The Fabulous Riverboat by Phillip Jose Farmer

There was a click as the sear let the hammer go, a flash as the primer twist burned, and a booming. The clickflash-boom took up a tune equal to saying click-flashboom and Van Boom had had tune between the click and the boom to bring the gun back into line after it had been jarred away by the impact of the heavy hammer and flint.

The bullet did leave a very faint trail of smoke, quickly dissipated by the fifteen-mile-an-hour wind. Sam, looking past Van Boom’s arm, could see the bullet curve out and then back, carried by the wind. But Van Boom must have been practicing, because the bullet struck near the bull’s eye. It went halfway into the soft pine, shattered and left a large hole in the wood.

“The bullet won’t penetrate deeply into a man,” Van Boom said, “but it will leave a large hole. And if it hits near bone, the fragments should break the bone.”

The next hour was spent busily and happily with the Consuls and Councillors taking turns shooting. King John was especially delighted, though perhaps a little awed, because he had never seen a gun before. His first experience with gunpowder had come several years after he had been resurrected and he had seen only bombs and wooden rockets.

At last Van Boom said, “If you keep up, gentlemen, you will exhaust our supply of bullets—and it takes a lot of labor and materials to make these bullets. Which is one reason why I object to making any more. My other reasons are: one, the gun is accurate only at close range; two, it takes so long to load and shoot that a good bowman could drop three pistol handlers while they’re loading and stay outside the effective range of the guns. Moreover, a plastic bullet isn’t recoverable, whereas an arrow is.”

Sam said, “That’s a lot of nonsense! The mere fact that we would have these guns would demonstrate our technological and military superiority. We’d scare the enemy half to death before the battle started. Also, you forget that it takes a long time to train a good bowman, but anyone can shoot one of these after a relatively short lesson.”

“True,” Van Boom said. “But could they hit anyone? Besides, I was thinking of making steel crossbows. They can’t be handled as fast as longbows, but they don’t require any more training than guns do, and the bolts are recoverable. And they’re a hell of a lot more deadly than these noisy, stinking gadgets.”

“No, sir!” Sam said. “No, sir! I insist that we make at least two hundred of these. We’ll outfit a new group, the Parolando Pistoleers. They’ll be the terror of The River—you watch them! You’ll seel”

18

For a change King John was on Sam’s side. He insisted that the first two pistols should go to Sam and himself and the next dozen to their bodyguards. Then the new group could be organized and trained.

Sam was grateful for the backing, but he told himself to check on the men who formed the Pistoleers. He did not want it made up largely of men loyal to John.

Van Boom made no effort to hide his disgust. “I’ll tell you what! I’ll take a good yew bow and twelve arrows and stand fifty yards away. At a signal all eight of you can advance on me, firing at will with your Mark I’s—and I’ll drop all eight of you before you get close enough to hit me! Is it a deal? I’m willing to lay my life on the line!” “Don’t be childish,” Sam said.

Van Boom rolled his eyes upward. “I’m childish,? You’re jeopardizing Parolando—and your boat—because you want guns to play with!”

“Just as soon as the guns are made you can start making all the bows you want,” Sam said. “Look! We’ll make armor, too, for the Pistoleers! That should dispose of your objections! Why didn’t I think of that before? Why, our men will be dressed up in steel that’ll repel the Stone Age weapons of the enemy as if they were straws. Let the enemy shoot his yew bows with his flint-tipped arrows. They’ll bounce off the steel and the Pistoleers can take their time and blow the enemy into the next county!”