Tim Severin - Sea Robber

‘I’m checking to see if the cannon shoots high or low as you take aim, by looking along the barrel,’ Dan answered. He tossed aside the bamboo strip. ‘A little high. Hector, can you cut me a wedge of hardwood, say eight inches long and three inches thick across the base?’

Carefully Jezreel inserted the half-full ladle down the barrel, turned his wrist and dumped the gunpowder deep in the chamber. He withdrew the empty ladle, took the rammer and packed tight the charge. Hector handed him a wad, and that too was thrust home.

‘You carried it all the way, so you do the honours,’ said Dan, handing Jezreel the five-pound round shot. Jezreel placed the iron ball into the muzzle of the gun and pushed it down as far as it would go. Dan rammed it hard against the wad, then added a second wad on top so that the shot stayed in place.

‘We’ll prime it once we have the gun in position,’ said Dan. To their right they heard the sudden report of a lantaka firing its scatter-shot towards the Sugala defenders’ palisade. ‘Let’s hope that makes them keep their heads down,’ grunted Jezreel. He threw his weight on a hand-spike and levered the sledge forward.

Slowly the gun crept through the undergrowth.

DAN CALLED a halt when the sledge was still within cover, ten yards short of the open ground. ‘No point exposing ourselves to enemy fire,’ he said. The scrub and bush were sparse enough for them to see the town gate set in the line of the palisade. He crouched behind the gun and squinted down the length of the barrel. ‘A little to my left,’ he said. Jezreel and Hector used their hand-spikes to line up the gun until the Miskito was satisfied. Next he asked Jezreel to place the tip of his hand-spike beneath the cannon’s breech and to lever upwards.

‘A fraction more,’ the Miskito called as the muzzle of the gun dipped slightly. ‘Hold it.’ He thrust home the wooden wedge.

Mansur was standing with Prince Jainalabidin several paces to one side and both were watching keenly. ‘His Highness wishes to know whether you are aiming at the top or bottom of the gate,’ said the chamberlain.

‘Neither,’ said Dan. ‘I’m aiming at the ground twenty paces in front of the gate, in case the gun shoots even higher than I calculate. It won’t matter if the shot bounces on the ground before it strikes the target. Might even make the impact more destructive.’ He busied himself with a powder flask, pouring a trail of gunpowder into the touch-hole.

From the palisade came a spatter of musketry, almost immediately followed by the angry snap of a lantaka in retaliation.

‘All ready,’ said Dan calmly, putting back the stopper in the powder flask.

Stepping to the nearest bush, he broke off a straight, slender branch about two feet long. He stripped off the leaves and prised open a split at one end. He turned to one of the Omoro musketeers and took from him a length of burning match-cord. He wound it around the stick and jammed the lit end into the cleft.

‘If Your Highness would like to fire the cannon, but please stay well back,’ he said, handing the match-stick to the boy.

Hector had to admire Prince Jainalabidin’s composure. Without further prompting, the boy approached the cannon and lowered the glowing end of the cord to the touch-hole.

There was a tremendous explosion and the gun reared back. The force of the recoil lifted the front of the sledge several inches off the ground, and the discharge seemed to jolt the youngster off his feet. Mansur darted forward just in time to catch the boy as he stumbled. Angrily the prince waved him away. The lad’s face was streaked with burned gunpowder, his clothes speckled with black marks, but the smile he turned towards his companions was radiant.

Standing clear of the cloud of black smoke that billowed from the muzzle of the gun, Hector watched the flight of the shot. A black dot hurtled across the killing ground. There was a spurt of dust as it hit the ground and bounced. Even as the dust was still rising, a section of the palisade immediately to the left of the gate whirled away in a cloud of splinters.

For several moments Hector was deafened. His ears were ringing with the explosion. When he regained his hearing, he was aware of a shocked silence. There were no musket shots from the palisade ahead of him. Even the two lantaka on either side had ceased firing.

‘A little to the right, I think,’ Dan announced.

Jezreel had the reamer in his hand and was already at the muzzle of the gun, hooking out the fragments of burned wadding. After several passes with the reamer, he peered into the barrel.

‘I’ll need my shirt again,’ he said. He wrapped the grubby garment once more around the head of the reamer, then rudely turned his back on the prince and his entourage. Their puzzled looks turned to understanding as they realized that the big man was relieving himself copiously on to the cloth.

There was a slight hiss and an acrid smell of scorched urine as he swabbed out the barrel.

It took another ten minutes to reload the cannon to Dan’s satisfaction. Then he had Jezreel shift the rear of the sledge a few inches to the left. At last he was ready and held out the match-stick once again to the prince. ‘Let’s hope this one finishes the task for us, Your Highness.’

The boy’s arm was fully extended and his hand trembled slightly as he applied the lighted match to the touch-hole a second time. Again the brass gun leaped on its sledge as the charge exploded and sent the shot hurtling towards Haar.

This time the entire left-hand section of the town gate was demolished. It collapsed backwards, and its partner on the right side sagged on its hinges.

‘A perfect shot,’ exclaimed Hector, and the boy grinned with delight.

There was a fraught silence as they peered towards the palisade. ‘Well, what next?’ asked Jezreel. ‘That was our last shot, though they don’t know it.’

For a long interval nothing happened. Then out from the wreckage of the town gate emerged five men. They were unarmed and one of them was holding up a staff from which hung a red and blue flag. The little group was walking towards the spot from where the brass cannon had fired.

‘They must have seen our gun smoke,’ said Jacques.

Mansur allowed himself a smile of grim satisfaction. ‘That tall man in the black gown beside the flag. He’s the Rajah’s chief minister. I’ve negotiated with him a dozen times in the past. This time there’ll be no haggling and humbug, for I will dictate the terms.’

NINETEEN

‘CONGRATULATIONS. I hear that you persuaded the Sugala to settle their differences with the Sultan,’ said Musallam Iskandar. The Malaccan trader was in the front rank of the excited crowd clustered on the landing stage to greet the expedition’s return to Pehko’s muddy creek. A few yards away a squad of jubilant citizens was manhandling the brass cannon ashore from its raft, and the two smaller lantaka had already been carried off by teams of porters.

‘Have you heard anything about a foreign woman living in the palace?’ replied Hector impatiently. He hadn’t expected to see Maria among the welcoming crowd, but he scanned the faces of those on the jetty nevertheless.

The Malaccan looked at him sharply. ‘The woman you mentioned before? There’s a rumour about a foreign woman in the Sultan’s household, but I don’t know any details. The bazaar gossip is all about the victory celebration the old man has promised his son. It’s due to take place tomorrow.’ His tone became more sympathetic. ‘I have received permission to set sail for home after the ceremony. There’s space for you and your companions on board, if the palace agrees.’