ram of a Voskjard ship smote the jutting bow of the Leda. Men leaped from it into the water, mixing in the water with the striking oars of the Voskjard's ship. Archers on the Voskjard's ship, leaning over her gunnels, fired down on the struggling swimmers. Elsewhere I saw men fighting in the water.
"Two points to port!" called an officer.
We swung to port. Our ram, now, threatened the Voskjard's ship. The archers scattered behind the bulwarks. Consternation held sudden sway upon her decks. Oars, like startled limbs, not in unison, unevenly, rose from the water. We saw rudder activity, not synchronized between the port and starboard rudders. Oars, one and two, and more, at a time, began to slash down at the water. She, too, swung to port. Then she had slipped away behind the shattered bow of the Leda. We had not charged her. Off the starboard bow lay a galley of the Voskjard, rocking on the water, seemingly somnolent, but we knew, in an instant, if we exposed our flank to her, she would come alive, springing to the attack. "Beware the sleen that seems to sleep," is a Gorean proverb.
A bowl of flaming pitch, streaming smoke behind it looped toward us, flung by a ship near the chain. It struck in the water to the starboard side.
"Back oars, back oars," said the oar master. "Back oars, gently, Lads."
In moments we had drawn alongside of the Olivia, which had been the flagship of the fleet from Ar's Station, commanded by Aemilianus. She and the Portia had been the last of the original ten ships which had constituted that small fleet. The Portia, now, was gone. To the starboard side of the Olivia was the Tais, slender, scarred, indefatigable, valiant, of Port Cos, which held the center of our line. On her starboard side were the Talender, of Fina and the Hermione, a prize taken in battle, manned by soldiers of Ar's Station.
"We cannot take another attack," said a man.
We listened to the signal horns from the Voskjard's fleet.
"They are drawing back," said a man.
"Perhaps they will go away," said another.
"They are regrouping," said a man.
"There will be another attack," said a man.
"Of course," said another.
We had begun the morning with eleven ships. Of Port Cos, we had had the Leda and Tals; of Ar's Station, we had had the Olivia and Portia, and four prize ships; of Fina, we had had the Talender; of Victoria, we had had the Mira and Tina. Of these eleven ships, now only five remained, the Tais, Olivia, Talender, Tina and Hermione, which had been taken as a prize. It was a slender line which we had to present to the might of the Voskjard, surely still some twenty-eight or twenty-nine ships, now being marshaled off our bows.
"The Tais should make a run for it," said a man near me, a native of Victoria, a survivor of the Mira.
"She remains in the line," said a man.
"Who would have suspected it of the sleen of Cos," said a soldier of Ar near me, one of several whom we had taken aboard, from the careening decks of the sinking Alcestis, which, yesterday, had been taken as a prize by the men of Ar. Without such men we could not have manned our oars.
"Interesting," said one of his fellows.
"Perhaps there is courage, other than in Ar," speculated another.
"The sleen of Cos have fought well," said another.
"Yes," said another.
"Where is Callisthenes?" inquired the fellow from the Mira.
"I do not know," I said.
"We are out of stones and pitch," said a man.
The sound of battle horns drifted across the water towards us.
I watched one of our archers, with a knife, removing an arrow from the wood of the stem castle. He worked carefully, in order not to damage it.
"They are running flags on their stem-castle lines now," I said.
"It will be soon," said a man.
"Their oars are outboard now," said a man.
Again we heard the sounds of battle horns.
"To your stations, Ladsl" called an officer.
We hastened to our places.
"Oars outboardl" called the oar master.
We slid the wood through the thole ports.
"They are coming
"Two points to port!" called an officer.
We swung to port. Our ram, now, threatened the Voskjard's ship. The archers scattered behind the bulwarks. Consternation held sudden sway upon her decks. Oars, like startled limbs, not in unison, unevenly, rose from the water. We saw rudder activity, not synchronized between the port and starboard rudders. Oars, one and two, and more, at a time, began to slash down at the water. She, too, swung to port. Then she had slipped away behind the shattered bow of the Leda. We had not charged her. Off the starboard bow lay a galley of the Voskjard, rocking on the water, seemingly somnolent, but we knew, in an instant, if we exposed our flank to her, she would come alive, springing to the attack. "Beware the sleen that seems to sleep," is a Gorean proverb.
A bowl of flaming pitch, streaming smoke behind it looped toward us, flung by a ship near the chain. It struck in the water to the starboard side.
"Back oars, back oars," said the oar master. "Back oars, gently, Lads."
In moments we had drawn alongside of the Olivia, which had been the flagship of the fleet from Ar's Station, commanded by Aemilianus. She and the Portia had been the last of the original ten ships which had constituted that small fleet. The Portia, now, was gone. To the starboard side of the Olivia was the Tais, slender, scarred, indefatigable, valiant, of Port Cos, which held the center of our line. On her starboard side were the Talender, of Fina and the Hermione, a prize taken in battle, manned by soldiers of Ar's Station.
"We cannot take another attack," said a man.
We listened to the signal horns from the Voskjard's fleet.
"They are drawing back," said a man.
"Perhaps they will go away," said another.
"They are regrouping," said a man.
"There will be another attack," said a man.
"Of course," said another.
We had begun the morning with eleven ships. Of Port Cos, we had had the Leda and Tals; of Ar's Station, we had had the Olivia and Portia, and four prize ships; of Fina, we had had the Talender; of Victoria, we had had the Mira and Tina. Of these eleven ships, now only five remained, the Tais, Olivia, Talender, Tina and Hermione, which had been taken as a prize. It was a slender line which we had to present to the might of the Voskjard, surely still some twenty-eight or twenty-nine ships, now being marshaled off our bows.
"The Tais should make a run for it," said a man near me, a native of Victoria, a survivor of the Mira.
"She remains in the line," said a man.
"Who would have suspected it of the sleen of Cos," said a soldier of Ar near me, one of several whom we had taken aboard, from the careening decks of the sinking Alcestis, which, yesterday, had been taken as a prize by the men of Ar. Without such men we could not have manned our oars.
"Interesting," said one of his fellows.
"Perhaps there is courage, other than in Ar," speculated another.
"The sleen of Cos have fought well," said another.
"Yes," said another.
"Where is Callisthenes?" inquired the fellow from the Mira.
"I do not know," I said.
"We are out of stones and pitch," said a man.
The sound of battle horns drifted across the water towards us.
I watched one of our archers, with a knife, removing an arrow from the wood of the stem castle. He worked carefully, in order not to damage it.
"They are running flags on their stem-castle lines now," I said.
"It will be soon," said a man.
"Their oars are outboard now," said a man.
Again we heard the sounds of battle horns.
"To your stations, Ladsl" called an officer.
We hastened to our places.
"Oars outboardl" called the oar master.
We slid the wood through the thole ports.
"They are coming
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