Sword and Scimitar - Scarrow Simon (читать книги онлайн полные версии .TXT) 📗

‘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 understand. 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.