Chapter Eleven

Lutar ran as he had never run in his life.

Emerging from the door of Ostrok's stone overseer's tower - which, thankfully, faced seaward, putting the bulk of the tower between him and most of the deadly squirrel archers - the searat captain went into a low crouch and sprinted across the sandy soil as quickly as his footclaws could carry him. By weaving his way in and out among other rats who were fleeing from the barracks massacre, Lutar was able to avoid the occasional Gawtrybe shaft launched their way. One or two rats fell alongside him, but Lutar reached the tavern unscathed.

He paused at the tavern door, glancing toward the dock. There were signs of bustling activity on and around the Scorpiontail, as crewrats and fighters aboard the warship became alerted to the trouble ashore, and started spilling onto the dock in preparation of action.

"Stay there, my rats, stay," Lutar muttered under his breath. "Don't go rushin' inta battle half-cocked without knowin' yer enemy. Wait fer yer Captain." With that, he kicked open the tavern door as hard as he could.

The door smashed against the inner wall with a bang that could be heard over the carousing of the rats within. All eyes turned toward the authoritative figure standing in the doorway.

"Attack!" Lutar bellowed, cutting off all conversation in the tavern. "We're under attack! All crew of the Scorpiontail, grab yer weapons an' fall back t' the dock with me! We gotta defend th' ships!"

It took only moments for a living flow of Lutar's disciplined fighters to come streaming toward the door at their captain's command, their drinks and revelry forgotten. The less well-trained rats from the Wavehauler and Ostrok's mill command took longer to react, sitting dumbfounded at their tables and benches and counters. One called out, "What should we do, Cap'n?"

"Ostrok's still in 'is tower, an' it ain't been attacked yet," Lutar shouted back, "so ye might wanna rally to 'im there. The rest o' you might wanna stay 'ere an' hold this tavern ... if y' can."

And then the captain of the Scorpiontail was gone, along with his crew, rushing toward the dock to consolidate his army and safeguard his ship.

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Captain Drecksage emerged from Ostrok's command tower a short time after Lutar did, but the lean fighting captain was already long gone, nowhere to be seen.

"Must've made it awright," Dresage muttered. "An' if 'ee can do it, I can too!" Ignoring the fact that a few widely-scattered rat corpses already littered the stretch between him and the shore, Drecksage started his run for safety.

But Drecksage did not crouch, as Lutar had done. He did not bob and weave, as Lutar had done. And he was not nearly as fast on his feet as the lean captain of the Scorpiontail was. So it was hardly surprising when he fell to the ground after fewer than a dozen paces with two Gawtrybe arrows in his wide back, never to rise again.

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Drecksage had no way of knowing it at the moment of his death, but his cargo ship the Wavehauler was already lost.

Captain Saybrook's otter team had reached the giant oceangoing barge by this time, and had swum around to the port side of the vessel where they would be shielded by the dock as they worked. Now they attacked the wood hull below the waterline with their awls and prybars, drilling holes and peeling away boards in order to flood the ship.

While a dozen of the otters labored thus, Saybrook and two others climbed aboard the Wavehauler, ignored and unseen by the milling soldier rats aboard the Scorpiontail and on the pier, whose attention was commanded by the impossible scene unfolding ashore.

The Wavehauler, being a cargo vessel, did not have a particularly large crew, and most of them were enjoying shore leave at the tavern when hostilities commenced. Captain Drecksage had seen fit to post only two guards to watch over his ship and slaves in his absence. After all, with an attack dreadnought moored across the dock from it and all the oarslaves chained to their benches, what possible danger could threaten the Wavehauler?

Creeping stealthily through the ship, Saybrook's trio quickly found and forever silenced the two guardrats. Then they turned their attention to the slaves.

The Wavehauler was built like a giant floating tray with tall, wide sides. It was in the long port and starboard side blocks that the slave galleys were located. Lacking sails of any kind, the cargo ship was propelled solely by the muscle power of its oarslaves.

Saybrook's nose wrinkled as he stepped down into the port rowing galley. He'd helped Lord Urthblood liberate many slaves in the Northlands, but this was his first time aboard a searat vessel, and he was unprepared for the putrid conditions under which these unfortunate creatures were imprisoned. This was an existence that denied the captive beasts both their freedom and all vestiges of dignity. The sight and smell made Saybrook want to head back up to the dock and start throttling searats with his bare paws. But he had a job to do here, so he forced himself to it.

