Voyage of the Istanbul Tigress Ch. 04

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"With respect Captain," Ahmar said. "We could never build anything more effective than our guns."

"It doesn't have to be effective, we'll only be shooting small wine casks. That's not even half a stone. And accuracy doesn't matter, we don't need to hit them."

"Casks, Captain Hamilton?" Van Schoonhoven asked. "Is this like Tunis, yes? Where a cask of powder, just one small cask, was able to stop the war galley of Mor Cuanaich! Oh, it is an excellent plan, Captain Hamilton, an excellent plan!"

"If I understand that encounter," Ahmar said, "the power filled cask did not do much damage the galley."

"No it didn't," Hamilton replied, "but it did put a fright into Mor Cuanaich. These galley captains, the ones out there, were going to give up the chase when they saw what we did to the barca-longa, and they're only going to attack now because they think the xebec is riding our stern. These men want gold, wine and slaves, they have no stomach for a fight."

Ahmar nodded as he considered.

"Captain! I think I can be of assistance. Have you perhaps read Yusuf ibn Urunbugha al-Zaradkash?" Ghanashyam asked. "Well, in Bagdad I saw a very clear copy of his Kitab Aniq fi al-Manajaniq and I can remember some of the diagrams."

"What sort of diagrams?"

"It describes the manjaniq!" said Ghanashyam waiting for a reaction. "In Europe they sometimes call it a trebuchet."

"A trebuchet? Very good. Mr. Ghanashyam will assist Mr. Ahmar in collecting the materials we will need." Hamilton finished his wine. "Now gentleman, duty calls."

##

Two hours later, as the Tigress passed the Cape of Akrotiri on southern Kefalonia, the cry came that two sail had been seen. As Ahmar had predicted, the pirate ships were moving to intercept.

Hamilton inspected the jury-rigged trebuchet, which looked somewhat like a small crane. A topgallant yard had been stepped into a crude hole cut in the deck planking, and a shorter spar lashed near the top. The spar was unbalanced; the short end connected to a pair of halyards that lead to blocks and tackle so that the rope could be pulled from the ship's waist, while the long end had a salted pork cask, splayed out to form a simple bucket. Apparently, Ghanashyam, had said, some early trebuchets were powered by men with ropes. They were about to find out.

Orhan came forward with a small water cask covered in tar. He did not look happy.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Hamilton asked Ghanashyam.

"There is something like this in Hasan al-Rammah. It describes various bombs to use with a manjaniq. We had to make do with what we have on board, of course. Ahmar took an empty canister shell and filled it with powder, then used tar and oakum to hold it fixed to the cask bottom. Orhan will light the fuse and seal the bung hole and then we can hope the powder doesn't spill from the canister before we shoot it."

"You hope?" Hamilton sighed. He turned to the Yemeni, "Mr. Ahmar, if you would see to the guns. We may end up going at them in a straight fight."

Ahmar nodded and went below. Ghanashyam repeated his instructions to Orhan. There were two dozen small wine casks ready, though they only had had time to add power charges to five.

Hamilton watched the approaching galleys with his telescope balanced on Zuberi's shoulder. They were five hundred yards away and closing at a steady rate, side by side, making perhaps eight knots, but that could double, easily, when they sprinted the last two hundred yards.

"Take us three points larboard!" Hamilton ordered, "and tell the quartermaster he must hold us steady."

Zuberi gave the orders and the yards were pulled about as the wheel was turned. The Tigress was now turning to intercept the galleys.

"Mr. Ghanashyam! Four empty casks!"

A dozen men in the waist pulled hard and fast on a rope, the force was enough to snap the long end of the yard around and launch the wine cask into a shallow parabolic arc. The cask landed in the water with a wide splash two hundred yards away. The trebuchet was pulled back and fired again and again. Within less than a minute the four casks had been launched.

"A charged one!"

There was a huddle near the bow as Orhan lit the fuse and slammed in the wedge.

"Now! Now! Now!" Ghanashyam yelled to the men who had to heave fast on the line.

The cask lifted and flew in the same gentle arc, splashing down two hundred and fifty yards away. They waited. And waited. Then it went off. There was a flash and puff of smoke. It had worked, although result was not nearly as impressive as Hamilton had hoped. He ordered another charged cask and two more empties to be fired.

