The Crew (Captains & Cannons Book 2)

by Galen Surlak-Ramsey

  “It is easy for me to say, and let me tell you why,” she replied. “I could take the Victory from you if I wanted.”

  “No—”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “Yes, Ethan,” she said, laughing. “It wouldn’t be hard. I’d kill you faster than I’d out you, and with the crew seeing me as their savior, they’d sail under my command in an instant and without complaint.”

  Ethan grumbled to himself, wanting to argue. But he didn’t. He knew she was right. He’d seen how effortlessly she cut through the corsairs, how lackadaisical she was around Maii, and how much of a wide berth the ahuizotl gave her. Even back in his eight INT days, he’d have known how completely outmatched he’d be squaring off against her.

  “Or maybe she’s a tortured soul,” Katryna said. She held up a quick finger, bidding Ethan to let her continue when he opened his mouth to cut in. “Think about it. If I could take this ship from you anytime I want, but don’t, doesn’t that tell you I’m not a cutthroat? That I’m not looking to rob you? That I want to help you?”

  Ethan nodded. “Okay, that’s probably a reasonable conclusion.”

  “So, if she’s as dangerous as all the tattle—and I have every reason to think she is—and she’s not forcing you into service, I think we can conclude she’s not evil.”

  Katryna had a point. Ethan hated to admit it because if she happened to be wrong, the consequences of going down this path were terrifying—and those were only the ones he could come up with. He thought about it for several moments, but then he noticed that the Duchess had come closer to the two of them. Furthermore, she stood taller and more expectant.

  “Captain…” she whispered. “If…it is…vampires you wish…to hunt…I…will be…more than…happy…to assist…in that…regard.”

  Ethan felt his jaw drop, and for a brief second, he stood there, dumbfounded, as Katryna looked at him with confusion. Before he could offer an explanation or she could inquire about one, the heavy toll of the giant shoreline bells carried across the water, signaling the arrival of noon in fifteen minutes.

  “I’ll fill you in shortly,” Ethan said, jumping into gear. He spun around to set his crew into motion, but the deck had already become awash with a flurry of activity. Men and skeletons alike scrambled up ladders and took positions at their cannons or readied to weigh anchor.

  Zoey ran up to his side and rubbed her hands together. “We’re ready as we’ll ever be. If you want to make a speech, now would be the time.”

  “I wouldn’t even know what to say,” Ethan admitted, forcing himself to shift gears, and then again when he realized the spirit had disappeared.

  “Be the captain,” she said, giving him a nudge. “And be yourself. But be the captain, first and foremost.”

  “I don’t think the adorkably sweet, slightly naïve hero is going to go over well with them.”

  “It won’t,” she said. “Save the adorkably sweet for me. Let them have the hero part. Definitely lose the naivety.” When he balked, she gave him a quick squeeze of the shoulder. “Go on. They’re watching. They might not look like it, but they are.”

  Ethan balked, and Katryna took a few steps, so she came to his other side. When she got there, she stuck a pair of fingers into her mouth and whistled sharp enough to grab everyone’s attention. “Stand fast,” she bellowed. “Captain’s got something he’d like to say, and if anyone makes him repeat himself, I’ll flay the skin off your back myself.”

  With that, Katryna moved aside with a sweeping bow. Ethan immediately dropped into character as best he could, stepping forward and catching a wink from the swashbuckler.

  “Though we’ve only sailed together for a short while, already I’m convinced there’s not a fiercer, more capable crew to be found anywhere,” he said. “You’ve stormed a fortress in a single night. Avenged those at Lenada, and now, wait for the start of the Grand Regatta.”

  Ethan paused for a second and scanned the men before him. The skeletons were expressionless, but the men, despite their attempts to show otherwise, were not. Anxiousness and fear hid behind the surface of their stoic faces. He could see the twitches of nervous hands, the widened pupils. He could hear their hearts beating faster than they should. He didn’t know what to do with that other than acknowledge it. It seemed to work in the movies, at least. So he started with the only speech he could think of and recall at the same time, tweaking as needed and hoping for the best.

