Brotherband 4: Slaves of Socorro (23 page)

Hal relayed that information to Stefan, who peered more closely at the fleeing wolfship.

‘There’s some kind of structure there,’ he said. ‘I’d say that’s what it is.’

‘All right,’ Hal said to himself, coming to a decision. ‘Stig! We’ll go about and I’ll bring you in astern of her, on her starboard side, at an angle. Place your shot along the line of rowers. But avoid the structure they’ve built aft of the mast. That’s where the prisoners are kept.’

Stig held up a hand to show he understood. A bolt that raked the line of rowing benches, killing or disabling two or three rowers, would throw the other ship into total confusion.

‘You’ll get time for two shots,’ Hal continued. ‘Then I’ll bear away to the left and we’ll turn back in and hit the port side rowers. All right, positions, everyone! We’re coming about . . . now!’

Hal swung the bow to the right.
Heron
crossed directly into the wind, faltered slightly, then her momentum kept her turning and she was past the eye of the wind and swinging with increasing speed to the right. The newly raised sail filled with another of those deep
whoomphs.

‘She’s turning!’ Stefan shouted.

All eyes flew to
Nightwolf
. She had swung ninety degrees to head due south, as if she had been waiting for them to tack before making her move. Hal looked quickly to the west. The Araluan coast was much closer now. He could see breakers smashing white against the cliffs and headlands.

‘Realised his mistake,’ Thorn said. Then he smiled in fierce satisfaction. ‘But it’s too late. We’ve got him. He can’t slip away now.’

Hal shook his head, puzzled at the other ship’s sudden change in tactics. Nothing that Tursgud had done in the past hour had made any sense – and he knew that the other skirl, while he might be arrogant, cruel and a braggart, was not stupid. So why had he –

‘Rocks! Dead ahead! Rocks!’

Stefan’s voice rose into a panicked scream as he pointed straight ahead of the ship. Hal cursed and shoved desperately on the tiller. Thorn leapt to his side and pushed as well, adding his strength and weight to Hal’s. The bow began to swing to port – slowly, then with increasing speed.

‘Let go the sheets!’ Hal shouted in the same instant. The twins reacted without hesitation, showing the value of the training for emergencies that the crew carried out over and over again. The sail bellied out instantly as they cast loose the sheets and all the harnessed power that it contained was released. The ship, which had been heeled over under the pressure of the wind in the sails, suddenly came upright, rolled a little the other way, then rolled back, finally losing way and lying rocking in the swell.

Stig had leapt from his seat behind the Mangler and joined Stefan in the bows. He pointed left, then right.

‘Rocks! All round us! We’re in a shoal! There’s another!’

Realisation dawned on Hal and he stared furiously at the dark blue wolfship, barely three hundred metres away.

‘Down sail!’ he called, and Jesper and the twins lowered the yardarm and gathered in the flapping, thrashing sail. He looked at
Nightwolf
again and saw she was turning once more, swinging to the west as she threaded her way through the rocks and reefs and shallow water.

‘He must know a channel through these shoals,’ he said bitterly.

‘Can’t we follow him?’ Lydia asked.

He shook his head in exasperation. ‘We’re too far away to see the exact path he’s taking. And it’s a pretty tricky path. Look, he’s turning again.’

Nightwolf
had turned further west, then turned south again. Obviously, somebody on board knew this patch of reefs and shoals intimately.

‘But how can he know where to go?’ Edvin asked, frowning in puzzlement. ‘He’s never sailed here before.’

Hal rounded on him, venting his pent-up frustration on the unfortunate youth.

‘I don’t know how he knows!’ he shouted. ‘But obviously, he
does
! Maybe he bought a chart from someone. Or maybe one of his crew has been here before. Does it really matter how he knows? He knows!’

‘All right,’ said the chastened Edvin, backing away a pace. ‘He knows.’

Hal took a deep breath and calmed down a little. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered to Edvin, who shrugged and said nothing. He could understand his skirl’s frustration.

‘So what do we do now?’ Thorn asked.

