Sword and Scimitar Page 12

  inside him as the galley prepared for battle. He turned to Richard. ‘Bring me my cuirass, helmet and sword. And arm yourself.’ Richard nodded and hurried below to the hold where their baggage had been stored for the voyage.

  Overhead a long red and gold pennant climbed up a halyard and rippled out with a faint crackle. Moments later the other galleys raised their pennants and the sound of drums carried faintly across the waves as they made ready for battle.

  ‘Deck there!’

  The officers at the stern looked up at the cry and saw that this time the lookout was pointing to the south.

  ‘More sails! At least five galleys.’

  ‘How many to the north?’ bellowed the captain.

  The lookout quickly turned, staring hard for a moment before he replied. ‘Six, sir! I can see ’em clearly now. Hull up.’

  ‘Can you see any of their colours?’

  ‘Not yet, sir.’

  ‘Could they be our allies?’ asked Fadrique. ‘Genoese, perhaps?’ His father shook his head. ‘Not this far to the west. The rendez¬vous is at Sicily. It is almost certainly the enemy. Corsairs from the Barbary coast.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Thomas. ‘It is a classic ambush, Don Garcia. I have seen it many times before.’

  ‘From the point of view of the hunter, no doubt.’

  ‘That is true. When the galleys of the Order operated together, this is how we would hunt. I suspect that our enemy has learned the technique from us. Indeed, in -many ways the corsairs and the men of the Order are alike.’

  ‘Except that the Order is blessed by the Church of Rome.’

  ‘Just as the Muslim pirates are blessed by the imams of their faith, sir. In the end we are all holy warriors, or we are all pirates.’

  Don Garcia frowned. ‘That is a troubling pronouncement, Sir Thomas. I do not care to think of my enemy, and the enemy of the one true God, in such a light. I’d prefer that you did not speak in such terms before me again.’

  ‘As you wish, Don Garcia.’

  ‘What I do wish to hear more of is their tactics. You have more experience of them than I do. How will they seek to defeat us?’ Thomas paused a moment to think, mentally positioning the three forces and taking into account the wind direction. ‘Their target will be the galleons. They are your most vulnerable vessels, sir. The corsairs will know that is where the most valuable cargo will be. But they will soon realise that the galleons are filled with soldiers. So they will either stand off and blast the decks with grapeshot before they board, or they will attempt to sink the galleons in a bid to kill as many of your soldiers as possible. For that they can expect to be handsomely rewarded by the Sultan.’

  ‘Then what is to be done to frustrate them? Is it too late to turn back to Palma?’

  ‘That is what they will have calculated. Even now they are on converging courses. If you order the flotilla to turn about, they will follow suit and continue to close in on us. We will be engaged long before we could hope to lie under the protection of Palma’s cannon, sir.’

  ‘Then what would you advise me to do, Sir Thomas?’

  ‘Keep the galleys as close to the galleons as possible. The enemy must not be permitted to break through the protective cordon. Have one galley to the front of the formation, one to the stern and two on either side. The galleons will need to sail side by side in pairs for mutual support in the event that the enemy attempts to board them. The biggest danger is that the enemy will try to draw our galleys away from their positions. That must not be permitted, sir. We must hold the formation, whatever happens. Given that their galleys outnumber us two to one, that is our only hope.’

  ‘Very well.’ Don Garcia nodded. ‘Captain, we’ll need to pass close to each of our warships to give the orders. See to it.’

  ‘Aye, sir,’ the captain acknowledged before advancing to the rail to bellow orders for the oars to be lowered.

  Richard returned from the hold laden with Thomas’s weapons and armour. He placed the bundle on the deck and stood behind Thomas to assist him in fastening the breast- and back-plates of his cuirass.

  As the flagship pulled past each of the other vessels in the flotilla, the captain relayed the orders via speaking trumpet. By the time the galleys had taken in their sails, unshipped their oars and formed a protective screen, the sails of the two groups of corsairs closing in from either beam were visible from the deck. A short time later the lookout finally confirmed their identity beyond any doubt.

