“Is this a city killer?” he asked.
The captain shook his head. “No. But still a complication. Makes everything more ticklish.”
“We can dodge them in the storm,” Reynolds suggested.
“They’ll have their radar on us, pinging us the whole way,” Candless said. “The only way we escape is if we leave them wrecked.”
“You could get Miss Nita killed if she’s aboard.”
Candless scowled at Reynolds. “You think I don’t know it?” He looked away. “It’s an ugly business. We’ll put a crew of boarders on, try to pull her off in the confusion.”
“You don’t know it will work.”
“Thank you, Reynolds. I appreciate your input. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let us all die because we’re too squeamish to take the one advantage we’ve got.”
Dauntless hurtled through the storm. When the winds became too uncertain, the captain ordered the high sail reefed. It came down, its monofilament wire ripping and squealing as the cannon reels dragged the flapping parasail toward the deck. A shriek rose over the lash of the storm. The reel jammed. Knot and Vine and Trimble hurried for the cannon. The parasail whipped sideways in the wind and Dauntless heeled with the sudden shifting drag.
From the con, through the rain, Nailer could see the crew fighting with the reel. Beside him, Captain Candless held the ship’s wheel. He shook his head. “Tell them to cut it,” he said.
Nailer looked at him uncertainly.
“Go, boy! Now! Cut it loose.”
Nailer dashed down to the deck. He barely remembered to hook himself to an anchor before he went out into the wind’s lash. A wave washed over the prow of the deck, knocking him off his feet. He skidded into the main mast with a numbing impact. He struggled to his feet and stumbled across the pitching deck.
“Cut it!” he shouted over the storm’s roar.
Knot glanced at him, then up at the captain. A blade came out and with a fierce slash, the monofilament line parted. The wire whipped up and away, writhing like a snake. The parasail disappeared into cloud belly darkness.
Watching it go, Nailer wondered if the ship had lost an advantage that they would miss later. Knot gave him a sad little smile. “Can’t be helped, boy.” And then he was running to join the rest of the crew as they unfurled the main sails in the storm.
Nailer watched in awe as the crew fought to do their work. Rain slashed them. The seas rose and tried to drown them with huge surging waves, but still they grimly wrestled the ship to their will. And Dauntless responded. She surged through the stormy sea, lunging into wave troughs and then climbing their slopes before plowing down into the next deep liquid ravine. All around, waves rose high and monstrous. Nailer clung to the rail, clipped to his safety lines and out of the way of the feverish work as the crew fought their ship forward.
Night fell heavy on them. Except for the occasional blast of lightning, it was black. Somewhere behind them, Pole Star pursued, but Nailer couldn’t see it and had no idea where it was. It was nice to pretend that its sleek outline wasn’t back there, hunting, but it was a fantasy.
Eventually Captain Candless gave the word and they started shunting toward the coast, running closer to where they would attempt their trickery. Despite night blindness, the Pole Star would follow, sniffing at them with its radar arrays. And indeed, when Nailer finally ducked out of the elements to drink a hot cup of coffee, Dauntless’s main radar showed the bloody blip of the fighting ship closing still.
Nailer sucked in his breath. “They’re close.”
The captain nodded, his face grim. “Closer than we’d like. Go aft and look.”
Nailer ran to a ladder and climbed up through the ship’s aft hatch. Rain beat down on him. Salt foam rushed around his ankles as the ship tore through another wave and climbed sickeningly.
Nailer stared back into the slash of rain.
Lightning ripped the darkness and thunder exploded. The Pole Star appeared, closer than he would have guessed, rising over a wave crest and crashing down again. It disappeared again into the darkness.
When Nailer returned to the con, the captain said, “They kept their high sails up longer than we did. They’ve got a more stable ship.”
“What are they going to do?”
The captain stared at the radar blip of their pursuer. “They’re going to threaten us and then they’re going to board us.”
“In the storm?”
“They’ve fought in worse seas. The Arctic is the worst fighting on the planet. They aren’t afraid of a little rain and waves.”
The captain leaned close to Nailer. “Just between us, boy, you’re sure about those teeth?”
Nailer made himself nod, but the captain didn’t let him go. “This is a gamble. The kind I don’t like. The kind that killed Miss Nita’s last ship, you understand?” He jerked his head toward the decks, indicating his crew. “Maybe you think your own life’s cheap, but you’re risking everyone else here, too.”
Nailer looked away. “In clear weather…” He trailed off. Finally he looked up at the captain. “I don’t know. In the dark? In a storm?” He shook his head. “I’ve been out on the bay, and been through the gap, but I don’t know if it will work or not. Not like this.”
The captain nodded. He stared back again into the darkness where their pursuer lurked. “Fair enough. Not the answer I wanted. But honest. We’ll trust the Fates, then.”
“You’re still going to try?” Nailer asked.
“Sometimes it’s better to die trying.”
“What about everyone else?”
Candless was solemn. “They knew the risks of coming with me when we left the Orleans. There were always safer options than crewing with an old loyalist like me.” He pointed to the nav screens and the infrared feeds of the shoreline, glowing green before them, flaring with lightning flashes. “Now be my eyes, boy. Help us find safe harbor.”
Nailer watched the screens. The shadows of shoreline showed, lit by more lightning flashes. A cannon boomed behind them. A missile streaked overhead.
“She’s afraid we’re going to make a run into the jungles,” Candless observed.
Nailer looked back. “Are they going to sink us?”
“Pole Star is not your problem!” The captain grabbed Nailer’s shoulder and pointed him forward. “Your problem is out there! Show me where we need to be!”
Nailer bent to the screens, scanned the black shoreline ahead. The island glowed on screen. He frowned. No. That was wrong. It was some other hill. Everything was different in the dark and rain. The ship heaved through the waves.
“I don’t see it,” he said. He tried to peer though the rain-spattered glass. Saw nothing but blackness.
“Look harder, then!” The captain’s fingers dug into his shoulder.
Nailer stared at the darkness. It was impossible. The land in the scopes’ view was all a blur of vegetation and selfsame coast. He stared into the rain again, looking through the forward windscreens. Another slash of lightning. Another. And then a ripping crack of thunder. He saw the island and gasped. They were too far off.
“Back there!” He pointed. “We’re past it!”
The captain cursed. He hurled the wheel over, calling orders to the crew. The sails cracked and flapped ineffectually. The ship rocked violently as a wave took it from an unexpected angle. The shadow of a crewman plunged from the mast, then jerked to a halt, dangling precariously from a harness. The sail’s boom swept across the deck. Dauntless came around. Suddenly the great bulk of the Pole Star loomed over them, bearing down. Dauntless was wallowing in the waves, her sails flapping uncertainly. Down on the deck, Nailer could hear Reynolds shouting, “Make fast! Make fast!” as she prepared the crew to run aground. “Hands on the pumps!”