Off Armageddon Reef (74 page)

Black Water made a mental note to discuss the concept of coordination and at least outward respect for allies with his subordinates. Not just Tanlyr Keep, either.

“I beg your pardon, Your Grace,” a voice said, and he turned to find one of
Corisande
's lieutenants at his elbow.

“Yes?”

“Captain Myrgyn asked me to inform you, Your Grace, that Baron Tanlyr Keep is signaling that a sail is in sight to the southwest.”

“Only one?”

“That's all the Baron has reported, Your Grace.”

“I see.”

Black Water considered for a moment, then shrugged. They knew Haarahld had been keeping scout ships spread across the approaches to Eraystor Bay. It was the only sensible thing for him to do, after all, and Black Water wouldn't be a bit surprised to discover he was using those infernally weatherly schooners of his for the task. If that was the case, no galley was going to catch one on a day with winds as brisk as today's, but that might not always be the case. For now, it was simply confirmation of what they'd anticipated all along.

“Thank the Captain for keeping me informed,” he said.

“Of course, Your Grace.”

The lieutenant bowed and withdrew, and Black Water returned to his earlier thoughts. He was tempted to signal the straggling components of “his” fleet to keep better station. The probability of any signal from him accomplishing any good, however, had to be weighed against the querulousness it would reveal. Nagging ineffectually at them to close up their formation would only make it more difficult in the long run to exercise effective command.

Whatever he might think of Sharpfield and Admiral Mahndyr, both of them were experienced men, he reflected. They had to be as well aware as he was of what they were seeing, and it would be far more effective to discuss that with them face to face than to fire off signals which probably wouldn't be obeyed, anyway. Assuming, of course, that their signal officers could even recognize them as signals in the first place!

He sighed and shook his head. No doubt this had all looked far simpler from the comfort of a planning session somewhere in the Temple.

Earl Lock Island stood in his chart room, contemplating the various ships' positions marked on the chart spread out on the table before him while he scratched his chin. His aide, Lieutenant Tillyer, stood quietly to one side, watching and waiting.

The earl gazed at the chart for several more seconds, his eyes focused on something only he could see, then nodded.

“I think it's time to go back topside, Henrai.”

“Yes, My Lord.” Tillyer reached the chart room door before the earl and stood aside, holding it open for his superior. Lock Island smiled at him and shook his head as he stepped through it, but the smile faded quickly as he climbed the short ladder to the aftercastle.

“My Lord!”

Captain Sir Ohwyn Hotchkys,
Tellesberg
's commanding officer, saluted as Lock Island appeared. The earl returned his salute a bit more casually, then gazed up at the masthead pendant.

“Any change in our friends' formation?” he asked.

“No, My Lord. Not according to the schooners' reports, at any rate.”

“Good.” Lock Island turned away from the pendant and smiled unpleasantly at the captain. “In that case, Ohwyn, I believe it's time to put your signal parties to work. Here's what I want to do….”

“Pardon me for interrupting, Your Grace, but I think Baron Tanlyr Keep's sighted something else.”

Black Water looked up from his belated breakfast as Sir Kehvyn Myrgyn stepped into
Corisande
's great cabin.

“What do you mean, ‘sighted something else,' Captain?” the duke asked, chocolate cup hovering in midair.

“I'm not certain, Your Grace,” Myrgyn said a bit apologetically. “He's shaken out the reefs in his squadron's sails, and he's gone to oars, as well.”

“Did he make any signals at all?” Black Water demanded, setting the cup down.

“Not that we could make out, Your Grace. Of course, he's far enough ahead of us that he might have signaled
something
without our spotting it.”

Black Water scowled and pushed his chair back from the table. He'd known Tanlyr Keep was edging steadily, if gradually, further and further ahead, but he hadn't expected the baron's squadron to get
that
far out in front.

He strode on deck, Myrgyn following at his shoulder, and climbed to the top of the aftercastle.