The galleys were closing, at three hundred yards they opened fire with their chasers and a tear suddenly appeared in the main course ten yards from Hamilton.

"Send the other live ones!" Hamilton ordered, "and pass the word to Mr. Ahmar to fire as we bear! Bring us one more point a-larboard."

There were more puffs of smoke in the water and then the massive roar of the broadside; eight jets of flame and a massive clouds of acrid smoke. It was longer range than he would have wanted for the guns, but all Hamilton needed was for the galley captain's to hesitate, for them to fear the casks floating in the water before them.

A mass of debris flew up from the bow of one galley. A hit! That did the trick. The oars on both Corsair vessels stopped suddenly, and held horizontally. The galleys began to slow.

"This is actually going to work," Hamilton muttered.

"Captain?" Zuberi asked.

"Keep up the good work, Mr. Zuberi."

The Tigress' broadside fired again. Deep splashes landed around the galleys and it seemed as if another shot hit home.

"Put us back, Mr. Zuberi, four points to starboard, and clew-up the main course. On deck, there! Mind the bowlines! Haul round the braces and hard-a lee!" Hamilton watched the men going about their work and then laughed. The distance from the galleys was now increasing. The galleys were showing not the slightest inclination to pursue.

"Congratulations once again, Captain," Ahmar said as he emerged from below decks.

"And to you, sir. Excellent shooting, and excellent work on the trebuchet."

"Victory is easy when the enemy is a fool."

"Indeed. We won't be able to use that trick again. Now, set us south-sou'east, if you would, Mr. Ahmar. Bring in the t'gallants and courses, we'll run on tops'ls alone during the night."

##

Hamilton was sitting behind his desk, when he heard the knock on his cabin door. It was two hours after sunset, and the cabin was lit by a pair of lanterns. "Enter."

Katherine Abington stepped inside. She was wearing a shirt over her light slave wrap, one splattered with blood.

"They are both asleep," she said. "I finally gave them laudanum."

Hamilton put his hand on his chin and looked at her. He said nothing.

"They will both limp for the rest of their lives. That is going to lower their value. I'm sure that's what concerns you most."

"It will indeed lower their price."

She angrily pulled off her blood splattered shirt and threw it at him.

"Those two are slaves," he said. "And lest you forget: so are you."

"You didn't have to do that to them."

"There are some captains I have served under who would prescribe a thirty lashes for this sort of insolence, Lady Dunsbrooke."

"The men on those ships are soldiers."

"Half the men in the King's service were taken by force, either on shore or from passing merchants."

"So that makes it right for you to maim those women?"

"I don't need a justification. They are property. I can do with them what I will."

"They were fighting with the others, that's true, I saw it myself, but you could have locked them up somewhere."

"Or I could have had them shot," said Hamilton as he stood up and walked in front of her. "You once asked me to tell you about sex slaves. Do you remember? Well, now you're seeing it. And what I did to them I could just as easily do to you." He put his hand on her chin, pulling her face up. "I notice you have forgotten how to address me correctly, slave. Should I call the cooper and have him work up another set of hot coals?"

"No. Master."

"I didn't have those two punished for fighting," said Hamilton as he turned away from her. "I had them punished to keep the men from thinking about the battle we were going to have with those galleys. Yes, we made it through with only a hole in one sail, but we were lucky. I was lucky. If those pirate captains had had an ounce of good sense there would be blood on these decks. When the time comes I need men to work quickly, without thinking, without worrying, without hesitation; they must hear their orders and carry them out quickly and effectively. That isn't always going to happen if they spend hours sitting and wondering whether they are going to live or die."

Katherine did not look happy, she tried to respond, but the words wouldn't come out.

"Oh, and another thing you seem have forgotten," Hamilton said, "those men are fighting for you, so you can reach Istanbul. I have no doubt that some of them are going to die before this over. I will try everything I know to prevent that, and perhaps our luck will hold, but luck in war is a fickle mistress."

"It was cruel." She looked up, a tear on her cheek.

She looked so vulnerable, standing before him, with only a wrap around her hips. She was still beautiful, but somehow smaller, more fragile, so different from the wild woman he had had met in Gibraltor. He wanted to put his arms around her, to reassure her. He wanted to tell her that he was revolted by the extreme torture he had ordered as she was.