Hal chewed his lip for a second or two before coming to a decision.

‘We row,’ he said. ‘Two oars only and we’ll try to pick our way through. Stig and Stefan, guide us through. Yell out when you see rocks ahead. Ulf and Wulf, you take the oars.’

The twins scrambled into their rowing benches and ran out their oars. They began to row and, slowly,
Heron
began to thread her way through the maze of rocks and shoals that surrounded them.

Stig and Stefan continually called for course corrections. Once, they scraped agonisingly along the jagged edge of a rock, which scored a deep scar in the ship’s planks. In this way, they plodded on, several times having to back water and reverse completely as they went up blind alleys in the reefs.

The lookouts were hoarse from their frantic cries warning of rocks up ahead. And all the while,
Nightwolf
was continuing to thread her confident way through the reefs, growing smaller by the minute.

Hal glanced at the western horizon. Night would soon be on them and they couldn’t continue like this once it was dark. Already, Stig and Stefan were having trouble making out the runnels of white water and disturbances and whorls on the surface that indicated a rock just below. They couldn’t follow
Nightwolf
any further. And they couldn’t pick their way out to open water without risking tearing the bottom out of the ship.

Reluctantly, he faced the inevitable.

‘We’re going to have to anchor for the night,’ he said bitterly. ‘Stop rowing, boys.’

Ulf and Wulf shipped their oars. After a quick look at Hal, Jesper and Edvin moved to the bow and heaved the huge stone anchor over the side with a splash. The cable ran out, then came taut as the anchor held, checking them against the tide and current.

They had one last glimpse of
Nightwolf
moving south, mocking them, as the sun sank in a last flare of light, and darkness spread over the water.

T
hey spent an anxious night anchored among the rocks and reefs. As the tide turned,
Heron
swung with it, moving in a giant arc. Once, they heard a nerve-rattling grating sound as she brushed against the very top of a rock, and felt a slight jarring sensation in the souls of their feet.

‘Haul her in!’ Hal ordered, and willing hands sprang to the anchor cable, hauling it in shorter, and moving the ship away from the danger below.

Anxiously, Hal leaned over the side, tying to assess the damage. Edvin leaned with him, holding a blazing torch, and Hal could just make out a deep gouge in the planks by the waterline. He organised a lookout roster in the stern – which was the part that was swinging, as the ship was anchored by the bow. He had the lookouts equipped with shielded torches so that the shields masked the glare from the eyes of the watchers, throwing more light outward.

‘Look out for rocks, eddies in the water – anything that might indicate a rock. Yell if you see one and we’ll haul in further on the cable.’

He relieved the lookouts every hour. On three occasions, as the tide fell, they had to haul the ship to a new location as it swung close to rocks. Around ten in the evening, Edvin broke out supplies from his limited stocks and they made a frugal meal of bread, cheese and water. He had four apples in his larder as well and they cut them up and shared them around, enjoying the tart bite of the juice and the crunch of the crisp flesh.

Dawn found the crew sleeping fitfully – all except the lookouts and Hal. He was leaning on the bulwark, stony-faced, staring to the south with red-rimmed, sleepless eyes. He’d been in that position hours earlier, when Lydia had left him to turn in for the night. She doubted that he’d moved in the intervening time.

The crew, as they woke, watched him warily, for the most part giving him a wide berth. But Edvin approached him, yawning and knuckling his eyes.

‘Sea’s calmed down,’ he said. ‘I could light a fire now and make coffee.’

Hal looked around, as if noticing for the first time that the short, steep waves that had sprung up around midnight, setting
Heron
plunging and rearing at her anchor cable, had died away. She rode the water calmly and evenly.

‘Good idea,’ he told Edvin. Then he turned away and continued his vigil to the south, as if hoping for some sight of
Nightwolf
.

The heady smell of coffee soon permeated the air and the crew’s spirits rose a little. Thorn took his mug of the hot, sweet beverage, and settled back against the mast, a piece of flat bread balanced on his holding hook. He sipped the coffee and smacked his lips. Then he sighed appreciatively.

