Prologue
Out there in the Universe there are millions of stars,
some just like our Sun. Tens of millions
of planets exist, thousands probably supporting life similar
to that on Earth. It is unlikely
that their life forms will be identical to that on Earth, but in some cases it
may well be very similar.
Chapter One
Panting, he came jogging up the
steps to the quarterdeck, doffing his felt cap as he arrived. "Third Lieutenant Rambone, sir!" he said in
crisp fashion.
"You took your time," the
commodore replied, in his usual sarcastic manner.
He knew that there was an
element of resentment on Commodore Oatker's part
towards him. There were two principal
gripes that the commodore laid at Rambone's feet, not that either of them were
really any of his doing. The first was
that the galleon, Magdor, had no separate captain
serving under the commodore so he was required to undertake those duties in
addition to commanding the squadron, the king's parsimony having cut back on
that additional officer. The second
thing that rankled was that Jace Rambone had been quickly promoted, he only
eighteen, his mother being a favourite at court, whereas the commodore's own
son still languished as a midshipman at the age of twenty-two. Another thing that had now upset the
commodore's disposition was that two nights ago the storm had scattered the
three galleons and no sight had since been had of the two forty-gunners, Pintor and Tigor, which were accompanying them.
"I was checking the bilges,
sir. The ingress is no worse than
yesterday and the pump will discharge it in two hours," Rambone said, putting
his hat back on his head.
"Some of the planking really
needed replacing before we sailed. But
of course the king wanted us to make haste."
The first lieutenant restated what he had said on several other
occasions.
They had sailed three months
ago, intelligence having advised the king that three vessels of the Ligurranian navy had sailed to the Silesian Ocean,
it thought in a search for undiscovered lands.
There was an uneasy truce between Bativia and Ligurrania, the two empires constantly eyeing the other
with suspicion, each fearful that the other may gain some advantage.
"I did not call you all to the
quarterdeck for discussions on the galleon's condition, gentlemen," the
commodore said, raising his hand and pointing to beyond the prow. "What do you make of that? I've never seen anything like it in all my
forty-four years at sea."
Jace and the other officers
turned and faced ahead. Several things
now registered with him. There was not a
hint of wind but a strong current was moving the galleon forward at something
like four knots. Many of the crew on the
upper deck were also craning their necks, taking a look,
most muttering in awe or fear. And
there, filling the horizon, he spied a bank of fog. But it was not like any fog he had ever
observed. For as far as he could see,
running north to south, was what looked like a huge white cumulous resting on
the surface of the sea, the height of it soaring high into the clear blue
sky. The huge disc that was the sun
shone brightly in the north, they being in the southern parts of the Silesian Ocean, and its heat did not appear to be
dissipating the cloud one little jot.
"By all that's sacred, what is
it?" the first lieutenant said, turning a deathly white. "Mariners have always
said this ocean is enchanted by demons and sea monsters." He was well known for
his many seafaring superstitions.
"Fear not, First Lieutenant, I
and my men will protect you," the pompous Major Diascus
said, he the commander of the soldiers that were onboard the Magdor.
"Well that's as it maybe, but
unless the wind returns we are going straight into it so let us hope that it
does not obscure some reef or sunken island," the commodore said. "First Lieutenant, get the leadsman to the
prow and double the lookouts. Tell them
to keep their eyes and ears open. And,
double the men on the wheel."
"Yes, sir," the first
lieutenant replied, clicking his heels together before setting about his task,
barking out his orders.
"Second Lieutenant, get the
boats uncovered and made ready. In case
they have to be launched in an emergency."
"Yes, sir," the second
lieutenant responded, stepping away briskly, yelling, "Coxswain! Make ready the boats!"
"Major, tell your men not to
impede the crew as they sail the galleon as best they can. And, as for you,
Rambone, tell the gun crews to ensure the ports are covered as we don't want
any sudden turbulent sea we might encounter pouring in."
"Yes, sir," both replied in
unison, each setting off towards a separate set of steps.
Jace was soon bawling out his
instructions, telling the crew how to prepare the lower decks for any unexpected emergency.
