The Crew (Captains & Cannons Book 2)

by Galen Surlak-Ramsey

  One hundred and two.

  That was the final count when it came to how many crewed the Victory as she set sail for New Port Royal. A little over two dozen of them were the living, breathing kind—the kind who guzzled rum and stank to the high heavens due to want of a bath. They were also the sort whose blood constantly tempted Ethan to take a little sample. Thankfully, he’d managed to keep his Hunger under control by coming up with a ruse where twice a day, he’d collect a few ounces of blood using a needle and chalice and tell the donors Zoey needed it to ward off unholy spirits who might look to feast on them all.

  It was hardly ideal, and it still left Ethan wanting more, but it worked. And in a way, he wasn’t lying, which made making it convincing all the easier.

  The rest of the crew, seventy-one in all, were of the long-deceased variety. As it happened to be, they ended up being far more skilled than Ethan had expected. They worked hard, never speaking, tending the rigging, and keeping the night watch as well as any other. A few of them even turned out to love games of dice, which they played on the quarterdeck from time to time—lingering traits of their former personalities, as Marcus had explained.

  They also performed decently enough when Ethan ran the ship through basic combat drills (something both Zoey and Katryna insisted on so Ethan would at least have an inkling on what to do before they ended up catching their first broadside). To top it off, the skeletons also seemed more than capable of repelling boarders should the need arise.

  On the second day, right as Ethan polished off a delectable sample of AB+ from his chalice, a frantic knock on his door grabbed his attention.

  “Captain!” Katryna shouted from outside. “Hunters on the horizon!”

  Ethan raised an eyebrow and looked to Zoey, who sat across from him. “Hunters?”

  “Ships in pursuit,” she explained.

  “Crap,” Ethan scrambled out of his chair, wiping his lips one last time on a rag to ensure no blood could be found on them, and tossed the chalice into an open foot chest as he ran out the door.

  The moment he broke into the sunlight, he had to shield his eyes and spend a moment letting them adjust since he kept his cabin dark. After all, he couldn’t have crew seeing what went on in there.

  “Both portside, with about five hundred yards between them,” Katryna said. “They’ll probably close on us within the hour.”

  Ethan ran up the stairs to the quarterdeck and leaned over the railing to get a better look. Sure enough, a pair of ships, each about three-quarters the size of the Victory, sailed the waters, lagging slightly aft and a half league away.

  “Any idea who our new friends are?” Ethan asked.

  “No,” she said. “They’re not flying any colors, but I doubt they’re friendly.”

  Wrinkles formed across Ethan’s brow as he looked across the water, hoping his vampiric senses might pick up on something useful. They didn’t. “Are you’re sure they’re coming for us?” he finally asked.

  “They were both headed west when we spotted them on the horizon. They turned completely around about ten minutes ago,” she said. “Given they’re on course for a slow intercept, I can’t imagine they’re anything but pirates.”

  Ethan snorted. “Pirates. Doesn’t that just figure out here. I bet they grow like weeds in this world.”

  Katryna chuckled. “Worse.”

  “Still, are you absolutely certain?” Ethan asked. “What if they’re merchants who forgot to load their dye this morning? I’d hate to blow them out of the water for a simple misunderstanding.”

  “Begging your pardon on the interruption, Captain,” Jean Bayard said, stepping up to the pair and handing Ethan a spyglass. “But I must agree with the lady’s assessment. I’ve been on many a ship, privateer and naval alike, and those aren’t merchant ships. They’re looking for a fight.”

  “Lady?” Katryna said with a snort of amusement. “I think you’ve known me long enough to know that’s not the case.”

  “I’ve also seen you work that sword enough to not dare say anything else,” he quickly tacked on.

  Ethan chuckled at the remark and held the spyglass to his eye. Though the edges of what he saw looked distorted and blurry, the image of the ships was clear, and he instantly realized what he was looking at: two ships built for speed and agility, with a dozen cannons on each, not ones that were fat and slow thanks to tons of cargo being shipped inside swollen bellies.

