Ship of Fire by Michael Cadnum

Author:Michael Cadnum
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media

Chapter 22

“They have one little saker, there in the prow,” Jack Flagg said.

He was indicating an indistinguishable glint on the distant ship as we approached. “They’ll have a few more guns covered over with sailcloth,” he added.

“Hidden?” I suggested.

“Making their peaceful intentions clear,” said Jack.

He hesitated, and then he added, “The seam in the gun was weak, as nobody could have known.”

I did not have the words to weigh my feelings just then.

“When that cannon sundered, Tom,” he continued, his voice hoarse with sorrow, “my heart stopped dead in my body, and I doubt it’s started beating again. You’re in my prayers.”

I thanked him, strong feeling choking my speech.

“I have a token for you,” he said. He stretched out his hand, and into mine placed a barbed claw-like thing, a talon, it seemed, carved of wood. I closed my grasp around it, gingerly, aware that this was no common gift.

“It’s the fighting spur of Pepper John,” said Jack. “The best rooster to ever draw blood on the Southbank. I traded a hanged man’s knuckle for it. It’s yours, Tom, and may it bring you luck.”

I wanted to protest. This gift was too gracious, and too valuable. How could my friend load and fire war-engines if he was stripped of every charm against ill-fortune?

Jack and I fell silent as a mariner relieved his bladder in the piss-barrel nearby. The big containers were kept tied to the ship’s side in case of fire—nothing damped a blaze like urine. Fire was a great threat on a sailing vessel. One of the most potent weapons of sea battle were the legendary fire-ships, vessels packed with pitch and set alight, and set forth with the wind in their sails to ram and destroy enemy craft.

A soldier vomited down his stockings before he could reach the rail, and a muffled cry rose up from the galley, where rumor had it the cook was having trouble keeping his great copper stock pot on the fire. And then the master gunner called for Jack, and I realized, as my friend hurried off to attend to the guns, that there was little time for heart-to-heart conversation on a warship.

A mariner’s song flavored the breeze as men climbed the mainmast to work the softly thundering sails.

We captured a Flemish carrack that afternoon, a stocky little merchantman with two masts and gold paint about her stern.

Her sailors hauled the ship up out of the wind, and made no attempt to flee or fight as we approached. Our pikemen stood by with gleaming points at the end of their shafts, some of them armed with a weapon called Welsh-hooks, a stout staff with a long sharp bill at the end. Gunners stood by, wicks at the ready, giving off soft feathers of smoke.

Our purser and his mates climbed aboard the Sint Joachim to inventory the bales of wool and the barrels of medicinal spirits, supervising the wrestling of the cargo up and into our own hold. When all was done, in the

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.