  “And looking out at all of you, I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me! A day may come when the courage of this crew fails, when we forsake our love of the sea and break our oaths. But it is not this day. This day we sail! This day we race! By all that you hold dear, I promise you we shall win, and years from now, the entire world will know that you were the ones to steal the crown of victory from none other than Azrael himself! Your names shall be sung in taverns till the stars burn out, and your story here will be told for a thousand generations. So man your stations, and let’s show them all how a true crew sails the ocean blue!”

  A mighty cheer erupted, and as they went back to work, Zoey nudged Ethan with her elbow. “Nice job,” she said. “Hope Aragorn doesn’t mind that you ripped him off, though.”

  “I think he’d understand,” Ethan said, shrugging. “Besides, I did put my own spin on it.”

  “That you did.”

  The heavy toll of bells started again, interrupting what was left of the conversation. They rang twelve times in all. On the last toll, a dozen massive shore batteries fired in unison, and the race began.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Initial Exchanges

  “Weigh anchor!” Ethan yelled. “The game is afoot!”

  “The game is afoot?”

  Ethan twisted in place to see Maii sitting on his haunches, using a front paw to wash behind his ears, all the while looking rather amused. “Yes, afoot,” Ethan said. “It means to begin.”

  “I know what it means,” he said. “I’m impressed you do, is all.”

  “I have eleven INT, you know,” Ethan said.

  “I’ve noticed,” the ahuizotl replied.

  Ethan disengaged from the monster and turned his attention back to his crew. “Jean, unfurl the sails and keep a single reef.”

  The man nodded and started to repeat the order but caught himself looking back at him as if he’d misheard. “Single reef, Captain? There’s hardly any wind. We won’t make even eight knots at full.”

  “I’m aware,” Ethan replied. “But there’s a bloodbath coming. I’d rather pick through the wreckage than supply it.”

  The man glanced at all the other ships Ethan gestured to and nodded in understanding, after which he relayed the orders.

  With a snap, the sails took the wind and became as taut as drums. The Victory drove forward, sleek and powerful, her bow cutting effortlessly through the water. Even with the single reef on the sails, the ship barely lagged behind the rest. In fact, Ethan noted he was keeping pace with a few others on either side as well.

  “She’s fast, even when not running her fastest,” Ethan said, admiring the way she glided over the water. “I guess I hadn’t really appreciated it before.”

  Zoey took a grip on the railing and looked down the length of the ship. “Trading the cannons for carronades helped a lot.”

  “See? I knew they were the right choice.”

  Minutes passed—five, then ten. Ethan tensed as they drew near two small islands, each with a red-and-white lighthouse, as once they passed those, a ship’s armament could be used per the regatta’s rules. Would be used, he corrected.

  Ethan took a spyglass and scanned what lay ahead. Spectators filled the shoreline of both islands, and even more could be seen on the lighthouses as well, each one no doubt eager to see the carnage that was about to take place.

  They didn’t have to wait long.

  Azrael’s ship, the Griffin, made her northerly run to open
waters close to the western island, practically scraping her sides against the coral reefs. The moment she passed by the line that stretched between lighthouses, the Griffin turned two points starboard from her course, listing sharply to the side as she came around.

  Barely a heartbeat passed when she settled her roll and a single gun near the bow cracked. The shot struck the water ahead of the Golden Mako, a large schooner Ethan had taken note of when he’d learned that was Captain Ord’s ship. Water leaped into the air some thirty yards from the Golden Mako’s bow, and before it had a chance to fall back to the sea, the rest of the starboard guns on the Griffin roared to life.

  “Holy crap,” Ethan said, his eyes taking in the devastation. The Golden Mako’s foremast split halfway up its rise, the severed piece smashing into the deck. The schooner cut a single point to the starboard as well, desperate to bring her own guns to bear and get clear of the Griffin’s.

  Whether or not she would’ve stood a chance if she’d succeeded, Ethan never found out. Sedra Blackhorn’s The Popinjay, a sloop-of-war that rumors had was heavily enchanted, entered the fray. Like the Griffin had earlier, she swung starboard as well but only needed one point in the wind to bring her portside guns to bear. But whereas the Griffin had been a hundred yards away when she attacked, The Popinjay had barely two dozen yards separating her from her prey.

