Nicholas said, ‘They want to come out and fight, but they have no room to maneuver. Let’s find something else to burn before they do find a way out.’
He ordered the flotilla to a southerly course, sailing toward where the Keshians had been battling the invaders. Smoke was beginning to obscure Nicholas’s vision. ‘Lookout!’
‘Sir?’
‘Keep a watch out for that northern squadron of theirs. If you catch sight of them, I want to know it before you can think!’
‘Aye, aye, sir!’
For an hour they hunted. Men screamed and died, and still the invaders’ ships seemed without number. Nicholas had personally fired four ships, and was approaching the fifth when the lookout shouted, ‘Ships to the north, Admiral!’
‘How many?’
‘I count at least a score of sails . . . I count thirty . . . Forty!’
‘It’s their northern element, returning to find they’ve been outrun,’ said Captain Reeves.
Nicholas swore. ‘Look at all these fat wallowing barges! We could sink them all day long without danger.’
Then the lookout shouted, ‘Admiral! Those two war galleys have turned and have gotten free of the sinking ships!’
‘Well, that makes it interesting,’ said Reeves.
Nicholas nodded. ‘I could use some more time. Master of Arms!’
‘Sir?’ came the reply.
‘How stands our arsenal?’
‘We have another forty missiles, Admiral.’
Nicholas shouted to the lookout. ‘How far do you judge those two ships?’
‘Less than a mile, Admiral.’
‘Reeves, who’s to our north?’
Reeves knew the Admiral knew the disposition of the fleet as well as he did, but wanted to hear it from another to help crystalize his thoughts. ‘Sharpe’s squadron, Wells’s squadron, what’s left of Turner’s group, and a full third of the fast cutters.’
Nicholas said, ‘Orders! Sharpe and Wells are to move to the north and intercept. I want them to harry and delay, but not to engage!’
The lookout shouted, ‘Understood,’ and started signaling.
‘Then I want the cutters to burn those galleys!’
Nicholas knew he was sending several of those fast little ships to the bottom. They had limited offensive capacity, but if two or three could get close enough, they could fire those war galleys, while the Kingdom-class warships could each sink three dozen troop ships each under ideal conditions.
‘Acknowledged, sir!’ shouted the lookout as the first order was received.
The carnage continued throughout the morning, and at an hour before noon, word came that the concentration of enemy warships was too heavy. The northern element of the Queen’s fleet had ignored Wells’s and Sharpe’s squadrons when it became clear they wouldn’t engage. Now they were bearing down on the heart of the fighting. Nicholas saw that the cutters had one of the huge war galleys burning and another surrounded. The concentration of bow fire from the galleys was incredible, a veritable rain of arrows, and these ships manned ballistas. With calm precision, their crews would reload and fire, and each time another of the small cutters was damaged or sunk.
Nicholas took one last look at the damage he had done, then said, ‘Captain Reeves, it’s time to run for Freeport!’
Captain Reeves did not hesitate, for he could see another huge war galley that had followed the first two out of the mess of troop ships, now rowing furiously in their direction. Captain Reeves gave orders to the helmsman, and Nicholas shouted, ‘Master of Arms!’
‘Sir,’ came the reply, hoarse from hours of breathing the stinking smoke of burning oil.
‘As we bear, I would appreciate your putting a missile down the throat of that galley that’s racing toward us.’
‘Aye, aye, sir.’
As the ship heeled, the ballista was fired, and the fiery projectile hurled across the gap, striking the forecastle of the approaching galley. Flames exploded across the upper third of the ship’s bow, but only those men on deck were killed. Below, the horator steadily beat his drum and the galley slaves pulled as the ship bore relentlessly down on the Royal Dragon.
Nicholas calculated and decided they were unlikely to get clear of the ship. ‘Lookout!’
‘Aye, sir?’
‘Does she bear a ram?’
‘An iron-clad one, sir, at the waterline.’
‘Well, Reeves,’ said Nicholas. ‘Unless we get a sudden burst of wind, I’m afraid I’m about to get your ship sunk.’
‘Always a risk, sir,’ came the impassive reply.
The men stood calmly watching as the huge warship bore down on them, its bow now completely engulfed in fire. Reeves looked up and shouted, ‘Trim the topgallants, Mr Brooks.’
His first officer shouted the order, and men quickly tied off ropes and moved yards.
The Royal Dragon heeled over, hard to port, as the galley bore down. Nicholas could feel the heat of the flames across the narrowing gap. His marines began firing down into the deck of the enemy ship.
‘Master of Arms!’ cried Nicholas.
‘Sir!’
‘See if your marines can distract their helmsman!’