The Plains of Pluto
Copyright© 2025 by Lumpy
Chapter 6
West African Coast
‘I must be insane to have the whole fleet out in this weather,’ Valdar thought as the deck heaved beneath him as another massive wave crashed against the hull.
Not that he’d had a lot of choice in the matter. The schooner Tiwaz had been on one of the wide patrols that he’d set up to keep an eye out for the Eastern reinforcements to their now destroyed fleet that he’d been expecting for some time.
Communication delay was a serious problem this far away from civilization, and his victory over that fleet had been so complete that none of them had been able to flee and warn their countrymen that their attack had failed.
It was, of course, just his luck that after two months of being on alert for their ships, they’d finally found them just as the massive storm he’d predicted pushed in from the west, hammering the African coast.
And now his ships.
Rain lashed horizontally across the deck, driven by howling winds that threatened to tear the sails from their yards despite being reefed down to the bare minimum. The western coast of Africa lay somewhere to starboard, but in these conditions, they’d be lucky to spot land before running aground on it.
Valdar gripped the railing, knuckles bone-white, his oilskins plastered to him like a second skin, the salt spray stinging his eyes. Visibility was down to mere feet. It was like sailing through the end of the world. Finding his own ships was problem enough. It would be all but impossible to find the enemy.
But he didn’t want them sailing past him. Once they realized the fate of their fleet, they could choose to continue north. If there were enough of them, and his scout had counted thirty sails, they could wreak havoc in the Middle Sea.
“Signal the fleet to tighten formation,” Valdar ordered. “Any ship that loses sight of us in this mess will be on their own until morning.”
“Signals won’t carry far in this, Admiral. Half the fleet can barely see our stern lanterns as it is,” his first mate said.
Valdar knew he was right. He’d brought fourteen ships with him, ten caravels and four schooners, and they were scattered across several miles of angry sea, maintaining what formation they could in the storm. The caravels were handling it better than the schooners, but even they were struggling against waves that seemed determined to swallow them whole.
“Keep her steady on this heading,” he told the helmsman. “That Eastern fleet has to be close. They wouldn’t risk the deeper waters in weather like this.”
The words were barely out of his mouth when a flash of lightning illuminated the sea around them, and Valdar’s heart nearly stopped.
“Hard to port!” he roared. “All hands brace for impact!”
The helmsman spun the wheel with desperate strength as a dark shape materialized out of the darkness directly ahead of them. The Bellona heeled over, timbers groaning as she turned. Valdar caught a glimpse of high sides and strange rigging as an Eastern caravel swept past them, so close he could have tossed a coin onto her deck.
“Beat to quarters! Gun crews to stations!” The drum took up the call as sailors scrambled to their posts. “Fire as you bear!”
It was a formality, to let everyone know the enemy was upon them. His men had been ready for combat since they left the newly dubbed Port Caolros, which was only a handful of temporary work shacks, as the construction entered the very beginning stages.
The gun crews were already in motion, as the first drum roll sounded. The Bellona’s guns spoke almost as soon as the order to fire was given; the concussion of their discharge felt through the deck. Twelve explosive shells screamed across the short distance at the enemy vessel.
This was the first chance to use the new explosive shells developed by the Consul and the new cannon designed to fire them. It was why Valdar had only brought fourteen ships. These were the only ones equipped with the cannon so far, as they waited for more shipments from home.
Valdar watched as multiple impacts struck the enemy vessel along its waterline. As soon as the metal projectiles hit, a series of massive explosions lit up the night, the flashes revealing the shocking devastation as the shells detonated along the enemy hull.
It was like nothing Valdar had ever experienced.
The Eastern caravel’s sides blew outward in a shower of splintered wood. Even in the heavy rain, the ship caught fire, the side facing them ripped open almost completely, now just a burning wreck illuminating the storm-tossed seas around them.
By the gods, it was something.
“More ships! Three points off the starboard bow!”
Through the curtain of rain, he could make out at least four more Eastern vessels, their high-sided bulk unmistakable even in the poor visibility. They were already turning towards the Bellona, gun ports opening along their sides.
“Helm, bring us about two points to starboard. We’ll cross between them if we can, split their formation. Signal the nearest ships to form on us. Hopefully, they can see the flags. We need to concentrate our fire before they can organize themselves.”
The storm raged around them as the Bellona turned to meet her opponents. Lightning cracked overhead, briefly revealing a long string of enemy ships laid out before him.
Thankfully, the enemy ships weren’t the only thing the lightning showed him. The Aquila burst through a wall of rain behind the Bellona, her new cannons firing. The Eastern vessel caught in her sights never stood a chance. Multiple explosions ripped through its hull. The enemy ship split apart, vanishing beneath the waves with shocking speed.
“Maintain loose line formation!” Valdar shouted over the howling wind. “Keep enough distance to maneuver!”
His signalmen raised lanterns on the upper mast, since flags would be all but impossible to see. They were too close to the enemy, already tied up in their formation. Many of his ships would be fighting their own battles. A poor way to conduct a naval engagement, but one that Valdar would have to deal with. His men were too spread out to get into line quick enough to engage.
