"Jeffrey Lord - Blade 32 - Pirates of Gohar" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lord Jeffery)

A little more maneuvering by the six merchant ships followed, and now Blade began to see what the
Goharans were planning. The six merchant ships were moving into a rough square, with the galley in the
middle. The merchant ships were close enough to support one another, and there was room inside the
square for the galley and her fighting men to move freely to the rescue of any merchant ship which needed
even more help.
The merchant ships were plodding along at no more than three or four knots, so even the best
seamanship couldn't get them into battle formation quickly. By the time the square was taking shape, the
pirates were in sight from the foc'sle of Blade's ship. Everyone was still too busy to tell him where to go
or what to do, so he stayed where he was, watching the pirates close in on the convoy.
The three pirate ships were low and rakish, with two high masts carrying enormous lateen sails. The
hulls were painted and the sails dyed a bluish-gray, obviously to blend in with the sea and sky. The ships
had platforms rigged along either side, and another mounted on their stubby bowsprits. They were
coming in under full sail, heeling over so far that the leeward platforms sometimes churned up spray. They
were lean, stripped for action, and thoroughly formidableтАФtrue wolves of the sea, coming down fast on
the flock of sheep. At least that was the way it might look to an outsider, but Blade had his doubts that
the merchant ships would prove quite so sheeplike.
With their lateen sails, the three pirates could sail much closer to the wind than the square-rigged,
fat-hulled merchant ships. They came in from well off to starboard, not shortening sail at all and staying as
close together as if they were running a race. Apparently this was the pirates' reply to the tactics of the
GoharansтАФstriking all together, to board the same ship or pair of ships in overwhelming numbers and
carry them off before the escorts could intervene. Pirates or privateers could always cram more fighting
men aboard their ships than any merchant captain who needed to show a profit on the voyage.
Certainly these ships were carrying heavy crews. The decks of all three pirate ships were crowded,
and all the men Blade could see were apparently wearing red-lacquered armor or red body paint. From
foremast to stern, the deck of each pirate ship showed the rusty red of dried blood. It gave them a
distinctly sinister appearance.
The pirates drew still closer, in the oppressive silence possible only in a sea battle fought without
gunpowder. Water clucked and splashed alongside Blade's ship, the planks underfoot creaked,
occasionally someone swore or gave an order. Once a bucket fell, with a clatter like an explosion. At
times Blade had the feeling that these ships would vanish like mist if he blinked or coughed.
Blade also realized that the pirates were making his ship their first victim. Up here on the foc'sle he
might have a better view, but soon he'd also be a better target. Blade dropped down to the main deck,
picked up two spears, stuck them point down in the crack between two planks, then stepped to the
railing.
By now the pirates were so close that men were climbing out on the bowsprits. They seemed to be
wearing only knee-length breeches and sleeveless tunics, with flat black hats. Every square inch of
exposed skin was painted rust-red. On the very end of the bowsprit of the nearest ship stood a
bare-chested figure, brandishing two curved swords over his head.
Then one of the archers aboard Blade's ship drew, his bow twanged, and an arrow stood out from
the pirate's chest. He staggered, dropping one sword, then toppled from his perch. He was still holding
the other sword as he struck the water and the bow of his own ship smashed him down into the depths.
Like a pin puncturing a balloon, the pirate's death released all the pent-up noise on both sides. Blade
found himself shouting wordless cries along with all his shipmates, while spearbutts thudded on the deck
and the flats of swords clattered against the railings. From the pirate ships war cries floated back, along
with obscene threats, the shrill wail of flutes, and the thud of furiously beaten drums. The archer shot
again, and the cries and threats from the pirates grew even louder. Blade noticed that in spite of all their
shouting the pirates didn't forget to throw themselves flat on the decks. He waited for the pirates' archers
to reply, and thought he was waiting calmly until he realized that he was holding his breath. No matter
how many battles you fight, it still makes a difference to know that you may be dead in the next minute.
Then Blade had no more time to think, only to react like the superb fighting machine he was. The