It was rather ridiculous, he reckoned, he telling seasoned hands what
they had to do, they knowing far better than he. All his training had taken place in home
waters and on the Inland Sea. He had never been on an ocean before but he
had so desperately wanted to come on this exploration that he had begged his
mother to use her charms and persuade the king to appoint him to the Magdor. After all,
even though Commodore Oatker might well be obsessed
by his own importance and did not particularly like him the man did have a
justifiable reputation for being a great seafarer and fighter so Jace knew that
if anyone was going to lead them to glory it was surely him.
Within two hours the
thousand-ton galleon was engulfed by the strange cloud, everything eerily
quiet, even the men for some reason speaking in whispers. The forty-eight gun Magdor
had left her home port
of Gravelotte
with a crew of one hundred and fifty plus four hundred soldier whose main
function was to man the cannon during any battle. Scurvy, accidents
and the odd age-related death had since taken fifty-one to watery graves. The last to go was the young cabin boy who
went yesterday having dropped a round-shot on his foot a week or more back and
had subsequently developed gangrene.
Other than that, Jace reckoned that those onboard were in reasonable
health and spirits, nothing that a supply of fresh fruit and vegetables would
not quickly fix.
The Magdor
drifted on the strong current throughout the rest of the day and all of the night, it heavily cloaked by the billowing
cloud. By dawn he was convinced they had
travelled at least one hundred miles engulfed in this white shroud. The current, that was conveying them, was, if
anything, getting stronger, moving them at five or six knots. It was noon
when the galleon emerged from the wall of cloud, the sun shining down on them
briefly, it not long however before they ran into a wet mist. The breeze at last arrived, it blowing from
the south. It, combined with the
current, took them rapidly northwards.
"Land off the starboard beam!"
Jace heard the lookout in the crow's nest shout.
He dashed to the upper deck and
scanned hard through the driving drizzle.
All he could see was an occasional glimpse of a rugged coastline and
towering grey-green mountains, their peaks capped with white. None of their charts gave any clue what land
this might be. In fact, nothing was
indicated as being known for a couple of thousand miles or more in any
direction. The commodore therefore
decided to cruise northwards and see if they could discover some safe anchorage
so they could reconnoitre. The decision
to go north was not really voluntary - the current and
wind gave them very little choice. All
day and through the night they continued on their
heading. During the hours of darkness
the commodore gave orders for most of the sails to be furled, the current on
its own now moving them at five knots.
Jace had just awakened from his
night's slumber, ready for his early morning watch, when there was a very loud
- "CRUNCH!"
The galleon lurched violently,
swinging Jace in his hammock wildly. He
needed no explanation. Scrambling out,
putting on his breeches, he dashed down to the hold, buttoning up his shirt as
he went, calling, "Boatswain!
Boatswain! Follow me!"
His and the Boatswain's worst
fears were quickly confirmed, twenty feet of the starboard side planking had
been cracked, water gushing in. "We'll
have to get her beached quickly, sir, otherwise the pressure will stove her
in," the boatswain advised, looking grave.
"Do what you can. I'll go and tell the commodore," he said,
starting up the ladder. "Man the
pump! Man the pump!" He yelled towards a
dazed-looking gaggle of the crew, but to no one in particular.
When he arrived on the
quarterdeck the commodore was busy buttoning up his coat, issuing his orders. "Second Lieutenant, hurry up and get those
boats towing us into that inlet."
The crew had already launched
the longboats and were now busily manning them.
As for the galleon it appeared to be caught in an eddy, turning slowly
around and around. Yet again there was
no wind, the sails merely flapping. The
sky was a perfect early-morning blue with not a cloud in sight.
It took Jace a moment or two to
see the gap between the hundred-foot cliffs that the commodore was referring
to, it currently dead ahead of them. "We
need to beach, sir. The boatswain
reckons much of our side is in danger of giving way."
"I thought as much. Now go and get dressed, Third Lieutenant,"
the commodore instructed, pointing to the fact that Jace was in his stocking
feet and without his jacket and his sword.
"First Lieutenant, order the gun ports opened and the cannon loaded but
not run out! Tell Major Diascus to get his musketeers to their stations,
just in case we should encounter any hostiles!"
Jace dashed back to his little
cabin and put on the rest of his uniform.
