Stewart Binns - Anarchy

‘Hal, think clearly! You need your wits about you.’

It was a timely piece of advice that helped me maintain control. I began to look around again, but this time with a level head. Captain Selvo was lying on the deck; it looked like he had been hit by a grappling iron and was unconscious. I was suddenly in command of the ship at the very moment the first pirates swarmed over our decks. We numbered no more than two dozen fit men: some sailors, and a few marines. Most of the oarsmen had already abandoned ship.

I told Eadmer and Wulfric to drag Captain Selvo towards us, and we formed a redoubt by the helm. The fighting was intense, but we held a confined space, surrounded on three sides by water, so we were able to form a solid wall of shields and swords, not unlike the English shield wall of legend. More importantly, knowing that the fight was won, most of the pirates were preoccupied collecting weapons and armour from the dead and emptying the hold of whatever wine and spices were still above the waterline.

We had one advantage amidst our dire circumstances: our position at the helm meant we could only be attacked from the front, a space of no more than three yards. But in that confined area, it was like a whirlwind of flashing blades accompanied by the thunder of clashing shields. I have no idea how long we held the pirates off. Time seemed to stand still. I took some blows, but they did not seem to hurt. My blood was up. I just kept flailing with my sword, trying to hit whatever was in front of me.

Inevitably, our small band of defenders started to diminish in number as arrows found their targets and swords and lances struck home. Toste and Wulfric were at my feet. It was hard to tell if they were still alive, but neither moved.

We were within minutes of being wiped out altogether when our assailants realized that they had taken all the cargo that was still above the waterline and that the Domenico ’s demise was imminent. The pirates started to leave for their ships, taking care to cut the ropes holding the three vessels together. To hasten our doom, they tipped over the barrels of flaming pitch on to the deck and rowed away, leaving us to our fate.

I took a deep breath and looked around, not noticing the blood flowing down my legs. I had been slashed across the midriff by a sword, had puncture wounds in both arms, and had been hit on the side of the head – a blow that had creased my helmet and made me bleed from a badly mangled ear. The frenzy of battle had rendered me momentarily immune from pain. But as soon as Eadmer steadied me, I started to stagger, convulsed by searing agony.

Alric had taken up arms, as he always said he would, and was trying to help Toste and Wulfric. Both began to move, but they had been badly wounded. Toste had a deep gouge to the top of his shoulder, while Wulfric – the more seriously wounded of the two – had taken a sword deep into the abdomen.

I could stand only with the support of Eadmer, but I still had sufficient wits about me to issue orders. I asked the four remaining fit and able marines to get Captain Selvo to his feet. We were almost engulfed by flames and the heat was beginning to scorch our faces. I told everyone to discard their weapons and armour, save their seax and belt, and made them get into the water that was now lapping at our ankles.

I heard myself shout over and over again, ‘Rope! Cut some rope!’

Eventually, Eadmer shouted back, ‘Hal, I have rope, enough to hang fifty men!’

He helped me into the water, but it was only as we moved away from the flames that I realized darkness had fallen. The water appeared black and threatening, but its cold lick energized me and I shouted to everyone to find floating timbers that we could lash together as a raft.

It was a makeshift affair, on to which we hauled the injured. We were fortunate: the impact when we had rammed the pirate ship had produced enough flotsam to make a flotilla of rafts, so we added more and more timber to give enough space for everyone. Our first priority was to get away from the remains of the stricken ships. Sails that could snag us were drifting on the surface of the water and patches of burning pitch were still alight, creating eerie halos of light in the gloom. We used whatever we could as paddles to pull away, until the glow of the pitch was on the distant horizon.

Captain Selvo came round within the hour, not long after we had managed to stem the bleeding from Wulfric’s wound. Eadmer had taken off his undershirt and bound it tightly around Wulfric’s midriff, using rigging rope as a binding. He had lost a lot of blood, but was calm and breathing normally. My wounds were weeping a little and I felt some pain from my stomach wound, but not as much as from my head, which throbbed as though someone was holding it in a carpenter’s vice. Eadmer, composed as always, checked my wounds regularly to make sure the bleeding was only minor. He used seawater to cleanse them, the sharp stinging confirming its medicinal qualities.

Enrico Selvo had roused himself sufficiently to speak. The Captain was anxious about his crew.

‘How many survivors?’

‘Just us, Captain. I’m sorry.’

‘The Domenico Contarini and her cargo?’

‘Gone to the bottom, sir.’

‘Do you know where we are?’

‘We should be drifting towards Vis. The wind is still to the south-west.’

‘You had better leave me there. There is no future for me in Venice, now that I’ve lost one of the navy’s finest galleys. I should have died on board with my men. Or gone down with my ship.’

Selvo, looking distraught, then turned to peer in the direction of his sunken vessel. Only a few hours earlier he had been resolute and strong, now he looked like a broken man.

After a while, we all fell asleep, to be woken an hour or so later by the rolling of a rising swell and the whistle of an ever stronger wind. Where Captain Selvo had lain was just an empty space. He must have slid off the raft while we were sleeping, unable to face the shame of having lost his crew, his ship and his cargo. I felt stricken by his demise. He was a noble man and had shown me great kindness.

The elements did not allow me to contemplate his passing for long. There was the rumble of thunder in the distance and flashes of lightning beyond the clouds on the horizon. Carried on the wind, another storm was coming our way. I was already beginning to feel very cold, and I could see that Wulfric was shaking uncontrollably. We needed to make landfall as soon as possible.

Within thirty minutes, our makeshift raft was lashed by torrents of rain and tossed by a rolling sea and howling wind. Eadmer and Alric held on to Wulfric while Toste and I held each other tightly, all desperately trying to stay on the raft. For several long minutes, I found it impossible to see beyond a hand in front of my face, until the storm slowly began to abate. It was then that I realized that Alric and one of the Venetian marines were no longer with us.

We scoured the sea as far as we could see and shouted incessantly in every direction, but we saw and heard nothing. They had been washed away.

Eadmer was distraught. I had never before seen him shed a tear, but now he struggled to speak.

‘I thought he was still there… I was holding Wulfric as tight as I could, concentrating on him… Alric was on the other side… he must have let go.’

The black sky of the storm was replaced by a clear night, sparkling with stars. But the temperature dropped significantly and the wind still blew. Wulfric shook even more; I was very cold, shivering, my teeth chattering. I just wanted to close my eyes, and drift off to sleep, but Eadmer forced me to stay awake and shouted at all of us.

‘Everyone get close together! We must keep one another warm, otherwise the cold will draw the life out of us. I’ve seen it happen. Men go to sleep and never wake up!’