***
It was dark and eerie in the tightly packed cove. The men were silent even though their voices would never carry as far as the enemy. Harl stood at the wheel together with the surgeon, Olvan, Sergeant Lamtak, Sudlas and myself. We all listened to the distant sound of steam engines and thrashing paddle wheels as the enemy fleet passed a mile or two to the north. They too were blacked out, and in the darkness men could only imagine the size of the enemy fleet and the hundreds of guns on multiple decks that awaited us, ready to belch fire, iron and death. Were they expecting a possible ambush? Would the Imperial and Ardalrion Navy, or that depleted part of it that now hid in the shadows, be up to the challenge?
Somewhere out there was an enemy we would now hunt, but nobody was sure of the kill for in the darkness and confusion of battle, the hunter could quickly become the hunted. The trap was fragile, tenuous. The silence continued and the enemy lumbered on. It was near pitch black. I could not see the other ships of the fleet, but before darkness fell the fleet had lined the cove in ready order. The signal to move came as a distant call over the cove’s waters. “For Ardalrion. For Emperor and Empire. Follow the flag!” It was an eerie sound like a lost soul that echoed from bluff to bluff. A lonely sound.
When darkness had fallen, every ship in the fleet had stoked up their boilers again, and so the fleet was ready to move. The familiar sound of release valves venting was replaced by the strained hiss then puff. Then the cove filled with the sound of paddle wheels gently turning. A distant light flashed which was the War Tempest's signal to the next battleship in line to follow her. Each ship had a small shielded light to the rear, hidden from the front and sides so that the fleet could follow the flagship in a long line of battle. The intention was to get as far into the enemy formation as possible before the rebels realised what was happening. If possible the fleet was to stay as a line and follow the flagship until told to break off and enter the melee, and that line was something I feared. The line of battle is written about in any number of volumes but none tell the story the old sea dogs tell, those men that have actually been in the line and endured the relentless crashing and thundering of iron and fire, the pounding of guns that rip holes through ships and crew alike. Those books never tell of the horror of a one ton heavy gun being thrown aside by shot only to crush the mere fleshy bodies of those men manning it. How shot can turn a man’s torso to a red mist and the splinters of wood fly like harpoons. I have heard of the bleeding ears from the noise, and the choking smoke of the powder, and the horror of a shot that runs the length of the deck, decapitating man after man. It is something I fear, for those that have endured it and survived have told me to fear it.
I gave the command and the Lady Ocean came to life as a gear clanked into place followed by a heaving hiss and then a relieving chug. Her wheel turned and so we went to face the line of battle.
“I beg forgiveness,” said Harl.
I nodded, recognising the first line of a well-known prayer to the gods.
“I beg mercy,” responded Doctor Eebel.
“I beg that we shall see the dawn of a new day.” Seargeant Lamtak finished the first verse of the prayer, then kissed his fist and touched it to his forehead as the pious often did.
It is funny how pious men would become before a battle. Of course it could not hurt to show a little respect, especially before a fight. I too had a sudden urge to call on the greater powers of the Creators but resisted, not wanting show any sign of weakness or doubt, but I did doubt. I knew very well that this may be my last night on this cold world.
“Follow that light, Mister Harl,” I said, indicating a weak illumination that swung as it moved away from us. We were the last of the line of ships to move out. We were certainly the weakest ship and it is traditionally the way of a battle line of ships. The strongest would be the head of a long snaking line of ships. The Lady Ocean was now the tip of the tail. Any smaller ships had been left behind in Umuron as a last line of defence should the main fleet fail. Gunboats did not have the calibre for fleet battles, but they could at least be used to harry the enemy and cover the evacuation of the town if it came to that.
The fleet moved at a good pace in a north-north easterly direction. This made sense as the enemy would be breaking north-eastwards after the last watch tower in order to enter the larger expanse of water so as to avoid Imperial lookouts and scouts as they neared Umuron.
Before the Lady Ocean, the light of the frigate in front blinked and bobbed. Before that was another faint light in the distance and then another even fainter. They would go on, all the way up to the mighty War Tempest at the head. I decided that if I did pray to any god now, I would pray to that mighty god machine to deliver us.
“How long would you say Mister Olvan?”
“I should think we will catch up with the stragglers in a couple of hours if we head straight after them, sir. I would have thought the War Tempest would try to manoeuvre around them, to come in from the west of their formation.”
“That’s very possible. The Admiral didn’t have a clear plan yet when I left him.”