  “I’m inclined to agree with the both of you,” he said, handing the spyglass back to Jean. “What would they be fielding?”

  “Long guns for certain,” he replied. “No more than nine pounds each. Might only be six-pounders if we’re lucky.”

  “That sounds rather pathetic,” Ethan smirked.

  “We can weather a few nine-pound volleys without much trouble,” he said. “But those guns are enough to rip apart our rigging and tear our sails given enough time,” he said. “Once we’re dead in the water, they can take their time picking us apart or simply grapple and board since they’ll have numbers on their side. That said, one or two solid volleys from our carronades will be more than enough to take each one out of the fight.”

  “Good to know,” Ethan said with a short nod. He then turned his head over his shoulder and called out to the helmsman, a wiry man with bronze skin covered in tattoos. “Mister Potts, half a point portside if you would. I’d like to test the waters.”

  “Aye, sir,” came the reply.

  “And Jean, ready the carronades,” Ethan added. “Solid shot on them all.”

  “Aye, captain. They’ll be ready,” he said before hurrying back to the main deck, barking orders as he did. “Man the guns! Cast loose and provide!”

  The deck became awash with a flurry of movement, living and undead crew working in what Ethan considered to be remarkable harmony as cartridges were loaded and rammed. Throughout it all, the Victory brought herself to her new bearing and sped along on a new course that would see her cross the bow of the leading ship. She ran with a broad reach, the wind mostly blowing from her rear, and though she’d lost a little of her speed with her new course, her guns had a much better angle to deliver a crippling blow when the time arose.

  While the minutes ticked by, Ethan watched for any indication as to what their potential opponent might do in response.

  He had his response inside a quarter hour.

  A puff of white smoke came from the lead ship’s side, followed by a distant thud of the gun’s report. The cannonball whistled through the air, eventually splashing down at least two hundred yards short of the Victory.

  “Son of a bitch,” Ethan said. Though he’d ducked reflexively, he stood up, laughing. “I can’t believe I flinched. Their gunners are terrible. That had to be the worst shot in the world.”

  “They’re ranging us,” Zoey said. “Next time, they might add a few more cannons to the mix.”

  As if on cue, two more puffs came from the ship, and this time, the shots landed much closer, each splashing down about a hundred yards away. After that, three more came with similar results, though Narrator finally decided to chime in—or rather, Ethan took note of his voice.

  Pirate ship attacks!

  Pirate ship misses!

  Ethan snorted at the obvious commentary, and he refocused on what was happening as opposed to what was being told had happened. He turned to Katryna, who stood at his side, gripping the railing with a bloodthirsty zeal in her eyes. “How far away are we?”

  “I’d say a little shy of a thousand yards,” she replied.

  “And we want to be within a hundred for our carronades?” he asked, making sure he hadn’t forgotten.

  “It would be better to be half that,” she said.

  “I guess we’d better close the distance before they can reload,” Ethan replied before addressing his helmsman once more. “Mister Potts,” he called back. “Full point to port if you’d be so kind. Let’s run these scallywags down and show them
we’ve got teeth.”

  The Victory turned further with the wind, her sails at full, her hull carving a white-capped path through the deep ocean-blue waters. Eagerness swelled in Ethan’s chest, and his lips curled as he couldn’t wait to prove himself once more to the woman at his side.

  “Does my dear first mate have anything to say before this all unfolds?” he asked.

  Zoey shook her head with a bright smile of her own and snuck her arm inside his elbow. “No, but if you wanted to dedicate your first naval victory to me, I’ll not complain.”

  “First? No, you shall have them all.”

  Katryna let out a long groan and rolled her eyes. “I swear, if this is the tip of the iceberg when it comes to this new trait of yours, I’m going to shoot you both myself.”

  “Don’t be jealous,” Ethan teased.

  “I’m not jealous,” she retorted. “We’re in the middle of a battle, and you two are worse than hormone-crazed teens.”

  “First, we’re in the middle of a pause in battle,” Ethan said, holding up a finger. “They’re still reloading. And second, you’ll be someone’s Morticia one day. Don’t worry.”

