To oars!" cried Fintan, throwing the improvised rudder wide to turn the ship. "Row for your lives!"
I gaped in disbelief. Sea Wolves…I had heard those dreaded words all my life, and feared them. Now, confronted with the reality, I could scarce take it in.
"Row!" shouted Dugal, leaping to his place. Seizing his oar, he lashed the water with it like a man insane.
Fintan cried the cadence and we fell to the rhythm. Ban Gwydd turned and, little by little, gathered speed. The cadence quickened. Faster and faster, he called; faster and faster we rowed.
I kept my eyes on Dugal's broad back, not daring to raise my eyes, or turn my head right or left for fear of what I might see. Instead, I beat the water with my oar and prayed with every pull: Lord have mercy! Christ have mercy!
Cadoc, too, stood to his work. His fine strong voice, roused to the protection of his flock, became a keen-edged weapon. Back to the mast, he raised his staff and called on Michael the Valiant to encircle us and shelter us beneath his protecting wings. He hurled his invocation aloft with a mighty voice and all who heard him took heart.
From somewhere behind came the splash of hard-driven oars and shouts. I put my head down and rowed for dear life, all weariness forgotten.
Sweat ran into my eyes. Breath came in raking gasps and the oar grew slippery and difficult to grip. I looked to my hands and saw the oar smeared with blood.
"Row, for the love of God!" cried Fintan.
A moment later I heard a shriek and glanced over Dugal's shoulder to see the black ship dangerously close behind. A bare-chested man stood clinging to the high upswept prow with a rope in his hand; on the end of this line was a three-tined hook. The man's arm wheeled around his head once, twice, and again-whereupon the stranger gave another loud cry and loosed his rope: it snaked into the air above the pilot's head, and sank. The hook struck the rail with a heavy clunk and bit deep.
The line snapped taut and our ship jerked in the water. This brought wild shouts of approval from those aboard the black ship. We stood to our oars, but rowing was useless. Try as we might, we could not drive the ship forward.
There came a rumbling clatter. I glanced up to see the first three ranks of rowers either side of the enemy ship had pulled in their oars and had snatched up axes and shields. All the enemy seamen were shrieking now, raising an earsplitting wail.
Dugal jerked his oar from between its stays and dashed to the tiller. "Get the hook!" he shouted. "Hurry!"
I saw now that the enemy ship was drawing closer as the Sea Wolves hauled on the rope. Fintan, Clynnog, and Faolan leaped to the grappling hook and tried to throw it off. Dugal, at the tiller, flourished the oar as if it were a weapon. The Sea Wolves howled, eagerly brandishing their axes.
Cadoc stood by the mast, calling down the aid of angels. The rest of us struggled with our oars, desperately trying to stay out of reach of the black ship's warriors. The sea swell lifted Ban Gwydd high, slewing our little ship sideways, threatening to spill us all into the water. But the wave passed and the ship righted itself.
The Sea Wolves, pulling mightily on the rope all the while, were now upon us, the black ship's prow almost touching our stern. Six enemy warriors swarmed the prow, standing on the rail, ready to leap upon us.
Dugal, swinging his oar in a great arc, kept them off balance. Meanwhile, Fintan, red-faced, the veins standing from his neck and forehead, strove to dislodge the three-pronged hook.
"Aidan!" shouted Dugal. "Here!"
Taking up my oar, I joined Dugal at the stern. Bracing myself against the rail, I did my best to keep my oar in the enemies' faces. I jabbed here and there, the oar unwieldy in my bloodied hands, while the Sea Wolves, perched precariously on the rail, swiped at it with their axes, and looked for the first opportunity to jump aboard. Everyone was shouting and falling over one another in confusion.
"Row!" cried Mael, trying to make himself heard above the shouting. "Keep to your oars! Row!"
One of the Sea Wolves-a great stout giant with red braids under his war cap-swung out, holding to the slender neck of the serpent prow and slashing with an enormous club. The blow caught my oar and shivered the wood in my hands so that I almost dropped it. Mael appeared beside me, swinging an oar over his head. The Sea Wolf gave another vicious swipe with the club. Mael lowered the oar, catching the foeman on top of the shoulder. The man screamed in rage and pain, swayed, and almost fell into the sea; he was dragged back by his companions at the last instant, however. And, quicker than a blink, another Sea Wolf took his place.
The two ships were almost touching now. The sea heaved beneath Ban Gwydd, tipping one side-rail skyward and drowning the other in the waves. Water gushed over the rail into the boat. When the ship righted itself once more, it was half-filled with water.
"Help me!" cried Fintan.
The rope had slackened as the ship rolled over, and, for one fleeting instant, the pilot had succeeded in loosening the grappling hook-before the enemy pulled the line taut again, trapping his hand between the iron hook and the side of the ship. I dropped my oar and darted to his aid.
Seizing the hook, I put my foot against the rail and pulled with all my strength. The hook gave but little.
I heard a shriek and glanced up as a Sea Wolf leaped onto the rail. His axe split the air above my head and I fell back. Fintan screamed in pain as the iron hook tightened on his hand once more. I rolled onto my knees and grabbed the hook, jerking wildly at the one free prong as the Sea Wolf on the rail steadied himself and prepared to strike.
I saw the axe hover in the sky, and descend. In the same instant, I heard a whir in the air and an oar flew up to meet the falling blade. The axe bit deep into the oarblade and stuck. Dugal yanked hard on the oar, jerking the foeman towards him.
As the enemy warrior toppled, Dugal lunged, throwing his elbow wide, catching the man in the chest and driving him backwards over the rail. The oar, with the axe still embedded in it, clattered to the bottom of the boat. Dugal stamped down on the oar, grabbed the axehandle and tried to pull it free as the sea swell gathered, lifting the ship and tilting it.
