CHAPTER XVII
Coby leant over the side of the ship, watching the glitter of moonlight on the waves. True to his word, Captain Hennaq had removed Sandy's spirit-guard and all their bonds in return for their good conduct. After all, where were they to go? The ship was provisioned for an Atlantic crossing and needed no further supplies until they reached Venice, which was now only a day or so's sail away.
She looked round as Gabriel joined her at the rail. He had grown thinner than ever on the voyage and his nose was peeling where it protruded from the shadow of his hat's brim, but he looked happier than she had seen him in a long time. No doubt he was looking forward to being reunited with Ned.
"Dalmatia," he said, pointing eastwards towards the barely visible mass of the distant coast. "We sail the narrow waters between Christian Europe and the Turks."
"Master Catlyn told me he fought the Turks, years ago. It must have been somewhere around here, I suppose."
A distant rumble of thunder sounded to the north of them. She looked up at the sky. Surely the night was too clear for a storm?
"Look, over there!" Gabriel tugged at her sleeve.
A flash of light, and then several moments later another low boom.
"Cannon? At night?"
The skrayling on watch silently roused the rest of the crew. In the lantern light their tattooed faces looked more inhuman than ever, and Coby could swear some of their eyes glowed like cats'.
She watched the distant battle get closer. A single large ship was surrounded by a swarm of smaller ones, too low in the water for its cannon to fire upon effectively. More than that was difficult to make out in the stark black-and-white of the moonlit waters. Then the beleaguered vessel turned a little towards them, and her heart skipped a beat. She knew that shape, had seen that same ship only a few months ago, waiting for them in the moonlight off the coast of Corsica.
She looked around for the captain. Hennaq had joined his first mate on the fo'c's'le and was watching the battle through a leather tube with glass in the end. Coby ran up the stairs, her feet slipping on the smooth treads in her haste.
"Captain Hennaq, we have to help that ship. Master Catlyn may well be on board."
The captain's amber eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Is this a trick?"
"No, sir," she lied. "Please, let me take a closer look."
He handed her the viewing tube. She gasped at how much closer the distant ship looked. There was the poop deck, with a tiny Captain Youssef directing his men. No sign of Mal, though. She cast around further, and could hardly believe her eyes. A familiar pennant fluttered from the Hayreddin's mast: five white diamonds in a diagonal row. Even if Mal wasn't aboard, this was no coincidence.
"They are flying Sir Walter Raleigh's colours," she said. "It must be them."
The captain hesitated for a moment, then turned and shouted orders to his men.
"Get below," he told her. "Now."
She ran back down to the weather-deck.
"Now may be our best chance to get away from here," she whispered to Gabriel.
"In the midst of a battle? How?"
"I don't know. But we have to try, don't we?" She looked around. "Keep an eye out for the captain, will you?"
Not waiting for Gabriel's reply, she ducked into the captain's cabin. Now, if I were Hennaq, where would I stow a brace of confiscated pistols?
Thankfully the cupboards lining the cabin were not locked. She searched one after another, and at last found the pistols, along with her powder flask and shot, her lockpick roll and the book Sandy had stolen. With pockets and doublet front bulging she slipped back out onto the weather deck.
"All done?" Gabriel asked.
She nodded, and they dashed across to the hatch and down the ladder.
Down in the hold, Gabriel roused Sandy and gathered the rest of their belongings together. Coby handed over the book, stuffed the lock-pick roll in its usual place for safekeeping, then primed and loaded both pistols. After a moment's thought she wedged them between a couple of sacks where they were easy to retrieve but wouldn't be spotted immediately if the skraylings came down here.
"Come on then, you two," Gabriel said, setting his foot on the ladder.
"Not yet," Coby replied, sitting down on her pile of bedding.
"What do you mean, not yet?"
"The ships are too far apart, and there are who knows how many pirate boats between them. We need to wait out this battle a little longer before we make our move."
He sighed, but did not leave his station at the foot of the ladder.
"Just because the Hayreddin is flying Raleigh's colours," she went on, "that doesn't mean Mal and Ned are on it. Surely they can't have completed their mission already."
"You think Raleigh left them behind in Venice?"
"It seems the most likely explanation. Still…" She turned to Sandy. "Could you find out if Mal is on that other ship?"
"I can try."
He wrapped his arms around his knees and closed his eyes. Long minutes passed. Gabriel clung to the ladder, staring up at the hatch as if it were a theatre trapdoor from which the gods themselves might descend to rescue them. At last Sandy let out a deep breath and rubbed a hand across his brow.
"Well?" Coby crouched down to his eye level. "Did you find Mal?"
"No."
She looked over at Gabriel and shrugged. "It's still our best chance of escape."
From the deck above came the rumbling of the strange glass cannons being rolled into place. Were they firing on the pirates – or the Hayreddin? Coby pushed Gabriel out of the way and ran up the ladder.