Trying to do it now, the Bellona and a few of the ships closest to him would be engaging the entire enemy fleet while they waited for the rest to catch up. At least it would limit how many of their ships could engage at a time.
A massive wave lifted the Bellona’s bow, and as they crested it, Valdar spotted three more Eastern vessels through gaps in the rain. Their high-sided bulk made them visible despite the darkness.
“Helm, bring us between those two on the right,” Valdar ordered. “Gun crews, prepare to fire both broadsides!”
The Bellona turned slowly. To his right, he could see the Aeolus engaging an enemy vessel. While his ships’ new cannons were devastating, the enemy was not without their own weapons. An Eastern ship’s broadside crashed into the Aeolus’s rigging, sending splinters and torn canvas flying.
“Admiral!” One of the men on the railing behind him said, pointing. “The Ghaoth Álainn is taking heavy fire!”
Valdar turned to see the schooner listing badly, multiple hits visible along her hull. Captain Valerius was fighting to keep her afloat while trading fire with two Eastern vessels.
“Belay my previous command. Bring us about. We need to draw their fire from the Ghaoth Álainn.”
The Bellona swung around, her guns firing as soon as its broadside pointed toward one of the enemy ships. The explosive shells smashed into the side of the enemy vessel, cracking it open like an egg.
On the other side of the enemy ships, the Seadreki appeared, firing nearly point-blank at the other ship that had targeted the Ghaoth Álainn, its cannons blazing.
A timely save, but one that put two other enemy ships very close to the Seadreki. At that close range, round shot could do a tremendous amount of damage. This intermingled, his people were able to be separated from one another and swarmed. Already, three ships had been severely damaged. None had sunk, but they were being battered from multiple angles from close-in broadsides.
“Run up the disengage signal,” Valdar ordered. “Keep the lanterns lit. Put up the signal to follow the flag. I know most won’t see it but put it up anyway.”
The message went up to the crow’s nest, followed by a one dark, one light lantern pattern. It would have been hard to see if you were at a bad angle, but almost as soon as it was up, the Seadreki and Ghaoth Álainn put their own signals up, heaving about to fall in with the flagship.
“Helm, bring us north by northeast. We’ll use this wind to pull clear. Gun crews are to maintain fire on any targets that present themselves.”
The men at the guns didn’t even wait for the order before cannons fired again. Valdar could imagine the sheer elation of the gun captains at seeing their cannons wipe out entire ships with so little effort.
Two of the enemy ships angled hard, trying to catch the Bellona as it broke out of the melee, taking its broadsides out of the fight. Other ships had fallen in with the Bellona, and Valdar did not want to take them all back into the melee, but with the line slowly snaking away from the enemy fleet, it left them vulnerable.
“Sir, the Velox is making a run at those two Eastern ships bearing down on us,” the helmsman said.
Valdar spotted the nimble schooner darting between the larger vessels, her guns blazing. Captain Bituitus was using his ship’s superior handling to keep the enemy off balance, preventing them from bringing their full broadsides to bear on the withdrawing Britannian vessels.
“Clever bastard,” Valdar muttered. “He’s buying time for the caravels to break free.”
It wasn’t without risk; pulling between the two ships may have kept the enemy from putting their broadsides to work against the disengaging fleet, but it meant those same guns could rake it.
The firing was heavy, and the small schooner took a hell of a beating as it passed between the ships and limped away. Thankfully, its guns, though fewer in number, had done even more damage to the two chasing ships, leaving them reeling in the opposite direction, rudderless and out of control.
There was nothing Valdar could do about the Velox now. All he could do was defeat this fleet. Then he could worry about his injured ships.
Slowly, much too slowly, his remaining caravels fell into line. The Dumnos and the Hfran both pushed their way out of the battling fleet, their cannons firing as fast as their gun crews could reload.
They had bought a moment to escape the fight by a lucky shot. A tremendous explosion lit up the storm-darkened sky as one of Dumnos’s broadsides found an enemy powder magazine. The Eastern caravel simply ceased to exist, transformed into a rapidly expanding ball of fire and debris that briefly illuminated the entire battlefield.
“Three more of our ships are visible to starboard,” the first mate reported. “The Aquila, Praetor, and Hasta. All showing withdrawal signals.”
That was enough. Nine of his caravels and two schooners were in line, and the Velox was safely out of the way, if hobbled. Time to finish this.
“Turn the line west and bring us to bear. All ships to fire as they will. Tear them apart.”
The line snaked, slowly curving itself to the west. His gunners didn’t wait for the order to fire. With more room, they could target their shots better, even through the rain, picking their victims. Behind him, other ships joined the barrage as dozens and then hundreds of shells arched into the tightly packed enemy formation.
Ships were torn apart as if made of light linen, people leaping into the violently churning sea. They tried to rally, to pull into their own line to counter the Britannians’ now coordinated attacks, but it was too little too late.
Not with the new shells in action. A dozen more ships were on fire and headed toward the bottom within minutes, torn apart by Britannian guns.
That was enough for the handful of remaining Eastern vessels. They turned and tried to flee as best they could, some toward the coast with the better winds, and some toward the open ocean.
It was everyone for themselves.
“Should we pursue, Admiral?”