Quickly back on the quarterdeck, he leaned over the side to get a better
look. The launch and the longboats had
already towed them through the narrow entrance into what proved to be a
mile-wide estuary. He guessed it
stretched inland something like some seven miles. It was bounded on both sides by precipitous,
densely-wood, hills. He could see a long
sandbar where the river entered the tidal area, and that was clearly where they
were heading. With his hand shielding
his eyes, he scanned about, noting there was no sign of habitation or people.
Upon instruction, he went below
and took up his battle-station on the upper gun deck. He now had to glimpse the outside world
through an open starboard port and as a consequence
his view was very restricted. As the Magdor got closer to the sandbar he heard the keel scrape
the bottom and then it came to a juddering stop. It was then he noted that another dense mist
was springing up off the water, he unable to see more than forty feet.
No sooner had he pulled his
head back inboard when he heard someone somewhere outside the galleon screech,
"Eeeyah-aka-aka!"
It was quickly followed by what
sounded like hundreds of voices issuing forth similar cries. Poking his head out again, he was astounded,
the sky momentarily blackened by a barrage of flying arrows. In addition, there were hundreds of scantily
clad women racing across the sandbar, they all appearing to be carrying
assegais.
Dashing to the larboard side,
he looked out through a gun port, seeing scores and scores of canoes in the
water below each with four occupants similarly attired and equipped. He was confused, women in the civilised parts
of the planet did not fight, but it was his duty to assume the worst. Turning back inside, he shouted, "Prepare for
boarders!"
He had hardly got the words out
when war-painted faces appeared at eight or nine of the gun ports opposite,
their owners swiftly slithering through the openings, jabbing furiously with
their stabbing spears. Other such women
followed, more still now coming in through the larboard ports, he having to
step back sprightly to avoid being skewered.
Yet more were coming down the amidships companionway. All the time these women were repetitively
shrieking, "Eeeyah-aka-aka!"
Their skin gleamed with a
coating of some type of oil, they not appearing to have as
yet broken into any sort of sweat due to their efforts. As for Jace, he was perspiring from the shock
and from an uncomfortable feeling - these fighters were extraordinarily
aggressive
"BANG!" Someone
obviously fired one of the lower decks culebrina, the
ships timbers shaking a little. "Bang!" a quarterdeck falconete had been fired.
That sound was instantly followed by the noise of half a dozen matchlocks
being discharged. There was an eerie
silence for a few seconds, everyone seeming to stop dead in their tracks,
uttering not a sound. It gave him just
enough time to draw his thin-bladed sword.
"Eeeyah-aka-aka!" -
"Eeeyah-aka-aka!" - "Eeeyah-aka-aka!" Three attackers screeched as, eyes wide,
nostrils flaring, their teeth snarling, they charged at him, jabbing the points
and then the butts of their assegais at him.
He backed rapidly towards the stern companionway, but at least a dozen
similar women were now prancing down it.
Several sprang at him like infuriated cats, knocking him off his feet,
the shafts of their weapons pummelling against his stomach, chest
and arms. He was soon overpowered, arms
wrenched behind his back violently, wrist painfully tightly tied. Two of his assailants dragged him to his feet
and bundled him up the companionway.
Battered and bruised he may be, his pride dented by having been
overpowered by women, but he noted he was at least in a better condition than
the boatswain, he having been stabbed two or three times.
Up on the top deck all seemed
to be chaos, most of the crew appeared to have been overpowered, scores of
these women apparently everywhere. Some
had blood on their spears, some had it on their bodies, but there seemed to be
no let up in their enthusiasm for a fight.
He was forced to the side and practically hurled down the gangplank,
someone having run it out. Tripping, he
tumbled to the bottom, landing with a thump on the fortunately-soft sand of the
sandbar. Sprawled there for a second he
suddenly realised that there was no longer any hint of the mist, the bright
blue sky no longer hidden.
Women with round shields and
assegais pulled him to his feet, looping a noose made of plaited leather strips
about his neck, it, along with forty-nine more, were in turn attached to a long
rawhide rope. No sooner was the noose
tightened, preventing it from being easily pulled off over his head, than a women holding a fancy knobkerrie instead of an assegai
shouted, "Mush!"
"Mush! Mush!
Mush!" twenty guards yelled, several of them also cracking fearsome
leather whips.