Chapter 49: Hot Pursuit (1/2)
Our pursuit caused a stir among the crew, a stir that I quickly turned into preparations for battle. There were three ships behind us and at least one on either side, hidden by landmass. It looked like the three behind were supposed to be the anvil on which we’d be crushed: the Emerald being the slowest and least maneuverable of them but utterly invincible to whatever the Death’s Consort could throw at her.
The Athair and the Spirit of Retribution were the other two warships trailing us. They were not the behemoths the Emerald was, but they were no doubt faster and capable of outperforming my carrack.
The two ships flanking us were likely the fastest ships that they thought could delay the Consort long enough for the bigger ones to deal with me. At least I hoped they were, my only chance seemed to be keeping my distance and dealing with one or both of the flanking ships before making it to waters where my submersible advantage could truly come into play.
I shouted orders to Burdette to take the helm and chart our course for best speed through the reefs. I could hope that the Emerald’s draft would be too much to navigate these waters, forcing them to act as a rearguard rather than inexorably pursuing like a necromancers’ undead hound.
The Athair and Spirit of Retribution … well, let’s hope they couldn’t keep up.
We put out every inch of sail we had to harness the wind, in addition to the headway we were making from the ship pulling ambient mana from the surroundings to propel us. If I’d been able to improve this ship, I could have put some XP in her speed and improved that bonus. Alas, ‘twas not to be …
“Phillip, get the fighters outfitted and ready to repel boarders. Then have someone dispense weapons to the others.” We’d compiled a list based off those who weren’t combat oriented enough to make our registry of fighters, but who had some skill or ability that meant they weren’t useless. Every one of these people had a weapon placed in their hands when it came time to defend ourselves.
Minus the hands that had deserted or died, we had just over 270 crew on board. The ship could sail with a fraction of that, it was only my demand that they all be competent sailors that had everyone working. The ‘many hands make light work’ mantra was the only reason I could think of that morale wasn’t even worse, though finding room for everyone became a question.
80 fighters I trusted to hold their own: plus another 60 or so who knew how to hold a weapon or shoot a bow. There were 140 people gearing up to overwhelm anyone who attempted to board us. That should be enough to deal with whatever boarding party the warships could throw at us, assuming there wasn’t a drastic level disparity.
Of course, that was before they riddled us with artillery. Who could say if they’d even attempt a boarding?
“You know, it’s funny how life tends to repeat itself.”
I froze, nearly losing my grip on the rigging for the first time in years. I knew that voice in my head: my master – my captor – was keeping tabs on me.
“Why are you here now?” I asked.
As usual, Jones didn’t respond to me. I still didn’t know how much he could tell about what I was doing; could he tell exactly what kind of a bind I was in? I finished climbing down the rigging and made my way to the artillery deck, where Sadeo was calmly telling his team leaders what to do while runners he’d dispatched returned with the most volatile munitions we had. I approved.
“When I took your heart,” Jones said again. “I took it as a trophy – I wanted to hear its song as a reminder of what has been. It was just a memento …”
His ‘memento’ had a lot of bearing on me! If it meant so little I’d take it back.
“I never imagined that I would have to struggle with it as often as you’ve made me. You’ve a strong attachment, Seaborn.”
Surprised, I let that tidbit sink in while I watched ballistae be cocked and loaded. So it wasn’t all easy for Davy Jones, he was having a struggle with my heart, whatever that meant. I waited, but Jones didn’t elaborate any more.
“Domenic?” Sadeo asked. “What do ya need?”
“It looks like you’ve got things well in hand,” I said to my master artillerist. “Don’t hold back on the good stuff. It’s going to be hard to get away from these ships.”
“We don’t want to take the fight to them?” Sadeo asked hopefully. The furry short creature was constantly looking for grand battles to participate in.
“I don’t see any reason to fight at a disadvantage. Let us sail to waters where we can shoot at them from below and then I’ll consider 5 to 1 odds.”
Sadeo nodded, though he still seemed disappointed.
The ship’s carpenter Abner found me then, giving his report on the damage from striking the reef earlier. Several boards had been broken in, but there was no flooding. I could control whether water entered my ship when I rose or submerged, and that extended to keeping the hull from flooding. It was a nice reminder that attacking from beneath the waves wasn’t my only trick.
I went topside and my spirits sank a bit at the distance the Spirit of Retribution had closed. The Athair was just behind her, and the indicators for my crewmen told me that the flanking ships were pulling ahead, and would cut us off before we could get into deeper waters.
