THE GREEN ODYSSEY By PHILIP JOSE FARMER

Provided, of course, that Miran had estimated correctly his speed and rate of curve in turning. Otherwise they might even now expect a crash from the foredeck as the bow of the Ving caught them.

“Oh, Booxotr,” prayed the foretop-captain. “Steer us right, else you lose your most devout worshiper, Miran.”

Booxotr, Green recalled, was the God of Madness.

Suddenly a hand gripped Green’s shoulder. It was the captain of the foretop.

“Don’t you see them!” he said softly. “They’re a blacker black than the night.”

Green strained his eyes. Was it his imagination, or did he actually see something moving to his right? And another something, the hint of a hint, moving to his left?

Whatever it was, ‘roller or illusion, Miran must have seen it also. His voice shattered the night into a thousand pieces, and it was never again the same.

“Cannoneers, fire!”

Suddenly it was as if fireflies had been in hiding and had swarmed out at his command. All along the rails little lights appeared. Green was startled, even though he knew that the punks had been concealed beneath baskets so that the Vings would have no warning at all.

Then the fireflies became long glowing worms, as the fuses took flame.

There was a great roar, and the ship rocked. Iron demons belched flame.

No sooner done than musketry broke out like a hot rash all over the ship. Green himself was part of this, blazing away at the vessel momentarily and dimly revealed by the light of the cannon fire.

Darkness fell, but silence was gone. The men cheered; the decks trembled as the big wooden trains holding the cannon were run back to the ports from which they’d recoiled. As for the pirates, there was no answering fire. Not at first. They must have been taken completely by surprise.

Miran shouted again; again the big guns roared.

Green, reloading his musket, found that he was bracing himself against a tendency to lean to the right. It was a few seconds before he could comprehend that the Bird was turning in that direction even though it was still going backwards.

“Why is he doing that?” he shouted.

“Fool, we can’t roll up the sails, stop, then set sail again. We’d be right where we started, sailing backwards. We have to turn while we have momentum, and how better to do that than reverse our maneuver? We’ll swing around until we’re headed in our original direction.”

Green understood now. The Vings had passed them, therefore they were in no danger of collision with them. And they couldn’t continue sailing backwards all night. The thing to do now would be to cut off at an angle so that at daybreak they’d be far from the pirates.

At that moment cannonfire broke out to their left. The men aboard the Bird refrained from cheering only because of Miran’s threats to maroon them on the plain if they did anything to reveal their position. Nevertheless they all bared their teeth in silent laughter. Crafty old Miran had sprung his best trap. As he’d hoped, the two pirates, unaware that their attacker was now behind them, were shooting each other.

“Let them bang away until they blow each other sky-high,” chortled the foretop-master. “Ah, Miran, what a tale we’ll have to tell in the taverns when we get to port.”

CHAPTER 14

FOR FIVE MINUTES the intermittent flashes and bellows fold that the Vings were still hammering away. Then the dark took hold again. Apparently the two had either recognized each other or else had decided that night fighting was a bad business and had steered away from each other. If this last was true, then they wouldn’t be much to fear, for one Ving wouldn’t attack the merchant by itself.

The clouds broke, and the big and the little moons spread brightness everywhere. The pirate vessels were not in sight. Nor were they seen when dawn broke. There was sail half a mile away, but this alarmed no one, except the untutored Green, because they recognized its shape as a sister. It was a merchant from the nearby city of Dem, of the Dukedom of Potzihili.

Green was glad. They could sail with it. Safety in numbers.

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