Sea of Ghosts - Alan Campbell [128]
‘The bastard has a full gun crew in there,’ Howlish said.
The Trumpet was fully ablaze now and going down fast. Smoke engulfed the Song, but Briana thought she spied flames there too. The second warship was turning now, attempting to take herself out of the path of Granger’s guns while bringing her remaining cannons to bear on the yacht’s stern.
Briana heard Pascal’s voice burst into her head: We need assistance. I’m calling the Guild.
Do not contact the Guild, Briana replied. Maintain silence.
We’re on fire, Pascal exclaimed. 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. 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/ASSIST
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 warship on his port side. She was trying to reach now, which was fine by Granger. Evidently the warship’s captain did not know the state of his own gun deck.
Granger’s real target lay ahead of him. The 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:
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 ship into battle. The signal officer was flashing the Song, 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 hell 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 warship into the wind. The deck pitched as the Herald’s sails took up the strain. Rain lashed the wheelhouse glass. 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 crashing 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’s cannon fired. A single shell flew out across the sea, but landed short of Granger