It was all I could do not to pull out my book on naval strategy and hunt for a solution. For better or worse, the book dealt almost exclusively with armadas that wanted to destroy each other, and so the tactics were about maneuvering, positioning, and what ships to sacrifice in order to gain an advantage. In our situation, I intended to flee if given the chance, which would also change how my pursuit would try and corner me. I might as well chuck the book on strategy overboard – it hadn’t even unlocked the strategist skill for me.
I grabbed my charts and looked over them while I calculated the speed of each vessel. We were on a northerly course, but a string of islands lay ahead of us like knots in a sounding line. My chart only listed the space between them as ‘dangerous waters’. We might be able to make a crossing there, but if we could some of our pursuers could, and that would play into their hands. I wanted to dive as soon as possible.
To do that I’d need to turn east or west when we approached those islands. Preferably east, as that led to deeper waters and hence more room for us. The trouble was that those routes were being closed off. Assuming the flanking vessels continued with best possible speed, they’d be able to position themselves to both the east and west.
“We’ll have to fight at least one,” Burdette said from over my shoulder as he followed the notations I was making.
“Two,” I muttered. “Best case scenario. The Spirit of Retribution will catch up to us without a doubt if we try to run for it – honestly I don’t know why the Athair hasn’t closed in more too.”
“We just need to make it to deeper water,” he pointed out.
“Maybe,” I said. “Make deeper water and they’ll lose their ability to pinpoint us tonight.” Unspoken was the reason they’d lose that ability – my deserting crewmen would be dead. Or free, unlikely as I believed their chances. “The trouble is, if we head west we’ll be running into reefs again,” I said, as I pointed out the disparate depths. “And likely as not be forced to surface. If we head east, the ships behind us will catch up before we make it far enough to dive out of range. We’d be facing the eastern flanking ship and the Spirit of Retribution at least, likely the Athair as well.”
“So you want to go west and try to deal with just the western flanking ship, taking our chances with fighting the others later?”
“No. I truly believe we’d be crushed in a fair fight. But I want to make our pursuers think I’ve gone that way.” I pointed to the waters along the western path – we should be able to dive out of sight just before reaching the western flanking vessel.
Burdette keyed in on what I was saying and pointed out the obvious flaw. “Misdirection won’t work when they can point to us. The ships following will know if we try and let them pass above us.”
“We don’t need to fool them so completely, we just need them to follow our steering to the west long enough that when we double back to the east, they’ll be too far out of position to stop us. They’ll be able to catch up to us with their speed, but it should give us enough space to make it to deep water.” I dragged my finger along the chart to indicate my plan, then gestured to my speed calculations.
“That means we’ll be doubling back straight into the eastern flanking vessel.”
“If we have to fight at least two, better to fight the faster but weaker flanking vessels than either of the warships behind us.”
“You’re assuming that the flanking vessels are weaker.”
My hand paused with the compass on the chart. “Yes, I suppose I am.”
He shrugged his thick shoulders, making his bulldog neck disappear for a moment. “Suppose some assumptions are needed.”
“I want you ready to take the helm,” I said. “I want to be on it to best gauge when I need to dive and surface, but I’m also the best choice to counter some of the things any mages might throw at us.”
“You’re the only choice for that,” Burdette said dryly. “You should really get a few real mages on board.”
I bristled at how he said ‘real mages’ but tried not to let my irritation show. “Yes, I’ll just pop into the next port and set up a recruiting booth for a week!” Ok, quest failed; my irritation showed.
“If you could teach me the trick of diving the ship,” Burdette said, ignoring my remark, “You wouldn’t have to man the helm. I could even stand watches to avoid anything like the reef incident earlier.”
“It’s tied to my profession,” I said. “Ships still aren’t designed to do anything of the sort – it’s a professional ability.”
He nodded in resignation. “And … no chance you’ll ever offer me that profession?”
I looked at him carefully. Make Burdette a Captain of the Deep? I wouldn’t even if I could. The man knew his business, sure, and maybe even had the heartless attitude Jones was trying to instill in me – but I was sure he was motivated by greed. He’d take the skill levels I offered in lieu of gold, but I figured he was a man set on owning one of these islands with every luxury imported to him for his enjoyment. If a man like that was all it took to acquire the profession, Jones would have had an unbeatable armada long ago.
Burdette read my eyes. “Figured as much,” he grumbled. “I’ll stand by to take the helm.”
“Oh,” I said under my breath as he left. “If only I could have a crew of people I trust!”
“Trust is a door that leads to betrayal,” Jones said, making me jump. He even knew what I was thinking! “Not trusting ensures that when the knives come out, your first indication isn’t a stab in the back.”
