Brotherband 4: Slaves of Socorro (11 page)

‘No need for that. I’m actually enjoying myself.’

A splash of spray came overside as
Heron
sliced into a slightly larger than normal wave. Stig wiped his face with the sleeve of his jacket, licking his lips and tasting the salt.

‘I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,’ he said. ‘I’ve had an idea.’

Hal smiled. An opening like that was too good to miss. Stig would probably be disappointed if he didn’t take advantage of it.

‘Wonders may never cease,’ he said.

His friend gave him a tolerant smile, and made a circular motion with his hand, as if conducting the expected jibe.

‘Yes, yes,’ he said. ‘Get it all out. But seriously . . .’ He paused and Hal gestured for him to go ahead. Now that the moment was here, Stig wasn’t sure how to proceed. If Hal took what he was about to say in the wrong spirit, he might be insulted. Then he shrugged. Hal was too intelligent for that. At least, he hoped he was.

‘You’re a much better helmsman than me,’ he began. Always start with a positive, he thought.

‘So far, I can’t argue with your idea,’ Hal said lightly.

‘We all know it. I mean, I’m good on the tiller . . .’ Stig paused and Hal, knowing he was leading up to something, stopped his teasing.

‘You’re better than good,’ Hal said quietly.

Stig nodded his appreciation of the compliment. ‘But you’re a complete natural,’ he continued. ‘You seem to know how the ship will react, what she’s going to do. You know how to place her exactly where you want her. It’s as if you see her in position before you put her there. It’s almost as if she’s an extension of yourself.’

Hal shrugged. He knew, without any false vanity, that he was a better helmsman than anyone on board. Better than just about anyone in Hallasholm, in fact. There was an old fisherman who might have a better touch on the tiller than he did. And three or four wolfship captains who were probably as good as he was. He also knew that it was a gift he had been born with – an innate ability to gauge speed, angles, drift and the relative position of other ships. As such, it was nothing for him to feel particularly boastful about. He had this skill through no fault or virtue of his own – although, admittedly, he had practised to develop it to a fine art.

‘It probably helps that I designed and built the ship,’ he said mildly.

But Stig shook his head. ‘You’re the same on any ship,’ he said. There was a pause as he wondered how to continue.

Hal looked at him shrewdly. ‘I take it you didn’t come up here simply to praise my unerring skill as a helmsman,’ he said. ‘I imagine the word
but
is about to make an appearance.’

Stig couldn’t help a slight grin forming. ‘Ah, you’ve seen through my skilful verbal gymnastics.’

‘Be hard not to. You don’t usually shower me with praise and lavish compliments. So let’s hear the but.’

Stig took a deep breath.
‘But,’
he said deliberately, drawing the word out, ‘when we go into battle, you’re not at the helm. You’re up there –’ he gestured towards the bow with his thumb ‘– shooting the Mangler.’

Hal nodded thoughtfully. Stig had a point, he realised.

‘That’s because nobody else can shoot it,’ he pointed out.

‘Only because nobody else has ever tried. You designed it. You built it. So it was only natural that you would be the one who would operate it. The problem is, when we go into battle, that leaves the ship in the hands of someone who is nowhere near as skilled as you.’

Hal said nothing. A slight frown creased his forehead. His first inclination was to disagree. But he realised his friend was right.

Stig noticed his hesitation and continued. ‘The thing is, I’m nowhere near as good a helmsman as you are. But I’m just as good a shot. Maybe even better. I could learn to use the Mangler.’

That was true. Stig had borrowed Hal’s crossbow on occasions and had proven to be every bit as good a shot as his skirl. And he was much more accurate throwing a spear or a javelin. He had a natural athlete’s ability to judge a moving target’s speed and direction, and aim his shot so that the projectile arrived in the same spot, and at the same time, as the target.

‘This way,’ Stig continued, ‘we’d be using people where they’re best suited. As it stands, you’re at the Mangler, yelling instructions to whoever’s on the tiller to get us in position, and telling Ingvar where you want him to point the weapon. If you were back here, it would be simpler. You
know
where we need to place the ship to use the Mangler to best advantage.’

