David Drake - Tyrant

"Nothing else for us to do, really," Jessep continued. "Thicelt's an excellent shiphandler, as he's made obvious by now." He nodded in the direction of one of the soldiers lying on the deck. "My nephew Uther's as good a First Spear as any you'll find, and he's led at least four boarding operations that I know about. Other than that. ." He winced slightly.

"Other than that, there's the question of what my hot-blooded and eager young brother wants to do."

At the moment, judging from the evidence, what Trae mainly wanted to do was curse the fates. Such, at least, was Helga's interpretation of his grimaces and gestures. The words themselves were difficult to follow, since there really weren't too many strung together in coherent clauses.

Eventually, as the string of swear words shortened, she was able to make some sense of it. Trae, it seemed, was most unhappy with the decision to end the long stern chase.

By then, he was standing in front of Helga herself and making his sentiments known.

"Dammit, Helga, I wanted to try them out! How in the name of all that's holy am I supposed to get any experience with the guns if — if — you stupid idiot!" His arms were waving about rather wildly now. "Turn the ship back around! I was just about to set the clamps!"

Yunkers hesitated, apparently reluctant to get into a fierce argument with a Demansk scion. Helga, for whom Trae was simply a younger brother, had no such compunction.

"If your precious guns are so finicky they can only be used under perfect conditions," she snarled, "then we might as well have left you behind."

As always, an attack by his older sister brought out the imp in Trae.

"You're just being nasty because these stupid pirates are getting in the way of your rut. For shame. Mother brought you up properly, too. Tried to, anyway."

"You're right," she snapped. "I want to get laid — it's been almost a year, dammit — and these freebooters are not what I had in mind for the purpose." She stared down her younger brother for a few seconds, daring him to carry the jest any further.

Not even Trae was that bold. "Okay," he muttered, reaching up and scratching his head. "Let me think. ."

He gave the upper bank of rowers a brief study. "Oarlocks'll get in the way," she heard him mumble, "but even so. ."

Trae turned back and looked at Thicelt. "How soon before the pirates lay alongside will you order the oars in?"

Thicelt glanced at the pirate ship. "No way to avoid them now, so any ship captain would already be starting to think in terms of repelling boarders. How much time do you need?"

"Two minutes," came Trae's immediately reply. "Three would be better."

Thicelt shook his head. "Three minutes is too long. In these seas, we'd be wallowing the gods know which way by then. Even two is pushing it. But I can manage that by keeping a third of the oars going until the last minute." Again, he glanced at the pirate ship. "Whatever you're going to do, do it quick. There are archers and slingers on that ship. They'll be starting to bombard us with missiles once they get within fifty yards."

"Fifty yards," sneered Trae. "My guns can—"

"Not on a tossing ship they can't," said Jessep softly. "This isn't like missile fire on land, young sir. You'll be lucky to hit anything until they're almost alongside."

Trae looked a bit startled. For all that he and his gunners had practiced setting the tripod clamps for the arquebuses, they hadn't actually fired any shots so far on the voyage. Trae had wanted to save his ammunition, since he had no way of knowing if he'd be able to replenish it in the Southron lands.

"Of course," added Jessep, "the same applies to the pirates. Most of their arrows and sling bullets will go wild also. All of this missile firing before a boarding operation is mostly show anyway."

The implied insult caused Trae's face to darken a little. Still, he was wise enough not to snarl a rejoinder. Trae understood full well that he and his beloved gunners had yet to prove themselves in action. Brash he might be, but not even Trae was cocky enough to boast about feats he hadn't accomplished yet.

"Make sure you set them up on the lower bank only," interjected Thicelt. He jerked his head toward the pirate ship, which was now not more than two hundred yards away. "As low as that galley is, all of our soldiers will still be boarding from the upper deck. No other way to do it, since that's how the special bridges are designed."

"Pain in the butt, that," growled Jessep. "Having to charge down a steep ramp — loaded with shield and armor and assegai — even leaving aside the fact that we haven't tested the damn contraptions." He gave Thicelt a look which was not entirely filled with admiration. "Wish we had some simple old-fashioned claws."

By "claws," Helga knew, Jessep was referring to the traditional boarding ramps used by the Confederate army in their favored method of naval operation. The "claws" were nothing more complicated than wide planks, held upright and fit into prepared hinges along the rails just before action. And with spikes at the other end, which would drive into the wood of an opposing vessel when the planks were pushed over.

But there had simply been no way to adapt the demibireme to that tactic, which presupposed the large war galleys of the Vanbert regular navy. Instead, what Thicelt had done was redesign portions of the upper deck — already designed to be removed in the event of action — so that they would collapse down onto an enemy vessel alongside. He'd even added fittings for small spikes which could be inserted at the last minute. Those adaptations had not been the least of the cost to her father of getting this ship ready for her voyage.

The end result would be boarding ramps not much different from claws. In theory, at least. But like almost all soldiers, Jessep was conservative when it came to mayhem. The tried and true methods are best, and be damned to the fancy schemes of amateurs.

"They'll work," said Thicelt firmly. "We've tested them plenty of times."

Jessep left unsaid the obvious rejoinder: not in a real battle, you haven't. There was simply no point now in arguing about the matter. Thicelt's complicated boarding ramps would work or they wouldn't. Either way, Jessep was obviously not concerned about the outcome— a crack Vanbert hundred against twice their number of mangy pirates? surely you jest! — but simply the casualties. With proper claws, the Confederate marines would turn the pirate crew into so much ground meat. With these new-fangled things. .

He sighed heavily. "Whatever happens will happen. And now, young sir, you'd best get to it. You don't have much time left."

Trae was gone instantly, shouting orders to his gunners waiting on the deck below. The gunners began scurrying to their newly-designated posts. Helga was a bit puzzled to see how easily they seemed to interpret Trae's orders. Most of the words her younger brother was shouting were simply obscenities.

"That much he's got right," growled Yunkers. The former First Spear grinned at Helga. "Trained soldiers pretty much know what to do anyway. You just have to cuss at 'em to keep their brains working."

* * *

Afterward, Trae and his men would be able to boast endlessly. Which, to the regret of everyone else, they did.

The pirate vessel, as Thicelt predicted, had no difficulty eluding the demibireme's ramming attempt. Then, as the one-and-a-half slid by, the pirates pulled feverishly on their oars to close the distance. The one and only benefit of the ramming attempt was that it kept most of the pirate archers and all of their slingers out of the action. There was no room on that crowded vessel, with hundreds of men working at huge oars, for more than a handful of archers to fire a few missiles. Most of which, as Jessep had foreseen, went astray anyway.