"Would you have done that to your Nasira?" Katherine said, practically spitting out her name.

Hamilton's eyes flared with rage, he pushed her back, slamming her against the bulkhead, his forearm pressed across her neck.

"What is wrong!" Rachel Palmer cried as she threw open the door. "Oh my God!"

Hamilton pulled Katherine from the bulkhead and let her drop to the floor. He staggered back and leaned over his desk. "Send word that this slave is to be lashed to the mainmast."

Rachel bent down and held the terrified Katherine.

"Do it!" Hamilton yelled.

Rachel reached under and lifted Katherine, and guided her out of the cabin.

##

The weather turned that night to a cold drizzle, heavy gusts and hard seas. He had Katherine brought back in after an hour, before the rain struck. He hadn't spoken to her, or even looked at her, and she laid huddled in her cot, with Rachel by her side.

Hamilton stood on the quarter deck as spray mixed with rain flew in his face. It was a rough sea, though nothing like an Atlantic storm. The brig-sloop pitched and rolled. There was no reason for him to remain on deck, Ahmar was handling the watch with his usual calm efficiency. But he didn't want to go back down and have to walk past her in the fore-cabin.

"Mr. Ahmar!" He yelled out. "We should double-reef the tops'ls."

Ahmar nodded and went out on deck, giving the orders to the handful of men who had to climb the aloft.

The storm worsened before it got better. The ship was handling well and the crew responded, grudgingly, but in a seamanlike fashion. Still, the foretopgallant mast was lost, snapped off, when lightning hit the ship. Two men were injured, one seriously, but it could have been far worse.

He was still on the quarter deck at dawn. The storm seemed to have passed, though the seas were still moderate, and the wind blowing against the waves kept the deck wet. The Tigress was under tops'ls only, the reefs having been shaken out an hour earlier. The carpenter was aloft the foremast trying to gauge the damage. They were only making three knots, but the storm had given them a reprieve. Galleys, xebecs and other lightly built craft would have to seek shelter. Greece was, nominally at least, under the rule of the Sultan, and if he had been extraordinary luck, more of Mor Cuanaich's fleet would suffer the fate of the careened galley at Straca Marina: burned.

The waters around Greece were crowded with small vessels, any one of which might pass along information for a few coins. Mysterious sails were seen every days which stayed on the horizon for hours, following the same course and speed, and no determination could be made as to whether they were mere merchants or scouts for the Irish pirate. But there were no sightings of the long, low hulls and double-masts with the lateen sails of a war galley. Hamilton had no illusions. Mor Cuanaich would be on their stern soon enough.

Hamilton wanted very much to keep going directly for Istanbul, but a falling barometer and the possibility of another storm made him look for a place to anchor. After considering a few lonely coves, he finally chose the island of Naxos. There was a fine harbor well-protected by Ottoman ships and soldiers. There was also an extensive slave market, which presented an opportunity to lighten the load.

##

Katherine fell to her knees before Hamilton. "I am sorry, master."

Hamilton tossed a scattering of sand across the open logbook to dry the ink. "You were punished. The matter is settled."

"Yes, master." She watched him closely as he blew the sand away. "Master, may I speak?"

That made Hamilton smile. "You never have asked permission before, I see no reason to start now."

"Thank you, master. I... I should not have mentioned... her." She looked up at him, watching his mood carefully.

"Nasira," said Hamilton.

"Yes, master. I have done this before. I think... I think I do it because she is a lucky woman."

"Nasira? Why do you think that?"

"She has you."

"Oh." He shook his head. "Nasira does not have me. She may have someone now, she may not. She may not even be alive for all I know."

"I'm sorry."

Hamilton changed the subject, "Zuberi has asked if I wanted to see one of the slave brothels and auction houses that cater to some of the wealthier nobles. If you would like to see it, we can bring you along. Not dressed like that, of course."

"Yes. I think I would like that."

##

Forty slaves had been selected for sale. The prices would be higher in Istanbul, but taking them off, and the stores they required, might lighten the Tigress enough for an extra half knot. The first group of ten slaves were made to sit along the quay, bound together by rope and under guard. It would take several trips to make all forty ready for the march to market and Hamilton left those details to Van Schoonhoven and Ghanashyam.

