The cannon thundered again, and another ball climbed into the sky. Again they held their breath, but as the shot rose to its peak, Gar relaxed. “Too high.”
Sure enough, the ball passed right over the ship and splashed up a spout on its far side. They could hear the sailors’ cheers, though faintly at this distance.
“They’re safe.” Gianni relaxed as well. “No cannoneer could hit a ship at such a distance—but for a minute, I thought he could.”
“He can, and he will,” Gar said grimly. “He has their range now, and the next ball will strike home. Can you signal to the men on the ship?”
Gianni stared up at him in alarm—but before he could turn and run to the signal flags, another shot rang out. He and Gar both watched, holding their breath, as the cannonball arced upward, speeding toward the ship, and sailors struggled to spread some more canvas, hoping against hope that they could outrun the shot …
It smashed into their side just above the waterline; the ship rocked, water poured in, and the caravel began to list toward starboard. They could faintly hear the captain shout, and the crew ran for the longboat. The ship shuddered, swinging over so the deck stood at a sharp angle; sailors skidded and fell overboard.
“That one boat can’t hold them all,” Gar snapped, but Gianni was already sprinting away to send out boats from shore.
Even so, he came too late—a dozen small craft were already springing out into the bay. He watched as they grappled the struggling men from the water—and as the distant cannon boomed, its ball arcing high toward the small craft …
Gianni called out, but other men were shouting aboard the boats, and they all pulled away from the wreck quickly. The ball splashed down, showering them with spray and capsizing two. Their neighbors quickly rowed over, hauled out the men, and righted the boats—but two dead bodies floated in the water. Another boat, arriving late, hauled them aboard; then all the small craft dashed for shore as the cannon boomed again. Another ball splashed down, far from the boats near the wreck.
Gianni turned, face flaming with anger, to see Gar coming up. “They didn’t have to do that, Gar! Shooting down the ship I can understand—it’s war, after all. But to fire on rescue boats is foul!”
“But just the sort of thing the lords might think of,” Gar pointed out. “They mean to punish you, after all—and they also mean to make sure you won’t try to save the cargo. I think you might say they’ve made that clear.”
“Very clear—and that ends our confidence about not starving.” Gianni gazed out at the sinking ship, feeling his heart sink with it. “What can we do about it, Gar?”
“Where there is one gun, there could be more,” the giant said slowly, “but if they had more, they would have used them—and if more than one gunner has the knack of firing so accurately, the others would be firing, too.”
Gianni looked up with a gleam of hope in his eye. “Are you saying that if we can destroy that one gun, we can stop worrying?”
“If we also capture that one gunner,” Gar confirmed. “It’s not a sure thing, mind you, but it’s a good chance.”
“Then it’s certainly worth taking! But why capture? Killing him is easier and less chancy—and after that shot at the boats, I don’t see anything wrong with it! We’d rather capture him if we can, I suppose, but—”
Gar interrupted. “I want to talk to him, Gianni. I want to discover where he learned to shoot so well.”
“But to capture him, we’ll have to go ashore!”
“Exactly,” Gar agreed. “How else did you think we could destroy that one cannon?”
Gianni would never have thought of painting his face black. Wearing all black clothes, yes, and a black head scarf, so he and his men would blend into the shadows—but face paint, never. It didn’t help that Gar made it by mixing soot with a little bacon grease. Gianni decided that secret raiding was not a job of good aroma.
They skimmed ashore in three light boats with muffled oars, one man to an oar for speed. Gar leaped out as they grounded and pulled the first boat up on the beach, lifting the prow high to make less noise. The coxswains of the other boats followed his example. His men stepped out onto the sand in silence, their steps muted by the soft leather slippers with thick padded soles; cobblers had worked all day at Gar’s direction, laboring into the night to make enough of them.
Gar waved his raiders forward. Knives in their teeth, they padded into the tree-shaded blackness of a moonless night.
A sentry seemed to materialize out of the darkness on their right, turning about to look, bored and weary—but the boredom vanished from his face when he saw the raiders, not two feet away from him. His pike came up, and his mouth opened to shout the alarm—but Gianni, galvanized by fear, seized him by the throat, choking off the sound. The man thrashed about, dropping his pike to struggle against Gianni’s grip, but another Pirogian slipped around behind him and struck his head with the sand-filled leather bag Gar had invented. The sentry’s eyes rolled up; he folded, and Gianni let go of his neck to catch him by the tunic and lower him to the ground. He looked up at Volio with a nod of thanks, then turned to follow Gar, who gave them a nod of approval, then led them off into the darkness again.
They had landed as close to the gun as possible, but the lords had been so inconsiderate as to place it well back from the shore. Gar led them along a winding route between groups of one-man tents, staying as far as possible from both canvas and watch-fire embers. They prowled silently through the darkness—until a sudden grunt made them all freeze. Gianni flicked a glance at the sound and saw a grizzled, red-eyed soldier pushing himself up from the ground, reeking of stale beer and growling, “Who ‘n hell is goin’ aroun’ …” Then his eyes widened in alarm as his mouth widened to cry out—and the sandbag hit him alongside the head. His eyes closed as he fell back. Gianni stifled a chuckle; the man was likely to remember them all as a drunken nightmare, and nothing more. He looked up at a hiss from the front; Gar waved them on.
They padded after him through the darkness, keeping a wary eye now for sleepers underfoot—until, suddenly, the cannon loomed before them, darkness out of darkness.
Gar held up a hand, and they froze, for there were sentries, one on each side of the gun. Gianni couldn’t help staring—it was far bigger than any cannon he had seen, its platform holding it at eye level. But Gar was gesturing in the hand language he had worked out before they left, and his raiders cat-footed around the huge barrel, just out of range of the watch fire near the sentry.
What it was that gave them away, Gianni never knew—perhaps someone stepped too heavily, or perhaps another stepped too close to the fire, and its light reflected off his eyes. Whatever the clue, the sentry on the far side shouted, “Enemy!” and swung his halberd. A raider cried out in pain, a cry quickly choked off but loud enough to wake the gun crew; then both sentries were howling as they struck about them with their halberds.
Gianni ducked under a swing and came up to strike with his sandbag. The halberd dropped from nerveless fingers, and Gianni caught it up, turning to meet a stumbling attack from muzzy-headed soldiers. His blade sliced flesh; the man shouted in pain, and his companions dropped back, suddenly afraid of the black-clothed demons who had appeared out of the night. The half-minute’s respite was enough for the other raiders to strike down the gun crew. Gianni handed his halberd to Volio and turned to face a gunner who was dressed more elaborately than the others and was shouting for help as he held off the raiders with sword and dagger. Gianni drew his own sword, though it was considerably shorter than the gunner’s rapier, and leaped in, thrusting and parrying. All about him, soldiers went crazy, yelling and attacking as the raiders fought them off desperately, and Gar shoved a canister into the barrel of the gun. Vincenzio slipped up behind the gunner as he fenced desperately with Gianni, still yammering for aid. Vincenzio swung with his sandbag and the man stiffened, eyes wide; then he crumpled, and Gianni stepped in to catch him across a shoulder.