Brotherband 4: Slaves of Socorro by John Flanagan Page B

leapt up onto the starboard rail, steadying himself on one of the thick stays.
    ‘She’s dismasted!’ he called. ‘She’s in trouble!’
    Hal glanced quickly at the wind telltale on the top of the sternpost. The wind was from the north-east. There was no need to tack. He swung the tiller and brought Heron round to intercept the other ship. As the wind came further astern, Ulf and Wulf let out the sail to take full advantage of it.
    ‘We’ll go aboard if she needs help,’ Hal called. ‘Stig, Jesper, Stefan, Ulf and Wulf – you come with me. Ingvar, get the boat hook on her and keep us alongside. Edvin, come aft and take the tiller.’
    As they came closer, he could see that the other ship was obviously holed. Her bow was low in the water and she rose and fell sluggishly on the swell. She was a trader – a wide-beamed, slow-sailing ship with plenty of room for cargo. Her mast was gone, snapped off a metre from the deck and trailing overside in a tangle of canvas and rope. Hal counted two of her crew struggling ineffectually with it, while another three were for’ard, working on damage to the hull close to her bow.
    ‘Ulf, Wulf, give them a hand to cut that mast loose. Thorn, you can help with that.’ Thorn was perfectly capable of wielding an axe with his left hand, Hal knew – in fact, he was far more efficient than most right-handed axemen. He peered more closely at the men for’ard on the ship. There was a ragged, triangular rent smashed in the side of the ship.
    ‘Stefan, Edvin, get out the tent canvas. We’ll fother it over that hole in the side.’
    Fothering entailed sliding a large piece of canvas, usually a sail, under the ship at the bows and sliding it aft until it sat over the hole. When the canvas was pulled tight, the flow of water into the ship was greatly reduced. It was a technique they had learned during their brotherband training, and which they had used before – when Wolfwind had been rammed by the pirate ship Raven in the waters off the town of Limmat.
    ‘Can I do anything?’ Lydia asked. She understood that this was one of those situations for which she wasn’t trained. It was a matter of seamanship and sailing craft. The boys knew what they had to do, and she would only be in the way if she tried to help.
    Hal glanced around the horizon before he answered.
    ‘Stay here and keep a lookout,’ he told her. ‘We want to be sure that whoever did that to her isn’t anywhere around.’
    ‘You think they might be?’ she asked.
    He chewed his lip for a second, then answered. ‘To be honest, probably not. But it would be very embarrassing if they came back and sank us while we were trying to save her.’
    A faint grin touched her mouth. ‘Very embarrassing indeed. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen.’
    Hal nodded, but he was preoccupied now as they approached the wallowing trader. The men on board had seen them coming and rushed to group together in the waist of the ship. Several of them were shaking their fists, or pieces of wood as makeshift weapons. They gesticulated for Heron to keep her distance.
    ‘Allez-vous en!’ one of them shouted.
    ‘Oh, Gorlog’s socks, they think we’re going to attack them,’ Hal said. ‘Anyone speak Gallican?’ he asked, recognising the man’s language. It was a vain plea. He knew none of the brotherband did.
    Lydia stepped to the rail, cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted back. ‘Ne paniquez pas! Nous voulons vous aider.’
    Hal looked at her, impressed. ‘That sounded good,’ he said. ‘What did it mean?’
    ‘I told them not to panic, and that we wanted to help them,’ Lydia said. Then she frowned. ‘At least, I think I did. I’m a bit rusty on my Gallican.’
    But it appeared that she had said what she hoped to. That, and the fact that the message was delivered by a girl, seemed to calm the Gallican crew’s fears. They lowered their weapons and gestured for the Heron to come alongside.
    ‘Let go the sheets! Down