02 The Invaders (45 page)

Even as Svengal grabbed a bucket and yelled for his men to start bailing, he knew it was hopeless. He didn’t have enough men to stem the flow of water into the stricken ship. Without help, she was doomed.

And he knew that losing
Wolfwind
like this would break Erak’s heart. His old friend would never forgive him.

The crew of the
Heron
heard the crunching impact of the two ships across the intervening water. Someone groaned, probably without even realizing it, reflecting
Wolfwind
’s agony as the cruel ram savaged her sleek hull.

They saw Svengal’s last-minute attempt to minimize the damage. But as the
Raven
backed slowly away, they could see that the rent in
Wolfwind
’s hull was too big for her reduced crew to handle.

Raven
pulled away from
Wolfwind
, leaving her listing in the water. She would have sunk already, had it not been for the fact that, without mast and ballast stones, she was riding high in the water. But they could all see that she was critically hurt and it was only a matter of time before she went under.

“
Raven
’s turning toward us!” Edvin called from the bow.

Hal had thought that
Raven
would try to escape downwind.
Now he watched her shape foreshorten as the black ship swung to point at the
Heron
. It seemed that Zavac, having dealt with
Wolfwind
, was now seeking to make sure there was no ship left to pursue him. The oars began their steady beat, and a white bow wave formed at the pirate ship’s waterline. As she rose on successive waves, the huge ram could be seen clearly.

Heron
was angled to pass in front of the other ship. Hal crouched at the tiller, peering forward, using the forestay as a reference point. The angle to
Raven
was changing slowly, which indicated that the two ships were not on a collision course. If both ships maintained their current courses and speeds, the
Raven
would pass safely astern of the
Heron
. It would be close, but
Heron
would be safe.

Which was exactly what Svengal had thought, he realized. He narrowed his eyes, watching the rhythm of
Raven
’s oars. Her crew were rowing fast, but he thought they probably had a little in reserve.

Thorn had come aft and was standing close by him.

“Be careful,” he warned.

Hal nodded. “I know.” His gaze was still riveted on
Raven
, watching for the inevitable increase in pace. He glanced quickly forward, to where the inert form of Ingvar lay, wrapped in blankets on the deck by the mast. If only they had thought to reload the Mangler, he thought, he could give Zavac a nasty surprise as the ships drew closer. But then he dismissed the idea. In a tight situation like this, he knew he’d never hand the tiller over to Stig.

There! The oars had increased their rate, almost imperceptibly. But because he was looking for it, he saw it, saw the white bow wave grow a little higher. He crouched, using the forestay as a reference
once more. Now the bearing to the
Raven
remained constant. They were on a collision course and the huge ram was aimed implacably at
Heron
’s heart.

Thorn saw his movement and realized, a few seconds after Hal had done, that the
Raven
had increased speed.

“He’s—”

“I saw it.”

The two ships swept on. Hal’s forehead was creased in concentration and he was aware that every eye in the
Heron
was now on him. If he turned too soon,
Raven
could spin quickly after him and, in these conditions, under oars, catch him before he could gather speed and ram him from astern. To escape, he had to wait till the last moment, letting the other skipper believe he hadn’t noticed the increase in speed, then slip past to safety so they were heading on diverging courses. Zavac would make one attempt, he thought. If Hal could keep his speed up and slip past, it would take too long for the pirate to go about and follow after him. Zavac would like to sink them, but his prime concern was to escape into the gathering darkness.

Raven
was awfully close now. She loomed larger and larger in his vision, rising and falling on successive waves, revealing that awful ram like a huge fang. Thorn shifted nervously beside him. There wasn’t a sound from the
Heron
’s crew.

For one terrible moment, Hal thought he had misjudged the distance. He pushed the sudden panic aside. He was about to cross
Raven
’s bow. He saw Zavac alter course slightly to port, then he shoved the tiller far out, yelling to Ulf and Wulf as he did so.

“Ease the sheets! Now!”

Heron
had been sailing with the port sail hauled in tight. Now, as her head swung to port, the twins cast off the sheets and let the sail right out, with the wind behind it. They surged back the way they had been coming, too late for Zavac to counter their radical change of course. Silently, Hal gave thanks for the fin, and the extra speed and turning ability it gave the
Heron
.

Thorn was right, he thought. Speed and agility are our best weapons.

Zavac tried to match the
Heron
’s turn, hauling on the tiller to bring the bow round at them, but he was too late and the
Raven
’s response was too slow. The two ships slid past each other,
Raven
’s bow actually cutting through the disturbed water of their wake. The crew of the
Heron
cheered wildly as they saw the enraged pirates slipping past them.

At the
Raven
’s tiller, Zavac shook his fist, his face dark with rage. Then Hal saw a sudden panic sweep over the pirate as he ducked hurriedly beneath the bulwark, releasing the tiller as he did so, so that the
Raven
yawed wildly off course, angling still farther away from the
Heron
. A second after Zavac ducked, one of Lydia’s darts hissed viciously through the space he’d occupied, to thud, quivering, into the stern post.

“Missed!” she said in disgust. Then the two ships were past each other and the gap between them was widening.

“
Raven
’s setting sail!” That was Edvin, in the bow. They all looked and saw the vast square sail falling from her crossyard, filling with the wind as her crew sheeted home. She began to gather speed.

Hal watched her, measuring wind and sea conditions. With the
wind over her quarter like this, she was on her best point of sailing. But in these conditions,
Heron
was probably a little faster. All he had to do was turn after her.

“We could be up with her in two or three hours,” he said.

Thorn nodded. But he said nothing. Hal was the skirl. The decision was his.

