Chapter 32: The Red Sea

Valdar was pleased. It had been a long and difficult voyage, but they’d finally made it to what the Romans called Sinus Arabicus, although he’d heard others call it the Sea of Reeds.

As they’d entered into the southern part of the sea where the old Egyptian charts actually picked back up, at least enough for him to navigate, he’d pulled his fleet away from the coast of Africa, choosing to sail up the center of the sea itself. He couldn’t see the Arabian Desert to his east, but he knew it was out there. Close enough that it was unlikely a Carthaginian fleet could pass by unnoticed.

It wasn’t foolproof, but it was the best plan he had without more thorough scouting. It also paid off.

An hour after they entered the waters of the Sinus Arabicus, his lookout called out that there were sails on the horizon. They were still a distance out, but he could make out a grouping of sails to the north, closer to the African coast.

That had to be who he was looking for, or at least it was a Carthaginian fleet. No Britannian ships had made it this far, so any ships they did see either belonged to Carthage or one of their vassals.

It wasn’t until they started to close the distance that Valdar noticed something unusual about this fleet. Most of the ships were Carthaginian-designed galleys carrying the Britannian-style rigging that most of their ships used now. Four, however, were different. Their hulls were taller and more robust than his own caravels, with high sides that set them well off the water. More bizarre were their sail plans. Unlike the familiar square sails of Britannian ships, these vessels bore a strange, ribbed design, with multiple sails arranged in a fan-like pattern.

Ornate carvings adorned their prows, and vibrant banners fluttered from their masts, bearing symbols and scripts that Valdar had never seen before. More alarming were the clearly seen gun ports along the vessels’ sides, much like those on Valdar’s own ships.

The enemy fleet had clearly spotted his ships and were already turning to close the distance.

“They have cannon, boys. Prepare for action,” Valdar called out.

This would be interesting. So far, they’d only really fought more traditional-style ships, which had given them every advantage. This was the first time his fleet, or really any Britannian fleet, would face off against ships that looked, at least, to be of a similar build. They knew it was coming, and the Consul had even instructed him a bit on the difference between combat with cannon-armed ships against galleys versus two ships equipped roughly the same.

At the time, Valdar had thought it a waste of time, seeing as how no one was able to build something like the caravels he’d been gifted with.

Now, he wished he’d spent more time listening to those combat strategies.

Their ships might be different, but the Carthaginian tactics seemed like they always had been, with them arranging their galleys out front in a crescent shape, clearly intending to encircle his ships. Behind them, the four strange vessels hung back, following the enemy fleet but not directly part of its formation.

If they chose to sit it out, Valdar was more than happy to oblige them and deal with their captains after the battle.

“Signal the fleet,” Valdar called out. “Form a line, caravels in the center, schooner at the rear. Galleys on the flanks.”

A minute later, signal flags began to flutter as the orders were passed from ship to ship. His ships tightened up, having practiced this formation many times and fought together through multiple engagements in the Middle Sea.

The Carthaginian were attempting the classic ram and board method. Good against other ships that fought more as platforms for spear-armed soldiers, but a poor choice against cannon-armed vessels.

“Turn to port and prepare to broadside,” Valdar ordered.

His ships wheeled as one, turning to present their broadsides to the oncoming Carthaginian galleys. Valdar watched, patiently, standing steady on the forecastle as the ships got into position. It was important for the men to see their leader unafraid and confident, and that is the air he projected.

The moment his ships finished their turn, the row of cannon across each one pointed at the enemy fleet, Valdar yelled, “Fire!”

The caravels’ cannons erupted, sending a hail of iron spinning toward the enemy ships. Rounds tore through the Carthaginians, splintering oars and rails. Men screamed as wooden missiles erupted in all directions, rending flesh and bone.

Then the galleys sailing in his wake opened fire, their cannons finishing what the caravels had started. In moments, what had been eight galleys had become three, two of which were listing as their crews fought to maneuver them out of the way.

“Sir, those strange ships at the rear are not moving,” his first mate said.

“I know. My hope is that they choose not to engage.”

Valdar could taste the irony, feeling doubt about the ability of an enemy ship and its unknown firepower, something many Carthaginians must have felt when coming against his caravels for the first time.

Sadly, his wish was not granted. As if on cue, the four ships began to advance, their sails billowing in the wind as they drew closer.

“Turn the fleet north and prepare for a broadside engagement.”

As they closed with the enemy ships, Valdar could see the simpler cannon he’d intercepted, which had sent him on this mission, rolling out of the gunports on the sides of those ships.

“Brace yourselves, lads!” he shouted.