"Ahoy, friends!" he greeted the disbelieving slavebeasts, who stared at him in the paltry glow cast by a pair of dim lamps. "There's searats aplenty dyin' tonight, an' this boat's goin' down! An' since I wager you ain't keen on goin' down with it, what say we ditch this stinkbucket? Uh, anybeast 'ere happen t' know where them scurvy seabags keep th' keys fer yer chains?"

"There aren't any, Mr. Otter sir," a mouse near the front of the galley spoke up. "There are no locks. We're all chained inta place permanent-like."

"Oh." Saybrook shrugged and held up his crowbar. "Whelp, we didn't bring anything fer cuttin' chains, but we should be able t' wrench those chain brackets right outta th' moldy woodwork. Then you'll be able t' get outta here, chained t'gether in groups o' three or four."

"Did you come in a boat?" the mouse asked timidly as Saybrook and his two companions set to work on prying the chain hooks out of the hull; these were awkwardly positioned in random places so that not even the strongest slave would easily be able to lever them free. "We can't go ashore - that's where all the rats are. And we can't swim with our chains on ... "

"Ashore might actshully be th' safest place now, 'cos that's where most o' th' rats are doin' their dyin'," Saybrook grunted, prying free one chain loop and moving on to the next. "Unfortunately, th' dock's clogged with searats just at th' moment, so y' won't be goin' that way. We got a fleet o' shrew logboats comin' in from th' north, but they'll be engagin' that big warship across th' way, so they might not be available right away. But don't fret yerselves - we'll figger out somethin' before this tub's under th' waves!"

Even as he said this, water started spraying in from several of the drill holes the otters outside were making, dampening the oarslaves' footpaws. "Well, wotever ye're gonna think of, better make it quick," a hedgehog declared.

Saybrook's companion Rosbor laughed as he tugged free a hook from the bulkhead. "I don't think we got anything t' worry about on that score."

"Whatcha got in mind, Ross?"

"Didn't y' notice, Cap'n? This crate's partly loaded with cut lumber."

Saybrook paused in thought. "You mean ... ?"

Rosbor nodded. "When th' water washes over th' sides, all them boards'll start floatin' every which way, an' presto! This sad gang'll have all th' rafts they need!"

"An' Riveroll 'n' Flusk'll be keepin' those rats up topside too busy t' worry 'bout stoppin' some runaway slaves ... "

"Floataway slaves, y' mean!"

Saybrook grinned. "I do like yer thinkin', Rossy!"

Rosber grimaced as he stepped in a pile of filth under one slave bench. "Ugh! Don't they ever shovel it out down 'ere?"

"Sometimes they give us a pot to use," a female squirrel said. "But not usually."

"Don't worry 'bout it, Ross, ye'll be washin' yer paws in nice clean seawater soon 'nuff." He smiled at the slaves before him. "We all will."

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Lutar made it to the Scorpiontail with his life. In no time at all he was able to rally his fighters, and nearly two hundred and fifty battle-hardened rat soldiers clogged the head of the dock. But he did not send them charging ashore to engage the squirrel archers. Lutar knew the site was a loss, its buildings burned and most of its rats already dead. The searat captain was more concerned with keeping the enemy off the dock and away from his ship. The pier was a long one, and the Scorpiontail was moored well out from shore to keep the dreadnought clear of the shallows in these frequently choppy waters. Now, an impenetrable mob of armed searats blocked off this only access the Gawtrybe had to the mighty warship, ensuring that the Scorpiontail would be safe.

Lutar and his rats didn't notice how the Wavehauler had started listing slightly to port, scraping against the dockside, nor did they see the line of freed oarslaves emerging from belowdecks and ducking their way between the stacks of lumber aboard the cargo ship.

But most of all, they were still unaware of the fleet of small enemy boats closing on the Scorpiontail from the north.

While his fighters held the dock secure, Lutar's regular crew of a hundred and fifty scrambled to make the Scorpiontail ready for a swift departure. The ship's sails had been tightly furled for this extended shore leave. Lutar was undecided as to whether he would mount a counteroffensive against the squirrels on shore - he probably had enough of a strength to prevail in such a match - but those archerbeasts were lethal, and if he decided not to risk the heavy losses such a charge would surely entail, then Lutar wanted to be able to be gone before these demon squirrels could get within easy shooting range.

