The Crew (Captains & Cannons Book 2)

by Galen Surlak-Ramsey

  Ethan blinked and shook his head to snap himself back into the moment. He wondered if he should fill Zoey in on what had just happened but decided it could wait until later. They needed to concentrate on the task at hand. “That’s not too bad,” he said. “Let’s see what the others are up to.”

  With that, he took out his spyglass and settled it on the Red Fish. The schooner, now out of range of the Griffin, had turned back on course, though it did so at a slow pace. Both the foresail and mainsail had a half dozen holes, and Ethan could see her crew scrambling and trying to fix rigging. He was also fairly certain he saw a hole near the waterline but had to admit due to the distance involved, he couldn’t be sure.

  He was going to watch them a bit longer, but Maii jumped up on the railing, claws holding him steady, and blocked his view.

  “Jean Bayard is no longer, I assume,” the ahuizotl said. “Or have you grown darker as of late and cast aside the weak?”

  Ethan shot him a glare. “I would never. You know that.”

  “Only a question,” Maii said, grinning. “After all, our dear Katryna has grown paler.”

  “Has she?”

  “You and I both know she has,” he mused. “Should we ask the crew what they think? Or maybe have her smile, first, and show off those pretty teeth of hers.”

  “Enough, Maii. I’m quite certain I’ve told you to stop causing mischief before,” Ethan said.

  “Who’s to say what’s mischief and what’s mere curiosity?” Maii replied.

  “I am.”

  “So you are,” the ahuizotl conceded—or at least pretended to.

  Deep down, Ethan didn’t like the creature’s tone and felt things were off, but that wasn’t something he could focus on now. He had a race to win. He turned his direction to the crow’s nest and called out to Katryna. “Katryna! Can you see Azrael or Sedra?”

  “Aye,” she answered. “But they’re running fast over the waters. I’d say they’ll be out of even my sight in a few hours at most.”

  “Damn,” Ethan muttered. He’d wished otherwise, obviously, but knew focusing on that problem wouldn’t do anything but frustrate him further. One thing at a time, he told himself. Before he could take first place, he had to take third.

  “Katryna,” he called again. “Any chance the Red Fish lost her guns?”

  The woman held up a finger and looked through her spyglass. She spent a few seconds staring through it, leaning far out the nest, before lowering it and shaking her head. “I am afraid not,” she said. “Looks like she still has plenty of teeth.”

  “Then we best treat her with respect,” Ethan said.

  Zoey came to his side, and after surveying the situation with her spyglass, she offered a suggestion. “Perhaps we should double load the carronades. If we do, there’s a good chance we could cripple him with a single pass. The Griffin already gave her one hell of a beatdown.”

  “Don’t forget to fetch the grapples,” Maii added. When both Zoey and Ethan shot him a look, the ahuizotl grinned. “What? I’m hungry. I’m tired of salted meat.”

  “We’re doing neither,” Ethan said. “I don’t want to risk an engagement, especially with Azrael and Sedra so far ahead. And like you said, the Red Fish is already hurting. I doubt she wants a fight.”

  “Maybe, but if Azrael is going to win anyway, the least we could do is get a fresh meal before it’s all over,” Maii huffed.

  “No.”

  “I bet Katryna would like a fresh meal, too.”

  “No, Maii,” Ethan said, brow dropping and tone sharpening. “Now knock it off.”

  Maii huffed. “This is why I like her much more than you. At least she’d want to avenge our fallen comrade.”

  “I haven’t forgotten about Jean,” Ethan said. “We can hunt down Sir Gideon after the race if need be.”

  Maii perked his ears, and he straightened as if he’d caught the scent of something delicious nearby. “Hunt down? Oh, I like the sound of that.”

  “Thought you would.”

  For the next hour and a half, Ethan carefully watched the Red Fish. They’d made a sizeable gain on her in the meantime and brought her to within a half mile. That, however, wasn’t the only development. Up ahead, maybe twice that distance, the Isadora Strait provided a tempting alternate, especially since Ethan was effectively in last place.

