Now that things were well secured above, he was able to rest for a bit here below deck. He dropped into his hammock and fell asleep quickly, despite the motion, smell, and noises from the children and adults also in the place. It seemed that he had just closed his eyes when a hand was shaking him awake again-time to take his turn bailing. The scow seemed to be full of leaks, but of course it was simply the strain of the rough weather upon her boards.
The Rhennee were clever folk, Gord observed. A system of pulleys and ropes was set up so as to make bailing the barge more efficient. One or two of the crew worked at emptying the bilge with leather buckets. The contents of these they poured into a trough that slanted to where the pulley system was. Another crewman-a child, actually-stationed there opened and closed a gate to fill buckets circling the cogs. Each canvas vessel tipped its contents out into another trough that ran from barge to lake through the cabin window. Collapsed, the bucket returned and was soon beneath the trough ready for another outpouring. While a lot of the water spilled to the planks and returned to the bilge, most of it was emptied thus. Two women operated the lifting rig, and Gord was one of three men now plying buckets to empty the bilge. It was back-breaking work.
The spring tempest died suddenly around noon. It had driven the barge well out into the Nyr Dyv and caused a fair amount of damage to hull and rigging. The small boat that had been towed astern was gone, lost who knew where. The Rhennee set to work immediately repairing the damage, running new cords and lines, and setting up the artillery with new strings and ropes. The captain was everywhere, ordering this, commanding that, and taking a personal hand whenever things didn’t look right to him. The craft was under full sail now, running southeast toward the shore some ten leagues distant according to Yanoh, a fellow of about Gord’s own age. How he knew this, Gord had no idea.
“Why are dry strings being put on the crossbows? Why are the quarrels being set out?” Gord asked.
Yanoh grinned. “The monsters like to check the surface after a big storm-lots of good stuff for them to eat then!” he said.
Gord suddenly felt sick again. No wonder “lord” Miklos was in so much of a hurry to make the coast. The deep waters were certainly no place to be now! He redoubled his efforts at readying the weaponry, simultaneously regretting his decision to travel by water. All to no avail-the worst happened almost immediately.
“Ahoy! Cap’n Miklos, critter off the stern and coming fast!” The warning came from the boy posted by the tiller watching for… critters?
It was some critter, Gord thought, as he got his first look at the looping coils and huge head of the monster chasing the vessel. Critter, indeed!
The spear-casting machine at the rear of the barge was already being loaded and wound back even as Gord stood and stared at the creature. So this was one of the dreaded sea serpents he had heard about. It was now about two hundred yards distant, coming closer with each heaving motion of its snaky body, with toothy maw agape. To Gord, its mouth seemed large enough to bite the stern clean off the barge.
Miklos shoved the gawking young man aside so that he could get to the scorpion and aim it himself. Gord came out of his shock and followed. Somebody handed him one of the wood-varied missiles for the great crossbow. Gord took it with him to a place near the captain. The monster had closed to about one hundred fifty yards now. Miklos peered intently along the shaft of the missile, a lanyard in his left hand, his right moving the scorpion so that the barbed iron spearhead pointed directly at the oncoming creature.
Miklos suddenly twitched his left hand, the steel arms of the scorpion sprung forward, and the pointed lance flashed out with a deep twanging sound. To Gord’s untrained eye, the missile seemed to appear magically protruding from the monster’s neck, a couple of feet below its head.
“Got the snaky sonofabitch!” shouted the helmsman.
The thing let forth a bellowing hiss that would have deafened anyone close to it. At just over one hundred yards distant, it was awesome. A crewman snatched the missile Gord was stupidly holding onto as he gawked, transfixed by the sight of the creature. The crewman hastily loaded the great lance into the scorpion while cursing Gord for being a fool, and worse. Gord, shame overcoming his terror for a moment, could not disagree. Within seconds the big machine was again loaded and winched taut, and the captain was aiming the second missile.
“This time you eat my toothpick, stinking shit-mouth!” Miklos shouted as he shot the huge bolt at the serpent. The missile struck the head, but the thing was covered with thick scales as large as Gord’s hand. These scales turned the point, and the shaft caromed off into the air. A swarm of buzzing quarrels from the heavy crossbows followed the larger bolt, and most of these likewise inflicted no apparent harm upon the creature, although a few struck home.
Gord was appalled to note that the thing was now close enough for him to clearly see the shafts protruding from its head and neck. It was a blackish-green in color, with large, fishy eyes. Its snakelike body was propelled by lashing tail and huge fins. The monster’s neck was at least twenty feet long, and its head was like a cross between a snake’s and a crocodile’s. How could so many teeth fit into one mouth, Gord wondered, and how could they be so large? The monster was at least a hundred feet long! Instinctively, he drew his long dagger and hefted it. If he was going to be dinner for the thing, at least he’d give the bastard something to remember him by.
Another missile from the scorpion struck the great serpent full in its open mouth. It roared again, snapped its jaws shut, and spat out bits of splintered shaft. Yellowish blood oozed from its mouth, too-this missile had done some damage! More quarrels struck it, and several javelins too, but the serpent’s advance was not slowed. The captain was doing his best to manage one more shot from the scorpion before the monster fell upon the barge and destroyed it. Women were screaming somewhere behind Gord, and children were wailing at the top of their lungs. What was going to happen next was obvious to all.
The monster was no more than twenty yards distant when Miklos got his last missile ready and aimed. He released it without hesitation, almost as if he wasn’t bothering to aim. The bolt struck the creature’s eye directly in the center of the huge, green pupil. The resulting bellow of pain from the monster drowned out all other sounds, and its rush for the barge took on new energy.
As it came so close that its reeking breath and slimy stench nearly overwhelmed Gord, he hurled his dagger with every ounce of strength he had, aiming for the serpent’s remaining eye. A virtual cloud of quarrels, javelins, and other missiles accompanied the dagger, for this was the last moment before doomsday. As if in slow motion Gord saw his weapon turning lazily in the air, pommel under, blade over, slowly revolving to present the slender point to the onrushing eye. Shafts of quarrels and javelins protruded as pins from a cushion, for at this range it was difficult to miss, and the scales were less effective protection.
Then the dagger met its target. At the same moment the monster’s neck lashed forward and its great jaws snapped. A hapless Rhennee was cut in half by the saw-edged teeth, and blood spattered everywhere.
What happened next, Gord wasn’t sure of. The serpent collided with the barge, and the force of the impact hurled him from his feet. Gord’s head struck something, and the next thing he knew he was being ministered to by a fat woman whose breath reeked of garlic. When he asked what was happening, she said only that they were in a safe harbor, and he should rest. Gord had no choice in the matter, for he abruptly passed back into unconsciousness.