‘Aaah! That’s excellent!’ he said. He took a bite of bread, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Well,’ he said, after a pause of a few seconds, ‘I suppose you can’t win ’em all.’

He showered those close to him with breadcrumbs and fragments as he spoke. Thorn had never learned the finer points of eating politely – such as keeping one’s mouth shut while doing so.

There were a few grunts of agreement from the crew, in spite of the fact that all of them were smarting from having let Tursgud escape in the night. But, as they reasoned, there was nothing that could be done about it. Much as they disliked it, they were prepared to accept the inevitable.

Except for Hal.

He was leaning back against the bulwark, a few metres away from the others, nursing a cup of coffee. Edvin had offered him a piece of bread, but he had waved the food away.

‘Who says we’ve lost?’ he asked.

Silence fell at his words. He looked around the surprised faces of his crew members. They had all assumed that Tursgud had given them the slip.

‘Who says it’s over?’ he asked again, challenging them.

Stig made an uncertain gesture and rubbed his chin awkwardly.

‘Well, you know, Hal . . . he’s gone, hasn’t he?’ he said finally. A few of the others nodded, although they were loath to meet Hal’s gaze. Looking at them, Hal saw that only two people seemed to agree that it wasn’t all over: the Ranger, and Lydia.

‘And we know where he’s gone, don’t we?’ Hal went on. ‘He’s given us the slip for the moment, but we know where we can find him again. Am I right?’

Again, Stig hesitated.

‘Well, yes. But . . . you know . . .’ He stopped again, not sure what it was that Hal should know. He looked at his friend and saw the stubborn set of his mouth and the determination in his eyes.

Thorn intervened. ‘Hal, we all understand. You’re angry because it was Tursgud who got the better of you. But it might be time to let that go. Don’t let the personal side of things cloud your judgement.’

Hal switched his gaze to the older man – his close friend for so many years.

‘Yes, I’m angry because it was Tursgud. That goes without saying. But I’m even angrier that I didn’t see through his scheme. I put you all in danger by charging in after him. I should have thought, when I saw he was heading west, that he was up to something. But instead of stopping to think about it, I let my personal dislike for Tursgud take over and nearly piled us up on the rocks.’

He looked round at the others, who were standing in a semi-circle, facing him, shifting awkwardly from one foot to another.

‘You all heard me!’ he said. ‘I was so busy telling Stig exactly where I wanted him to shoot, so darn sure I could put him in just the right position, that I nearly sank us.’ He nodded his gratitude to Stefan. ‘If it hadn’t been for Stefan, we’d all be washing ashore, face down, on the next tide.’ He looked again at Thorn. ‘That’s why I’m angry, Thorn. Because my ego and my personal feelings got in the way of my good judgement, and I nearly killed all of us.
That
makes me angry. But with myself, not Tursgud.’

He paused to let that message sink in. He saw that some of the crew were accepting it reluctantly. They were accustomed to looking up to Hal, to trusting his judgement and uncanny instincts as a navigator and helmsman. And it was that trust that made it all the more difficult to bear the fact that he had nearly let them down.

‘But let’s look at the facts. Tursgud has turned rogue. He nearly killed the crew of the
Hirondelle
, he’s taken twelve innocent villagers prisoner and he plans to sell them in the slave market. And we know he’s going there. So we know where to find him. If we let this opportunity slip through our fingers, we’ll never know where he’s got to – until we hear of another village where young men and women have been abducted. Or we find another ship sinking, with its crew left to drown. And by then it might be too late to help them. I say we go after him now. It’s the last thing he’ll expect us to do.’

For a moment, nobody said anything. They thought about what he said and saw the sense of it. Slowly heads began to nod. It was the Ranger Gilan who broke the silence.

‘I think you’re right,’ he said. ‘You know where he’s going. He doesn’t know that you know. As far as he’s concerned, you may well have ended up on the rocks last night. As I see it, you won’t get a better chance to go after him. You could wait months before someone gave you a tipoff and told you where he was. But now you know. I say we should go after him.’