  “I’m thinking we take it,” Ethan said, gesturing toward the channel. “What do you think?”

  Zoey sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. “I think we have to, but it’s going to be messy.”

  “Only if Red Fish joins us,” Ethan said. “And she looks like she doesn’t want anything to do with it, judging by her course this last hour.”

  “Maybe, but I’ve got a feeling she’s going to.”

  “Then we’ll have to deal with her accordingly,” Ethan replied. “Not sure how else we catch up to Azrael and Sedra.” With that in mind, Ethan gave the order to his helmsman. “Mister Potts, a point and a half port, if you would,” he called out. “We’re taking the strait.”

  “Aye, Captain,” he replied, turning the wheel.

  “And load the carronades,” Ethan called out, leaning over the rail. “Bar shot on all. I want her dead in the water if she wants to fight.”

  The gun deck became a flurry of activity as the Victory swung to port, sails snapping in response. The ship picked up the wind better than she had before, and Ethan felt her surge beneath his feet. Five minutes later, less than a quarter mile separated her from the mouth of the strait, and it was at that time Katryna whistled sharply from the crow’s nest.

  “Captain! The Red Fish is coming around!”

  Ethan pivoted and dashed to his starboard railing to get a better look. It was just as Katryna warned. The Red Fish, six or seven hundred yards away, swung toward them. She straightened for a moment and unleased broadside. Most failed to connect, but one cannonball punched a neat hole in the mainsail.

  “Two points starboard,” Ethan said. “Let’s close the distance and give her our reply.”

  The Victory cut back across the water, trying to get within range of the carronades before Sir Gideon had a chance to reload. Red Fish turned toward them, fired the chasers on her bow, and then turned to present her starboard guns. With three hundred yards now separating them, Red Fish unleashed another volley, this time, with much more severe results.

  Three shots blew through the lower deck, while two others cut through some of Victory’s rigging. The sixth took out some lines to the main topsail, causing it to partially deflate and flap in the wind, while the last perfectly clipped the corner of the jib, ruining it as well.

  Red Fish attacks!

  Victory lightly damaged!

  Maximum speed reduced!

  Ethan cursed and cursed again when the Red Fish turned away from them to such a degree that if they tried to give chase, they’d sail into irons and be dead in the water. Realizing pursuit wasn’t an option and that Sir Gideon would easily pick them apart, Ethan gave the only order he could think of. “Mister Potts, get us into that strait,” he said as calmly as he could.

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “Not that everyone doesn’t already know it, but we won’t be able to maneuver in there,” Zoey said, taking his hand.

  “I know, but neither will they,” Ethan said, his eyes scanning the waterway. There, he took in the sight of at least three shipwrecks near the mouth of the strait alone, as well as a few treacherous rocks jutting out from the water nearby. Those warnings alone made it little wonder why navigating the strait had to be done in a slow, meticulous fashion, and even less wonder why Azrael and Sedra had opted to pass it by.

  “I’m assuming you have a plan,” she replied, sounding more hopeful than certain.

  “Trust me. I do,” Ethan replied before tacking on a grin and gesturing to his crew. “Or rather, trust them.”

  “Mind filling me in?”

  “Absolutely, but firs
t things first,” he said before grabbing Katryna’s attention. “Katryna, can you see what lurks below?”

  The woman leaned out of the crow's nest and flashed a thumbs up. “Not as well as I’d like, but well enough to see us safe.”

  “Then from this point on, you’re Mister Potts’s eyes. I need you to keep him well aware of what's beneath the surface. Understood?”

  “Understood.”

  With that, Ethan led Zoey below deck, taking a dozen skeletons with them in the process, all the while praying he’d somehow lead them to victory instead of utter defeat.

  Chapter Thirty

  The Strait

  Katryna saved them all.

  Ethan had no doubts about that whatsoever. When he returned from down below, having packed a dozen skeletons with makeshift bombs, the Victory continued carving through the treacherous waters, missing both rock and shipwreck by mere yards as she went. The only reason they didn’t strike any was all due to the fledgling vampire’s heightened senses—a new trait Ethan had been counting on the moment they committed to the waterway.

