Chapter 357: Caught Fish Can Still Bite
The blast of the horns did not signal that the two longships were preparing to storm a sailing warship five times their weight; rather, it served to alert the hidden reinforcements waiting in the distance for the prey to enter the trap. Capable of reversing direction without turning, their turnaround speed could be described as astonishing: the Direwolf was only halfway through its turn when the two longships switched from fleeing to pursuing. Not only did they sandwich the Direwolf's return route from the left and right, skillfully hugging the limit of its range, but they also began long-range volleys with longbows. Amidst the staccato thuds of impact, scattered arrows struck the brand-new hull of the warship. Though no one was wounded, it effectively disrupted the maneuvers of the Northern sailors.
Taking advantage of the longships' harassment, the friendly forces hidden several miles away—already prepared—received the signal. They dropped their oars and accelerated, rushing toward the battlefield and appearing within sight moments later.
Two more ships, similar in size and weight to the Direwolf, appeared. However, due to differing combat philosophies, the Ironborn sailing ships featured two additional auxiliary sails at the bow and stern and were equipped with more rowers. Angling into the north wind, they closed in at twice the target's maximum speed through the dual force of manpower and the Bernoulli effect.
It was only then that the Direwolf finally managed to complete its turn and was struggling to pick up speed.
The Ironborn had many ships, but ninety percent were raiding longships. With the main strength of the Iron Fleet led by Euron still hundreds of miles to the south, the two sailing ships appearing here today were the only vessels suitable for direct naval combat available to the Ironborn north of Sea Dragon Point. They had gathered here today with a calculated plan: to deliver a head-on blow and a show of force before the main Iron Fleet received word to move north, and before the Northern warships in Westwatch-by-the-Bridge could fully come of age.
The tactical balance shifted instantly from one sailing ship against two longships to one sailing ship against two sailing ships and two longships. Four against one—even a blind man could see the Direwolf had been baited. Though they had realized the danger just before plunging headlong into the trap, they were still caught in the net!
"Lady Mormont, their ships are much faster than ours!"
"I can see that!" Maege Mormont glared at the panicked subordinate. "Tell me clearly: is there any chance we can retreat into the protection of Westwatch before we are overtaken?"
"I... I'm afraid it's a bit of a stretch."
"A stretch means no! That's enough. Drop the sails and ship the oars. Leave a few men below deck to control the steering, and have everyone else come up. Prepare for engagement!"
"This? ...Yes, my Lady!"
Since they couldn't run, they wouldn't. The head of Bear Island looked nothing like a short woman at this moment; she was more calm and decisive than the whole ship of men. The Direwolf, which had not yet reached full speed, slowed to a crawl, slightly adjusting its orientation to bring its broadside to bear on the two aggressively pursuing Ironborn sailing ships. They calibrated the two catapults, aiming them at the two large enemy vessels sailing straight for them.
"Wait until they are close to fire; wildfire bombs are worth their weight in gold!" Maege Mormont, mace in one hand, pointed at the crew lined up before her to assign tasks: "You lot—watch the longship on the port side. The rest of you—starboard. Anyone with a bow, fire now; I don't want you to have half a quiver left when we start fighting at the rails! And those of you in black, stop looking at us. Mind your wildfire and catapults, and make sure you set those two big ships on fire! In short... don't let a single kraken-spawn on board!"
"Yes!"
Since less than half were green recruits, having someone issue clear orders caused the soldiers' tension to subside quickly. The panicked shadows running about the deck gradually focused, forming ranks with weapons in hand, waiting for the battle to arrive.
One of the sailing ships slowed to parallel them once it was within a hundred meters, while the other continued its aggressive approach, its ram bobbing in the waves beneath its bow.
The Iron Islands' thousands of years of pirate history had deeply engraved maritime combat experience into their culture. Although the four Ironborn vessels did not all hail from the same house, they acted with great tacit understanding, adopting a pre-arranged "1+3" priority tactic: one sailing ship providing cover and suppression from a distance, while the other closed in to lead the two lower longships in a boarding action.
A flash of orange-red light signaled that the Ironborn cover ship a hundred meters away had fired first. Mounting projectile weapons on ships for naval warfare was not Egger's innovation; the cover ship among the two Ironborn sailing vessels was also equipped with a catapult, though it had only one due to the limited space prioritized for mobility. Its ammunition was a ball of fire.
A dense, hard core was wrapped in a thick layer of straw and wood chips, soaked in a viscous paste of tar, and secured with grass mats and rags. Ignited moments before launch, it soared out like a magical flaming meteor, leaving a distinct trail of smoke in the sky before slamming into the water not far from the Direwolf, splashing and disappearing into the sea.
"Return fire!"
