The Little Ships (Alexis Carew Book 3) (30 page)

O
nce back aboard
Belial
, Alexis gave orders to make way as soon as the boat was unloaded. Even before the boat’s hatch was sealed and the boat itself fully secured to
Belial’s
keel, the ship was in motion and heading for the nearest Lagrangian point. Ahead of them, the last few ships of the evacuation streamed for it as well.

They transitioned to
darkspace
and Alexis saw just how close-run things had been. The fleets, New London’s and Hanover’s, were actually within sight of Giron’s Lagrangian points, even now falling into their formations as they closed with one another, all thought of further maneuvering given up now that they’d arrived at their target. The lights from the sails of the evacuation fleet were also visible, a long stream of them carrying off into the distance away from the coming action and towards New London space.

Alexis wanted to put
Belial
about and point her at the coming battle, but knew her ship would be useless there. That was a place for the massive two- and three-decked ships of the line. The smaller ships of those fleets, even the frigates, were forming themselves behind the two lines in order to repeat signals or, just possibly, come to their aid if one of their larger sisters needed it.
Belial
would have no use there.

Besides, I have my orders.

Escort the evacuation fleet, keep them in line and on course, and at least attempt to deal with any stray Hanoverese or pirates they encountered on the way back to New London. Alexis eyed the two fleets one more time.

Unlikely, that. Every Hanoverese must be there and no pirate worth the name would find himself where so many warships are sailing.

They sailed on for nearly an hour as the evacuation fleet beat to windward away from Giron. Once they were well away from the system, the winds would become more variable, but this close they blew steadily toward the system, forcing the ships to tack back and forth to remain on course.

Or wear
, Alexis thought in frustration as another of her charges did just that. The captain must not have had much confidence in his crew’s or ship’s ability to tack across the eye of the wind without being caught aback and winding up in irons, unable to make any way at all with the wind dead on his bow. Instead, he wore ship, turning away from their desired course and falling back to turn and take the winds on his other side, all the while losing precious ground.

“Mister Artley, a signal to
King Orry
, if you please. If she must wear instead of tack, then she is to do so less frequently. It may take her out of the convoy’s formation —” Alexis eyed the ragged stream of ships on the navigation plot. “— such as it is — but at least she’ll not interfere with the others and will lose less ground overall.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Lieutenant Carew, sir?”

“Yes, Leyman?”

“You’ll want to see this, sir.”

Alexis crossed the tactical console. Leyman was watching the impending action of the two fleets and had plots of their movements displayed.

“You see this one here, sir?”

Alexis did and a chill went through her. One of the Hanoverese frigates had hung back, well back from the course of the two fleets as they began to edge toward each other for action. This frigate had fallen far behind them and then turned to cross their sterns on a course that took it directly toward the evacuation fleet.

A
lexis clenched
her fist in frustration. She wanted to pound it on the plot, but that wouldn’t change what she saw. The Hanoverese frigate had got around
Belial
and was now to windward of them on the starboard tack.
Belial
could come a bit closer to the wind than the ship-rigged frigate, but not enough to close the distance in any reasonable amount of time. Meanwhile, the frigate’s greater sail area was helping it gain on the heavily laden ships of the convoy.

“Roll us ten degrees to port, Mister Dobb, and edge us a point nearer the wind,” Alexis said.

“Aye, sir.”

The maneuver might gain them another, barely noticeable, bit of speed, but nothing that was obvious on the plot. Meanwhile the frigate had closed to within gun range of the nearest ship of the convoy,
Mona’s Queen
, a wallowing packet that had been one of the last to take on civilians from Giron. She must have been having trouble with her particle projectors, for her sails were dimmer than they should be and she was struggling along at the tail end of the convoy.

“Frigate’s falling off the wind, sir,” Leyman said.

Alexis felt a chill as she watched the plot. The frigate fell of the wind, turned, and presented its full broadside to
Mona’s Queen’s
vulnerable stern.

