But it wasn’t going well there, at all. We emerged into thickening mists yellowed with powder smoke, and a fearful yelling furore, a wall of clashing figures surging this way and that. Out of it burst Jyp, and all but grabbed us as we slammed-to the hatch and dogged it down. ‘No more?’ he rasped, hoarse with shouting and smoke. ‘Okay, let’s get the lead out, let’s be movin’ –’
‘Where?’
‘Back to the brig, whaddya think?’
‘No!’ I yelled. ‘We found her, she’s there! Another few minutes – more men –’
‘Like hell!’ he yelled back. ‘We’re losin’em by the minute already!’
‘Listen, we’re bloody well not just leaving her –’
‘We can’t do anything else! See sense, Steve! We were holding this end t’give you folks below time, but we can’t last out! There’s just too goddam many of ’em, boiling out of every crack like cockroaches! Must’ve been packed in tighter’n a Portugee slaver!’
‘Pierce – the rescue party –’
‘They’re cutting loose that goddam mast! Now will you kindly –’ But I never got the choice. From out of the mists came a sudden roar and a single anguished shout of ‘They come!’, and then the line shattered suddenly into little struggling knots of men.
‘Hold together, Defiants!’ howled Jyp. ‘Don’t get encircled! Group, and cut your way to the side! Quick as you can! Damn the goddam torpedoes!’
Then the Wolves were on us too, and we were fighting for our lives. With only that enormous sword I might have been in trouble, but there was no room here for science, it was stick together and hack and slash with a vengeance at any Wolf that got in the way, yelling incoherent insults and spitting when those ran out. It took a century or so to reach that rail, and left us a pack of gorecrows, our blades and our limbs sticky with carrion. All along the side our men and women were spilling back to the Defiance, and we didn’t stand on ceremony but swung ourselves off that gloomy flank and back down with the rest. I didn’t see too clearly, the smoke maybe, but I think I was crying as my feet slapped back on our deck.
It wasn’t over, though. ‘That goddam mast –’ shouted Jyp.
‘Almost away!’ roared Pierce, as axes thumped into the tangle of cordage amidships. ‘All hands to fend off, and lively! All hands!’ Men were still leaping back off the Chorazin, while pistol shots cracked and whined above our heads, keeping the Wolves back from the rail. I saw the Stryge’s girl caught by one arm, turn and rake her nails across the Wolf’s ham features, leaving gouges that smoked like flung vitriol; she leaped free and landed lightly, running to the Stryge’s side, where Fynn already squatted in his human shape. Then there was a sudden explosive fizz and a sullen, thudding bang, and the broken mast, blown free, swung violently, tore through the Chorazin’s rigging and went crashing down in havoc on its deck. ‘Fend off!’ Pierce bellowed, and the crew rushed to the side and snatched up anything they could, from boathooks to handspikes and fallen muskets. I got one of the ten-foot gun rammers, and as Pierce shouted ‘Heave!’ we all strained against the black timbers above. Quite suddenly, with a rattle and crash of falling debris, they slid away, and the heavy mists leaped like spray between us, tinged suddenly with gold.
I stood there numbly watching it, forgetting the shouts and shots that still flew between us. But it wasn’t over yet. ‘Guns!’ yelled Jyp’s voice through the boiling mist. ‘To the guns, all hands! Load and run up, port and starboard both! We’ve got to keep ’em off!’ Before I knew it I was heaving on tackle with other smoky scarecrows, leaping aside as the gun came trundling back, and snatching up the rammer again, thankful I’d got some idea what to do watching them earlier. Thrusting those wads in was harder than it looked, but at last the shot was home, I plucked out the pole and threw my weight on the tackle with the rest as the gun ran up. From out in the fog came an echoing splash, and I saw the ghastly lanterns swing slowly around.
‘She’s cleared our spars, sir!’ shouted the mate, leaping down from the rigging. ‘Coming about –’
‘Port guns!’ shouted Pierce before he’d finished. ‘Fire as you bear!’
We jumped back, hands to ears, as the broadside erupted, and we were so close that we heard the smash of timbers as the shot struck, and saw one of the lanterns dissolve to fragments. But just as quickly we ducked down as an answering thunder shook the mist. Shattered spars and blazing canvas came raining down on our heads, and the foretopmast snapped in half. ‘Chop that wreckage loose! Gun crews, back and load!’ screamed Jyp. ‘Fast! Faster, or they’ll have us! We’ve gotta keep ’em off! Teach ’em it’s not worth their time!’
Again and again, with relentless rhythm, we ran those guns back and loaded, until my weary arms would hardly lift the rammer – how often I don’t know, or how long it took. Only minutes, probably; but I was past telling. Gunsmoke thickened the mists around us, flame and sparks blinded us, the constant jarring explosions left us quivering and numb.
‘Pound’em, lads, pound’em!’ howled Pierce as we sprang to reload, but when he suddenly hesitated, and then bellowed ‘Cease firing!’ we hardly understood. Some crews went on reloading almost automatically, faltered and ran down, peering in bewilderment. The wreathed gunsmoke seemed to gather and rear up, and then a sharp cool gust tore through it, parted the fog to reveal a dazzling dawn, the air clear and fresh and thrilling with light, the sky blue and bright and hard-edged as glass, fringed with flecks of cloud like ermine; beneath it, only ocean.
Real ocean, blue-green sea, rolled gently beneath us, its long, slow swell lifting us almost apologetically, its whitecaps spilling softly along our hull. Then Jyp, on the quarterdeck above, gave a shout, and pointed. Far away, halfway to the horizon, a dark shape rode, and it seemed to my exhausted eyes that some mists still clung about it like a shielding hand. A weary cheer went up from the crew; I couldn’t blame them, for it must seem to them that, even if they hadn’t beaten their unexpectedly strong enemy, they’d sent the Wolves running with their tails between their legs. But I knew better, and so, by their faces, did the others on the quarterdeck as I climbed unsteadily up.
‘Why should they risk a longer fight?’ Jyp was saying. ‘We came too close that time already. They’ve got their prize, and they’re safeguarding it. We’re left dismasted, doubly, and helpless as a baby.’
Pierce snorted. ‘Ach, never despair! We’ll jury-rig some repair, to be sure –’
‘And then?’ I demanded.
It was Mall who answered, heavily. ‘Limp to the nearest port – if we’re thus lucky. I’m sorry, Stephen. There’s no more we can do.’
Chapter Seven
Unbelieving, I looked from her to the receding wisps of mist that trailed like a wake in the air towards the empty horizon.
‘You don’t – you can’t mean –’ Dry sand clogged my mouth, choked me. I stared wildly around the quarterdeck. On the companionway below Stryge sat hunched, Fynn and the dark girl beside him, gazing up at him, their heads laid doglike upon his unclean knees; his gloved fingers, still spotted with darkening blood, idly stroked their hair. The thought of that cruel magic revolted me, but I fought down my qualms.