Robert Redick - The Rats and the Ruling sea

He gave her a look that was almost deranged, then turned to Rose. 'As for your question, Captain Sir: you really ought to be asking Thasha, not me. She's good with tactics. But I'll tell you right now: ghosts or no ghosts, there's something wrong with a man who sits here tormenting people, just because he's realised that he can't outrun his enemy. That's cowardice, that is. Not that you'll ever admit it.'

No one at the table breathed. Thasha tensed herself for the fight of her life. Pazel had gone mad, Rose and Oggosk already were, and any sort of violence seemed possible. She'd lost her knife, she'd have to use things on the table, the serving fork, a shard of a plateThen Rose did the last thing on earth she expected. He laughed. A smile grew in the red thicket of his beard, looking like something transplanted from a merrier man. 'Outrun,' he said. 'Outrun.'

He raised his eyes to the skylight above the table, and the laugh grew until his great bulk fairly shook with mirth. And as he finished laughing the room suddenly darkened, for a heavy cloud had eclipsed the sun. At almost the same moment, on the quarterdeck, Mr Fiffengurt began to shout:

'Wind's turning! The wind's turning right about! Inform the captain, that's a north-easter blowin' in!'

A great commotion began overhead, and Rose put his hands on the table and heaved to his feet. Lumbering to his desk, wine in hand, he flipped open a speaking-tube and bellowed:

'South south-east, Mr Elkstem, and all the sail she'll bear. Full crews to their guns. I'm on my way.'

He drank the wine in a gulp and wiped his mouth.

'Back to the quarterdeck, Lady Thasha. And you, Pathkendle: stick to your schoolbooks; there's not a drop of sailor's blood in you. Have you forgotten that we must let no one set eyes on the Chathrand and live? I never spoke of escaping the Black Rags; the only question is how best to destroy them.'

24 Freala 941

The storm built quickly, as the new wind barrelled in from the north-east, carrying great black-hearted thunderheads and a sheet of advancing rain. By the time Pazel and Thasha reached the topdeck the topsails were all raised for the sudden turn, and the huge yards were once more being hauled into the teeth of the wind. The Black Shoulders were out of sight, and Bramian itself was a mere smudge on the western horizon, but the Jistrolloq looked frightfully close — under two miles, probably, and closing without a doubt.

Such sudden darkness. The clouds were sealing off the heavens like a sheet of tin; already the sun was banished to a bright streak in the south, drawing away much faster than they could advance. The waves were growing too: white-capped, they were cresting around the height of the upper gun deck. Pazel shuddered to imagine tiny Diadrelu in the stateroom, looking up at the grey-green water each time the Chathrand entered a trough. But neither waves nor wind had yet reached the awesome scale the Nelluroq was famed for, the kind that would swamp the enemy or force his retreat.

Thasha was shaking with emotion, though Pazel knew she was trying to hide it. He had never felt like such a heel. The things he'd said in that cabin. Oggosk had left him no choice, of course, but the fact spared him little shame. He longed with all his heart to tell her the truth, but how could he, when he needed her to hate him?

Without a word to each other they made for the quarterdeck. Rose was leaning over the rail, talking to Fiffengurt: 'Nine cannon exactly, and as soon as you may. All thirty-two pounders, all from the lower battery. Make sure they understand you.'

'Oppo, Captain, nine it is.' Fiffengurt shielded his eyes and nodded at a topdeck gun. 'And that faulty forty-eight makes ten?'

'Precisely. But before any of those the empty charge.'

'Consider it done, sir.'

Fiffengurt rushed to the hatch, shooting Pazel a furtive look of terror and anxiety. Then he was gone down the ladderway, blowing sharp notes on the whistle clamped in his teeth.

Moments later the rain caught up with them. It came with a fiercer wind, and slashed across the topdeck in rippling sheets that broke and boiled around their ankles. Everyone was running and stumbling: for deck swabs, for oilskins, for shelter.

'Batten down the Five!' boomed Uskins, seizing Pazel and thrusting him at the hatch. 'Not full-fast, but shielded, Muketch — can you manage?'

'Oppo, sir.' Pazel squatted down before the rolled oilskin and tore at its gathers. Thasha bent instinctively to help him, and for the merest instant they both froze, looking at each other. Something in Pazel's face must have told Thasha that her help was unwelcome, for she suddenly released the oilskin and dashed away through the downpour.

Neeps appeared out of the chaos, looking positively hostile as he snatched up a corner of the oilskin and helped Pazel spread it over the hatch rail. Together they stretched and tightened the canvas until it fitted tight as a drumhead, leaving a gap just wide enough for a man to squeeze up or down the stairs. 'Thanks again,' said Pazel as they finished.

'You really are a swine, you know,' said Neeps. 'Thasha's falling to pieces.'

Pazel shot him a sideways look. 'All right, mate,' he said, 'I'm going to tell you what's what.'

'Well it's about blary time.'

'But you have to swear to stay away from Oggosk. Can you do that?'

'Fire,' said Neeps.

'What?'

A cannon-blast drowned Pazel's question. The two boys hit the deck as men screamed warnings to each other. The Jistrolloq had opened up with her long guns. Pazel glanced up just in time to see the bow of the enemy ship blossom with new fire — four points this time — and then he cringed as the sound reached them, four fused explosions slamming into his chest. But none of the shots touched the Chathrand.

'That's all for show, lads,' Alyash bellowed, staggering aft against the wind. 'They couldn't strike us at this range on a quiet day.'

As the youths rose, there came a noise far louder than the Jistrolloq 's guns. It was one of their own, but something had gone wrong: the blast seemed to come from well inside the Chathrand. Pazel heard coughing and retching as smoke began to billow from the starboard quarter.

'Fiffengurt must have botched something terrible,' said Neeps.

Pazel watched the plume of black smoke vanish in the rain. 'Did he? I wonder.'

'What are you talking about?'

'Something Rose said. About firing off a gun with no ball, just a powder-charge, though why he-Down, down!'

The Jistrolloq was firing again. This time they heard the scream of the ball as it passed overhead. Pazel looked up: Thasha and Rose stood side by side on the quarterdeck. Neither one of them had taken cover.

'Damn it all!' said Neeps, also looking at Thasha. 'He may be insane, but she's not. Or wasn't, before you got to her. I think you had something you wanted to tell me?'

Pazel told him, shouting over the wind. As he listened the Sollochi boy's face grew tight with fury. 'Oggosk!' he said. 'That vulture! I'm going to shove those threats right down her scrawny old throat!'

'No you're not,' said Pazel. 'You're going to do something else for me. You're going to explain it all to Thasha.'

Neeps took a deep breath, and nodded. 'Yeah, all right.'

'And make sure she understands, Neeps: she can't so much as smile at me, even when we're alone. She should try not to think about me. Oggosk has ways of finding out.'

Neeps went straight to the task — and Pazel, fearing that Thasha would turn to him with some look he would have to respond to, stepped quickly behind the mizzenmast.

The rain was cold now, and the wind stronger yet. From below, Pazel caught the dim sound of Fiffengurt roaring Fire, and then came a series of blasts, and puffs of black smoke from the starboard gunports. On the Jistrolloq, nothing changed, and Pazel would have been amazed if it had. They were still too far apart, and it looked very much as though Chathrand was firing at a hopeless angle. What was Rose trying to prove?