Hal nodded. Positioning the ship to give the Mangler the best possible firing angle could be vital in a fight. Then Stig added the clincher.

‘Besides, if things go wrong, I’d much rather have you back here in charge of the ship than stuck up in the bows.’

And that was the real point, Hal thought. He had always been torn when he relinquished control of the ship to take over the giant crossbow. He hated leaving the
Heron
in someone else’s hands when they were going into danger. In his heart, he knew that this was where he belonged – at the tiller, in control of the ship. This was where he was most comfortable. And this was where he could contribute most to the
Heron
’s success.

‘You’re making sense,’ he told Stig, and he saw his friend’s shoulders relax. He realised that Stig had been worried that he might insult Hal with his suggestion and he smiled now to show that this wasn’t the case.

‘One small problem,’ said a deep voice from the rowing well in front of them.

‘I thought you were asleep,’ Hal said, and grinned at Stig.

‘And I thought a smelly old bear had died on the rowing benches,’ Stig added.

Thorn grunted as he sat up, throwing back the bearskin. Droplets of water flew in all directions. He turned a disparaging eye on Stig, who shrugged his shoulders unapologetically, then addressed Hal.

‘Stig and I are the main fighting party,’ Thorn began. ‘We’re the ones who are first to board if we fight another ship. Can’t do that if he’s stuck behind the Mangler.’

‘That’s true,’ Hal admitted. ‘But he can always join you as we get closer. It’ll only take a few seconds.’

‘That’s not how it worked when we fought those river pirates,’ Thorn pointed out. ‘Stig and I boarded one and you went off after the others with the Mangler.’

Hal considered the point. What Thorn said was true. He frowned as he tried to think of a solution, but Thorn had one ready.

‘Let Stig and Lydia both practise with the Mangler,’ he said. The two younger men both reacted with surprise.

‘Lydia?’ they said in unison.

‘Lydia,’ Thorn replied. ‘She’s probably the best marksman on board. You’ve seen how good she is with those darts. She’s an expert when it comes to judging range and deflection. And Ingvar does all the heavy work training the Mangler.’

Stig and Hal exchanged a glance. ‘But she’s so good at keeping enemy archers occupied while we’re approaching,’ Hal said.

Thorn made an expansive gesture with both hands. ‘Then let Stig handle the big crossbow while we’re approaching. Then, once he and I board, Lydia can take over the Mangler. In any case, it makes sense to have more than one person trained to use it.’

Again, Stig and Hal exchanged a glance. ‘He’s right,’ Hal said.

Stig nodded agreement. ‘That’s brilliant, Thorn.’

‘Of course it is,’ Thorn grunted. Then he pulled the bearskin up over his head and stretched out again. After a second or two, they heard his voice from under the heavy fur.

‘Don’t tell her I said she was the best marksman on board.’

‘She’ll never hear it from me,’ Hal said.

The rain eased, then died away midafternoon. The Herons stowed the tarpaulin they had been sheltering under and took their normal sailing stations. Hal turned the helm over to Edvin, showed him the bearing he wanted him to follow on the sun compass and then set to with his tools and some spare wood and canvas. Kloof nosed around him curiously, her head to one side, trying to divine what he was up to.

After an hour or so, Hal sat back and displayed his work.

‘A raft?’ Stig said. Two casks were joined together, and a framework was mounted about them, with a piece of canvas stretched across it.

‘A target,’ Hal told him. ‘You and Lydia can start practising with the Mangler this afternoon. We’ll see how good you are.’

I
n the middle of the afternoon, they set the target raft adrift over the side. Then Hal swung the
Heron
into a wide sweeping turn, taking her away from the target. When it was just a small light-coloured dot bobbing on the waves, he swung back, heading to intercept it at a slight angle. The Mangler could not shoot directly over the bows. It had to be aimed a little to either side. Of course, it could traverse to a ninety-degree angle on either beam, but the narrow head-on angle was an easier shot and Hal thought it was wise to start that way.

