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MacKi
“Just fix the boat and hope we can outrun them. Sure as hell can’t outfight them. Oh, and this is a bigger boat than most of the pirate stuff. Faster. Warship, one of the best on the planet, I’m told. But there’s a hell of a lot of pirates. Without a full crew, if one of their ships boards us, we’re dead.”
“Yeah. Well, we cross that when it happens. How long to get the work done?” Now that Nathan was no longer watched by the Imperials every moment, he had control over his actions again, and the new sense of purpose drove him impatiently. He glanced about himself, took out his pipe, and borrowed MacLean’s lighter to fire it. “How’d you get this past?” he asked.
“This?” MacLean looked at the lighter as if he had never seen it before. It was an ordinary flint and steel device, not as elegant as the flameless units the Imperial Navy carried. “I just walked out with it. Landry saw it, but he didn’t say anything.”
MacKi
“How long until we can sail?”
MacLean scratched his chin. “With luck, a few days. Decking’s the hard part. There are a lot of hands to do the work, but they’ve never done this kind of thing before. Still, by the time you get the goods and provisions on board we should be just about ready to get under way.”
It took two of the local weeks. Although the Makassar day was somewhat longer than Samual’s and quite a bit longer than the standard Earth day, MacKi
One reason the work went slowly was that the local church insisted on Sabbath-keeping, and in addition seemed to proclaim at least one Holy Day each week. These, and the inexperience of the locals with the construction methods MacLean insisted on, caused the first delays. Then when the ship was completed, another week was consumed in obtaining cloth suitable for sails and have the Drapers sew it.
MacLean was the only man available to design the equipment needed. He designed and cast anchors more advanced than anything seen on Makassar since the war; installed windlasses and winches, cast in bronze by the Ironsmiths; and had the Drapers lay up ropes and cables from local fibers. It all had to be done, and MacLean had to see to each detail personally. The days dragged on and on.
MacKi
By the time the ship was ready for launching, the trade goods and weapons they would carry were piled on the docks. A light drizzle driven by the strong westerly winds thoroughly soaked the party as they stood watching the locals launch the ship. The primitive ways did not permit much sophistication — half the young men in the town simply lifted and strained until Subao was in the water, then fell to carrying aboard the iron ingots MacLean had selected for ballast. MacKi
“What now?” he asked MacLean.
“Masts. Stays. Ru
MacKi
That afternoon MacLean gave instruction on how to sail the boat. He discovered that young Todd had sailed small boats in the Haven harbor, and, under MacKi
They learned the language the locals used aboard ships, although MacLean had to adapt several local words for terms they would not be familiar with. Then he had Todd drill everyone on the names of lines and gear on the ship. MacKi
“Best we get the men some action, sir,” Hal said. “All that drill with sword and shield’s fine, but they get restless carrying stores and driving nails. Got some good pointers from that Vanjynk fellow, he’s gifted with this armor and stuff. Reckon he’s in the same business we are.”
MacKi
“Don’t know, sir. Takes my orders right enough, better than Vanjynk, but there’s no understanding him.”
MacKi
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, sir. There’s a shipmaster I’ve been drinking with, man named Loholo. He claims he can get us a crew for a price. Part of the price is he wants to go with us. Mr. MacLean wasn’t too interested in having a native shipmaster aboard, said there was enough command problems already what with nobody knowing who ranked who. He’s not happy with you being in charge, sir. But I can’t tell about Loholo; the Guild people seem to think a lot of him. Should I send for him? He’s in the Blueglass tonight waiting to hear.”
“No harm in talking to him. Sure, why not?”
Stark nodded and went to the door. He spoke briefly in low tones to one of the guardsmen outside. “Be here in a couple of minutes, Trader. Be best if I were on duty when he came in.” Stark took his glass to another table across the small room.
Captain Loholo was a short, dark-brown man, stocky and strong-looking, with a distinct slant to his eyes, reminding MacKi
“Trader,” Hal said, “I want you to meet Captain Loholo, shipmaster and merchant. I’m told he’s the only captain left in the port.”
“Please have a seat, Captain,” MacKi
“Aye.” Loholo fingered the glass, looked at MacKi