Surely not
.
Surely they’ll fire a chaser and let them strike —

“Firing,” Leyman announced.

Alexis’ hand flew to her mouth as the Hanoverese frigate’s guns fired, a full broadside, poorly aimed and most missing their target, but enough finding their mark that
Mona’s Queen
all but disappeared in a roiling ball of plasma.

“More than one made it through to the fusion plant,” Dobb said. “The bastards.”

Alexis blinked to clear her eyes. There couldn’t even be any question that the Hanoverese had thought the other ship was armed —
Mona’s Queen
not only had no gunports, but there was no way she could have carried even a single gun that would so much as scratch a frigate’s hull — but they’d given her no warning and no chance to strike. Moreover, the packet’s hull was so thin that it wouldn’t have been able to stand up to even a single shot. Even
Belial’s
hull offered more protection.

“Coming back to close-hauled,” Leyman said.

Having fallen off the wind to bring her guns to bear on
Mona’s Queen
, the frigate had now turned back toward the wind to continue the pursuit of the convoy.

Alexis studied the plot. There was no way
Belial
could bring the frigate to action, and even if she could, they’d be able to do no more than delay it a few minutes. A handful of broadsides from those guns and
Belial
would meet the same fate as the packet.

Perhaps more than a handful, if they’re all aimed as poorly as that last. Not that it did
Mona’s Queen
a bit of good.

“Mister Artley, has there been any response to our signal?”

“No, sir, none.”

Artley’s voice was strained and hoarse. Alexis went to his side and laid a hand on his shoulder. She could see on his signals console that
Belial
was, indeed, still flying the signals she’d ordered,
Enemy in Sight
and
Require Assistance
, but it was as though the rest of the New London fleet, now much farther away and engaged in action with the Hanoverese, had all but forgotten about them.

They were likely too far away now, but Alexis had hoped for some assistance. Even a single frigate let loose from its duty behind the line would have been helpful.

“They just killed them,” Artley whispered, his voice breaking. “They just …”

“Steady, Mister Artley.” She looked down and met Artley’s gaze, his eyes were full and red-rimmed.

“What can we do? We have to … What can we do, sir?”

Alexis wished she had an answer to that.
Belial
was at her very best point of sail, she was sure, and every scrap of sail that might help had been bent on. The particle projectors charging the sails were at their highest setting and would likely burn themselves out if this kept on, but she needed every bit of speed she could get from the ship if she was be of any help at all to the convoy.

And what help can I be?

Belial
was outgunned and the frigate’s guns were heavier as well. They’d blast through
Belial’s
hull with ease.

“
Fenella
has struck, sir.”

Alexis gave Artley’s shoulder another squeeze and went back to the navigation plot.
Fenella
, another packet from the same firm as
Mona’s Queen
, had struck her colors and doused her sails as the Hanoverese frigate approached. She must have seen what the frigate had done to her consort and determined there was no hope but to wish for mercy from the oncoming frigate. She slowed as the morass of dark matter around them dragged at her hull without her charged sails to pull her along.

The Hanoverese frigate closed, never changing course, and at first Alexis thought it would sail by, accepting
Fenella’s
surrender. But as it drew level with the packet, the frigate fired.

Again, many of the shots missed, flying wide of the mark or going above and below
Fenella
, but enough struck.

Even one is enough … they’ve holed the main deck and more … and none of those aboard with a vacsuit.

“Murderous bastards,” Dobb muttered.

“
King Orry
is tacking,” Leyman announced, his voice raw and shaking. “She’ll not make it.”

Alexis looked around the quarterdeck. Her crew’s faces were set, jaws clenched and nostrils flaring in anger.

She looked back down at her plot.
King Orry
, another packet and, if Alexis remembered correctly, from the same shipping line as
Fenella
and
Mona’s Queen
, was the next in line on the frigate’s point of sail. Alexis could see that Leyman was correct;
King Orry’s
tack was too slow, she didn’t have the momentum to swing past the eye of the wind and her turn had slowed.