“He would have to time it right, sir, or we lose 'em in the dark, but the High Admiral has sea water in his blood,” said Harl. I was pleased to note how Harl would offer opinion without being asked any longer. It was what I wanted and needed, and Harl probably knew this. There was still so much to learn and I cursed the wasted years at the academy, and decided there and then that as soon as Ajator was duke, I would have my brother change the Ardalrion academy to be more practical. We would not be able to affect the Imperial academy in Norlan, but at home we would breed a more hands on officer who perhaps might be sneered at in certain circles, but certainly be more respected by our enemies. The respect of an enemy is worth more than any accolade or praise of any friend when war is made.
Men stood on deck. We watched the distant light and looked out at the dark seas. We were all quiet, and the anticipation of battle was showing on those men who fidgeted and clenched fists. There was also a sense of excitement at the prospect of bloodying the rebels "good and proper" as one man put it. I was anxious too, but tried to hide it from the others. I tried to show an air of confidence, but the truth was that I did not know what was going to happen, or how we were even going to defend ourselves with only a handful of guns and not enough crew to defend against a full boarding. The very best I could hope to achieve would be to distract an enemy.
The night drew on. The waters were still rough but seemed to be calming a little. The drizzle had stopped. The engine was not running smoothly. It clanked and jarred, the hull shuddered every now and then, but it was holding. If we survived this battle, I intended to take the Lady Ocean back to Norlan where I would give it a proper refit and fill the crew whatever the cost, even if I had to sail her all the way back to Ardalrion and scour the villages for eager eyed young men.
Suddenly Veinara and my brother came to mind. Where was my brother? It did not look as though he was part of the fleet and so I assumed he had returned to Norlan to see his new wife and never heard the call to arms. Lord Pavantu's words now seemed ridiculous. How could Ajator be in any trouble? Even if he was, I knew my brother would find a way out of it.
“Coming about, Captain,” said Harl.
The dim light was moving eastwards. It had been three hours since we left the cove. Willan had made his rounds of the castle handing out warm broth and bread, it being important to keep the men well fed before battle. It looked as though Olvan was correct and we were to strike at the heart of the enemy fleet from the west.
“Mister Harl. I want you on deck. Clear the deck. Run out the guns and make ready for battle.”
“Sir,” said Harl, handing over the wheel to Mister Owman. A couple of young lads were also helping to hold the wheel as it was tiring work in troubled waters. What were their names again? One of them was the boy who had tried to repaint the name of the ship in the stormy waters. I had wanted to get to know the crew better but so far had not found
the time. If we survived the night, I would find out later.
“Sergeant! Place men in the crow's-nest and up here in the aftcastle. If we are boarded, we will stand a better chance if we concentrate out defences here.”
“Yes, sir!” Sergeant Lamtak saluted, and then turned to gather his men.
“What can I do?” This was the Lady Lamient. I had not noticed her on the castle. She had been hidden in the darkness.
“What can’t you do?” I asked in response.
She smiled at that, taking it as a compliment although I was referring to her probable lack of any humanity. Perhaps she understood that and still considered it a compliment.
“I have a rifle in my bag.”
“That certainly is a bag of tricks. Perhaps the lady would rather stay below while the men dispatch these rebel buggers,” I said, fulfilling my duty as an officer to offer protection to any women aboard my ship. I was however damned if I was going to pretty my language for this one.
“There is probably room in the crow's-nest where I can put my rifle to use.”
Rifles were not common. The Calionvar had developed the technology and as far as I knew it entailed adding groves to the inside of a musket’s barrel. It made the ball spin which greatly increased the accuracy. Muskets where poor weapons at a range over fifty yards, and many a ship would hold off firing such weapons until the range was closed, and even then men were not expected to hit a specific target but instead fire at an enemy crew in general and fire as often as possible and just hope the odd shot would find a target. Rifles however could be used to hit individual targets, and a captain always feared them for the captains and officers where always prime targets in any crew. In fact few Imperial captains allowed their use and even I was not happy with such a weapon aboard my ship. I knew it was a boon to my ship’s small firepower however and I was not usually one for convention, but if we started using one then why would the enemy not start using them? Then I would be the first of my crew to die should an enemy poses such a weapon. Ever the craven puppy! Be thankful for the ladies contribution.
She went below and returned shortly with the rifle. It was too dark to see it as everything was just a shade of black upon another shade of black, but she slung the long barrel on her back and climbed the rigging to the crow's-nest.
“I had best prepare,” said Doctor Eebel. He was in a sullen mood and smelt of spirits. He had found some and was drunk, but not too drunk to forget his duties thankfully. Even though I wanted to, I could not blame the man.
“Have plenty of lanterns ready, doctor. When the fight begins, you will need the light to work by.”
“Good luck, Captain Ardalrion. I hope not to see you tonight at least.”
I nodded and the surgeon made his way forward.