  “I don’t know who this Morticia of yours is, nor do I care,” Katryna said, shaking her head in disgust. “I’m going to make sure we’re ready to repel boarders. Do remember we’re trying not to die and save the make-out session for later if you would—Captain.”

  Katryna left the quarterdeck, and with her words still ringing in his ears, Ethan forced himself to detangle from Zoey. “Are we really that bad?” he asked.

  “Could be worse,” she said with a shrug. “Correction, we will be worse. But she’ll live.”

  The rest of the conversation was interrupted when the trailing pirate ship fired its chasers from her bow. The shots flew wide and short, but then the lead ship made a small turn with the wind to better present her side and unleashed another broadside. Most of the shots from this barrage failed to connect with the Victory, but one found its mark.

  The cannonball ripped through the Victory’s jib, punching a neat hole through the leading sail before dropping into the water. Ethan winced a little at that one, but when a third volley came, this time when they were about four hundred yards away, Ethan cussed up a storm. Iron bars and chain links cut through the Victory’s rigging, blowing apart ratlines leading to the crow’s nest and tearing gashes in her main and topsails.

  Pirate ship attacks!

  Victory lightly damaged!

  Maximum speed slightly reduced!

  “I really didn’t need to hear that,” Ethan said.

  “I’ll manage the repairs. You focus on sinking that ship ASAP,” Zoey said, giving his hand a squeeze before taking off.

  Ethan nodded, and though he took heart she’d get their lines replaced quickly, as much as he tried to stay focused on the developing battle, he couldn’t help but long for her to be at his side, watching him sink his first ship. He could picture how her eyes would sparkle, how her lips would turn up, how her cheeks would dimple.

  Ethan shook his head, desperate to rid himself of his daydreaming. Orders. That’s what he needed to give. Orders that would keep him on task as much as they would the crew. “Steady as she goes,” Ethan said to his helmsman before addressing Jean on the main deck. “Those carronades better be ready.”

  “Waiting to fire on your order,” he called back.

  Hairs stood up across Ethan’s arm and neck. He knew he needed to get as close as he could to ensure a devastating broadside, but at the same time, he also realized he’d have to weather at least one more volley, if not two, from the pirates. Unless, of course, he fired sooner rather than later and got a little lucky in the process.

  And luck, Ethan reminded himself, was his specialty.

  With the enemy ship a little over two hundred yards away, Ethan committed to his new strategy. After all, he didn’t need every cannonball to hit. Just one thirty-two-pound shot had to blow one-foot holes—if not two or three—in everything it smashed through. Sure, he’d made that number up on the spot, but he’d seen how enormous they were, and each one looked like it could ruin any ship’s day.

  “Two points starboard and bring us to bear, Mister Potts,” he said. The helmsman acknowledged the order, and the Victory rolled with the turn. The moment she settled into her new course, Ethan gave the order to attack. “Fire at will!”

  Jean hesitated. Ethan guessed it was due to the range they were at, but to the man’s credit as a member of the crew, he obeyed without a word and spun around, relaying the order to the gun crews. As the first slow matches went to the touch holes, Ethan dumped half his Luck into what he hoped would be a spectacular show of marksmanship. Or whatever the artillery version was. He still didn’t have a complete grasp on how most things worked in the game, but he did know that sinking ten points into a roll gave him a plus fifty percent—and he really, really needed to land this volley.

  Thunderous explosions shot from the Victory’s side, eight in all, the blasts stealing Ethan’s breath and leaving a deafening ringing in his ears. A little over a second later, he counted six splashes in the water.

  The Victory attacks!

  Pirate ship lightly damaged!

  “Come on, lightly damaged?” Ethan protested. “Those cannons can level castles!”

  “Not with two hits they can’t,” Maii said, sauntering across the deck without a care in the world. “Next time, maybe wait until you’re closer. That said, I’d like to point out that if these pirates prove to be your undoing, I might get to snack on you after all.”

  “Hush.”