"What are you doing?" she yelled at the gunners. "Our friends could be on that ship."
One of the skraylings pointed through the gunport. "Look."
She followed his gaze, and blinked. The glass cannonballs had smashed on the galleass's sides, and yellowish smoke drifted down onto the surrounding boats. Sounds of coughing followed, and the pirates swarming up ropes dropped into the sea.
"There are other weapons than brute force," Sandy said, emerging from the hold.
They left the gunners to their work and went up on deck. The skrayling ship had now passed the Hayreddin and was unable to fire another broadside effectively, but the unexpected rescue appeared to have broken the pirates' resolve. The remaining craft were heading back towards the Dalmatian coast, abandoning the men who had fallen from the ship.
Hennaq came down from the upper deck.
"Forgive me," he said, "but I cannot let you escape."
He said something in Vinlandic to his men, who marched the captives back down to the hold, bound them hand and foot and gagged them. They lashed Sandy to the main mast, but before they could do the same to Coby and Gabriel, they were called back up on deck. The ship's timbers creaked in protest as it turned and began to tack in a wide arc back to the Hayreddin. Coby smiled behind her gag. The skraylings had not noticed the hidden pistols, and now all their attention would be focused on trying to capture Mal instead of guarding their prisoners.
She could just about make out her companions' features in the moonlight filtering down through the hatch. She shuffled over to Gabriel, working at the gag with her teeth until she could speak around it, albeit with difficulty.
"Ma'er Harrish? I meed you to goo somefing." She moved around behind him, to where his hands were tied. "Unghasten my hose an' reash infide."
"What?"
"Hlease, yust goo as I fay."
Gabriel crouched awkwardly to bring his hands down to the height of her groin, and clumsily undid her clothing. She forced herself to breathe slowly. It wasn't as though he was interested in her in that way, she told herself. There. She heard him gasp in surprise, then he pulled out the roll of canvas. She turned around so they were back to back.
"'ight, gig it to me."
She fumbled with the ties and carefully unrolled the miniature tool kit. She'd practised working with it by touch, in case she ever had to use it in the dark, but never in so awkward a way. Ah, there you are! She slid the narrow-bladed pen knife out of its pocket. Carefully, carefully. Don't want to drop it. "Ngow, kurn aroung again."
Gabriel obeyed, and she began to saw at the rope binding his wrist, taking care not to cut him at the same time. Within a few minutes he was free and able to take the knife and return the favour, then remove both their gags. Coby stifled a cough and swallowed several times to try and moisten her parched throat.
"I'll keep watch," she whispered to Gabriel, retrieving her pistols. "You free Sandy."
From the sounds of it they had circled back round and were drawing alongside the Hayreddin.
"Catlyn is there?" Hennaq's voice was just audible over the creak and groan of the ship.
There was a pause, then someone hollered back in English, "No, Catlyn stayed in the city. Who are you?"
Coby swore under her breath. If Mal wasn't on the Hayreddin, Hennaq would sail straight on and all would be lost. She turned and signalled to her two companions, then ran up the ladder, past the startled gunners, and pushed the main hatch open.
"Help!" she shouted in French as she emerged from below. "Captain Youssef! We have been taken prisoner!"
The crew of the Hayreddin erupted into curses, whilst the skraylings looked to their captain for further orders. A rumble below her feet told her the poison-smoke cannons were being wheeled back into position. Too late. The Hayreddin's cannon spoke, and the side of the skrayling ship erupted in splinters.
As Erishen stumbled up the stairs from the gun deck they exploded beneath his feet and he went sprawling. Something grabbed his calves, and he turned. Gabriel. Erishen crawled away across the rough planks of the weather deck, pulling the actor with him. Gabriel screamed, but his cries were drowned out by a second round of cannon fire.
Erishen looked around for help, but the girl was nowhere to be seen and the skraylings did not heed his cries. He rolled over and pulled himself upright. Gabriel lay on the deck, face deathly pale and a dark stain spreading across one stocking. Erishen crawled back towards the hatch and helped Gabriel up into a sitting position. Blood soaked the actor's stocking, but his leg did not look to be shattered.
"Do not be afraid," Erishen murmured in his ear. "The wound is not so bad."
He dragged Gabriel into the shelter of the awning and ran back out onto deck. The cannon fire had ceased, and both sides were watching one another warily. Edging around the mast, Erishen caught sight of the girl, Hendricks, on the fo'c's'le. She had both pistols drawn and pointed at Captain Hennaq, and was shouting to the captain of the other ship in a strange tongue. As he watched, the other ship lowered its boat and the girl began to back away, never taking her eyes – or weapons – off Hennaq.
Erishen took a lantern from the mast and ducked back under the awning. Gabriel lay on the matting, pale and unmoving. Erishen took a closer look at his leg wound. Lamplight glinted on slivers of curved glass protruding from his flesh. Ulhantjaarr. Unless Gabriel was treated quickly, he would die.