“And when I need people to help me take on lots of ships?” I asked hotly. After waiting just long enough to convince me he hadn’t heard, he whispered:
“Control.”
I shivered. “Like you’re doing to me? How is it that you represent the spirit of the ocean when you can’t appreciate freedom? You’re all about domination!”
What I said made him angry. “You say I don’t have the seas’ blessing? I was old before you were a twinkle in your father’s eye. The sea is not a supportive mother – she is capricious and relentless. She will crush you without even noticing your despair!”
I wanted to disagree, but I couldn’t find the words. I knew he was right. I’d always known the sea was impartial and unforgiving, there was no arguing that. But how could that be all Jones saw?
“We’re not dissimilar, you and I.” Jones went on, in a more moderate tone. “That spirit – that similarity – is the reason one of the professions I offered was the one you chose. But the sea already has her avatar: me! For that reason, you’re going to have to learn. I’m going to have to teach your spirit to accept a leash if you’re going to serve me.”
“Men are the easiest animals to put on a leash,” I said, quoting a proverb I’d heard. “And the hardest to keep leashed.”
“So it would seem,” he agreed. “Watch yourself. If you won’t learn to submit, I’ll turn your leash into a noose and strangle you with it.”
With that parting comment, I could feel Jones’ mental presence leave. I hadn’t noticed I was able to recognize it until he deigned to converse with me. I muttered some nonsense under my breath – sometimes you just needed to mutter even if you had nothing intelligible to say.
“Captain?” Burdette called. He, the helmsman and several others were looking at me with concern as I bent over my charts muttering at nobody.
I moved briskly to the helm and took it. “Stand by, Mr. Burdette. As discussed.”
“Aye, sir.” He replied. It seemed as though he’d gotten over my loss of temper earlier. That or the man was simply very good at controlling his emotions.
I adjusted our course by several degrees and had the crew manning the lines set the sails to keep the wind in them. It was fortunate the wind was blowing along our course – if we’d been forced to head south along this channel instead it would have been at a snail’s pace.
Burdette kept me appraised of the speed of the vessels behind us. The Athair and Spirit of Retribution were both closing, but the Spirit was faster. That surprised me, but I guess its Commander Darius didn’t have the same seamanship level to keep up.
The Emerald had indeed stopped rather than attempt to navigate the waters. It remained to be seen whether they would attempt to circumnavigate the islands or stay in place as an observer and guardian against any attempt to double back – as foolish as doing so would be in these conditions.
As we headed northwest the western flanking vessel came into view. It was a cutter – fast and agile but lightly armored. I didn’t doubt that all of these vessels had been outfitted with the best that could be managed in the time they’d had, but a cutter against my cursed ship still wasn’t a contest.
Then it got into analyzing range, and I was reminded why I shouldn’t underestimate it.
The Hunter
Ship Class: Cutter
Captain: Lieutenant Davis
Ship Durability: 28,000/32,000
Ship Level: 3
The ship had a threat level of 3. The Death’s Consort only had a level of 4; two by virtue of my command and profession, and the other 2 based on my crew’s abilities and ship armaments. Whoever Lieutenant Davis was and whatever they’d done to their cutter had made a rather unprepossessing ship nearly as dangerous as me.
“Update on our course?” I asked Burdette. He swiftly ran the calculations and didn’t need to make any adjustments.
“We’re both right where we thought we’d be.”
“Good,” I replied. That meant that the depth would be enough for us to submerge before meeting the Hunter. The deserters could point towards us, but that ability was general in scope. Underwater, we’d be hidden from view as we changed the sails and came about. By the time our pursuers realized we’d changed direction and moved to pursue, we’d be sailing at speed for the east.
“The Hunter will realize we’re turning before the others do.” Burdette pointed out. “If they’re in communication with the others, they’ll talk.”
Storms! Why hadn’t I thought of that? If this Lieutenant Davis on the Hunter was as guileful as I suspected, they could blow the whistle on me and flip my whole maneuvering attempt on its head.
“We’ll have Sadeo firing at them to keep them occupied,” I said. Burdette just grunted.
We approached the Hunter head on while the two ships behind us continued to close the distance. The Hunter would try to pass by on our port side, strafing us with artillery, then swing around to catch up with us from behind to match our speed and exchange volleys. If we were stuck above the waves, they could do it.
“Sounding!” I ordered, even though my own seamanship skills were giving me a good indication of the depth. While a crewman put out the sounding line, Burdette whispered in my ear.
“We’re at just over 50 feet of depth now. Dive some and as the floor drops away we’ll dive some more.”