The Northern sailors and Night's Watch brothers beside the two catapults felt no relief at the enemy's miss. In an era without fire control, where everything relied on feel and experience, it was normal to need several adjustments for a long-range hit. They could not afford to sit and wait!
The target was not the distant enemy ship with the catapult, but the one rapidly closing for a ram. With two loud thuds as the swing-arms struck the crossbeams, two unremarkable-looking wildfire bombs flew out, quickly becoming two small black dots in the sky. No miracle of a one-shot-kill occurred; the bombs fell into the sea with an imaginary plop. The freezing zero-degree water of the Bay of Ice suppressed the terrifying substance's ability to burn on water; all three misses from both sides vanished without a sound.
"Adjust and continue!"
"They're going to ram! Turn, turn! Don't show them your side!"
The first round of the duel ended with misses on both sides. Under the threat of scattered arrows, the deck was filled with shouting, orders, and movement. The gun crews retracted the swing-arms, turning the winches and quickly taking second-round wildfire bombs from protection buckets filled with sand. Meanwhile, the Ironborn sailing ship heading straight for them had closed in so rapidly under the strokes of two long rows of oars that the sailors could see each other's faces. They held weapons high and had boarding planks, grappling hooks, and ropes ready, prepared for a hearty boarding battle. Resources were scarce in the Iron Islands; while longships were many, tiered sailing ships with cabins were rare. Capturing the Direwolf for their own use was naturally their best option.
Torsion weapons required preparation time to "wind the spring," but fortunately, the rapidly closing distance between friend and foe meant the charging process was greatly reduced. The second round of launching was quickly ready, and under the loud command of the officer, both sides initiated the next wave of fire simultaneously.
The Ironborn's second tar-incendiary bomb trailed black smoke and, as if it had eyes, struck the Direwolf's mast. Though it did not snap the timber mid-air, flaming fragments rained down on the deck like a celestial shower, creating an instant mess and even igniting the sails that had just been lowered and piled nearby. Fortunately, the Night's Watch soldiers managing the wildfire had not placed the bombs on the deck, avoiding a far more tragic famed scene—a secondary explosion.
Relying on their numerical advantage in catapults, the Direwolf immediately launched a counterattack with double the firepower. One of the two bombs fell too short into the sea, but the other was shot too far. However, instead of passing over the hull and falling into the sea on the other side, it landed in the open stern sail of the Ironborn ship, which was currently raising its sails to give chase. With a sharp crack, the jar shattered on the sail; a mixture of chemical substances released heat, and the resulting temperature of nearly a hundred degrees instantly ignited the wildfire, its primary component.
Of the three sails—one large and two small—one began to give off green flames.
No one was standing under the sail to be scorched, and the ship's ramming momentum was already unstoppable. The Direwolf struggled to turn thirty degrees with the help of several long oars, preventing the ram from causing maximum damage to its belly, but it could no longer escape the close proximity. With a thunderous roar, the two sailing ships collided heavily at an angle. Over a dozen grappling hooks attached to ropes were hurled across the bulwarks, and amidst the ear-grating sound of friction, the relative speed of the two ships rapidly approached zero.
Behind the Ironborn raiders, the auxiliary stern sail that had just been hit by an incendiary bomb was gradually swallowed by flames, becoming a green torch. The cold weather slowed the spread of the wildfire, but as the flames gradually dried and heated the canvas, mast, and deck, this high-temperature beast quickly regained its wild nature, exhibiting the trait that made even its users fear it—it burned anything and was nearly impossible to extinguish.
As the most skilled navy in Westeros, the Ironborn naturally had contingency plans for ships catching fire. However, those were for ordinary tar-based incendiary weapons. What of this green flame, colored like a demon and creeping along the deck like a snake?
The last Ironborn to be attacked by wildfire were currently either being held as hostages in Queenscrown or were honestly clearing ice in Seal Bay under the watch of Cotter Pyke at Eastwatch. The staggering destructive power of the wildfire instantly destroyed the sailors' confidence in firefighting on the burning ship. The men at the stern scrambled toward the center of the ship with loud cries, while even those already crowded on the deck swallowed hard in shock, then turned back one after another, realizing their only way out was to seize the Northern warship before them and sail it back to the Iron Islands.
The Night's Watchman operating the catapult had no way of knowing he had unintentionally bolstered the enemy's will to fight, but it didn't matter. Maege Mormont had no intention of engaging in a normal boarding battle. As the relative speed between the two ships was ground down to zero, the Ironborn raiders already gathered at the deck's edge raised their weapons, waiting for the boarding planks to drop for the next stage of deck-to-deck combat. But what met them was not Northern soldiers holding weapons, but several more large jars.
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