Coby edged down the stairs to the weather deck, one pistol still aimed behind her in the captain's general direction, one sweeping back and forth across the crew. Her arms were starting to tremble from the unaccustomed weight; if she didn't finish this soon, her plan – such as it was – would fall apart.
As she reached the bottom step, Sandy emerged from the awning carrying an unconscious Gabriel. He shouted something to the skraylings, and she thought she heard the name "Gaoh" amongst his words.
"What happened?" she said over her shoulder as she backed towards them.
"An exploding shell. He is poisoned."
Coby waved a pistol at the nearest skrayling.
"You! Get here Elder Gaoh, now!"
The sailor bowed and scurried off. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the Hayreddin's jolly-boat setting out across the gap between the two vessels. A few moments later the old physician appeared, clutching his medicine bag to his chest like a frightened girl-child with a doll. She jerked her head towards Gabriel.
"He die, you die," she told him. Tradetalk could be gratifyingly unsubtle at times.
Sandy lowered the unconscious actor to the deck, and Gaoh began fussing over him. After peeling back his patient's eyelids and feeling his pulse, Gaoh put his mouth over the young actor's and breathed into his lungs. He did this several times, then turned his attention to the wound, calling for a lantern.
Coby stood guard, arms crossed tight against her chest to stop them from shaking and pistols pointing in opposite directions. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the old skrayling pulling pieces of glass out of the wound. Gabriel never even flinched or cried out, which was worrying in itself. She turned back to the skrayling crew, scanning their features for any sign that they were about to attack. Her sudden appearance on deck had placed them at an impasse. If they tried to stop her, it would only confirm her story and spur on her rescuers, and if they did not, she would get away for certain. Captain Hennaq appeared to have opted for selfpreservation over revenge. Very wise.
The splash of oars grew louder, and she heard someone shouting out to let down the rope ladder. After a moment's hesitation the skrayling sailors complied.
"Hurry," she told Gaoh. "We go. Now."
Gaoh chittered to himself and finished fastening a bandage around Gabriel's calf, then returned to his strange ritual of breathing into Gabriel's mouth. He paused and looked up at Coby.
"You do," the skrayling said. "I show."
"Very well, if you think it will help." She handed Sandy one of her pistols. "Try to look as though you know how to use this."
Gaoh showed her how to pinch Gabriel's nose and breathe into his mouth so that his lungs inflated like a bellows.
"Five times and then wait, then repeat," she said, as he explained as best he could in a mixture of Tradetalk and gestures.
The old skrayling rose and bowed. Coby got to her feet and took the pistol back off Sandy.
"Come on, time to go."
Sandy bent and lifted Gabriel's inert form once more. They backed towards the rail, just as a dark-skinned sailor's head popped up. He helped to manhandle Gabriel over the side, then Sandy followed with their baggage, leaving Coby alone on the deck. She waited for the skraylings to rush her, but they remained motionless and silent. With a prayer that the pistols would not go off, she thrust them through her belt and scrambled over the side of the ship and down to the waiting boat.
Coby sat on a stool next to the captain's bunk, watching Gabriel for any sign of improvement. She had blown into his mouth again and again until she was dizzy, and to her relief he appeared to be breathing on his own once more, but he was still as pale as a marble statue and almost as cold. She tucked the blanket in around him and brushed back the hair from his clammy brow, swallowing against the lump in her throat. If only she had waited until they were all safely above decks before alerting Youssef to their plight, this wouldn't have happened. The irony of losing one of the last surviving members of Suffolk's Men to another cannon, and through her own carelessness at that, was not lost on her. She wrapped her arms around her knees and blinked back tears.
She was roused from her misery a few minutes later by the cabin door opening. After wiping her eyes on her cuff, she looked up to see Sandy ducking through the doorway, carrying a wide-bottomed jug and a wad of damp linen. His face was flushed and his dark hair was damp and curling around his temples, like Mal's after a sparring match. He set the jug down on the floor next to the bunk, shook out the cloth and folded it neatly, then draped it over the top of the jug.
"What's that?" she asked.
"Boiled water. We have to let it cool before we wash his wounds, though."
"So why boil it in the first place?"
He gave her the kind of look one would bestow upon an ignorant child. "Because boiling drives off what you would call 'evil humours'. Using unboiled water would only make matters worse."
"Oh." She looked out through the open door. "Are the skraylings still following us?"
"Their ship is heading south, as we are, if that's what you mean." Sandy went and closed the door and then leant on it with his arms folded, a pose that reminded her even more of Mal. "They're keeping their distance, though."
"You don't think they'll attack again?"
"My people are not warlike," he said. "There are quarrels, of course, one man against another, but we do not take sides, nor fight in groups."
"But the skrayling ships have cannons, and Hennaq fired on the pirates."
"The cannons are for defence, not offence. It is one thing for Hennaq to frighten away pirates with a show of force, and quite another to attack a peaceful vessel."