Alexis closed her eyes. She barely heard Leyman’s announcement that the frigate had drawn even with the helpless packet and fired yet again. There was nothing, nothing at all she could do. She ran the points of sail through her mind over and over again, but nothing changed.
Belial
might, if she was lucky, be able to bring the frigate to action far up the line of the convoy, but by then how many more ships, along with their helpless cargoes, would be butchered?

Even then, if she were finally able to bring the frigate to action,
Belial
would simply meet the same fate.
Belial
was a warship, though small, and would be able to face more than a single broadside from the frigate, but eventually she’d succumb and the frigate would resume its butchery.

Still, even a few minutes delay would certainly save some of the convoy. Once outside the immediate area of Giron, the winds would become more variable. Instead of blowing steadily toward the system, they might offer a better opportunity for the convoy to escape, even if it meant scattering in multiple directions.

None of which would happen if she couldn’t bring the frigate to action.

“Roll us ten more to port, Mister Dobb,” she said, “and I’ll have a single gun to leeward, if you please.”

“Aye, sir,” Dobb said.

The Hanoverese would see that, surely. A single gun, fired to leeward, was a challenge. An invitation to fight. Perhaps she could goad that frigate’s captain into an engagement.

“No change in course, sir,” Leyman said after a few minutes.

Alexis shook her head and examined the plot. The next ship in line was larger than the packets, but just as defenseless. An intrasystem ferry called
Royal Daffodil —
barely qualified to sail the Dark at all and never out of sight of a system’s Lagrangian points, but her crew had set off along with all the others in the convoy and now there were over a thousand men and women stuffed inside that thin hull.

She took a deep breath and her rage fell away, a deep calmness settling in its place.

“Mister Dobb, see that all the guns are manned, port and starboard both, if you please.”

“Aye, sir.”

As the message was passed, Alexis considered what little German she could remember. Oddly, she found that she’d gleaned something suitable from
Marilyn’s
crew during their travels.

“Mister Artley, when the guns fire, I want this signal bent on. Put it on both masts and the hull itself, do you understand? I want that frigate to see it easily.” She tapped a message on the plot and sent it to Artley’s signals console. “You’ll have to spell it out, just as it is.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Wear ship, Mister Dobb,” Alexis said. “Put us on the port tack.”

Dobb stared at her as he passed the order. Men in vacsuits streamed out of the ship through the sail locker to trim the sails.

Alexis could understand his confusion. The port tack would put them on a diverging course from the frigate, still moving upwind, but edging in the opposite direction. Wearing ship instead of tacking would set them to losing even more ground to the frigate and the rest of the convoy. But it would also put them, for a moment, with
Belial’s
stern pointing directly at the frigate.

“Both broadsides, on my mark.” She waited until just before
Belial
was showing the frigate her stern. “Fire.”

Belial
emptied her guns into
darkspace
. While a single gun to leeward might be a challenge, emptying one’s guns and showing the enemy her vulnerable stern was a gesture of contempt.

“What’s that mean, sir?” Dobb asked, brow furrowed as he studied the signal spelled out on
Belial’s
mast and hull.

“
Feigling
means coward, if I remember correctly.”

“And the other? What’s that,
arschficker
?”

Alexis felt herself flush. “Something somewhat less complimentary. If that frigate’s captain has no honor, then perhaps he has some small bit of pride.”

Alexis stared at the plot, willing the other captain to react.

Have a shred of pride, damn you
, Alexis thought.
At least deal with me before you kill more of the helpless.

Not that
Belial
was so far from helpless herself, not in comparison to the frigate’s guns.

Yet nothing happened as
Belial
continued her turn and settled on the port tack, now widening the distance from the frigate.

Then the frigate’s sails seemed to shudder. It fell off the wind, just the tiniest bit, perhaps to gain a bit more speed, and began to turn toward the wind’s eye. Its bow crossed the eye of the winds and the frigate fell back onto the port tack.