“All right, Captain,” She stumbled across the deck, looking for handholds, then let Brett take her arm to guide her to the companionway. The ship was heeling sharply, the deck standing at perhaps forty degrees off the horizontal.

It took her nearly half an hour to heat last night’s chickeest, and she spilled part of it bringing the pot and cups up to the quarterdeck, but Mary Graham seemed proud of her achievement even so. Now she had the same slightly green cast as Kleinst, and MacKinnie looked around to see the scholar grimly holding the rail and staring at the distant shore to starboard.

“Sail ahead,"the lookout called. “Two sails.”

Loholo scampered up the shrouds like a monkey, shading his eyes and staring off where the lookout pointed. He bounded down to the deck and trotted panting to MacLean. “Pirates right enough, off the port bow, Captain. Under sail.”

MacLean nodded. The pirates were to windward, using square sails to run down toward Subao. “Steady as she goes, Mr. Todd. Mr. Loholo, it might be best if you stood with Todd at the tiller. Steering to windward’s trickier than just watching the compass, and we’ll need more experienced helmsmen. Have you any of your crew who might have some ability?”

“None, Captain. They’re all landsmen. Willing lads, but no sea legs.”

“You’ll have to do it, then. Take your post, mister.” MacLean cupped his hands to shade his eyes and stood easily on the pitching deck. True to his earlier promise, the sea was running higher now, and Subao heeled farther, making it impossible for anyone but the three sailors to stand without something to hold on to.

“Best tack now and get sea room,” MacLean said. “Stark, get your hands to the jibsheets. The gaffs will take care of themselves. Snap to it, man, we haven’t all year.” Hal and his guards ran to the foredeck, motioning to some of the oarsmen sitting idle in the waist to join them.

“Stand by to let those sheets go,” MacLean shouted. MacKinnie was surprised to note that the Navy man’s voice carried easily into the wind, although Brett repeated the order from his post at the mizzen.

“Put her helm down, Mr. Todd.” The ship swung into the wind, through it, the booms snapping across the deck. One of Loholo’s men scrambled to get out of the way, flinging himself to the deck to allow the main boom to pass over him, while the quarterdeck crew, copying MacLean’s example, ducked low. The jibs backwinded, pulling the bow around. “Let go the jibsheets,” MacLean shouted. “Now trim them in on the port side. Snap to it. Man the leeboards! Smartly, men!”

The port leeboard was pushed down, and tackles strained to raise the starboard one. MacLean stamped with impatience until the task was done, then turned to MacKinnie. “She’s lively enough. Bit slow, easy to get caught in stays. If I end up out of action, remember that. Leave the jibs cleated until the bow’s well around, or you’ll be in irons.”

Nathan fervently prayed he would never have to work the ship himself. At least there was young Todd if MacLean were killed.

Now they were approaching the pirate ships rapidly, and the lookout called down, “Five sails beyond the two ahead, sir.”

“That’ll be more of the pirate fleet,” Loholo said. “Beg your pardon, sir, but the reefs are over there.” He pointed off to starboard and ahead.

MacLean nodded coolly. “We can’t make that course yet, Loholo. When we’ve sea room, we’ll try your advice.” He gauged the distance to the rapidly closing pirate vessels. As they watched, the enemy ships extended their oars, the sweeps working rhythmically, rippling down each of the vessels. The pirate ships were much like Subao had been before MacLean’s modifications, with more beam to weather storms in the shallow sea but generally resembling her. On the bow of each was carved one of the large tentacled creatures MacKinnie had seen in the water, the stays to the stubby masts running into the nest of arms which jutted forward and upward.

“Idlers below,” MacLean ordered. “Freelady, Professor Longway, Mr. Kleinst — go below and stay until you’re called, if you please. Mr. Loholo, I can spare you from the tiller until you get your men under arms.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Loholo padded forward to the waist to arm his men.

MacKinnie watched Hal break out crossbows, handing one to each of his Samualite guards and posting them along the waist. The pirates had noted that Subao was going to windward without oars, and adjusted their courses to intercept well forward of their present position, so the ships were not closing as rapidly now, but slowly they drew up to three crossbow shots away to port and as many forward.

“I doubt there will be a battle,” MacLean said quietly. “Unless they are very much faster with those oars than I think, they cannot possibly catch us.”

As if to make his captain a liar, the lookout shouted, “Three sails off the starboard bow. Three sails ahead, sir.”

MacLean shook his head. “If they adjust to our strange antics as quickly as these did, we’ll have to fight after all.” He eyed the distance to the nearest pirate ship. “Mr. Stark, I’ll thank you to go forward and stand ready to bring the ship about again. Don’t cast off that jibsheet until I tell you. And give me five men on the leeboards.”

“Aye, sir.” Hal took his men forward, carefully seeing that each man stowed his crossbow along the rail on the low side. MacLean shook his head. “Put them on the starboard side, Stark. I don’t need loaded weapons clattering about my decks when we go about.

“Stand by, Todd. I want to cut this as close as possible without letting them ram us.” The pirate ships drew closer now, angling in toward Subao’s bows in a staggered line. “Fall away a point,” MacLean said softly. The ship gathered way, leaping through the water. “Stand by … Put the helm over!”

Subaobrought up into the wind sharply, hung for a moment, and fell off to the starboard tack. “Let go the jibsheets. Now get them sheeted in. Haul those leeboards, you sons!” MacLean was icy calm as he watched the armored prow of the nearest pirate approaching. The sweeps on the enemy vessel were moving faster and faster, and they could hear a drum amidship beating the count.

Zing!MacKinnie heard something snap over his head, and looked up to see a round hole in the mizzensail. Then there was a chorus of sounds, the bolts thudding into the bulwarks. “Get down!” MacKinnie called. Stark, crouching low, half ran the length of the ship to seize his crossbow. All they could see was the great bow of the enemy thirty yards away, white water curling from each side and the beak of the ram protruding slightly from the water in front of it.

The pirate ship bore ahead. MacKinnie stood in silence. There was nothing to do but wait. The iron ram grew larger and larger. Then it seemed to slip behind slightly.

Subaogathered more way, and the pirate ship was no longer aimed amidships. “Hold your course,” MacLean said quietly. As MacKinnie watched, the pirate ram fell further behind, tried to turn more toward Subao, and caught her sail aback. “Steady as she goes,” MacLean murmured.

The pirate ship passed astern so close they almost touched the oars. A cloud of arrows flew from it toward them, and Stark replied with his own volley of steel bolts. There was a shout from the pirate, then it was gone.

“He’ll have to get that sail down before he can row to windward,” MacLean remarked casually. “Never catch us now. Masthead! Where are those other ships?”

“Off the port bow ahead, sir!”

“They’re directly to windward,” MacLean said. “Let’s see if they have any sense. Mr. Loholo, you can come back to the quarterdeck now.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” As Loholo approached, they could see blood on his hands. “One crewman dead, sir. Arrow in his throat. Some holes in your sails, too.”