Lord of the Isles (Coronet Books) (44 page)

If the others were somewhat doubtful about this most complex strategy, Somerled was not. This was the man in his element. He ordered the fleet to sail only slowly and to follow a more westerly course than otherwise necessary, in case they were observed and reported on by Manx fishing-craft.

Nightfall saw them about fifteen miles due north of the Point of Ayre on Man. The weather was not calm but not stormy either. Somerled had the fleet heave-to and ordered torch-making on all ships, using pitch and tarred-rope and canvas such as the longships carried for running repairs. Then some practice with manoeuvring with torches lit fore and aft on each vessel. This was all distinctly confusing and confused, admittedly, and took a great deal of time and patience before lessons were learned and some effective operating and signalling achieved. But they had a long winter’s night to fill in and this at least kept all busy and alert.

At dawn, the two divisions separated, Saor to sail south by west, directly for the Point of Ayre, and the others south by east on a course to keep well out-of-sight of the Manx east coast. Each sent out the fast-rowing longships ahead as scouts.

Somerled’s forty had some fifty miles to go and aimed to do it in five hours, which should be about right for timing. They were to heave-to level with the southern tip of Man but just out-of-sight from the land. This around mid-day, awaiting their scouts’ report. It was an unpleasant day of drizzle and poor visibility—which was, on balance, in their favour.

A rendezvous in open sea in poor weather is always difficult and Somerled had to wait, fretting, for over an hour beyond the agreed time before one of the scout-ships found them, coming lashing up in showering spray. Its shipmaster declared that he had looked for them farther south. He informed that a large fleet had indeed left St. Michael’s Haven over two hours earlier and sailed off westwards. It was difficult to say how many ships—naturally he had had to keep miles away—but he would think that there were fully fifty sail. How many that might leave at St. Michael’s he had no means of knowing, hidden as that anchorage was. His companion-scout was trailing after the Manx ships and would try to report developments.

On business bent now, Somerled gave the orders to proceed for St. Michael’s Haven at their fastest.

They reached the almost landlocked bay in an hour, with only another hour of daylight left. Their approach revealed no sign of enemy shipping—but of course most angles of approach allowed no view into the bay itself. When they did round the corner of the obstructing island however, and could see in behind, it was to count some twenty longships still in the bay.

There was no debate nor hesitation now. Straight in the forty Isles ships rowed, in tight formation, gongs beating, oars flashing. Speed was essential here. All the Manx ships appeared to be at moorings, none looking immediately ready for sea or fully manned. Almost certainly most crews would be ashore. Somerled saw that, with any luck, he should be able to swoop down on these moored craft and either destroy or capture them almost without any real fighting—if he could reach them before the crews could be gathered and got back aboard. They had a bare half-mile to go.

In fact, the assault on those vessels was a complete success and almost bloodless. There proved to be men on board some of them, but nothing like full crews, and these mostly put up a mere token resistance; outnumbered six or eight to one, and unready for battle, they usually dived overboard and struggled ashore after a gesture at defence.

On the land, large numbers of men were gathering and staring, uncertain what to do.

Somerled himself had to make up his mind as to what next. This cheap victory was welcome, but he did not delude himself that the real test was not still to come. It was no part of his intention to battle with the Manx people if he could help it, much less to sack the island kingdom, whatever some of his folk might like to do. On the other hand he wanted to draw back Godfrey’s main fleet, and the only way to do this was to light sufficient fires at this south end to make it plain to Godfrey, sailing north, that his base was in dire trouble. Which meant a landing, resistance and fighting presumably, for which he had little time.

Seeing that the score or so of Manx ships were theirs for the taking, he shouted orders that his spare crewmen should board and man these, or such as were approximately ready for sea. Half of the rest of his men to follow him ashore.

