My fourth wave consisted of fifty tarn ships, instructed not to lower their masts, which would follow the round ships by an Ahn. Coming on the heels of the round ships, with their masts high, these, I assumed, might well be taken for more round ships, for the mast of a tarn ship is always lowered before battle. Accordingly I hoped the tarn ships of Cos and Tyros, seeing the sails, would think their new enemies were single-masted round ships, of which there are some types, and either misjudge their speeds or rush on them unwarily, finding out, too late, that they were plunging headlong toward swift, maneu- verable, deadly, ram-carrying tam ships. These ships would then, when free to do so, support the round ships in their battle, destroying tarn ships which might, unaware of the new danger, be attempting to close with them.

My fifth wave, following the fourth by half an Ahn, consisted of two fleets of forty tarn ships apiece, one attacking from the north and the other from the south. I did not think I had the ships to make this pincer attack truly devastating, but, in the turmoil of a battle at sea, without the clearest understanding of the position and numbers of the enemy, such flanking attacks might have unusual psychological value. The Admiral of Cos and Tyros, Chenbar I supposed, could not know the exact numbers and disposition of our forces. Indeed, we our- selves, until early this morning, had not a full comprehension of our plans, or, indeed, even the ships we would have to carry them out. I hoped that Chenbar might assume that many of the ships which had fled from Port Kar might have come about and decided to join the battle, or he might infer that he had, before he could ascertain the ships involved in the flanking attacks, seriously mis- judged our numbers. The flanking attack, of course, was mounted as late as it was because, until the fleet of Cos and Tyros had shortened their lines and concentrated their ships, to meet our earlier moves, it would have been impractical. Hopefully, the terror of being taken in the flank might cause many captains, or even Chenbar himself, to have the fleet put about, and, if so', this would make their ships the most vulnerable to our own.

We saw my second-wave ships sweep past, the pairs scattering themselves, each pair following its assigned task force.

The Dorna rested, rocking on the waters, her oars inboard.

I kept in reserve one hundred and five tam ships, which, simultaneously with the fifth wave, that of the flanking fleets, would draw within signal distance of the Dorna.

"Shall I lower our mast, Captain?" asked one of my officers.

"No," I told him.

I would wish to use its height to observe, as well as I might, the battle. It was fall, and the wind was cold whipping across the water. Clouds scudded across the sky. In the north there was a darkness lying like a line against the horizon. We had had a frost in the morning.

"Furl the sail," I told an officer.

He began to cry orders to the seamen.

Soon seamen were clambering out on the long sloping yard and, assisted by others on the deck, hauling on brail ropes, were tying in the long triangular sail. I studied the surface of the water to windward.

"What shall we do now?" asked an officer.

"Lay to," I told him.

"What will you do now?" he asked.

"I am going to sleep," I told him. "Call me in half an Ahn."

After some sleep I felt much refreshed.

Upon awakening I was served some bread and cheese in my cabin.

I came out on the deck.

The wind was very cold now, and, the Doma shook in it, the windward waters striking at her hull. We had both the stern and stem anchors down.

I was given my Admiral's cloak and I flung this over my shoulder, my left, that to which the strap carrying the glass of the builders was attached. I then thrust some strips of dried tarsk meat in my belt. I called the lookout down from the basket, that I might climb to his place. In the basket I wrapped the admiral's cloak about me, began to chew on a piece of tarsk meat, as much against the cold as the hunger, and took out the glass of the builders. I examined the state of the battle.

Tarsk meat tends to be salty. There is usually a water gourd kept at the masthead, for the lookout. I uncorked the gourd and took some of the water. There had been a light film of ice in it. Some of the crystals melted in my mouth.

The line of darkness in the north was now a margin of darkness.

I turned my attention again to the battle.

As I watched, the long, strting-out line of round ships of Port Kar moved past, tacking, scarcely using their oars, their small, triangular storm sails beaten from the north. The lateen-rigged galley, whether a round ship or a ram-ship, although it can furl its sail, cannot well let out and take in sail; it is not a square-rigged craft; accordingly she carries different sails for different conditions; the yard itself, from the mast, is lowered and hoisted, sails being removed or attached; the three main types of sail used are all lateens, and differ largely in their size; there is a large, fair-weather sail, used with light winds; there is a smaller sail, used with strong winds astem; and yet a smaller sail, a storm sail, used most often in riding out storms. It was the latter sail which, although it was unusual, the round ships were using for tacking; had they Used either of the larger sails, with the sharp wind, they would have heeled dangerously toward the water, perhaps shipping water through the leeward thole ports.

I smiled as the ships swept past. Their decks were al- most deserted. But I knew that, crowded in the stem and stern castles, in the turrets, below decks, in the rowing and cargo holds, there were hundreds of men.

I resumed my watch, lifting again the glass of the builders toward the west. The ships of my farst wave had now struck the lines of the fleet of Cos and Tyros.

It was cold in the basket.

Behind them, scattered across the cold waters of Thassa, I could see the pairs of the second wave proceeding, swiftly gliding, oars dipping, toward the long lines of yel- low and purple sails in the distance, yellow for Tyros, purple for Cos.

I wondered how many men would die.

I pulled the admiral's cloak more closely about me. I asked myself who I was, and I told myself, I did not know. I knew only that I was cold, and that I was alone, and that, far in the distance, men were: fighting, and so, too, would others.

I wondered if my plans had been gbod ones, and I told myself I did not know that, either. There were so many thousands of factors, impossible to foresee, so much that might alter, or shift unaccountably.

I knew Chenbar to be a brilliant Ubar and captain, but even he, the brilliant Chenbar, could not well have understood our plans, our dispositions and our ventures, for we ourselves, until hours before, had not known with what we might work and how it might be used.

I did not expect to win the day.

It seemed to me a fool's choice that I had not, when it had been possible, fled Port Kar. Surely many captains, of the council and otherwise, had done so, their holds filled with their chained slaves and secured treasures. Why had I not fled? Why had not these others? Were all men fools? Now men would die. Is anything worth so much as a human life? Is not the most ab ect surrender preferable to the risk of its loss? Is it not better to grovel as a slave, begging the favor of life from a master, than to risk the loss of even one life? I recalled that I, once, in the far marshes of the delta of the Vosk, had whined and groveled that I might live, and now, I, that same coward, wrapped in the robes of an admiral, watched the locking of the lines of battle, watched men move to fates and destructions, or victories, to which I had sent them, knowing as little as I did of life, or war, or fortunes.