  “And Zoey can finally have your boots,” he added. “Won’t that be nice?”

  “I said hush. That wasn’t a suggestion. I know what I’m doing.” Maii cocked his head, and Ethan felt his skin flush in response. “As if you could do better.”

  Maii’s lips drew back, showing off his razor teeth. “Oh, Master Ethan, I’m quite certain I could command this ship much better than you.”

  “As if they’d even listen to you.”

  Maii’s grin only broadened. “Not only would they listen to me, but they’d love me,” he said. He threw a sideways glance and cleared his throat. “Mister Potts,” he shouted in a very Ethan-like voice. “Two points hard to port. I want us on top of that ship yesterday!”

  “Aye, two hard to port,” called back the helmsman.

  “Belay that order,” Ethan yelled. He leveled a stare at Maii and growled. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Testing my abilities,” Maii said, shrugging.

  “You don’t ever pretend to be me ever again,” Ethan said. “Ever.”

  Maii chuckled. “Relax, Master Ethan. You have my word I’d not dream of taking this ship. Besides, my order was the right one, I promise.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You’ll want to be scraping your hull across her rudder when your starboard guns come to bear. I mean, that is what you had in mind all along, right?”

  Ethan frowned and gave a reluctant nod even though that was precisely not what he’d had in mind whatsoever. He’d certainly planned on drawing nearer, but could he even get that close? Apparently, not only could he, but he had to.

  “Apologies, Mister Potts, I jumped the gun before,” he called out, keeping his eyes on Maii the entire time. “Two points hard to port right now, if you would.”

  “Two hard to port, aye, Captain.”

  The Victory swung around with the order, sailing nearly perpendicular to her foe. She cut fast through the waves thanks to the broad reach of the wind filling her sails, and it was clear that given her course, she’d indeed cut right behind the pirate ship’s rear. That is, provided it didn’t turn into them so that they’d simply circle each other, trading broadsides the entire time. Why they weren’t, Ethan wasn’t sure.

  “They can’t,” Maii said as if reading Ethan’s mind. “If they swing toward us and into the wind,
they risk getting caught in irons.”

  A pair of shots from the other ship’s bow chasers cut off any reply Ethan might have had. Thankfully, both missed, but not by much. Plumes of water leaped into the air, not even twenty yards away.

  A split second later, a hundred and fifty yards now separating the Victory and her closest foe, the enemy fired another broadside. Four of the five shots tore through the Victory, ripping sails even further, cutting lines, and obliterating several skeletons in the process.

  Pirate ship attacks!

  Victory lightly damaged!

  Maximum speed reduced!

  “Damn it,” Ethan cursed. He fought the urge to order a broadside of his own in reply, and a moment later, the pirate ship began turning away. Yes, she’d present her aft to the Victory, but only for a moment, and then, Ethan knew, they’d be weathering another broadside.

  Shouts came from his gun deck. Panicked ones. Questions. Demands. The battle took on a surreal nature as Ethan felt himself detach from everything around him. Among the chaos, the only thing he became crucially aware of was how lacking he was when it came to both commanding his ship and winning a naval engagement.

  A sharp pain exploded across his calf, snapping him back in the moment. He looked down to see Maii taking a nip out of his lower leg.

  “I suggest more doing than…well, whatever it was you were doing,” he said, easing back on his haunches. “Unless you’d like me to take over?”

  Ethan’s brow knitted, angry and embarrassed he’d lost his composure. He glanced over the waters just in time to see the pirate about to present him with yet another broadside.

  “Mister Potts! As hard as you can to starboard!” he yelled.

  “Aye, Captain!”

  The Victory rolled heavily as she turned, and as she did, Ethan activated his Luck of the Devil talent, hoping it would carry over to the evasive maneuvers he’d just launched his ship into. Hopefully, he wouldn’t need the skill for a week since that’s how long the cooldown was.

  A swell in the ocean lifted his enemy right as it opened fire once again. Despite the close range—less than fifty yards at this point—the abrupt change in pitch was enough that the entire broadside missed wildly, which Narrator spoke about.