So the Isles longships were driven shorewards and their prows run up on the beach, the men pouring over the sides with swords drawn and axes at the ready, yelling their challenge. The Manxmen, who seemed to be more or less leaderless, made no concerted attempt to oppose them, but retired hurriedly amongst the huddled houses of the quite large town of Rushen. Somerled with difficulty restrained his men from following them. Once they got caught up in those houses and lanes, they could be grievously delayed and hopelessly broken up as a force. This was not what they had come to Rushen to achieve. Leaving some to guard their rear and to counter any unlikely attempt on the shipping, the rest would come with him up to the higher ground to the west of the town, where they would find some cothouses, barns, haystacks and the like to burn and be visible from a long way off.

This part of the programme in fact presented no difficulties. The fire-raising party were not pursued. Up on a shoulder of hill above the town and castle there were three farmeries well-placed for their purpose. Somerled, whilst sympathising with the innocent occupants there, had no compunction about setting alight their barns, cattle-sheds and hay stores, although he spared their houses. This was war. These multiple fires on the high ground, as dark fell, would light up the night sky with a red glow which would be seen from one end of Man to the other. If it did not bring Godfrey back southwards, at speed, nothing would.

With the conflagration well established, they hurried back to the ships, for time was now of the essence. There appeared to have been no trouble at town or shore, both sides warily keeping their distance. Dermot Maguire, in command there, informed that one of the Manxmen wounded in the takeover of the captured ships declared that Godfrey the Black had been sent a fleet of thirty Orkney longships.

It was almost dark now, except for the ruddy glare of the fires, and Somerled ordered a quick return to the ships and no delay about setting sail. He wanted to be out of that bay just as soon as possible.

Getting through the narrows at St. Michael’s Isle was not easy in the darkness, but the danger of collision was so evident that no crews required to be warned. Somerled was concerned for the competence of the newly-acquired craft and their scratch complements; but longships were all built approximately to the same design and should not present many problems.

Out on the open sea it seemed less dark, with the water to some extent reflecting the flames inland. The fleet, now almost sixty strong, could spread itself more—but not too much, advisedly. Most vessels could see half-a-dozen or so others but no more.

The dragon-ship led the way westwards, to round the off-shore isle of the Calf of Man at the south-western tip of the main island, and then turn northwards. He kept about two miles out from the land, his desire being to lie seawards of the returning fleet—if return it did—with it to some extent silhouetted against the glow of the fires whereas they themselves would remain unseen against the western sky. The problem was, of course, how far west to go, how close to the shore Godfrey would sail, how much room they must give him and still be sure of seeing him. If the fires did not bring him back, as indicating his base invaded, then all this was wasted effort, and Saor was in trouble. But if he came, he would be in a hurry and apt to cut corners, might take his fleet through between the Calf and his mainland, but not so close to the shore as to endanger his ships on reefs and skerries. Somerled sent Conn and half-a-dozen ships to sail up and down as near land as they thought practical, whilst he and the others lay seawards, westwards, just near enough to be able to distinguish them. The refulgence in the sky to the east was a major help.

Another concern was that that glow would not last. Fires eventually died down, and already the glare had lessened perceptibly. If the enemy long delayed the chances of seeing them could be lessened seriously.

That was a problem which they did not have to solve, at any rate. It was Gillecolm, still sharper-eyed than most, who suddenly exclaimed, “How many ships has Conn Ironhand? How many?”

“I told him to take six. Why?”

“I see more. Nine. No, ten. See—there! Another one . . .”

“Lord!” his father cried. “You are right, by all the saints!”

“More—all sailing south!” That was Dougal, also on the dragon-ship stern-platform.

“Yes. It must be the first of the enemy. A plague on it—if we attack these the rest will be warned.”

“Conn will see that. He will deal with them . . .”

“More!” Gillecolm shouted, pointing northwards. “See—more sails.”

“Aye—here they come. Too many for Conn. Godfrey likely will be in a leading ship. Nothing for it but to attack now.” Somerled raised his horn and blew loud and long. Everywhere around the wailing was taken up. Gillecolm began to beat the dragon-ship’s gong, slowly at first but quickening. Other gongs commenced to sound. Oars dipped and splashed. The Isles fleet moved eastwards, gathering speed.

