“So be it,” the Admiral interrupted, afraid lest the brothers grow boisterous. “Barnes, you will command the Marin.”
“Yes, sir,” the young man said, dutiful more than pleased.
“Meredith,” the Admiral called to the monk, who was sitting atop the mast, examining the horizon for the expected fleets: friend and foe. “Meredith, what is it that I see at twelve mark one hundred and twelve degrees?”
“Let me look a moment, sir,” came back. A minute passed, then it was followed by, “The devil’s doorway, and Satan’s stair! Beelzebub’s back from who-knows-where!”
“Hold your tongue and tell us what it is about,” the Admiral rebuked.
A wine-skin scalp appeared over the sail. “What is it about? It is about the largest fleet I have ever seen.”
“Indeed?” and the Admiral leapt to the rail, holding himself up by the yard arms to gain a clearer view. “What fleet and what size?”
“As for size: over two hundreds ships,” answered the monk. “As for who: some fly the colors of Gylain, others of the Three Kingdoms. Yet the leading ship flies our own colors, those of the Atilta. In all, I can make nothing of it.”
The Admiral grabbed ahold of the yard arms and began climbing the ropes to the mast, reaching the top in a short time. Erwin Meredith was perched on the cross-trees. The Admiral stood beside him, taking the telescope and examining the approaching vessels.
“The enemy approaches with over two hundred ships of war. But the foremost ship is fleeing the others, and though it is of Hibernian build it flies our colors.” He paused. “Who is in it, I cannot tell by sight, though I may by mind. But this I know: if we do not draw the chain, they will perish on the threshold of safety. Yet if we remove the chain the fleet will outflank us and we will lose the wind gage. Still, it must be done.”
“But can we know that it is not a trick, a hoax to lower our defenses?” Meredith asked.
“Yes, for I know who it is.”
“Then, by dollar and denarius, do not force us into impatience!” chorused the Fardy brothers.
“It is Lionel and de Garmia, whom you left behind on account of business. This was the score of which they had to make accounts.”
“Then let the chain be raised,” said Meredith, “I, myself, will lead the effort. But how will we do it, Admiral? We have no more than an hour.”
“The chain is two feet thick and five hundred wide, though as the mouth of the bay is only three hundred across, we have excess on the far coast. It is too heavy to be taken off and then returned in a moment,” the Admiral said.
“Yet the foremost ship is a cruiser: its hull is not as deep as most. We have only to slacken the chain, letting it sink far enough for the ship to pass over before raising it against the pursuing ships.” Meredith grew excited. “The chain already rests in the Treeway, that it cannot be destroyed by land. If we can heave more chain up the tree for a moment, it is done.”
“Very well,” answered the Admiral, “But if time is lost, so is the ship.”
“We will have it done,” Meredith shouted, already in the longboat that rested at the ship’s side. The ropes were cast away and it fell into the water, launching for the shore. Meredith did not need to take men with him, for the platform was garrisoned, as was a small guard station on the ground below.
It was at this time an hour before high noon. The sky was scarred by only a few clouds, but a whole armada came in from the northeast. The ocean was beginning to tremble and the waves to overflow: a powerful storm approached. For an hour, the Admiral paced the deck, watching over the preparations in silence. The men and officers had their orders and he spent most of the time watching those on shore preparing to lower the chain, then quickly raise it again.
“Distance?” the Admiral asked Koon, who had replaced Meredith at the lookout.
“A quarter mile,” the other returned, laughing inexplicably. The sails puffed out as he did.
“Five minutes,” and the Admiral turned to the crew. “Koon, prepare to break formation,” and the other, still a hyena, leapt to the deck to ready the men.
The wind came on like Koon’s laugh, hitting the fleet just a point off the compass. By now, Lionel’s figure could be seen against the battling blues of the sea and sky: he stood on the yard-arms as did the Admiral, his hands grasping the crown above his head. The ship did not change course, but neither did the rebel fleet part to let them pass. Then, just as the ship passed within fifty feet of the chain, the silence died.
“Heave away!” the Admiral roared, “Heave away and break formation!”
The ships parted in the middle by turning sharply away from each other, creating a narrow space between them through which the Hibernian cruiser could scarcely pass. Koon only wheezed with laughter.
At the same instant, Meredith and his men lowered the chain. It was controlled by a platform built between three especially large trees, forming a triangle around the perimeter. In the center stood a massive pulley, with the chain on one side and a boulder on the other. They had drawn the chain up onto the platform, and when the time came lowered it on the opposite side. It was strung through several steel fasteners so it did not drag over the wood.
“Release the chain!” Meredith called out, and he threw himself against the piled chain, sending it over the edge. As it fell, the pressure lessened and the chain over the harbor sank a dozen feet.
As the chain sank, the ship passed over and into the rebel ranks. The rebels gave a hearty cheer to the incoming crew, and the latter returned it, hauling up the stolen crown as their colors. The effect was tremendous. Nothing could be heard over the roar.
Nothing, that is, but the roar of the Admiral.
“Quickly men, close ranks!” the Admiral cried, and the ships were put to work. The masts were unfastened in their cauldrons and swiveled to the right until they sat perpendicular to the wind. At the same instant the sails were turned and the ships juked sideways until they once more covered the entire bay. Then, with the same speed and agility, the masts were reset and the sails set against each other. The ships were once more dead in the water.
Still, Gylain’s fleet came on. The chain was too low to stop them.
“Release the boulder!” Meredith ordered, and it was dropped from its platform to counteract the weight of the chain. But the chain weighed more and the boulder lingered in the air.
“It is too light,” Meredith moaned. He turned his head to catch sight of the enemy fleet. “By Baal and the gods of Moab!” he yelled, “If the boulder does not fall, our fleet is lost, and so our freedom!”
They heaved back on the chain, pulling the boulder further up before releasing it again. But its momentum, while lowering it more, did not make it fall to the ground; and if it did not fall the chain would not be raised. The leading ships were but fifty yards from the chain.
“Look!” cried the lookout, “Look to the forest: a whole regiment emerges, charging with the devil in their eyes! They have run through the forest with their heavy mail and look ready to run us through as well.”
“Then we must hold,” another moaned, “For the others must leave the ramparts to meet them.”
The ships drew nearer.
“Fools, do not curse defeat before it comes!” Meredith rebuked in a passion. “Our comrades are closer to death than ourselves! Heave the boulder once more and I will make sure it falls to the ground!”
The boulder was hoisted again, further than before, and let go without ceremony. It hit the weight of the chain with a bounce, then tottered for a moment, hesitant to fall. Meredith made up its mind for it: he charged to the end of the platform and leapt across the void. He landed firmly on the boulder, his hands grasping a smaller chain that attached it to the larger. It reeled once more, then shot to the ground. Meredith fell with it.
The chain scraped against its fasteners as the pulley brought it upward, until – with a resounding snap – it jumped above the waterline and was taunt. By this time, the enemy ships could not stop or turn aside; they dashed against the chain as if it were a rocky shore. The ships were severed in two as they passed it, the decapitated hulls left to sink into the bay, blocking the passage even more.
Meredith lost his grip in the fall. Because of his narrower form he fell faster than the boulder. He struck the ground an instant before it, then was lost beneath it. The boulder rocked sideways three times, as if landing in a hole, then finally tumbled in. Meredith was entombed beneath it.
Chapter 87
