“Jacos of Saldoma; he’s a trader o’ sorts, Captain,” answered the sergeant.
“Remind me to have him flogged when we get back, assuming we get back. There are close to a hundred men in that camp.” He turned and did a quick inventory. He had twenty men, and only four crossbows.
“Five to one ain’t all that bad, is it?” said the sergeant with a grin.
“Only if we have an advantage,” said Tal. “Let’s head back to the water’s edge in case one of those lads decides to come over that rise to take a piss, and we can ponder this.”
Tal knew that to return for more men would be a waste of time. The smugglers moved their camp on a regular basis, so he assumed they’d scout around every once in a while. There was no way any experienced scout would miss the signs of twenty-one men down in that gully and on this beach. He glanced down as they reached the water’s edge.
“What’s this?” Tal asked, kneeling. The shore was covered in a crushed white substance that didn’t look like sand or rock.
One of the others said, “Looks like broken shells, Captain.”
“Shells?”
“Swamp oysters,” said another. “They’re common enough around here. Not much for eating unless you’re starvin’, but some do.” He pointed. “Look over there.”
Tal looked where the man indicated and saw a large mound of shells. Something started nagging at him. He remembered something about oyster shells but couldn’t recall what.
They walked over to the pile, and he said, “Someone put these here.”
“Probably lookin’ for pearls,” said the first man who spoke. He picked one up. “Got a pearl ain’t worth much, not like those that come from the sea, but some’ll buy ’em. All kind of blokes range though these swamps, set up camp, abide a while, then move on.”
Tal was motionless as he held the shell. Then he asked, “What happens when you burn these?”
“You get a white ash,” said another man. “Did it all the time in my village. I grew up in these islands, Captain.”
“White ash?” asked Tal, thinking. “What do you use the ash for?”
“Well, me mum made soap by mixing it with tallow. Nasty stuff’ll take the skin right off you if you leave it on too long, but it’ll get your face and hands clean enough. Good for clothes, too, if you get it all out. Otherwise, it’ll eat a hole in a shirt.”
Tal grinned. “Now I remember. Something I read a while ago!” He motioned to the sergeant. “Set two pickets at the near end of the ravine. If they see anything, tell them to come running.” Vadeski detailed two men to do as ordered. Tal then said, “Start a fire, there.” He pointed to a spot just above the water. “Start gathering shells,” he instructed the other men. “As many as you can find. Then empty out your kits.”
The men did as ordered, dumping the contents of their backpacks on the ground. They gathered shells, then once the fire was going, Tal started dumping shells into the flames.
They let the fire burn throughout the afternoon, and Tal watched as a huge pile of ash formed. As the sun lowered in the west, Tal said, “We attack at sundown. The evening breeze should be at our backs, right, Sergeant?”
Vadeski said, “Right, Captain. Wind’s pretty constant across these islands. Still as the grave at sunrise, nice little zephyr every sundown.”
Tal said, “We’ve got dirty work ahead, Sergeant.”
With a grin that was positively evil, Vadeski said, “That’s the kind I like, Captain!”
Twenty-one men crouched below the top of the rise. Tal peered over and saw that the pirates were gathered around a large cookfire or lounging nearby. He signaled to his men, and they spread out along the low ridge, two crossbowmen in the center, one each at either end of the line.
He had given clear instructions to his men; now he had to wait for the wind to freshen. As the sun touched the horizon, he felt the breeze pick up. He nodded and spoke in a quiet tone. “Now.”
His men stood. They waited until one of the smugglers saw them, and shouted. The smugglers all grabbed up weapons and made ready for an attack. Tal had ordered his men to hold their ground.
The two groups stood motionless, facing each other, until Vadeski shouted, “Well, what are you waiting for, you ugly buggers?”
The pirates shouted and charged. The distance from the beach to the rise where Tal waited was less than a hundred yards, and most of it was slightly uphill. Tal waited until the first smuggler was only twenty yards away, then shouted, “Now!”
The men picked up their backpacks and started throwing handfuls of the white ash into the air. It was picked up by the wind and blew into the eyes of the attackers. Suddenly men were dropping their weapons and screaming in pain.