  Nine guns fired in even sequence, their roars seeming to be three times as loud and more ferocious than any of those on the Griffin. Wood disintegrated along the Golden Mako’s side, and then a quarter of its aft disappeared when an explosion rocked the ship. Immediately, she listed sharply on her side. Flames leaped into the air, along with a huge column of smoke and the cries of panicked men.

  “Damn,” Ethan said as his jaw dropped. “I mean…damn. That was fast.”

  “That’s the race,” Zoey said, her face grim.

  “It wasn’t even a fair fight,” Ethan said.

  “Again, that’s the race,” she said, nodding. She then pointed to the side. “Watch.”

  Ethan turned right as a similar exchange happened when four more contestants crossed the line, and three pounced on the unlucky ship in the middle, obliterating it with a trio of broadsides. Though the remaining three disengaged with each other shortly thereafter, they didn’t do so nearly as cleanly or quickly as Azrael and Sedra had parted ways. Each one took a few shots at the other, damaging sails and cutting a few lines, but not a one caught fire or remotely came close to sinking.

  “Captain! We’ve got sharks looking to make us a meal!” Katryna yelled.

  “Sharks?”

  The swashbuckler leaned over the edge of the nest, her hand directing his attention to either side of the Victory where two ships sailed, each one angling its bow slightly inward, so they slowly closed the distance between themselves and the Victory.

  “Fortune and Sea Storm two hundred yards,” she called out. “They’ll be at half that, I’d wager, once we’re out to sea, and they’re definitely looking for a fight.”

  Ethan’s face soured, agreeing with her assessment. “Thoughts?” he asked, turning to Zoey.

  “If we do nothing, we haven’t a prayer, and from the looks of things, we won’t outrun them—not without giving them several shots unanswered at our aft. We could drop anchor, let them get by, but we’d be close enough once they cross the line, they might still send volleys our way.”

  “Looks like we’re taking hits one way or another, then,” Ethan said. “If that’s the case, I think we take our chances slipping by one. Mister Potts! One half point starboard, if you’d be so kind.”

  The helmsman nodded and turned the wheel. “One half point starboard. Aye, Captain.”

  “Be ready to make that a full two points in the other direction if need be,” Ethan added before issuing his next two orders. “Sails at full! Let her run as fast as she’ll go! Carronades! Chain and bars on both sides. If we fire, I want their sails in tatters and their masts fallen!”

  “Aye, sails at full, and chains and bars on starboard!” Jean called back.

  As his crew worked and prepared the broadside, Ethan turned his attention to the Fortune, the pursuing ship they’d turned away from. He’d hoped that she wouldn’t give chase, that her captain would rather get distance on the seas than risk damage in a fight. To Ethan’s dismay, however, the Fortune swung around with the Victory, keeping parallel with her line to keep her choked off from an easy escape.

  “Hope you have a better plan than simply ‘turn,’” Maii said with a large smirk. “But if you don’t, let me know. I’ll start swimming for shore now.”

  Ethan ignored the jab as he let his novice-rated mind in tactics go to work. It didn’t come up with much other than quickly realizing he was outgunned and outmanned, and he’d never survive a sustained engagement. He likely couldn’t even take one of them with him, either, thereby escaping with some sort of threat of mutually assured destruction.

  “Any chance you can make us disappear?” Ethan asked.

  “Completely? None,” Maii said with disappointment. “Still need a few more meals in my belly before I could pull that off.”

  Ethan’s gut tightened. He knew it was a long shot, but still, it was a long shot he really needed to have made. With a grunt, he forced himself to quit dwelling on what couldn’t be and instead focus on what he had: a ship, a skeleton crew, and maybe a volley or two of carronade fire at the most before it was all set ablaze.

  “Perhaps you should sign that deed,” Maii offered. “I imagine the Duchess will send them running in terror in no time.”

  “No,” Ethan said.

  “Could be fun.”

  “For who?”

  Maii shrugged. “Me. But you, as well, if you’d stop being so noble and simply play the cards dealt to you.”

