It would hardly do, he thought as he climbed down the rope ladder into the longboat, to be attacked from the seaward side in the midst of that delicate operation.
Aboard the carrier he fidgeted on the flight deck, ducking out of the way during glider operations. Finally the glider that had been sent north to scout came back, drifting in with butterfly grace until seized by the deck crew.
The aviator climbed out, saying, "Another quarter-hour and I should have been in the sea for want of fuel. My lords, the approaching fleet's indeed that of Dur, as could be ascertained from their sails, cut square in the fashion of the stormy Va'andao."
"How many?" asked Ferrian.
"I counted fourteen of their great ships, plus perhaps an equal number of small craft."
Barnevelt calculated. "If we can keep the Sunqaruma bottled up, that should leave us a margin to deal with Dur."
"You know not the great ships of Dur," retorted Ferrian. "Their biggest galleys are manned by nearly a thousand men, and one of those could destroy a squadron of ours as a man treads bugs under heel. With due respect, therefore, my lord, let's see a demonstration of this preternatural resourcefulness whereof Alvandi told us, lest the setting sun illumine the un-joyous spectacle of you, me, and all our brave people furnishing food for the fondaqa. What, sir, do you command?"
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Food for the fondaqa? Barnevelt pondered, his long chin in his hand. Maybe two could play at that game.
"Tell me," he said. "For nearly an hour your gliders have been dropping things on the Sunqaruma without effect…"
Ferrian replied hotly, "My gliders are the greatest military invention since Qara smote the dames of Varzeni-Ganderan with his magic staff! They'll make us as fearsomely puissant in the arts of Qondyor as the damned Earthmen! But as you say," (he calmed down) "they're not fully perfected. What would you do?"
"How much load do they carry?"
"For a short flight, the equivalent of one man besides the pilot. What's in your mind?"
"We have a lot of water jars in the supply ships. If we dumped half or two-thirds of the water out, they'd weigh about as much as a man—at least the smaller…"
"But wherefore a bombardment of water jars? Though you yerk the nob of one or two foes…"
"But if the jars were full of fondaqa?"
"Hao, now speak you sooth!" cried Ferrian. "We'll cut up the cadavers of the fallen for bait and use those hooks wherewith your sturdy Majburuma seek to claw apart the sea vine… Captain Zair, more ship's boats! Our admiral has an order for the fleet! Yare, yare!"
"But, my lords!" cried Captain Zair with an expression of horror. "The men mortally fear these creatures, and with good reason!"
Barnevelt took a hitch in his mental pants. "Oh, foof! I'm not afraid of them. Get me a thick leather jacket and a pair of gauntlets and I'll demonstrate."
As usual, once he had grasped the basic idea, Prince Ferrian took the bit in his teeth and ran away with it. He rushed about, haranguing everybody to break out fishing tackle, to bend the heads of spears for gaffs, and to get the order to the rest of the fleet.
All this took time. First Barnevelt had to demonstrate how to handle a fondaq without getting bitten, thanking the gods for his experience with Earthly sharks and eels. By the time the crews of the ships along the edges of the weed were hooking, gaffing, and spearing the wriggling, snapping monsters and popping them into water jars, another glider returned to report that the Dura fleet would soon be in sight.
Barnevelt glanced at the high, hot sun. "With this south wind," he told Ferrian, "we should have another hour to get organized. I'm going to divide the fleet and put you in charge of the part sent against the Duruma."
Seeing Ferrian's antennae rise quizzically he added, "Our main weapon against them will be the gliders, which you understand better than anyone. I'm going back to the Junsar because I think when the pirates see most of the fleet going off, they'll try a sortie." He turned to the skipper of the Kumanisht. "Captain Zair, signal all admirals to come here."
A longboat loaded with jars pulled up under the stern of the Kumanisht, the coxswain chanting, "Fish for sale! Nice fresh fish for sale! One bite and ye're a dead carcass!"
The sailors fell to work transferring the jars to the carrier. One of the smaller ships pulled alongside with another load of amphorae. The rows of jars along the flight deck began to grow.
The commanders came aboard, one by one. Barnevelt explained his plans, cutting short arguments. "That's all-carry on."
As he lowered himself into the longboat, hails came from the mastheads of the allied fleet: "Sail ho!" "Sail ho!"
"SAIL HO!"
The Duro fleet had been sighted.
On the Jimsar, the missile fight went on. All the ships were looking battered where catapult bullets had carried away parts of their rails or stove in their deckhouses. One Majburo ship had her mizzenmast knocked over, another her forward catapult smashed, while the decks of the enemy seemed to be heaped with wreckage.
From the Junsar's poop, Barnevelt and Tangaloa watched the main fleet get under way, the big Kumanisht in the middle, the others spread out across the sea in a crescent formation with horns forward. On the horizon, little pale rectangles appeared: the sails of Dur.
After two hours, the men of the Majburo squadron had torn away about half the weed of the plug, which brought them closer to the Sunqaro guard ship and made the fight hotter.
The Majburo admiral said, "My lord Snyol, methinks they make a sally, as you predicted."
Beyond the guard ship, down the channel came the galleys of the Sunqar in double column. Barnevelt could not count them because the hulls of the leading pair obscured the rest, but he knew he was outnumbered. The allied armada was caught between Dur and the pirates as in a nut-cracker.
Tangaloa paused in his motion-picture making to say, "Those blokes will try to make contact with us, then line up, ship to ship, so they can pour an endless supply of boarders into us."
"I know. Wish I could persuade you to wear some armor."
"And if I fell into the water?"
Barnevelt somberly watched the Sunqaruma approach. If he could only think up some bright idea… If the pirates did break through his blockade, would they fall on the allied fleet from the rear or flee to parts unknown? It wouldn't matter to him; he'd be dead.
The noise forward died down. The guard ship's people had stopped shooting in an effort to turn her around so that she should not block the way for her sisters. Her oars moved feebly, leading Barnevelt to guess that most of them had less than their normal complement of rowers.
Barnevelt told the Majburo admiral, "Have 'em stop shooting to clear wreckage, build up the bulwarks, and gather more ammunition. How's it holding out?"
"Well enough, sir, with all the bolts and arrows that prickle my ship like the spines of the irascible 'evashq."
"Lash our six ships together the way I told you and push forward against the plug; And remind the men about that man we want taken alive." Barnevelt felt-his sword edge.
The Majburo ships made fast, all the rowers except those on the outside banks of the outside pair shipping their oars because there was no longer room to ply them. The remaining rowers began to drive this super-catamaran forward, pushing the plug of weed and the crippled guardship ahead of it up the channel.
But soon the two leading pirate ships thrust their rams into the weed from their side and began to push back. Having more oars in use, they halted the movement of the plug and started it back towards the open sea.