Chapter Eight: Sacrifice
Near the Southern Coast of Mauritius
The captain's face was grim as he watched little Muskijl place itself between Redbird and the attacking French man-of-war, a David dwarfed by a terrifying Goliath. It was doubtful God could provide as lucky an outcome. Muskijl was far beyond her class in this match. Behind the looming warship, Analise and Ide were trying to flee to the northeast, but Pam saw several smaller ships with elegantly slanting triangular sails in their path. Lateen, she said to herself, remembering the word from her far too brief crash course in seventeenth-century sailing. The kind of sails used by the infamous Barbary corsairs. That can't be good. What is going on here? A thundering boom jarred her from her thoughts; the French had opened fire on Muskijl.
"Will we fight beside Muskijl, Captain? The men are ready at the carronade and cannons," Janvik asked, his face as pale as the wild, skirling clouds that blew before the tailing storm.
The captain watched the battle begin through his spyglass. After a moment of silence he shook his head. "No. Captain Lagerhjelm has waved us off. He will sacrifice Muskijl to give us a chance of escape. Hard to port; we will make for the west. Have the men—"
Before he could finish his orders an explosion somewhere below them rocked the Redbird, throwing Pam to the deck. She came to her knees but stayed there, not daring to move, hand gripping the rail. The French had trained a long gun on them, a warning not to flee or just a sampling bite of their next meal.
"Jävla fransk kuksugare!" the captain cursed, "Keep steady for the west!"
"She's coming around sluggish, sir! I think they've hit our rudder!" The pilot's voice was strained as he pulled on the wheel with all his strength. Another crewman leaped to his side to help.
Gerbald turned to Pam.
"We should get belowdecks, Pam. It would be safer there."
"I'm not so sure about that. I think I want to stay here. I'd rather know what's happening than wait in the cabin. You two go down; I'll be all right."
Dore nodded. "I have seen enough war in my time, a battle at sea is not so different. I will go to the galley and prepare emergency supplies, in case we must leave the ship."
"And I wish to go get my weapons. If we are boarded, I will stand beside these men." Gerbald's voice was barely audible over the cannon fire. Despite announcing their intention to leave her side, the two of them remained, looking to Pam for some signal that they really had her approval. After a moment she figured this out, and gave them both a gentle shove.
"Go, both of you! I am as safe with these guys as I would be with you. Better we prepare for the worst. Go, and be careful!"
Looking back at her with worried faces, Dore and Gerbald hurried down the ladder. Another shot from the man-of-war ripped through a sail, not doing much damage, but definitely adding to the tension.
"Shall we return fire, Captain?" Janvik's eyes had taken on a predatory character, Pam was surprised to see a boiling fury there. The man was usually so cold, showing no emotion beyond a constant irritation. They all turned their gaze to the ongoing battle, poor Muskijl was barely visible within a pall of cannon smoke. She listed now, tattered and torn like a toy boat forgotten on the pond for the winter. She had scored a few hits on the man-of-war, but the outcome was clear enough. The French soldiers were gathering now, readying to board her. Swedish marines stood proudly waiting on Muskijl's heavily damaged deck, prepared for the inevitable. They would give their lives to buy the fleet under their guard more time.
"No, damn it all, we run!" The captain's voice was filled with pain. "This is a civilian ship, the princess' mission comes before anything else!" he shouted. His tone softening, he added "We would stand no chance, my friend. Let us hope we live to see revenge. Bosun! Report!"
"Sir!" The bosun was bent precariously over the stern rail attempting to see how bad the damage was. "Not good, Captain. We barely have a rudder left; she's held together by splinters."
Inch by painful inch the Redbird changed its course, exiting the battle with all available speed. Another shot from the French gun landed against her starboard side even as she pulled away. Pam started to get up to view the damage, but the captain saw her move.
"Blast it all, woman, stay down! I'd tell you to get below, but it's no safer there!" Behind them the roar of cannons had stopped, replaced by the lightning strike crack of musket and pistol fire. They were still near enough to hear the sound of men screaming in agony. Pam tried to watch the action astern, but the ever increasing power of the waves slamming into their side made it hard to focus. She felt sick, but not from the movement of the sea. Men were dying today, dying for her mission, for that damned dodo. She fought back angry tears, her hands pale and bloodless as they gripped the Redbird's rails. The wind was picking up, the storm had arrived with untamed Antarctic wrath.
"We've got to find safe harbor before this gale blows us up on the rocks!" Janvik yelled over the howling wind.
"If the rudder holds we have a chance!" The captain joined the sailors at the wheel, they held Redbird on course with all their strength. "Bosun, tell that fool Pers to come down from the rigging before he blows away!"
Redbird pitched up and down like a roller coaster, cold spray drenching them. It became much darker all of a sudden as storm clouds overtook them. Pam saw Mauritius drawing closer, still lit by the setting sun, the waves pushing them toward frothing shores.
"Pam!" The captain called to her. She left her place by the rail to stand before him, steadied by one of his strong arms grasping hers. He was dripping wet, his muscles trembling from the cold, and the strain of man-handling the damaged rudder. "Quickly now, go below and get only your most precious things. There is a chance we may have to abandon Redbird; best to prepare for the worst! Don't tarry! Then I want the three of you waiting beside the ship's boat, understood?"
"Yes, sir!" she shouted back over the roaring wind. Their eyes locked for a moment, icy blue to cloudy gray. The captain managed a smile for her. "Fear not, my friend. Who knows what fate awaits? We have escaped those French bastards, and now we may survive the ocean's rage as well." Pam sensed that he wasn't as hopeful as he meant to sound, but gave him a smile back, anyway. This satisfied him, he gave her arm a squeeze before releasing her, and turned back to his struggle with the wheel. Pam knew she wanted him to do much more than squeeze her arm, but now was not the time for such thoughts. Still, she smiled again despite all the horror unfolding around her. We are going to survive. We must! she told herself.
Pam hurried down the ladder as carefully as she could. Everything was made slippery by the crashing sea and the icy rains that had come to join the winds. After a half-slipping half-sliding journey across the bucking ship, she paused at the rail near the hatchway to the lower decks. Pausing to catch her breath, she stole a look back at the battle they had left behind. There in the distance, still illuminated by the day's last feeble rays, the two ships were locked together, smoke streaming from battered Muskijl in long, orange ribbons. Pam saluted the brave crew that had sacrificed themselves to give Redbird and the rest of their fleet a chance to escape. A great swell blocked the view, then another. The sun set, storm clouds swept low over the world, and the tragic scene went to black.