side of the enemy vessel, smashing and shattering them and bouncing along the shafts, cracking and breaking more as it disappeared with dreadful momentum down the side of the ship and disappeared into the water with a loud splash.
Samir blinked. Just as he’d once done to Ghassan’s ship! One carefully aimed shot had removed almost half the rowing power on the enemy’s port side, the remaining oars on that side now disjointed and out of time, in chaos.
The effect was immediate and astounding.
With little forward motion on the port oars, while the starboard banks ploughed on as fast as they could and the sails billowed with the wind, no amount of rudder control at the rear could stop the ship turning. The men of the Imperial ship Redemption watched with fascination as the enemy vessel slewed wildly to port, momentum still carrying it forward at a strange quarter angle.
Samir barely had time to take it all in before he realised what was coming next. The ramming spike had skewed left and out of line with its target, but nothing was going to stop the two ships colliding under the circumstances.
“Brace!” he bellowed and, grabbing tight hold of the artillery fortification, ducked to floor level.
The enemy vessel hit them at that quarter angle, the timbers of both ships crashing and breaking, amidships for Redemption and to starboard of the forward deck on the pirate vessel. The damage was far from fatal for either, but the crews of both ships were shaken, those who were not fully braced being swept from their feet. A number of screams and splashes from various directions announced men overboard among both crews.
The Redemption listed frighteningly following the impact, slowly righting itself as men were hurled from the rail. Similar events appeared to be occurring among the pirates.
Ghassan grasped Samir and the two hauled themselves back up to the crenellated top of the fortification.
“We’re not out of the shit yet, Samir” Ghassan breathed heavily. “You’ve got a skeleton crew at best now, while they’re fully manned.”
Samir nodded, biting back an undeserved retort. Ghassan was right. The men on his ship were brave and among the best he’d ever seen, but the odds would be three or four to one, and no amount of heart was going to even that out.
“I’m not letting them have the Empress, Ghassan.”
“The Redemption, Samir.”
The smaller brother shot an irritated look at his sibling.
“If things get too bleak, make sure you throw that compass over the side. That has to be the end of it.”
Ghassan nodded soberly and Samir turned and cupped his hands around his mouth.
“To arms. Prepare to board!”
Ghassan stared at his brother.
“Board? Are you mad? We should be trying to repel them. You don’t try and board a ship that outnumbers you by four men to one!”
“Indeed,” replied Samir, “which is why it’ll throw them completely off track!”
Behind them, the men of the Redemption drew their weapons as they picked themselves up from the deck and clambered across the wreckage toward the rail.
“Samir, they’ll die.”
“Better to go out trying than cowering, Ghassan. I’m leaving you in charge of the Redemption and the compass. You know what to do when things get too bad.”