When the Manx ships became aware of them was hard to discern. Indeed everything was hard to discern, nothing certain. As they drew nearer Conn’s flotilla they could just see, by the confused huddle of ships, that they were engaged, which their own and which enemy ships impossible to tell. Somerled blew the succession of short sharp blasts on the horn, which was the agreed signal for a change of course to leeward—and all but rammed two of his own vessels tardy about obeying. Cursing he ploughed northwards, as he heard other horns repeating the signal.

Almost at once they found themselves in the path of one of the oncoming Manx vessels. Yells of alarm greeted them, but that was all. Taken wholly by surprise, the enemy craft tried to swing off; but against a deliberate assault it was for the moment helpless. The dragon-ship swung the same way and its rearing prow made contact and sheared viciously down the other’s side, cutting through oars and oarsmen like twigs on a bough. In only moments they left the screaming ruin behind, for the next Isles ship to deal with, and steered straight for the next enemy vessel which was looming up ahead.

This craft presumably had not seen just what had happened in front of it, for it came on, and only sought to take avoiding action at the last moment, too late to be spared the same fate as its predecessor—the advantage, for the attacker, of an action in darkness. But the disadvantages were quickly demonstrated also, for pressing on and leaving this one temporarily crippled, Somerled realised that he was now faced by three ships more or less in line abreast and very close. With only seconds to make up his mind, he chose to tackle the centre one, in the hope that this, if it sought to veer away as the others had done to avoid collision, might itself collide with one or other of its neighbours.

But these three had been close enough to see approximately what had happened to the ship in front and were able to react fairly effectively. The two outer vessels swung away left and right, and the centre one had time to have its rowers raise their oars high, out of danger, before the dragon-ship bore down on it, and so avoided disaster. The two vessels swept past each other only a few feet apart.

And now there were other enemy craft ahead. But the two flanking ships of this trio had obviously perceived the situation and were pulling round to close in on their attacker from either side, whilst the central craft was seeking to back-water and turn also. The ships in front would not know exactly what went on but would be able to see that there was trouble ahead, and come on alerted.

Somerled realised that he was, in fact, practically surrounded now. Looking back, none of his own ships were close enough to be distinguishable as such. For the moment he was alone amongst at least six enemy, who would perceive a dragon-ship as most certainly not one of their own fleet. He drove on at the nearest, hoping to run it down.

He was only partially successful in this, the other getting most of its oars up, in time. He sought to ram it head-on, instead, and the two ships ground together with an impact which shook both, unseating rowers and toppling men who were unprepared.

Somerled’s people, who naturally were more ready for this than the others, and in greater numbers likewise, promptly poured over the side and into the enemy vessel, yelling, swords and axes slashing. From the voices, the other was an Orkneyman.

Gillecolm handled the dragon-ship with expertise and Somerled had brief opportunity to gaze around him. Two other craft were bearing down on them, apparently intent on close attack, and more were circling nearby. A quick count showed no fewer than eight ships—whether any were his own it was impossible to tell. He had to make a swift decision. To remain side-by-side with this Orkneyman could be disastrous, with all these others able to move in and board him. Shouting to Farquhar MacFerdoch, the Abbot, who was leading his own boarding-party, to cope on the enemy ship as best he could, Somerled beat his sword against Gillecolm’s gong, to galvanise his oarsmen into swiftest action. The dragon-ship pulled away from the other, just in time.

With two ships converging upon him, Somerled required both room for manoeuvre and time for decision. Fortunately he controlled much greater oar-power, and therefore speed, than any ordinary longship. He was able to make good his escape, therefore, from the immediate dangerous situation, whilst remaining in the more general danger.

He was still surrounded by vessels, seen and of course more unseen. He could distinguish a dozen or more now. The trouble was to know which was which. Almost reluctantly he gave orders for the torches to be lit.

The lighting-up of the dragon-ship was to be the signal for all the others of his fleet to light theirs. Which, to be sure, would work both ways, identifying themselves but also singling them out as the enemy to the Manxmen. It would reveal their numbers as well as their positions—although he had sought to confuse in this respect by arranging for some craft to light two torches and some only one. The dragon-ship, which would be identifiable anyway by its size, lit two. The twenty captured ships would have no torches—which would admittedly confuse more than the enemy.