Lydia, Stig and Ingvar stood beside him as he turned back towards the target.

‘We’ll do a few dry runs first, to help you get the feel of it. Then we’ll let you both try a shot and see how you do.’

They nodded and trooped forward. Ingvar took the training lever from where it was fastened to the mast and fitted it into the back of the Mangler. Stig and Lydia hesitated, not sure who should go first.

‘You go,’ Lydia said. ‘You’ve been on board longer than I have.’

Stig nodded and climbed onto the small seat behind the Mangler. The rest of the crew members were clustered near the mast, eager to watch. Ulf and Wulf, of course, were at the trimming sheets. They’d be adjusting the sail as Hal brought the ship in to a shooting position.

Stig busied himself getting set behind the huge crossbow. He flicked up the rear sight that Hal had designed. It was marked in fifty-metre increments, from three hundred metres down to one hundred. He crouched and leaned forward, aligning the rear and front sights with the small bobbing target. He noticed how the ship’s motion caused the sights to rise and fall on the target.

I’ll have to anticipate a second or two so that I shoot when the sights are on line, he thought. He decided he’d wait until the target was a hundred metres away. At that distance, the Mangler shot in an almost flat trajectory.

‘Can you call out the range as we get closer?’ he asked Lydia.

She nodded. ‘When do you want me to start?’

‘Start at two-fifty and call it each fifty metres,’ he told her. Her years of practice with the atlatl made her an expert when it came to judging range.

She stepped up onto the mast support to get a clearer view past Stig, Ingvar and the huge crossbow.
Heron
swooped on, with the wind over her starboard quarter. As Stig watched, the sights continued to rise and fall over the target. The ship was coming in at a slight angle, travelling from left to right. He decided he’d set the Mangler’s point of aim a little to the left, so that the ship’s course would bring it onto the line of the target.

‘Ingvar?’ he said.

‘Ready, Stig.’ The big boy’s barrel of a chest gave him a deep, resonant voice.

‘Train a little left . . . more . . . more . . . that’s it!’

‘Two-fifty,’ said Lydia.

Stig checked his sights. The target was gradually coming from right to left. Maybe he needed more angle.

‘Left a little more . . . That’s it!’

‘Two hundred metres.’

Stig smiled to himself. The whole thing was coming together nicely, he thought. Kloof stood close by, her eyes darting from Stig, to the Mangler, to the target bobbing up and down on the waves.

‘One-fifty.’

Stig planned to shoot when
Heron
was at the top of her rising and falling action. He could see that the Mangler was trained slightly low. He wound the elevating wheel and watched the front sight rise. The target was drifting faster now.

‘Right a little . . . stop!’

He peered down the sights. The line was right. The elevation was right. He waited till
Heron
rose on the crest of a wave and tapped the side of the big weapon to simulate pulling the trigger lanyard.

‘And . . . shoot!’ he called, at the same instant that Lydia gave the range as one hundred metres. He turned and grinned triumphantly.

‘Hit it dead centre,’ he told her.

She raised an eyebrow. ‘In your mind,’ she said sceptically.

They changed positions as Hal took
Heron
back to her starting position. The halyards squealed through the blocks as Jesper and Stefan hauled down the port sail and raised the starboard.

‘I’ll get you to call the ranges for me too, if you will,’ Lydia said.

Stig nodded. With enough practice, he’d be able to judge range as well as the line and the elevation. But for now, the extra assistance had been useful.

They spent the next hour making dummy runs, and gradually, Lydia and Stig became more familiar with the workings of the big crossbow.

‘Those sights are an excellent idea,’ Lydia said. She was used to estimating direction, elevation and range when she cast an atlatl dart. The sights on the Mangler, graduated for elevation and allowing the shooter to line the target up exactly, were a big improvement.

Finally, Hal hove to and walked down the deck to where the two new shooters stood by the Mangler.