  As they went, the Red Fish kept her pursuit, following the route they took without err, firing the light cannons mounted in the bow every few minutes. In a perfect world, Sir Gideon would’ve misjudged something somewhere and run aground, but the captain wasn’t cooperating with Ethan’s plans. That said, Ethan hadn’t been counting on that happening whatsoever.

  “Captain!” Katryna yelled as she waved to get his attention. “Look, portside! Quick! We’re clear for a quarter mile after this one.”

  Ethan bolted to the railing. When he reached, he saw a large formation of jagged rocks pass by, hidden under only a few feet of water. Up ahead, another rocky outcropping could be seen off the starboard side, ten yards away at the most.

  “Perfect,” Ethan said, gripping the rail. Not only had she threaded the Victory between the hazards perfectly, but she’d brought them to an ideal place for him to spring the trap.

  For a half minute, Ethan watched the Red Fish close, now only a hundred yards away. Then, with a deep breath, Ethan went on the offensive.

  “Mister Potts, bring us fully around, portside.”

  The man nodded and spun the wheel.

  In response, the Victory rolled to the side as she changed course. Exactly as Ethan had hoped, the Red Fish turned into them, ready to match broadside for broadside. But before she could come around to answer Ethan’s sudden charge, she turned sharply in the other direction to avoid running aground. In the end, however, the maneuver came too late. Her hull found the rocks beneath the waters and listed sideways.

  To Ethan’s dismay, the Red Fish neither came to rest nor foundered. She did, however, list, and less than a minute later, she presented her aft to the Victory’s side—something Ethan took full advantage of.

  “Fire!” he yelled.

  Slow matches took to touch holes, and an instant later, the roar of portside carronades filled the air. Gouts of flame erupted from the Victory’s hull, double loads hurling canister shot on top of solid, while thick clouds obscured it all. The short-barreled cannons rocked back in their carriages, straining their anchors as they slammed home, and the Victory trembled throughout her hull.

  The Victory attacks!

  The Red Fish is lightly damaged!

  Maximum speed reduced!

  “Cripes,” Ethan said, shaking his head at the “lightly damaged” report. “What the hell does it take to sink you?”

  “A lot more than a single volley,” Maii replied. “But still, a good start.”

  Ethan nodded at the unexpected praise and brought his spyglass up to inspect the damage. With luck, he told himself, they were but a single nick away from sending the Red Fish from lightly damaged to moderately damaged.

  What he saw made him think that very thought might be true. The Red Fish had its stern torn in a dozen places, gaping holes appearing in its hull. The mainsail, though taught and flying, suffered a large tear near the boom. Despite the damage, she continued to run with far more life than Ethan would’ve guessed or liked.

  “Katryna, are we clear to show her our starboard guns?” he asked.

  “Aye, Captain, but make it fast,” she replied. “We’re headed back to the rocks.”

  Ethan nodded and gave his command to Mister Potts, who in turn brought the Victory around another two points so that it had made a full circle.

  The moment the signal came that the carronades were trained and ready, Ethan gave the order to fire. “Give ’em hell!”

  The second volley flew from the Victory’s side, another volley of double-shot blasting through the Red Fish with devastating results. Fires burned in two separate areas, yet despite this, it still wasn’t enough. Through his spyglass, Ethan saw her crew fight valiantly to douse the flames and a deck gun break loose while Narrator gave report.

  The Victory attacks!

  The Red Fish is moderately damaged!

  -1 cannons!

  “Damn skippy, moderately damaged,” Ethan said, grinning. Right as he’d finished those words, the Red Fish swung hard to port, no doubt intent on shaking them off her aft while also bringing her own guns to bear.

  “Full point starboard, Mister Potts,” Ethan said, wanting to turn into their enemy’s maneuver and either buy some time while they reloaded, or better yet, stay completely out of the Red Fish’s firing arcs by latching on to her stern.