The axe came free, and Dugal chopped at the rope secured to the grappling hook. I saw him hacking at the rope as another Sea Wolf appeared.
"Behind you, Dugal!" I shouted. The enemy warrior threw an arm around Dugal's throat and pulled him back. But the big monk did not cease chopping at the rope: once…and once more…and crack! The rope broke. Suddenly free of the black ship, Ban Gwydd surged into the swell.
Sea and sky changed places. The ship rolled. I felt myself sliding and put out my hands to brace myself, but there was nothing to hold onto and I fell headlong into the swirling waves. The taste of brine in my mouth cut short my scream.
The shock of the cold water startled me. I kicked my legs and flailed my arms, swimming for the surface. My cloak and mantle clung to my limbs, dragging me down. Panic rising, I struggled. My lungs burned.
Above me, I saw a dark shape-the ship, I thought. Thrashing furiously, I swam for it, and, with one last effort, broke the surface. I only had time enough for one gulp of air, however, before another wave fell upon me.
As my head slid under, my flailing hand struck something hard. I grasped it and held on. A moment later, I managed to pull my head above the water and discovered that I was holding onto the ship's rail; the vessel was now overturned, keel up, and half under water.
The wave that overturned us had pushed the Sea Wolves well past. I could hear them jeering at us, their raucous shouts assaulting heaven with their vulgar sound.
I pulled myself a little higher up the side of the ship, and dashed the salt water from my eyes. I could see very little, for the waves towered over me on every side. But the sea swell rose, lifting the half-sunken ship, and I glimpsed the enemy vessel moving slowly away.
It appeared as if the Sea Wolves were attempting to turn their ship so to come back on us, but the waves were carrying us quickly towards the shore and, at same time, bearing them away. By the time they had turned around, I reasoned, we would be within reach of the strand. The swell rolled by and Ban Gwydd descended into the trough. When the next billow raised me up once more, the black ship was further away. I did not see it again.
"Aidan…help!"
I heard splashing behind me and turned to see Brocmal struggling in the water. Gripping the side of the boat, I leaned out, snagged the edge of his cloak, and pulled him to me. "Here, Brocmal…take hold."
Sputtering, shivering, he found a handhold on the ship's cladding and pulled himself up the side of the overturned boat. I now turned my attention to finding others. "Hold on, Brocmal," I said, lowering myself back into the water.
"Where are you going, Aidan?"
"To search for others." Clutching the submerged rail, I made a circuit of the overturned ship. Reaching the prow, I swung under and started down the other side. Clynnog, Faolan, and Ciaran were clinging to the cladding.
"Aidan! Ciaran!" shouted Clynnog when he saw us. "Have you seen the rest?"
"Only Brocmal," I said. "He is just the other side of the ship. What about Dugal?"
"I saw Brynach, I think," answered Ciaran. "But no one else." He glanced around at the high-topped waves. "I do not know what happened to him."
"What should we do now?" I asked.
"We can do nothing more until we reach the shore," the seafaring monk replied. "But we are fortunate, the wind and waves will soon carry us onto the strand."
I could but marvel at his placid acceptance of our predicament. Fortunate? I do not think I would have chosen that word in this extremity.
"I will return to Brocmal," I replied, "and explain our good fortune to him."
Thus, I continued my circumnavigation of the overturned ship and, finding no one else, came once more to Brocmal. He had pulled himself higher up the hull. I called to him to help me, but he would not give me his hand for fear of sliding back into the water. "You can climb by yourself," he told me briskly. "I dare not risk another fall."
"Clynnog, Faolan, and Ciaran are just the other side of the keel," I said, squirming up the side of the ship beside him. "Clynnog says we shall soon be ashore thanks to the wind and waves."
"What of the others?" Brocmal asked. "What of Bishop Cadoc?"
"I cannot say. Ciaran saw Brynach, but no one else."
"All drowned, I suppose," observed Brocmal. "Your Dugal included."
I did not know what to say to this, so I made no reply.
The rolling up-and-down swell of the sea grew steadily more severe as the boat drifted nearer to the shore. Now, when the ship rose up high, I could see the staggered ranks of waves breaking from the swell and pounding white and furious onto the strand and I could hear the booming roar. Soon these very waves were breaking all around and over us.
I heard a shout and looked up. The seagoing monks had climbed higher up the hull and were holding onto the keel. "Up here!" Clynnog called again. "Come up here, you two. It is safer."
I nudged Brocmal and indicated that we should join the others. He refused to move, and kept fearful eyes on the loud-clashing waves. "He says it is safer up there," I shouted. Brocmal's mouth moved in reply, but I could not hear him above the sea-roar.
"He will not move," I called to Clynnog.
"Then look out for yourself, at least," he advised.
I looked at Brocmal, shivering, clinging desperately to the hull. "I had best stay here with him," I answered.
"Then hold tight," Clynnog shouted, straining above the booming crash. "It will get rough. But when you feel the sand beneath your feet get clear of the ship as fast as you can. Understand?"
As Brocmal had made no attempt to even look at Clynnog, I started to repeat the seafarer's warning. "I heard him," the disagreeable monk muttered. "I am not dead yet."
I did not have time to make any reply, for a wave broke over the ship and from then on it was all I could do to keep my grip. The sea tossed hapless Ban Gwydd to and fro like so much driftwood, raising it up and slamming it down, first the prow and then the stern, spinning the boat around, washing over it in torrents. Fingers aching, shivering with cold, I clung to the cladding and prayed for deliverance.