  ‘They’re flying green pennants.’

  Richard edged towards Thomas and muttered, ‘Green?’

  ‘It is the colour of Islam.’ Thomas inspected his squire, tugging on his helmet. Richard wore a burgonet design, with the visor raised, as did Thomas. ‘Your helmet is too loose. Tighten the chinstrap.’

  ‘If I fasten it any tighter I’ll choke.’

  ‘And if you wear it as loose as that it will twist on your skull at the first blow and your view will be impaired. You’ll fall victim to the first corsair who can move quickly enough to catch you on your blind side.’

  Gritting his teeth, Richard undid the buckle and tightened the strap a notch.

  ‘That’s better,’ said Thomas. He grasped the helmet and gave it an experimental twist. ‘And make certain you wear mantlets if you want to keep your fingers.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Richard bowed his head. ‘As you command.’

  Thomas turned back to track the progress of the enemy. The two formations of galleys were in clear view, just over a mile off each beam. Their green pennants flickered like snakes’ tongues in the gentle wind blowing across the sea. Flashes of polished metal glinted amid the distant figures packed on to the decks of the corsair galleys. For the first time since they had been sighted Thomas felt some small relief as he realised that the enemy vessels were smaller than the galleys of Don Garcia’s flotilla. The slender hulls would not carry the same weight in cannon, nor would they have sufficient impetus to significantly damage the Spanish galleys in the event of a collision. But they still posed a considerable danger to the galleons and would have the advantage in speed and manoeuvrability. It would be a contest between swiftness and strength, and Thomas was reminded of the bear fights he had seen back in London. But here at least the bears, though ponderous in comparison to their tormentors, would not be chained.

  ‘Here they come,’ announced the captain.

  A puff of smoke rapidly dispersed from the bows of the leading corsair to the south and a moment later the dull thud of a cannon reached those standing on the stern deck of the flagship. The corsair altered course towards the Spanish flotilla and the other galleys followed suit. As the sound of the signal gun reached the other galleys to the north, they too changed course and bore down on Don Garcia’s force. The Spanish commander watched them briefly and then turned to Thomas with an anxious expression. ‘What will they try to do? What would you do in their place?’

  Thomas pressed his lips together and turned to view the oncoming enemy. They would be upon the Spanish ships within the half hour. There was no time to waste. He did not like being placed in this position by Don Garcia, yet the Spaniard was right. There were few Christians in the Mediterranean who knew the enemy’s way of waging war better than the knights of the Order. He quickly assessed the converging courses and cleared his throat.

  ‘They will try to break the formation, sir. If they can lure the galleys out of position they will be able to pass through them and wreak destruction on the galleons. As we are, each of our galleys can cover the gap between them and the galley ahead of them. The corsairs cannot pass between the galleys without coming under the guns mounted in the bows of our warships. Their vessels are small enough for a well-placed shot to hole them and force them to withdraw from the fight, or sink them. The only position we will not be able to cover with our guns is the stern of this galley. But as long as we hold the formation we can offer the galleons the best protection.’

  Don Garcia weighed up his words and nodded. ‘I unders
tand. Thank you. Captain!’

  The ship’s commander turned smartly towards him. ‘Sir?’

  ‘You heard Sir Thomas. Steer straight and keep your station. Tell the gun crews they may fire at will on any enemy ships that pass in front of our bows.’

  ‘Aye, sir.’

  Don Garcia turned back to Thomas. ‘Now we wait and see if you are right about our enemy’s intentions.’

  The corsairs were still under sail and the vessels were handled with skill so that they began to pull ahead of the Spanish force even as they converged on it. Then, when they had gained a lead of perhaps a quarter of a mile, they turned towards the flotilla and hurriedly took in their sails and unshipped their oars for their final approach, on a perpendicular course to the direction of Don Garcia’s vessels.

