firing. This time the wind was catching her from what was for her a completely unnatural direction, from dead ahead. As a result, the sails filled out backwards, and their middle portions pressed against the masts.
The ‘roller came almost to a stop at once. The rigging groaned, and the masts themselves creaked loudly. Then they were bending backwards, while the sailors clinging to them in the darkness swore under their breaths and clamped down desperately on their handholds.
“Gods!” said Green. “What is he doing?”
“Quiet!” said a nearby man, the foretop-captain. “Miran is going to run her backwards.”
Green gasped. But he made no further comment, trying to visualize what a strange sight the Bird of Fortune must be, and wishing it were daylight so he could see her. He sympathized with the helmsmen, who had to act against their entire training. It was a bad enough strain for them to try to sail blindly between two vessels. But to roll in reverse! They would have to put the helm to port when their reflexes cried out to them to put it to starboard, and vice versa! And no doubt Miran was aware of this and was warning them about it every few seconds.
Green began to see what was happening. By now the Bird was rolling on her former course, but at a reduced rate because the sails, bellying against their masts, would not offer as much surface to the wind. Therefore, the Ving vessels would by now be almost upon them, since the merchant ship had also lost much ground in her maneuver. In one or two minutes the Ving would overtake them, would for a short while ride side by side with them, then would pass.
Provided, of course, that Miran had estimated correctly his speed and rate of curve in turning. Otherwise they might even now expect a crash from the foredeck as the bow of the Ving caught them.
“Oh, Booxotr,” prayed the foretop-captain. “Steer us right, else you lose your most devout worshiper, Miran.”
Booxotr, Green recalled, was the God of Madness.
Suddenly a hand gripped Green’s shoulder. It was the captain of the foretop.
“Don’t you see them!” he said softly. “They’re a blacker black than the night.”
Green strained his eyes. Was it his imagination, or did he actually see something moving to his right? And another something, the hint of a hint, moving to his left?
Whatever it was, ‘roller or illusion, Miran must have seen it also. His voice shattered the night into a thousand pieces, and it was never again the same.
“Cannoneers, fire!”
Suddenly it was as if fireflies had been in hiding and had swarmed out at his command. All along the rails little lights appeared. Green was startled, even though he knew that the punks had been concealed beneath baskets so that the Vings would have no warning at all.
Then the fireflies became long glowing worms, as the fuses took flame.
There was a great roar, and the ship rocked. Iron demons belched flame.
No sooner done than musketry broke out like a hot rash all over the ship. Green himself was part of this, blazing away at the vessel momentarily and dimly revealed by the light of the cannon fire.
Darkness fell, but silence was gone. The men cheered; the decks trembled as the big wooden trains holding the cannon were run back to the ports from which they’d recoiled. As for the pirates, there was no answering fire. Not at first They must have been taken completely by surprise.
Miran shouted again; again the big guns roared.
Green, reloading his musket, found that he was bracing himself against a tendency to lean to the right. It was a few seconds before he could comprehend that the Bird was turning in that direction even though it was still going backwards.
“Why is he doing that?” he shouted.
“Fool, we can’t roll up the sails, stop, then set sail again. We’d be right where we started, sailing backwards. We have to turn while we have momentum, and how better to do that than reverse our maneuver? We’ll swing around until we’re headed in our original direction.”
Green understood now. The Vings had passed them, therefore they were in no danger of collision with them. And they couldn’t continue sailing backwards all night. The thing to do now would be to cut off at an angle so that at daybreak they’d be far from the pirates.
At that moment cannonfire broke out to their left. The men aboard the Bird refrained from cheering only because of Miran’s threats to maroon them on the plain if they did anything to reveal their position. Nevertheless they all bared their teeth in silent laughter. Crafty old Miran had sprung his best trap. As he’d hoped, the two pirates, unaware that their attacker was now behind them, were shooting each other.
“Let them bang away until they blow each other sky-high,” chortled the foretop-master. “Ah, Miran, what a tale we’ll have to tell in the taverns when we get to port.”
14
For five minutes the intermittent flashes and bellows told that the Vings were still hammering away. Then the dark took hold again. Apparently the two had either recognized each other or else had decided that night fighting was a bad business and had steered away from each other. If this last was true, then they wouldn’t be much to fear, for one Ving wouldn’t attack the merchant by itself.
The clouds broke, and the big and the little moons spread brightness everywhere. The pirate vessels were not in sight. Nor were they seen when dawn broke. There was sail half a mile away, but this alarmed no one, except the untutored Green, because they recognized its shape as a sister. It was a merchant from the nearby city of Dem, of the Dukedom of Potzihili.
Green was glad. They could sail with it. Safety in numbers.
But no. Miran, after hailing it and finding that it also was going to Estorya, ordered every bit of canvas crowded on in an effort to race away from it.
“Is he crazy?” groaned Green to a sailor.
“Like a zilmar,” replied the sailor, referring to a foxlike animal that dwelt in the hills. “We must get to Estorya first if we would realize the full value of our cargo.”
“Utter featherbrained folly,” snarled Green. “That ship doesn’t carry live fish. It can’t possibly compete with us.”
“No, but we’ve other things to sell. Besides, it’s in Miran’s blood. If he saw another merchant pass him he’d come down sick.”
Green threw his hands into the air and rolled his eyes in despair. Then he went back to work. There was much to do yet before he’d be allowed to sleep.
The days and nights passed in the hard routine of his labor and the alarms and excursions that occasionally broke up the routine. Now and then the gig was launched, while the ‘roller was in full speed, and it sped away under the power of its white fore-and-aft sail. It would be loaded with hunters, who would chase a hoober or deer or pygmy hog until it became exhausted; then would shoot the tired animal. They always brought back plenty of fresh meat. As for water, the catch-tanks on the decks were full because it rained at least half an hour at every noon and dusk.
Green wondered