Of course, thanks to their formidable longbows, most of the Gawtrybe already were within range of the rats guarding the dock, if not the Scorpiontail herself. A team of five squirrels had charged ahead to the tavern, but instead of stopping to shoot at the rats who came pouring out of the saloon, they dodged around the vermin and climbed the outside of the tavern up to its roof. From there they had a clear shot at Lutar's living blockade assembling at the head of the dock, and began picking off as many rats as they could. But Lutar had archers of his own, which he quickly sent forward into his front ranks, and soon the five roofbound squirrels were furiously exchanging arrowfire with over a score of the searats.

Elsewhere in the camp, other Gawtrybe were having similar tactical ideas. Over a dozen, including Captain Matowick and his Lieutenant Perricone, had scaled the sides of the main mill building and now stood on its roof, mopping up what few rats could still be seen scurrying amongst the burning structures. From there they could also snipe at the rats on the dock and around the saloon, but in the poor light about half their shafts fell short, and Matowick soon called a halt to the more long range sniping.

"Save your arrows, otherwise we'll deplete our supply and have to resort to paw-to-paw combat, and I'm not ready to do that just yet."

Perricone paused to scratch at her chin with the top of her bow. "Why aren't they charging, Captain?"

"Must've given up the mill for lost, and don't want to waste themselves rushing headlong into our arrows," Matowick correctly guessed. "Their captain's no idiot. I'd do the same thing. Looks like they might be getting ready to sail. They just want to keep us at arm's length until they're able to make their getaway."

"You don't suppose they'll make it, sir? I thought Captains Saybrook, Riveroll and Flusk were gonna take care of that ship? What's taking them?"

"Seas are a little rough tonight," Matowick said. "Give them time - they'll be here."

"Yeah, but we were counting on them to drive those vermin off their ship and right into our field of fire." Perricone gestured toward the occupied guard towers, whose archers had yet to join the main battle. "That's how we were planning to take care of most of 'em. And that's a lot of rats I see down on that pier."

"It may still come to that," Matowick said hopefully. "Maybe if we make it too costly for them to stay in one place ... " He called down to Sergeant Custis, running by below with a few of the freed slaves. "Sergeant, gather a dozen or a score of archers and go forward to engage the front lines of those rats on the dock! Our mates up on the tavern roof might need a paw - they'll find themselves cut off quickly if those vermin all surge forward at once and surround the tavern. But see if you can get 'em to do just that. We wanna draw them into our circle here."

"I'm on it, Captain!" Custis threw a quick salute, then rushed off to assemble his harrying team.

Off in the violent orange night, somewhere among the dancing flames, a bloodcurdling scream was abruptly cut off. Kurdyla the berserker otter had gotten his paws on another rat, and was well on the way to settling the score for his mousefriend Jurs.

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It was the searats high up in the rigging of the Scorpiontail, working to get the sails unfurled, who first sighted the scattered fleet of logboats bearing down on them from the north.

"Enemy t' starboard! Enemy, comin' in from th' north!"

The cry was quickly picked up and relayed throughout the ship, and soon scores of searats crowded the starboard railing with drawn cutlasses and sharpened poles at the ready to repel any invader who tried to board the Scorpiontail.

The attack dreadnought had two full bosuns. One of them, Shuke by name, hastily disembarked from the vessel and raced along the pier to find Lutar. "Cap'n! Cap'n! We got lots o' liddle boats movin' in on th' Scorpiontail from th' north! Looks like they mean t' engage us!"

"Liddle boats? Whaddya mean, Shuke?"

"Log things, like them shrews use, Cap'n."

"Well, are they shrews?" Lutar demanded.

"Not close 'nuff t' tell yet, Cap'n. But there sure are a lot of 'em. Couple dozen at least, by th' look of it."

"Hellsteeth!" Lutar glanced toward the head of the dock, wondering whether he should pull back some of his archers there to help fend off this new threat. He decided not to; it looked as if more of those damnable squirrels might be closing in to increase the pressure on his front ranks, and besides, shrews never used bow and arrow very much. As long as there weren't more squirrels on any of those logboats, his regular crew should have little trouble fending off anybeasts who came alongside the Scorpiontail.