"Naxos is a wondrous place," Zuberi said as they walked up the hill into the town. "I came here many times when I sailed with a Tunisian merchant, an old man named Khalil. He owned no ships himself, he always took them on lease, the only sword he had was rusted in the scabbard, his clothes were worn, but somehow he always managed to acquire the best, the most beautiful women for sale in Istanbul."

"I hope his slaves didn't fight as much as ours did," said Hamilton. He looked back, making sure Katherine was keeping up.

"Sometimes there is nothing that can be done for that." Zuberi shrugged. "Khalil, now, he only choose the choicest slaves in all ways. He was so good, it was said, that he could even bring women to the Sultan Osman."

"He was the only one who supplied the Harem?" Katherine asked, quietly. She wore a light blue dresses, long gloves, and a scarf tightly wound around her head.

"Oh no. Osman himself grew up in the Harem, of course, all the Sultans do, but he came to hate the company of women! He wore iron shoes in the palace so that they would know he was coming and be able to get out of the way." Zuberi laughed. "If I were Sultan I would wear silk shoes to sneak up and catch them!"

They turned into a narrow street with high, windowless walls on either side. Moving from the bright sunlight to the shade was like entering a tunnel. At the far end was a massive gateway, partially open. Two very large men, stripped to the waist, with scimitars prominently displayed their belts watched them closely.

Zuberi raised his hand and walked over to the guards, he said something briefly and handed them each a few copper akche. "I told him that you and Katherine are English tourists. You wouldn't be the first. We may pass without trouble."

Inside the gateway was a courtyard that had been turned into a garden, with paths winding around soft grass and rows and rows of tulips, small ponds, and fig trees. It was a strange setting, in the shadow of high walled buildings, as if a small delicate pond had been transplanted into the center of a small fortress. A pair of young woman were sitting on the stones around one of the ponds. They wore a light wrapping about their hips, their breasts were bare, their faces pretty. They looked over at the visiting trio and smiled, but quickly went back to their gossip.

"There are many more inside," Zuberi said.

They walked across the courtyard to a solid door that was opened by an attractive slave as they approached. The room inside was wide with a low ceiling and miniature paintings of tulips placed everywhere around the walls. A dozen men in the room were clustered in small groups around tables or on pillows, with women who sat with them to act flattered by their attentions and suck suggestively on a hookah. Other women wore deep red wraps around their hips embroidered with tulips. They brought bottles of raki, ouzo, and, for one man, a bottle of French burgundy.

"I like this place," said Katherine. "The slaves seem well treated."

"I'm sure they are, or most of them," Zuberi said. "Let me show you back here."

They walked towards another door. Zuberi spoke to another man as massive as the ones guarding the gate. He paid, with a few silver kuruhs.

The next room was not as large, but much more interesting. Against one wall were ten naked women, all bound, tightly and creatively to iron rings set in the ceiling, wall and floor. All the bound slaves were gagged with cloth festooned in tulips. A man, much smaller than the guards, walked back and forth along a line painted on the floor. To the left of the line were other men, in pairs and individually, standing and admiring the slaves. Some talked, pointing to one and then another of the beautiful women. Only one man was to the right of the line, standing next to the bound slaves. He was pulling on the nipples of a dark haired woman who had her elbows bound tightly and legs spread.

"Is that the Russian?" asked Hamilton indicating the man walking on the line.

"Oh no. He collects the money for those who want to inspect before they choose."

The man touching the bound woman stepped back and nodded. Two more women, both tall, suddenly appeared, they untied the selected slave and attached a leash to her collar. With a yank she was lead away. Even before she was pulled out of the room another naked, gagged slave was brought in and tied in the same manner to take her place.

"All of these positions have names, you can call out the name to select the slave and forgo the inspection price." Zuberi then pressed on Hamilton's arm to turn his attention to a table behind them. "That is the Russian."

The Russian was a big man, with a fierce beard and unruly hair that gave the impression he had a mane. He laughed suddenly, very loudly as he pounded his tankard on the table. Two women were sitting with him, both naked and both running their hands over him. As Hamilton watched one of them slid down and under the table, and slide between the Russian's legs. That just made him laugh more.

"The miniatures on the walls, the tulips, the garden," said Katherine. "This was not what I expected for the owner."

"I'm not sure if he owns the place, but he does have a large share. They always say, if there is trouble just ask for Vasya."