Tanlyr Keep's ships were completely hull-down over the horizon from Black Water's position on
Corisande
's deck. All the duke could see was their sails, and even they were dipping towards the hard, clear line of the horizon, but it was obvious the baron had, indeed, shaken the reefs out of his galleys' big, single square mainsails. With the wind out of the northwest, it was broad on Tanlyr Keep's starboard quarter, and he was taking full advantage of it.

“He's under oars, as well, Captain?” Black Water asked.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Myrgyn confirmed, and the duke grimaced. That meant Tanlyr Keep was probably moving almost twice as fast as any of the rest of the allied force.

“Signal him to return to his station,” he said.

“At once, Your Grace,” Myrgyn replied, and turned to give the orders.

Another of the flagship's lieutenants sprang to obey the instructions, but Myrgyn's expression wasn't hopeful when he turned back to Black Water.

“He's far enough ahead I don't know if he'll even see the signal, Your Grace.”

“I know.” Black Water gripped his hands together behind him, rocking gently up and down on his toes while he considered. Then he looked astern, where the Emerald and Chisholm contingents had strayed even further out of position. Finally, he looked up at the sun.

The basic plan for today's sortie called for the fleet to return to its anchorage before nightfall. To do that, especially with the wind where it was, they were going to have to reverse course within the next three hours, at the outside. Given the speed Tanlyr Keep's squadron was making,
Corisande
and the rest of the Corisandian galleys wouldn't be able to overtake him, no matter what they did, and the baron knew when he was supposed to return to port.

The duke growled a silent mental curse. It was a comprehensive curse, directed at his laggardly allies, his…overly enthusiastic squadron commander, and at himself, for not keeping Tanlyr Keep's leash shorter. But curses wouldn't undo anything that had already happened. Signaling the baron to resume his station was all he could do, since he couldn't overtake Tanlyr Keep, anyway. And that being the case, he might as well do what he could to bolster his own reputation for phlegmatic confidence.

“Well, Captain Myrgyn,” he said, after moment. “If he sees the signal, he sees the signal, and if he doesn't, he doesn't.” He shrugged. “We'll be reversing course in the next few hours, anyway, and I still have an appointment with breakfast. If you'll excuse me?”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

The captain bowed, and Black Water produced a confident smile as he headed back towards the breakfast which no longer seemed nearly so appetizing. But, appetizing or not, he intended to eat every last bite of it…and make certain everyone aboard his flagship knew he had.

“We've just received another signal from Commodore Nylz, My Lord,” Lieutenant Tillyer said.

“Ah?”

Earl Lock Island looked up from the fried chicken he was hungrily contemplating. The fleet hadn't been at sea long enough yet for fresh food to become a dreamed of, unobtainable luxury, but no seaman worth his salt ever turned up his nose at a decent meal.

“Yes, My Lord. He reports that the squadron pursuing him is still overhauling. In fact, it's into long cannon shot.”

“I see.” Lock Island rose from the table and stepped out onto
Tellesberg
's spacious sternwalk. The railed platform ran the full width of the galley's high, ornate stern and wrapped around either quarter. The admiral stood for a moment, gazing up at the sky, gauging visibility and the remaining hours of daylight.

“I believe it's time, Henrai,” he said, returning to the table and reaching for a drumstick as he seated himself once more. “Signal Commodore Nylz to engage at his discretion.”

“My Lord, the enemy—”

Donyrt Qwentyn, Baron Tanlyr Keep, had been gazing astern, where the white sails of Duke Black Water's main body had disappeared into the whitecapped blue of the bay, while he wondered why the duke hadn't cracked on more speed in response to his own earlier signals. Now he wheeled towards the lieutenant who'd spoken just as a sudden dull thud sounded across the water. Sudden clouds of smoke from the sterns of the six Charisian galleys he'd been pursuing for the last several hours, and the white, skipping splashes of round shot plowing across the waves obviated the report the lieutenant had been about to make.

“Good!” the baron barked, and wheeled to
Thunderbolt
's commander. “It looks like they've figured out they can't get away, Captain. Now let's go get them!”