Part 28 (2/2)

We're on fire, Pascal exclaimed. Going down fast. Going down fast.

Maintain silence, Briana insisted. She broadcast the order to both women on the two men-o'-war. We're coming to help. We're coming to help. She turned to Captain Howlish and said, 'Do something, help them.' She turned to Captain Howlish and said, 'Do something, help them.'

'Two seventy degrees,' Howlish growled to the helmsman. 'Guns to bear on the enemy's bow.'

'Aye, Captain.'

We're safe enough. Briana told herself. However mad Granger was, he wasn't likely to kill his own daughter.

GD DENY REQ/VERIFY CONFIRM REQ/a.s.sIST

Granger punched the commands into the comspool and depressed the release valve. The orders would be meaningless to any crewman, but Granger didn't have any crewmen aboard. What he did have was a comspool on the gun deck retrofitted with the flintlocks he'd removed from forty-eight Valcinder Ferredales and attached to the breech vents of those same cannons via a web of rapid-burning fuse cord. For good measure, he'd dipped the ends of each fuse in a concoction of sulphur, glue and yellow phosphorus.

It seemed to be doing the trick.

A few seconds later he heard the concussions from below deck as the cannons fired. Four more rounds of heavy iron shot smashed into the Haurstaf wars.h.i.+p on his port side. She was trying to reach now, which was fine by Granger. Evidently the wars.h.i.+p's captain did not know the state of his own gun deck.

Granger's real target lay ahead of him. The Irillian Herald Irillian Herald was turning about now, bringing her guns to bear on his bow. And Granger had every intention of letting her do so. He picked up one of the maps lying on the console and wrote across it in big bold letters: was turning about now, bringing her guns to bear on his bow. And Granger had every intention of letting her do so. He picked up one of the maps lying on the console and wrote across it in big bold letters: THIS IS YOUR FATHER, IANTHE.I'M TAKING YOU HOME.

'Ethan Maskelyne wishes to speak to you, ma'am.'

Briana turned to find one of the men she'd left guarding Maske-lyne's stateroom standing in the wheelhouse doorway. 'What?'

'He says it is extremely important.'

'Not now.' She dismissed the guard with a wave of her hand. Everything seemed to be happening at once. Howlish was bringing the s.h.i.+p into battle. The signal officer was flas.h.i.+ng the Song, Song, trying to ascertain the extent of her damage. trying to ascertain the extent of her damage.

The guard glanced around him, then spoke in a low voice. 'I beg your pardon, ma'am, but he says the captain is an idiot and is doing exactly what Colonel Granger wants him to.'

'How the h.e.l.l does Maskelyne know what's going on?'

The guard shrugged. 'I don't know, ma'am. He was the one who told me.'

'And now you believe he knows how to get us out of this?'

'He's Ethan Maskelyne, ma'am.'

Briana sighed. She turned to Howlish. 'How long till we're in range?'

'Minutes, ma'am.'

'Then I don't have time,' she said to the guard. 'If it's so important, he can write me a note.' She sent the guard away.

By now Howlish had turned the Haurstaf wars.h.i.+p into the wind. The deck pitched as the Herald Herald's sails took up the strain. Rain lashed the wheelhouse gla.s.s. Spume burst against the bulwark and showered the Guild mariners fighting to control the boom. To starboard, Granger's yacht bore down on them at tremendous speed, her funnels steaming, her bow rising and then cras.h.i.+ng down through the dark and frothing waters.

'Range shot,' Howlish said.

First officer Lum rang the bell pipe, then waited for a heartbeat and rang it again. The comspool on the navigation console began to chatter in response. He scanned the tape. 'Confirmed. Ranging to starboard now, sir.'

Moments later, one of the Herald Herald's cannon fired. A single sh.e.l.l flew out across the sea, but landed short of Granger's yacht.

'Range is good,' Howlish said. 'One through twenty, red stations.'

The first officer rang the bell pipe again, then paused before making three more rings in rapid succession. The comspool began chattering almost immediately. 'Red stations one through twenty firing now, sir. Confirmed.'

This time twenty of the Herald Herald's cannons fired at once. The combined noise of the concussions rattled the duskgla.s.s panes. A great burst of smoke erupted from the side of the wars.h.i.+p as twenty artillery sh.e.l.ls arced across the s.p.a.ce between the two s.h.i.+ps. Most of the missiles flew wide, but two of them found their target. The uppermost section of the steam yacht's bow imploded as the heavy sh.e.l.ls tore through.

'Strike confirmed,' the first officer said. 'Upper bow.'

The bell pipe rang twice.

'Re-range for six knots and scatter,' Howlish said. 'Twenty through forty, red stations.'

'Twenty through forty. Re-range and scatter. Aye, sir.'

The second barrage tore part of the roof off the steam yacht's wheelhouse and blew a funnel cleat and cable away, but the Haurstaf gunners missed the bow entirely. The other s.h.i.+p came steaming straight towards them, faster than ever.

Howlish yawned. 'Bear away,' he said. 'Ready chasers. Port guns one through twenty, red stations. Fire crews to stand by.'

'She's not deviating, sir,' the first officer said.

'She'll deviate. Ring the commands, Officer Lum.'

Bells sounded outside. The helmsman spun the wheel. Out on the storm-blown deck Guild mariners began hauling in the mainsail. Slowly, the wars.h.i.+p turned her stern towards the approaching yacht.

The first officer frowned. 'She's still not deviating, sir,' he said in a hushed voice. 'She going to hit us.'

Howlish's eyes narrowed. 'What is the madman doing? He'll sink us both. Fire the chasers.'

The first officer began madly ringing the bell pipe.

But Briana could see that it was too late. Granger's s.h.i.+p was going to crash into them.

'Broad reach,' Howlish cried.

The comspool began to chatter out tape.

'Chasers ready, sir.'

'Leave the chasers. Put us on a broad reach now.'

The helmsman spun the wheel back.

Through the driving rain Briana saw the steam yacht bearing down on them, waves cras.h.i.+ng against its thunderbolt-wielding figurehead. A solitary figure stood at the wheel amidst the shattered bridge. The Herald Herald's stern was now inching away, but not fast enough. Briana tensed for the impact.

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