Sergeant Lamtak then marched up and saluted.
"Sergeant?"
"The men are ready, sir."
"Good. It will probably be a while yet, but I want to be prepared to move at a moment’s notice. Load and be ready, but hold fire till I give the command."
"Very well, sir. Private Ekstam requests permission to string his bow, sir."
"A bow?" It was not uncommon for men to use the bow, but marines had long ago taken to the musket.
"A longbow, sir. He is a fine shot and always has it to hand."
I looked at the marines lined up on the castle and saw one man looking expectantly back at us. He was a big man but more to the point he was broad of shoulder. It took a huge strength to draw the longbow, and years of training to acquire the combination of strength and skill to use the weapon. Most bows were shorter, of the hunting variety, but the longbow was made for war - far more accurate than the musket and in the right hands, a deadlier weapon. Years ago, I had tried one and managed to pull the string as far back as my elbow using all my strength. The owner, one of the duke's woodsmen, a barrel chested old dog had laughed, then pulled it back to his ear before releasing the arrow which went on to pierce an old iron breastplate we were using as a target.
"Granted, Sergeant."
Lamtak saluted again, then turned and marched back to his marines.
“How long, sir?” asked Olvan, taking his place by my side.
“Hard to say. If the enemy changed course or speed we might well have lost them. We might overshoot them. We might be many miles behind them. I just don’t know.”
“A three breasted mermaid,” was Olvan’s response.
I looked at the silhouette that was Olvan. Had he lost his mind? “Would you care to explain?”
“Your idea for a figurehead, Captain. The three breasted mermaid.”
I remembered the discussion. I had asked Olvan to come up with an original figurehead and the three breasted mermaid was only an example.
“I have thought about it, sir. I thought long and hard and the more I thought about it, the more I realised that it’s perfect. I can’t come up with a better idea, sir,” explained Mister Olvan. “You see - this is your ship. It was your idea and it suits you. Please forgive my presumption, sir, but anything I can think of would just be absurd or rude or tasteless.”
“And a three breasted mermaid is not absurd, rude and tasteless?”
“Well, yes, but it’s you. It marks the ship as yours. It reeks… erm, sings of Captain Malspire Ardalrion, sir.” Olvan looked worried as though he had said too much, and he had.
I was taken aback, slightly hurt at the idea that even my first officer looked down upon me, his captain. I liked Olvan and yet he said these things that cut me.
“It’s hard to explain, sir. I respect you…”
“Respect me? You have a funny way of showing it. Reeks?”
Olvan had a pleading look. He was trying to find the right words. “You are… different. I grew up with every man adhering to the rules of society. I was taught to be polite and kind to women and the needy. I was given a proper education where I was taught that I was above most men and should act as such. I thought I was above most men, at least any men not born to money or nobility. Then I met you and you introduced me to the most vulgar, dirty, rude and savage men I have ever met. The crew,” added Olvan. “At first I hated it. I hated the language and manner and filth of these men. I hated the way they gamble and drink and swear and spit.”
I was listening.
“Then I changed. It was not fast. It took a while, but slowly I realised that I’m not as clever as I thought. At first it rankled, sir. The very thought that the low born can outwit me! But they can. I have met simple men with simple needs, but they aren’t stupid, nor basic. They’re cunning, and some probably far more intelligent than I.” He gestured towards Harl who was out of earshot.
“What I’m trying to say, Captain, is that you already knew this. You were born far above me and yet you know a man’s worth. Not by his blood and name, but by his skill and wit and character. I know I’m presuming a lot, sir, but you are different and only a three breasted mermaid would now suit your ship and only you could think of such a…”
“Reeking monstrosity?” I helped him.
Olvan smiled. “Exactly that, sir. It takes a monstrosity to tell the world that this ship belongs to Captain Ardalrion, and the captain is proud of it.” He shook his head, frustrated with his inability to put into words the subtle concept. “It needs to be a three breasted mermaid,” he concluded.
I nodded. I no longer felt hurt but rather flattered in an odd way. I did not know why, but Olvan had seen something in me that few others have, which I had long wanted the world to see, which was… So what? So what if you have money or powerful family. But what does matter then? I could only think of wine, women and gambling. That was not the full answer but it was certainly more valid than many. “I see, Mister Olvan.”
“So we shall have a three breasted mermaid?” asked the younger officer with a hopeful smile.
I considered this. “Yes. I plan to take us to Norlan for a proper refit. We shall commission it there. If we survive that is.”
“Ver
y good, sir.”
“Absurd, rude and tasteless?”
“Not… no... just…”
“Enough, Mister Olvan. I thank you for your effort.”
There was a short silence then I added, “Just make sure not to forget the horn and beard.”