John Norman - Guardsman of Gor

“There is a ship of Ar’s Station!” called out the officer on the stem castle.

There was a cheer at this cry.

We had now come about, but already the galley which had nearly torn us open was facing us.

“She has quick lines,” said a man.

“Why has she not attacked?” asked a man.

“She is waiting for support,” said a man.

“No,” said another. “If we move to the chain, she can ram us amidships.”

“She is defending her sisters,” said a man.

“We can no longer protect the chain,” said another.

But then we saw the galley swinging to starboard. Another galley, one flying the pennons of Port Cos, was speeding towards her.

There was another cheer from our men. “Back to the chain!” called Callimachus, elated.

“Another has slipped over!” cried out a man, angrily, pointing over the bow.

It was free of the chain. We could not catch her. She slipped behind us on the waters of the broad, muddy Vosk.

“How many have passed the chain?” asked a man, glumly.

“Who knows?” asked another.

Here and there, at the chain, again and again, pirate galleys were striking at the great links, and then backing away, and then again, patiently, renewing their attack.

“Doubtless they are hammering at points where they know the chain was weakened in the night,” said a man near me. He had been with me in the longboat last night.

“Yes,” I said: “Look there!”

I pointed to one of the truncated pylons rising out of the river. It had been splashed with yellow paint.

“Catapults!” called Callimachus.

Two stones looped into the air and then, gracefully, began their descent toward one of the pirate ships.

Huge spumes of water rose into the air as the great rocks plunged into the Vosk.

“Bowmen!” called Callimachus.

We neared the first of the galleys and flighted arrows toward her.

She drew back.

“There are others,” said a man.

We moved along the chain. We came upon the wreckage of a pirate galley, broken in two, deserted. It had broken, attempting to ride over the chain.

“There is a pirate galley behind us, a pasang back, lying to!” called out a man, aft on the stern castle.

“We remain at the chain,” said Callimachus.

“It seems to list,” called the man. “I think it is crippled.”

“We remain at the chain,” said Callimachus.

I smiled. He was a good commander. He would not be lured from his post. A ship can be made to seem to list by re-positioning the ballast in its lower hold. If the ship were truly a cripple I did not think it would be lying to. An oared fighting ship is seldom helpless. Too, if the ship were crippled, it posed no immediate threat. And, if it were not crippled, it needed only be kept under observation. Isolated ships can be dealt with on a piecemeal basis. Our duty lay at the chain. He who thoughtlessly abandons his defenses strikes a poor bargain with fortune.

“Look there!” called the officer on the stem castle with Callimachus. He pointed ahead, half a point off the starboard bow.

Callimachus took the glass of the Builders from the officer. “It is the Sita of Point Alfred,” said Callimachus, “and the Tais of Port Cos.”

“They fly distress signals on the stem-castle lines,” said the officer.

“Bring her about,” called Callimachus.

“It can mean but one thing,” said the officer.

Callimachus snapped shut the glass of the Builders.

I could now hear the sound of the horns drifting towards us.

“Acknowledge,” said Callimachus. Flags were run on the stern-castle lines.

I could not interpret the horns.

“What is it?” I called up to Callimachus.

“It had to happen,” he said.

“What?” I asked.

“It happened to the north,” he said.

“What?” I asked.

“The chain has been broken,” he said. I held the rail, looking astern.

The Sita and the Tais were now clearly visible.

“Where are the Talia , the Thenta , the Midice , the Ina , the Tia ?” asked the officer.

“I did not see them,” said Callimachus. He handed the glass of the Builders back to the officer. “Do you see them?” he asked.

“No,” said the man. “No.”

“Quarter stroke,” said Callimachus.

“Quarter stroke!” called the officer to the oar master.

“Quarter stroke!” he called to his men.

The Sita and the Tais were now abeam, to port.

We moved southward, along the chain.

Callimachus descended from the stem castle and made his way back, between the benches, to the stern castle. I accompanied him. He carried the glass of the Builders.

“There were seven ships,” I said. I stood beside Callimachus on the stern castle.

“Perhaps some survived,” he said.

“I see ships,” I said, pointing astern. There were specks at the horizon line, marshaled specks.

Callimachus handed me the glass of the Builders. “Ships of the Voskjard,” I said.

“Yes,” said Callimachus.

“Apparently the Voskjard has more than fifty ships,” I said. I had counted at least forty. And there were several others, I knew, here and there at the chain.

“The information of Callisthenes was apparently mistaken,” said Callimachus. “That is a sore and unwelcome flaw in our intelligence.”

“How many can there be?” I asked.

“I do not know,” said Callimachus. “Sixty, a hundred?”

“We can never match such ships in open battle,” I said.

“Port Cos must fight as she has never fought before,” skid Callimachus.

“They are not hurrying,” I said to Callimachus. I had been counting the strokes per Ehn.

“They do not wish to tire their oarsmen,” said Callimachus. I handed the glass of the Builders back to him.

“Port Cos is the hope of the Vosk,” said Callimachus. “We of Ar’s Station and of the independent ships must support her in her battle.”

“The odds are overwhelming,” I said. “Can she win?”

“She must,” said Callimachus.

“At least she is commanded by men such as Callisthenes,” I said.

“His twenty ships, summoned from the south guard station, will be crucial,” said Callimachus.

“We shall need each of them if we are to make a showing,” I said.

“Without them,” I said, “it would be a slaughter.”

“With them, in spite of the odds,” said Callimachus, “the tide might be turned in our favor.”

“You seem troubled,” I said.

“I am only hoping,” he said, “that the chain has not been cut south of us.”

“We have protected it as well, and as long, as we could,” I said.

“Let us hope that the time which we have invested in that work will prove itself to have been well spent,” he said.

I shuddered. “I shall hope so,” I said. If our fleet did not have time to group, or if our flank were turned, it would be indeed a tragic day for our forces upon the Vosk. The planks of our fleet might litter the river to the wharves of Turmus.

“Have you orders for me?” I asked.

“Sharpen your sword,” he said. “And get what rest you can.

“Yes, Captain,” I said. I turned away from Callimachus.

“Do you look forward to the fight?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, not turning to regard him.

“That is interesting,” said Callimachus.

“Is it significant?” I asked.

“Perhaps,” said Callimachus.

“What does it mean?” I asked.

“Do you think you will be able to sleep before the engagement?” he asked.

“Of course,” I said. “Why? Are these things significant?”

“What do you think?” he asked.