Chase the Morning

I considered that for a moment, then decided I didn’t want to. There was something else that wouldn’t go away, something Mall had let slip, and the more I mulled it over, the more my hair bristled. Beside us a spark swirled in the gathering dark, in slow figures of eight like a firefly on a string; I found it incredibly irritating. ‘That guy – does he have to keep on waving that torch thing like that!’

‘The gun captain? That’s his linstock – he must do thus to keep it alight.’

‘Well, I wish to hell he wasn’t so casual about it – not near the cartridges!’ Mall only chuckled. I seethed.

‘Mall … There’s something – I’ve just got to ask it –’

‘Ask, then!’ she hissed. No chuckle now; she sounded every bit as tense as I felt.

‘Those plays – where boys acted the women’s roles. That hasn’t been done for … Mall, were those plays Shakespeare’s?’

‘Who? Oh, Shakspur!’ She sounded surprised. ‘Do they still play’em, then? Aye, some were. All the rage with the gentry, but too many words for my liking! Now your Middleton, your Master Dekker, now, there were play-makers indeed –’ She broke off, her hand light on my shoulder. High above, against the darkening cloud-arch, came a shadow and a white flash, a shape circling down on narrow wings towards the still shadow on the foredeck – a smallish gull. Right on Le Stryge’s upraised arm it landed, still flapping and fluttering nervously, and slowly he clasped it to him and bowed over it, petting it, ignoring its uneasy protests. He glanced up at the moon, and at the high sails of the Wolf merchantman, suddenly much closer. I was shocked to see how fast we were overhauling her. Still crooning over his catch, he shuffled forward to the rail. Suddenly he held up the bird, gleaming in the last rays, and shouted something aloud, sharp and guttural and cruel. Somehow I understood what he was about to do; I half rose, a shout on my lips. But Mall yanked me down, even as the old man flung his arms wide and ripped the hapless bird apart, wing from body.

A low groan of revulsion arose from the sailors. But even as the blood spattered onto the deck, I saw the sails ahead jolt as if some vast hand had slapped at them, and flap empty and useless in the breeze. Then the moonlight dulled and dimmed, and in the shadow that spilled across the maindeck I heard Stryge’s cackle of high-pitched laughter.

Pierce’s bellow drowned it. ‘Belay that, blast your eyes! Now we’ll be on ’em in minutes! Hands ready to go about! Starboard crews – run out your guns!’

With a creak and a crash the ports flew open, and once again that drumming thunder shuddered through the ship. Beside my ear the tackle clattered, the carriage squealed as the straining crew sent that massive weight nosing out into the darkness, as if scenting its distant mark. Handspikes clattered, heaving the heavy barrel up to the right angle and elevation. I hoped the gun captains remembered their orders. There was a brief frantic clinking as wedges were hammered home to hold the aim, and then a silence so abrupt it was frightening. I’d tuned out the usual ship noises; all I could hear was my own breathing, very loud. My mouth tasted gummy and rank; I’d have drunk anything, even that damn brandy. On and on the silence went, the waiting, for what felt like hours, with nothing to do but think. That stroke of cruel magic had upset me horribly; and yet my words with Mall haunted me far worse. It set things boiling in the back of my brain, hopes and fears and odd concerns – and the truths she’d made me face.

‘Hands to braces!’ yelled Pierce suddenly. ‘Helm a’lee! Headsail sheets! Mainsail! Cast off, starboard – tail on, port! And haul! And haul, damn your arses, haul!’

Panic gripped me for a moment as overhead our own sails shivered, emptied and flapped; but then the yards creaked slowly around.

‘Going about – into the wind and onto another tack!’ hissed Mall. Our canvas boomed full again, and suddenly the Chorazin’s sails, still flailing, rose up from the side, not ahead. ‘For our broadside – or theirs –’

Then it came. ‘Starboard guns – as you bear – fire!’