Still, he thought he'd better see this for himself. As Lutar jogged back to his ship at Shuke's heels, a tortured scraping and tearing filled the night. Glancing to his left, the searat captain saw the Wavehauler going way offkilter on its port side and dipping low in the water. As Lutar watched, the cargo ship crunched its way below the dock, its port side disappearing beneath the pier decking.

Lutar harrumphed loudly and called out to his crewrats, "Hey, any o' you seaweed skulls happen to notice th' Wavehauler's sinkin'?"

His inquiry was met with uncertain and incredulous silence.

Lutar and Shuke and a few of the others stepped over to the south edge of the dock and gazed down. The port slave block and rowing galley of the rectangular vessel was now almost completely submerged, and the starboard block was riding lower in the water than it should have been.

"She's been scuttled!" Lutar declared. "Shuke, get inspection teams belowdecks on th' Scorpiontail to keep a close eye on the inner hull an' make sure nobeast's tryin' t' do the same to us!"

The bosun stammered, "But ... but ... them shrew boats ain't reached us yet! How could they've done this?"

"There was obviously another enemy force sent in from th' south," Lutar explained impatiently. "Prob'ly otters, seein' as how they were able t' get so close without bein' seen. Well, don't jus' stand there, Shuke! Get a move on!"

"Yes, Cap'n! Right away, sir!" The bosun turned to obey.

"Oh, an' Shuke!"

"Um, yessir?"

"Get th' oars staffed while ye're at it. We might not have time t' get th' sails all unfurled. An' with these squirrels usin' fire like they are, I don't wanna give 'em our full spread o' canvas fer a target!"

"But, sir! We'll need all available deckpaws t' stave off them shrews comin' in on starboard!"

"You jus' do whatcher told, Shuke, an' leave th' thinkin' 'round here t' me!"

"Um, right! Yessir, Cap'n!" Shuke's tail disappeared up the gangplank onto the Scorpiontail.

Lutar pointed to another rat standing on the dock nearby. "You! Get to th' head of th' dock an' sound a retreat! We're pullin' back to th' Scorpiontail!"

"Aye, Cap'n!"

Lutar stood watching the Wavehauler flounder her last. As the waves washed over the cargo vessel, he saw to his amazement all the slaves emerge from their hiding places amidst the lumber stacks and hop up onto the boards which had started to float upon the wavewash. A dozen shiny dark otter heads appeared at the edges of the improvised lifeboats as the strong waterbeasts began propelling the boards bearing the freed slaves southward and shoreward, away from the fighting.

Lutar threw himself onto his belly against the dock planks, on the offchance that any of the otters might stop to launch a slingstone or javelin his way. But they all seemed concentrated on getting the slaves to safety. The searat captain chuckled to himself.

"Harr harr! Just like woodlanders, goin' to all th' trouble o' freein' th' slaves before sinkin' our ships! Now I know th' Scorpiontail's gonna be fine! They'll dare not sink her or burn her if they think there's slaves who'll die. An' th' fools don't know King Tratton keeps slaves off alla his best attack ships to guard against a revolt! They'll never guess this dreadnought's crewed by rats an' nobeast else! We'll get clean away 'fore they c'n stop us!"

"Don't count on it, matey," came a voice from directly below him. Captain Saybrook, clinging to the dock pylon he'd climbed, had heard every word of Lutar's boasting to himself.

The searat, eyes wide in shocked surprise, moved to raise himself from the plank decking, but too late. Saybrook's javelin found a gap in the boards and drove up through Lutar's stomach with such force that it severed his spine and came right up through his back.

As he drew the last shuddering breath he would ever take, Lutar heard the disembodied voice below him say, "That takes care o' you, bilgescum! Now let's see t' yore ship!"

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Moments later, the retreating rat army hastening back to defend the Scorpiontail discovered Lutar's lifeless corpse splayed upon the pier, pinned to the dock by an otter javelin that had wedged itself between the boards beneath the dead searat.

The mill was captured and burning, the Wavehauler was sunk, enemy were closing in on all sides, and now their captain was dead. For the first time, looking at Lutar's impaled form, the searats knew despair.

That despair was soon to deepen, for Rosbor was swimming to the shrew logboats and Saybrook was wading ashore where the Gawtrybe awaited, both otters delivering the message that the Scorpiontail carried no slaves.

The full, unrestrained destructive fury of Urthblood's forces could now be unleashed upon the pirate dreadnought.