  Ethan groaned, but when an idea jumped to mind, he straightened and changed subjects. “Zoey, any chance they’d fight each other if we were out of the mix?”

  The vampire shrugged. “Maybe? Probably? Tensions are high, so who knows? Do you have a giant potion of invisibility on hand I don’t know about?”

  “No, but we have barrels of tar.”

  Confusion marred Zoey’s face. “For?”

  “Burning.”

  “Are you crazy?” she asked, eyes widening. “You want to set fire to the ship?”

  “No, just a barrel.”

  “Which will quickly become the ship,” she said.

  “Captain, we’re almost to open water, and they’re still in pursuit!” Katryna yelled.

  Ethan took Zoey’s hands in his and squeeze. “Trust me, please,” he said. “We’re about to get blown to pieces. We’ve got to be a little unorthodox.”

  “This is beyond unorthodox,” she said, shaking her head and laughing with disbelief. “But I’ve got nothing better, so make me a believer.”

  “It will. You’ll see,” he said, feeling better and better about it all the more he thought about it.

  “You four,” he then called out as he pointed to a group of skeletons. “I need a barrel of tar brought up from the stores along with one of our oil lamps.”

  Without a word, the undead crew scurried across the deck, their boney heels clacking loudly against the wood, and disappeared down below. Less than a minute later, which as far as Ethan was concerned was all they could spare, the group reappeared with a hefty wooden barrel.

  “Portside and keep it out of view of those chasing us,” Ethan said, gesturing off to the side. “And make ready with the oil lamp.”

  He tried to sound calm and play the part, but as the skeletons obeyed, he realized how dry his mouth felt and how fast his fingers toyed with one another. His eyes darted to the rest of the crew. The dead went on about their duties as they always had, but the living were noticeably distracted as their eyes were all but glued to the unfolding spectacle.

  “I really hope you know what you’re doing,” Zoey said, crouching slightly and letting te
nsion creep into her voice.

  “Me too,” Ethan quietly admitted. He then raised his hand, keeping only his index finger pointed to the sky. “On my command, Mister Potts, I still want a full two points to the port side.”

  “On your command,” he repeated.

  The next half minute crawled to an unbearably slow pace. Ethan’s eyes darted from crew to lighthouses a hundred times over, and with each pass, he watched his pursuers as well and second-guessed himself a dozen times.

  Then they crossed the line marking the open sea, and time sped practically faster than Ethan could keep up.

  “Starboard carronades! Fire at will!” he bellowed.

  Gouts of flame along with thunderous billows of smoke erupted from the Victory’s side as a half dozen carronades fired. The shockwave from their combined fire put a tremor through the entire ship and thumped heavily against Ethan’s chest. Chain and bar from a half dozen blasts ripped the jib and mainsail. They even snapped a few lines, ruined blocks, and tore a chunk from a boom, but it wasn’t enough to see the Sea Storm crippled.

  The smoke had yet to clear when the Sea Storm replied in kind. Her cannons, seven in all on that side, shot one at a time to a slow, steady beat, her gun crews no doubt taking the extra second or two to line up their shots. Only two missed their mark completely, one sending plumes of water far aft of where the Victory sailed and the other landing short by not even six yards. The rest tore into the Victory’s side, sending fragments of wood in all directions and shattering the legs of a skeleton, as well as punching a hole through the ship’s hull only a few feet above the waterline.

  To the crew’s utmost credit and Ethan’s utmost relief, no one faltered or panicked. Worms and sponges were rammed down each gun to clear them of leftover wadding and extinguish any remaining embers. As they worked, Ethan prayed his gambit would work. At this point, it had to.

  “Light the barrel and sound the alarm, but all hands off the flames!” Ethan yelled.

  Immediately, the skeleton holding the oil lamp used it to set the tar inside the barrel alight. Thick, putrid smoke started billowing forth and obscured half the deck in a matter of seconds. His eyes watered and burned, and he reflexively covered his nose and mouth with one hand. A split second later, the ship’s bell rang with such a furious tempo that even the denizens of the darkest deep no doubt roused from their slumber.