Instead of turning tail and fleeing, Harald ordered Thorkel to bring the dragonprow sharply around behind the burning craft-a perilous scheme since the vessel was now almost completely engulfed in flames: the square sail was a vast, shimmering curtain of fire; smoke rolled thick and black from the blazing hull.
Slowly the dragonship turned, passing alongside the doomed vessel prow to stern-so close that the flame-roar drowned out all other sound, so close I could feel the heat-blast on my face.
One gust of the fitful wind and our own ship would be caught up in the blaze. Crouching low, I rowed as best I could, keeping one eye on the sail overhead and hoping against hope the wind did not shift. Not so Harald Bull-Roar; he lashed the grapple rope to the sternpost and called Thorkel to make for the red ships.
Cursing his sorry fate, Thorkel laboured over the steering oar, working it this way and that, fighting to keep the line smooth and clean so as not to waste a single stroke of the rowers' blades-a chore made much the more difficult since we were now towing a burning wreck.
"Faster!" roared Harald, his voice booming out in exhortation to his oarsmen. "Huh! Huh! Huh! Huh!" he grunted his encouragement.
Aided by the rescued seamen, we plied the oars and the doughty pilot brought the dragonprow around sharply, driving straight for the nearest red raider. As the further red ship swung away, the raider in our path prepared to loose his fiery projectiles.
Twice I heard the whirring whistle of the missiles as they passed-so near that I smelled the acrid oily pitch scent as they sped by. The third time we were not so lucky.
Closing on the red ship-we could see the enemy now, and see also the bronze tube at the prow by which, through unknown means, the Greek fire vomited forth-the distance decreasing with every juddering thump of my heart, I saw the white smoke belch from the brazen tube, heard the whiz of the weapon and saw it soar straight towards the open hull.
Brave Dugal saw it, too, and up he jumped, holding out his hands as if to catch the thing.
"Dugal!" I shouted with all my might. "No!"
Down and down it came, plummeting from heaven with the speed of a falling rock. Up Dugal reached, straining for his catch. The projectile sailed over his head. Dugal leaped, hands high. He must have got a hand to the missile, for it appeared to bounce from his fingertips and up into the lower part of the sail, which arrested its flight. The thing slid from the sail and fell into the bottom of the ship.
I saw then that the missile was nothing more than a rounded earthen jar, made to shatter and spill out its vile liquid. But this particular jar did not burst. Perhaps in diverting the jar into the sail, Dugal kept it from breaking. Certainly, he saved us, for even as it landed with a hollow thump on the hull timbers, Dugal scooped it up and dived for the prow.
As Dugal ran, a portion of the Greek fire spilled down the side of the pot and splattered onto the handle of an oar. Blue-red flames instantly started up where the stuff touched, setting the wood alight. The startled Sea Wolf stood up and flung the oar into the sea before it could do any damage.
Meanwhile, Dugal scrambled with the terrible jar to the dragonhead prow, took aim, and hurled it back at the red ship.
It was an act of valour worthy of a hero, and had we been but a few hundred paces closer, it would have been magnificent. As it was, the jar simply plunged into the water and sank with a bubbling hiss.
Still, the Sea Wolves, greatly inspired by this display of courage, cheered him as heartily as if he had driven the enemy ship under the waves with a mighty clout.
Closer now, Harald called for us to row faster, and faster still. Already, my heart was pounding with the exertion; my breath came in raking gasps and I could feel the burning deep in my lungs. My hands were raw, and there was blood on the oar grip. The muscles of my back and shoulders were a knotted mass. Heedless of the pain, I plied my oar with grim determination, sweat pouring from me.
The dragonship, streaming rapidly through the waves, bore straightaway towards the raiders. I could hear the enemy yelling, and when I hazarded a look, I saw them scurrying around the bronze throwing tube, desperate to ready the foul instrument to spew again.
The dragonship was closing swiftly now; the pirates, believing themselves about to be rammed, braced for the impact, while their helmsman headed the enemy vessel directly onto us to force a glancing blow.
Now did Harald's daring show its genius, for at the last possible moment, he ordered Thorkel to turn hard aside. Then, lofting a war axe, he leapt to the sternpost and with two quick chops, severed the rope which bound us to the burning ship.