  ‘Now we shall be put to the test,’ Thomas said quietly. At his side Richard shot him a questioning glance and Thomas nodded towards the nearest of the corsairs. ‘Look at the bows.’

  Richard saw the dark muzzle and long barrel of a cannon protruding from the small gun port at the front of the galley. Having stolen a lead on the Spanish convoy, the corsairs now steadily closed on the leading ships. There was a jet of flame and billowing cloud of dirty grey smoke from one of the galleys and Thomas saw fragments of wood explode into the air as the iron ball tore through the bulwark of the leading Spanish galley. The boom of the shot reached the flagship just as more shots flashed out from the bows of the other corsairs and two further shots struck home on the galley, while a water spout showed where a ball missed. A fresh shot came from a cannon loaded with iron nails and lengths of chain, and several men were swept off the foredeck of the galley as if swatted away by a giant hand.

  ‘Hold your course,’ Thomas whispered to himself as he watched. ‘Hold on.’

  The captain of the leading galley steered straight and continued to endure the enemy’s fire until he had passed through their arc of fire. Next to come under the guns of the corsairs were the two galleys flanking the galleons. The corsairs were firing at close range this time, and backed their oars to keep a safe distance from the arquebusiers on the decks of the Spanish galleys. Thomas reflected that the last time he had taken part in a sea battle, the soldiers of the Order had only just begun to use the arquebus. At the time he had disliked the weapons because they were loud, took far longer to load than a crossbow and were cumbersome. Now they were prevalent.

  Even though the corsairs were three hundred paces away from the Spanish galleys the arquebusiers could not endure the fire of the corsair guns without trying to strike back. Small spouts of water lifted from the sea around the bows of the enemy ships, and a handful of shots struck home as a figure pitched from the deck of one of the corsair galleys and splashed into the sea close to the bows. The damage done in reply was murderous, as each corsair gun belched flame and smoke and flayed the sides of the Spanish ships with a hail of iron. Several men were cut down at a time, sheets parted, their trailing ends whipping through the air like enraged serpents, and splinters slashed across the decks, cutting down yet more of the crew.

  The bow of the galley to the left began to swing towards the enemy, faster as the oars on the port side hung in the water and the forward momentum dragged the galley round to face its tormentors.

  ‘The fool!’ Thomas growled as his fingers gripped the wooden rail tightly. ‘The fool.’

  The galley fired on the corsairs as soon as its two bow guns came to bear. There was no attempt to wait for the vessel to settle and take the best shot. Even so, one of the balls crashed through the gun port under the forecastle of the nearest enemy galley and then tore down the length of the ship, smashing through the rowers, their benches and several of the oars which jerked savagely along the side of the galley. The other shot plunged harmlessly into the sea a short distance in front of the galley, throwing spray over the corsairs brandishing their weapons in the forecastle.

  As soon as the Spanish galley had begun to turn, the other corsairs surged forward again, heading either side of the galley to take full advantage of the gap that opened up between the warships escorting the galleons. The damaged corsair could not move until the casualties amongst the rowers had been cut free and dropped into the bilge, and then the survivors redistributed amongst the remaining oars. As the vessel wallowed on the swell, the Spanish galley continued to pound it, cutting down the foremast and smashing the bows into a splintered ruin. As Thomas watched he could see that the corsair would not be able to take any further part in the battle even if the vessel was lucky enough not to sink. But that was small comfort since the way was now open for the remaining five corsairs to sweep past the Spaniard and fall on the galleons. A crackle of musket fire sounded as the corsairs exchanged shots with the crew of the galley, then the crash of cannon from the galley ahead and to the left of the flagship. The shot struck the stem of the foremost corsair, striking down the officers gathered there.

  ‘Sir.’ Thomas turned to Don Garcia. ‘We have to stop the corsairs reaching the galleons.’

  ‘I can see that, thank you. We must move closer to them.’ Thomas took another look at the scene before he saw that one of the corsairs was flying a much larger pennant than the others. He pointed it out. ‘That must be their leader, there.’