Hal watched in a frenzy of indecision.
Heron
was set on a course midway between
Raven
and
Wolfwind
. He had to choose. His gaze darted from the
Raven
back to
Wolfwind
, seeing the wolfship lying lower in the water with each minute. If he did nothing, she would sink and her crew would drown—within sight of land.

But the
Raven
was escaping. The
Raven
, and Zavac, with the Andomal, Skandia’s greatest treasure.

She was escaping, and the only chance Hal and his friends had of redeeming themselves, of living a normal life in their home country, lay in going after her. If they didn’t get the Andomal back, they would remain outcasts and pariahs, with no country, no future, no honor. With each minute, the
Raven
was pulling away. Soon it would be dark and he’d lose sight of her. She’d be gone.

And so would any hope for his future happiness. He had to decide. And he had to decide now.

He took a deep breath as he realized there was no decision to make. There was only one course he could follow. No matter what the future held, he would have to live with himself.

“Stand by to come about,” he called. “We’re going to help
Wolfwind
.”

chapter
forty - two

T
hey came about in a smooth curve and began to accelerate toward the stricken wolfship.

“Get buckets and bailers!” Hal shouted. “Anything that’ll hold water! Once we come alongside, get on board
Wolfwind
and start bailing!”

Lydia approached him. “Is there anything I can do?”

He nodded curtly. “Like the rest of them. Get hold of a bucket and bail the water out of her. We have to lighten her or she’ll go down.”

“Is there any way we can plug the hole?” she asked. But her voice was doubtful. They’d all seen the size of the ram on the front of the
Raven
. The hole it smashed in the hull could be anything up to half a meter wide. Hal glanced forward to where Ulf and Wulf were standing by, ready to trim the sheets.

“I’m working on that,” he said. He glanced forward again. They had the port-side sail raised and he could see they would reach
Wolfwind
without needing to tack. Then he raised his voice. “Ulf! Wulf! Cut the starboard sail loose from the yardarm. Bring it with you when we board.”

The twins nodded and reacted as one. Drawing their saxes, they began to cut through the two dozen small loops of rope that attached the sail to the slender yardarm. They bundled the heavy canvas up, ready to take it with them.

They were almost up to the wallowing wolfship now. Hal judged that the moment was right and called for the twins to let the sail fly loose. They coasted on, slowing gradually, until their bow was level with the wolfship’s stern post. Stig was standing in the bow, ready with a length of rope. Hal nodded to himself in approval and gratitude. Stig was the ideal first mate. He didn’t need to be told to do the obvious. As the two ships bumped gently together, he whipped the rope around
Wolfwind
’s stern post and made it fast, tying the two ships together, bow to stern.

We’ll need to cut that in a hurry if
Wolfwind
goes down, Hal thought. Then he tied the tiller off and followed the rest of the crew as they rushed to board
Wolfwind
, buckets and bailers ready in hand. Ulf and Wulf waited for him by the mast, carrying the bundled starboard-side sail between them. Their expressions told him they had no idea what he had in mind, but they were ready to follow his orders instantly.

“Get aboard and go forward!” he ordered, and they followed him as he leapt across the narrow gap between the ships.

Immediately as his feet touched the wolfship’s deck, he could feel how heavy she was with the water she’d taken on board. Whereas
Heron
rose and fell like a seabird on the waves,
Wolfwind
rode sluggishly, feeling as if she were more part of the ocean than riding on it.

He led the way past the frantically bailing members of the two
crews. With extra hands to help, water was going over the side at an increased rate.

Svengal turned to him, a puzzled frown on his face as he saw the sail the twins were carrying.

“Nice of you to come,” he said. “But we don’t have a mast for that.”

Hal pointed forward. “We’ll slip it over the bow, then drag it aft under the hull until it covers the hole,” he said. “It’ll slow the water down.”

Svengal’s eyes widened in understanding.

“Good idea,” he said. He turned and led the way toward the bow, threading his way through the mixed group of Herons and
Wolfwind
crew members, all busy hurling silver showers of water over the side.

They rapidly unfolded the sail, slipping it round the bow post, then let it slide down over the rounded bow until it was set under the hull. Ulf and Wulf took the starboard side. Hal and Svengal took the port side and they dragged the sail back along the hull until they reached the point where the
Raven
’s ram had savaged the
Wolfwind
’s planks.

“Just a moment,” Hal said. He’d seen a discarded shield close to hand. He picked it up and shoved it down between the sailcloth and the hull, positioning it over the jagged hole. Then they hauled the sail tight until it was over the hole, holding the shield firmly in place as a plug. The inrush of water forced the sailcloth into the gaps around the shield.

“Haul it tight!” Hal called, and Svengal and the twins responded, heaving on the lines attached to either end of the sail. The canvas,
heavy, closely woven and impregnated with oil, wasn’t completely waterproof. But, combined with the shield, it served to seal off most of the water.

The torrent flooding into
Wolfwind
slowed to a trickle as they tied off the ends of the sail.

A few of
Wolfwind
’s crew had turned to watch them as they put the sail in place. Svengal roared angrily at them.

“Get back to work!” he bellowed. “We’re not out of the woods yet!”

Startled, they began to shower water over the side again. For a few minutes, there was no appreciable difference. Then, with eighteen people at work, bailing furiously, Hal felt the wolfship begin to lighten. He let out a deep breath of relief. While they’d been working to save the ship, he’d had a niggling worry that their efforts might be in vain and the
Wolfwind
would go under, dragging
Heron
with it. If that happened there would be enough debris and wreckage in the water for people to hold on to and stay afloat, he knew. But the unconscious Ingvar, laid out behind the
Heron
’s mast, would almost certainly drown before anyone could reach him.