Enemy shot slammed into Valdar’s ships, the rounds crashing against the sturdy hulls. Some ricocheted off the reinforced planking, leaving deep gouges in their wake. Others found their mark, piercing through the wood and sending splinters flying across the decks.

Valdar felt the deck shuddering under his feet as rounds tore through the hull before smashing out the other side. All around him, men screamed and died, in a level of horror he’d never been on the receiving end of before. And his ship did not get the worst of it.

The schooner, positioned at the rear of the formation, took the brunt of the punishing fire. Rounds tore through its lighter construction, leaving gaping wounds in the side of the ship, flinging men into the sea.

“Return fire!” he bellowed, pitching his voice up to cut through the chaos.

In spite of the horror around them, his gunners leaped into action, their well-drilled movements a testament to their training. They swabbed the bores, rammed home the powder and shot, and ran out their guns with practiced efficiency. A heartbeat later, the Britannian broadsides erupted, sending a hail of iron hurtling towards the enemy ships.

The Britannian rounds smashed into the strange vessels, splintering wood and sending debris flying as their lines passed. More Britannian guns roared, tearing hole after hole in the enemy ships. One well-placed round nearly cut the main mast of the lead enemy boat in two, sending it crashing over the side a moment later.

Despite the intense cannon fire, the Britannian ships held their formation, the caravels providing covering fire for each other as the lines passed. The danger wasn’t over. The three remaining Carthaginian galleys, seeing that the Britannian ships were injured, looked to be swinging around, trying to come in while they were occupied.

“Signal the galleys on the flanks!” Valdar shouted to his first mate. “Engage those Carthaginian ships. Don’t let them through the line!”

The Britannian galleys surged forward, putting themselves between his larger ships and the oncoming enemy galleys. With only one or two cannons apiece, they weren’t able to take down the enemy through weight of fire alone, the way his larger ships had. Their captains, clearly seeing the danger, put their own ships in harm’s way, smashing into the enemy galleys, their battle becoming a free-for-all as men began to swarm onto each other’s ships. Seeing their lead, more of his galleys piled on, until the enemy ships were completely surrounded, boarded from all directions.

He would suffer losses there, but it took those enemy ships out of the fight. Two of the enemy’s larger ships were out of action. One listing hard to the side, already on its way to the bottom while another, the one with the smashed mast, veered out of line, traveling in an aimless line, a plume of dark black smoke billowing from one of the holes in its side.

His ships did no better, with the vessel behind his showing serious damage. Worse was his schooner, which was clearly in trouble, its movements sluggish and erratic, hampered by the damage it had sustained.

“Order her out of line,” Valdar said, pointing at the schooner. “And see if there are any galleys to come to her aid. The rest of the fleet will swing around for another pass.”

His ships swung around, preparing for another pass at the enemy vessels. The damaged schooner limped out of the line, listing heavily to one side as a pair of galleys moved to support her.

The remaining caravels, their decks slick with blood and debris, crossed the remaining two enemy ships. The enemy let loose a concentrated attack, piling all of their shot into the second of Valdar’s ships, the one that had already sustained heavy damage. Round after round slammed into her hull, leaving gaping holes that exposed her innards. Men screamed as they were cut down, their bodies torn asunder by the relentless barrage.

To its credit, the crew never wavered. Even as their companions died, they continued to load and fire, sending their own answer into the enemy. His ships were giving more than they got. Seeing the enemy cannon in action, it was clear that not only did their shot not penetrate as well, they also fired at a much slower rate.

For every two shots the enemy managed, his crews delivered three in return. The difference was telling. The enemy ships were taking a terrible pounding.

“Maintain the pressure!” Valdar bellowed. “Don’t let them breathe!”

It was hard, at times, to even see the enemy ships through the thick clouds of smoke being put out by the five vessels doing their level best to kill one another. The more his ships hammered the enemy, the slower their rate of fire got, showing the toll his barrage was having on them.

As the two lines cleared each other, Valdar saw the last two enemy ships founder, their hulls taking on water as they began to sink. A cheer went up from his crews, silenced by a massive explosion that ripped through the enemy ship that had drifted away earlier with smoke pouring out of it. The blast was tremendous, the shock wave hitting Valdar like a fist to the chest.

Two of his galleys, which had been closing on the drifting vessel, were caught in the blast. One had its mast sheared clean off, sending it crashing to the deck in a tangle of rigging and screaming men. The other was peppered with debris, its hull punctured in a dozen places.

The enemy fleet was gone, either captured or heading to the bottom of the sea, which was now littered with debris, the remnants of shattered ships and broken bodies. Even for Valdar, with all his experience, it was a shock. The first clash of cannon-armed ships against one another showed him a terrifying vision of what naval battles could someday be.