  Don Garcia followed the direction he indicated.

  ‘If we can take or sink him, then we might discourage the others, sir.’

  ‘What of the formation? If we take after that ship we will no longer be able to cover the rear of our other galleys.’

  ‘It’s already too late for that. The formation was only good for as long as every ship held its station.’ Thomas gestured towards the galley still firing at the dismasted corsair, which had started to settle by the bows. ‘Now it’s every ship for itself, sir.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ‘Captain!’ Don Garcia called out as he strode to the rail that overlooked the main deck. ‘Alter course towards that corsair with the long pennant. Do you see him?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Have your gunners make ready. We must destroy him as swiftly as possible.’

  As the captain passed the orders on, Thomas watched the corsairs’ attack unfolding. Five galleys had slipped between the Spanish escorts and were closing on the galleons to open fire at point-blank range. One of the enemy vessels had heaved to, and there were figures running across the stern deck as they looked for survivors amongst the officers who had been scythed down by a blast of grapeshot. Beyond the corsairs the leading Spanish ship was starting to turn back to rejoin the battle. To the south the two galleys tasked with protecting that flank were still keeping station even though they were under fire from the second group of corsairs.

  ‘What will the enemy do now?’ asked Richard.

  Thomas considered the situation briefly before he replied. ‘If they follow usual practice they’ll try to shred the rigging and sails to stop the galleons and then clear the decks with grapeshot before they attempt to board. But there isn’t time for that. I believe they will fire on to the decks first and cause as many casualties as possible before they are forced to retreat. Then they’ll repeat the same pattern of attack. As long as the corsairs handle their ships well and avoid a melee they can continue their running attacks on the galleons.’ He sucked air through his teeth. ‘The soldiers on board are going to suffer grievous losses unless we can drive the corsairs off.’

  The pace setter’s drum quickened and the flagship turned towards the enemy leader who was backwatering as he approached the nearest of the galleons. There was a flash and puff of smoke from the bows as the gun fired on the galleon. Just as Thomas had feared, the shot was aimed low and cut a swathe through the soldiers trapped on the deck. Small puffs of fire and smoke blossomed along the side of the galleon as some of the arquebusiers fired back. The other corsair galleys took up positions abeam of the galleon and added their fire and the officers on the deck of the flagship could only look on in despair as the Spanish soldiers were steadily
cut down.

  ‘Can’t this damned ship move any faster?’ Richard hissed in frustration. ‘And why doesn’t anyone give the order for our guns to open fire? Surely we’re in range.’

  They were little more than a quarter of a mile from the leader of the enemy fleet, whose galley was in direct line with the galleon.

  ‘We can’t fire,’ Thomas realised. ‘We’d risk hitting our own men.’

  The captain of the flagship had also seen the danger and steered wide for long enough to ensure that the galleon would be clear of the line of fire when the flagship resumed its original course. The other Spanish galleys on the northern flank were turning to bear down on the enemy, their crews crying out battle cries as they saw their comrades being cut down on the galleon. The corsairs were alert to the danger and their oars dipped into the swell as they turned swiftly and made towards the next galleon, leaving the first with shattered bulwarks and thin trails of blood running down from the scuppers. The pale dots of the faces of the men on the high stern of the second galleon looked back towards the oncoming corsairs and Thomas could imagine the sick fear welling up in the pits of their stomachs as they prepared to endure the same fate their comrades had moments before.

  The pursuit of the clumsy galleons had turned into a one-sided stern chase as the sleek vessels of the corsairs rapidly advanced on their prey. The enemy slowed as they closed up on the second galleon and the first shots struck the stern quarter, shattering the painted wooden shutters and tearing ragged holes in the ship’s side.

  ‘Are we in range yet, Captain?’ asked Don Garcia, his fist clenched tightly over the pommel of his sword so that his knuckles were white.

  The captain silently judged the distance before he replied. ‘The range is still long, sir. But we might get a lucky shot in.’