  The Victory listed with the turn, sails shuddering and taking more of the wind. Ethan tensed as the slow ballet unfolded. Though now tackling the wind nearly head-on, the Red Fish still managed to swing her guns around faster than Ethan had thought possible. That said, the Victory still had both speed and position on her side. Even if Sir Gideon sent a volley toward him, surely they could weather it.

  “Carronades ready and trained, Captain!” Zoey yelled.

  “Fire at will!”

  Again, thunder and flame erupted from the Victory’s side. The blasts thumped heavily against Ethan’s chest, and he could feel the tremble of the ship through his feet. A split second later, Red Fish, still turning close to the wind, fired a volley of her own.

  Ethan’s crew scored a handful of hits in the exchange. They tore huge chunks out of the mainsail and foresail and snapped the Red Fish’s bow spirit, completely ruining both the jib and flying jib in the process.

  The Victory attacks!

  Red Fish ship moderately damaged!

  Maximum speed reduced!

  As much as Ethan would’ve liked, the Victory did not remain unscathed. Despite the three cannonballs that flew high and wild, most sending large plumes of water into the air as much as sixty or seventy yards away, nine struck the Victory in her midsection. One punched through the hammock netting, bounced off the deck, and shattered a pair of skeletal crew before clearing through the netting on the other side. Another split the rails not even five yards from Ethan before taking a small chunk from the foremast and blasting a hole through the opposite rails. The rest Ethan couldn’t account for, and he could only pray no one was lost in the exchange.

  Ethan took a deep breath and forced his anxieties out. Aside from being grateful not to have caught a twelve-pound cannonball with his face, he was thrilled not to have lost the foremast, as that would have been catastrophic.

  “Keep us on her stern, Mister Potts,” Ethan directed, refocusing all his attention to the battle.

  The helmsman adjusted the wheel, and as the ship responded, Ethan threw a glance to his gun deck. Men brought powder from the magazine to the portside carronades while others ran sponges inside the recently fired guns to get them ready for the next volley. The group, including the skeletons who joined them, ran flawlessly, working as well as any crack naval crew. Despite all of that, Ethan worried they might not have the broadside ready in time.

  Eighty yards from the Red Fish, the Victory continued to race across the waters, desperately trying to reach her prey’s stern so she wouldn’t
have to weather a second volley. To Ethan’s best judgment, it looked like they’d make it, especially given all the damage the Red Fish suffered. Of course, that didn’t mean much. Ethan’s judgment hadn’t had a history of always being the best.

  The crack of rifles drew his attention. From the tops of the Red Fish, sharpshooters began firing. Musket balls peppered the deck. One grazed Ethan’s forearm, and he winced. Blood poured from the wound, quickly making a mess of his sleeve.

  A gnawing hunger grew in his stomach and then tripled when he picked up on the scent of sweat and fear lingering in the air. Thoughts of the naval action gave way to longing to feed, and there was plenty of food to be had down below.

  Ethan clenched his jaw, squeezed his eyes shut, and dug his nails into his palms to regain his composure. The hunger could wait. The hunger would wait. He could take his fill and then some once they’d grappled.

  Thirty yards away, the Victory passed the Red Fish’s stern. And while Ethan had originally thought her sluggishness had been due to a combination of fighting the wind and the ruining of the bow spirit, now that they were on top of her, he could see she was missing a third of her rudder, if not close to half, no doubt the result of ramming into the rocks earlier.

  “Are we ready on the port?” Ethan yelled, twisting around to address his gun crews.

  “Half a minute at the most, Captain,” came the reply.

  Ethan tensed, counted to ten in order to give them a little extra time, and then address Mister Potts. “Swing around and bring us to grapple,” he said. “We end this now.”

  “Aye,” he replied. “I’ll have us stuck on her like scabs on a whore.”

  The Victory made one last cut back to starboard, swinging herself across Red Fish’s stern one last time. The moment the carronades on the port side had their bearing, they fired. Blast after blast erupted in rapid succession. Thirty-two-pound shot obliterated large chunks of hull and railing and knocked several of Red Fish’s cannons off their carriages, while the packed grapeshot that led the way ravaged her crew.