The Science Fiction Novel Super Pack No. 1. David Lindsay
Two weeks of very hard work and little sleep passed as Green learned the duties of a topsailman. He hated to go aloft, but he found that being up so high had its advantages. It gave him a chance to catch a few winks now and then. There were many crow’s nests where musketmen were stationed during a fight. Green would slip down into one of these and go to sleep at once. His foster son Grizquetr would stand watch for him, waking him if the foretop captain was coming through the rigging toward them. One afternoon Griz’s whistle startled Green out of a sound sleep.
However, the captain stopped to give another sailor a lecture. Unable to go back to sleep, Green watched a herd of hoobers take to their hoofs at the approach of the Bird. These diminutive equines, beautiful with their orange bodies and black or white manes and fetlocks, sometimes formed immense herds that must have numbered in the hundreds of thousands. So thick were they that they looked like a bobbing sea of flashing heads and gleaming hoofs stretching clear to the horizon.
To stretch to the horizon was something on this planet. The plain was the flattest Green had ever seen. He could scarcely believe that it ran unbroken for thousands of miles. But it did, and from his high point of view he could see in a vast circle. It was a beautiful sight. The grass itself was tall and thick-bodied, about two feet high and a sixteenth of an inch through. It was a bright green, brighter than earthly grass, almost shiny. During the rainy season, he was told, it would blossom with many tiny white and red flowers and give a pleasing perfume.
Now, as Green watched, something happened that startled him.
Abruptly, as if a monster mowing machine had come along the day before, the high grass ended and a lawn began. The new grass seemed to be only an inch high. And the lawn stretched at least a mile wide and as far ahead of the Bird as he could see.
“What do you think of that?” he asked Amra’s son.
Grizquetr shrugged. “I don’t know. The sailors say that it is done by the wuru, an animal the size of a ship, that only comes out at night. It eats grass, but it has the nasty temper of a dire dog, and will attack and smash a ‘roller as if it were made of cardboard.”
“Do you believe that?” Green said, watching him closely. Grizquetr was an intelligent lad in whom he hoped to plant a few seeds of skepticism. Perhaps some day those seeds might flower into the beginnings of science.
“I do not know if the story is true or not. It is possible, but I’ve met nobody who has ever seen a wuru. And if it comes out only at night, where does it hide during the daytime? There is no hole in the ground large enough to conceal it.”
“Very good,” said Green, smiling. Happily, Grizquetr smiled back. He worshiped his foster-father and nursed every bit of affection or compliment he got from him.
“Keep that open mind,” said Green. “Neither believe nor disbelieve until you have solid evidence one way or another. And keep on remembering that new evidence may come up that will disprove the old and firmly established.”
He smiled wryly. “I could use some of my own advice. I, for instance, had at one time absolutely refused to put any credence in what I have just seen with my own eyes. I put the story down as merely another idle story of those who sail the grassy seas. But I’m beginning to wonder if perhaps there couldn’t be an animal of some kind like the wuru.”
Both were silent for a while as they watched the animals race off like living orange rivers. Overhead, the birds wheeled in their hundreds of thousands of numbers. They, too, were beautiful, and even more colorful than the hoobers. Occasionally one lit in the rigging in a burst of dazzling feathers and a fury of melodious song or raucous screeches.
“Look!” said the boy, eagerly pointing. “A grass cat! He’s been hiding, waiting to catch a hoober, and now he’s afraid he’ll be trampled to death by them.”
Green’s gaze followed the other’s finger. He saw the long-legged, tiger-striped body loping desperately ahead of the thundering hoofs. It was completely closed in a pocket of the orange-maned beasts. Even as Green saw him, the sides of the pocket collapsed and the big cat disappeared from sight. If he remained alive he would do so through a miracle.
Suddenly, Grizquetr cried, “Gods!”
“What’s the matter?” cried Green.
“On the horizon! A sail! It’s shaped like a Ving sail!”
Others saw it too. The ship rang with shouts. A trumpeter blew battle stations; Miran’s voice rose above those of others as he bellowed through a megaphone; chaos dissolved into order and purpose as everybody went to his appointed place. The animals, children and pregnant women were marshaled into the hold. The gun crews began unloading barrels of powder with a crane from a hatch. Musketmen swarmed up the rigging. The entire topmast crew tumbled aloft and took their places. As Green was already in his, he had some leisure to observe the whole outlay of preparations for fight. He watched Amra hurriedly give her children a kiss, make sure they’d all gone below, then begin tearing strips of cloth for bandages and of wadding for the muskets. Once she looked up and waved at him before turning back to her task. He waved back and got a severe reprimand from the top-captain for breaking discipline.
“An extra watch for you, Green, after this is over!”
The Earthman groaned and wished that the martinet would fall off and break every bone in his body. If he lost any more sleep...!
The day wore on as the strange ship came closer. Another sail appeared behind it, and the crew grew even tenser. From all appearances, they were being pursued by Vings. Vings usually went in pairs. Then there was the shape of the sails, which were narrower at bottom than at top. And there was the long, low, streamlined hull and the over-large wheels.
Nevertheless discipline was somewhat relaxed for a time. The pets and children were allowed to come up, and meals were prepared by the women. Even when the swifter craft came close enough so that the color of the sails was seen to be scarlet, thereby confirming their suspicions of the strangers’ identity, battle stations weren’t recalled. Miran estimated that by the time the Vings were within cannon range night would fall.
“That is what they hate and what we love,” he said, pacing back and forth, fingering his nose ring and blinking nervously his one good eye. “It’ll be an hour before the big moon comes up. Not only that, it looks as though clouds may arise. See!” he cried to the first mate. “By Mennirox, is that not a wisp I detect in the northeast quarter?”
“By all the gods, I believe it is!” said the mate, peering upward, seeing nothing but clear sky, but hoping that wishing would make the clouds come true.
“Ah, Mennirox is good to his favorite worshiper!” said Miran. “He that loves thee shall profit, Book of the True Gods, Chapter Ten, Verse Eight. And Mennirox knows I love him with compound interest!”
“Yes, that he does,” said the mate. “But what is your plan?”
“As soon as the last glow of the sun disappears completely from the horizon, so our silhouette won’t be revealed, we’ll swing and cut across their direct path of advance. We know that they’ll be traveling fairly close together, hoping to catch up with us and blast us with cross-fire. Well, we’ll give them a chance, but we’ll be gone before they can seize it. We’ll go right between them in the dark and fire on both. By the time they’re ready to reply we’ll have slipped on by.
“And then,” he whooped, slapping his fat thigh, “they’ll probably cannonade each other to flinders, each thinking the other is us! Hoo, hoo, hoo!”
“Mennirox had better be with us,” said the mate, paling. “It’ll take damn tight calculating and more than a bit of luck. We’ll be going by dead reckoning; not until we’re almost on them will we see them; and if we’re headed straight at them it’ll be too late to avoid a collision. Wharoom! Smash! Boom! We’re done for!”
“That’s very true, but we’re done for if we don’t pull some trick like that. They’ll have caught us by dawn—they