CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Captain Hink scanned the sky, his gun in his hand. Everyone was spread out among the boulders outside the opening to the tunnel, weapons drawn, waiting for the Swift.
But all he could hear was the engine from another vessel, bigger, heavier. A vessel he did not know.
He cussed and kept a sky eye. If he didn’t hear the Swift soon, then they’d all take cover back in the tunnel and hope the other ship didn’t get a hard read on that flare.
And while they were at it they could hope Old Jack hadn’t happened to see the flare light up the eastern sky, and wasn’t willing to send his boys around to do some more shooting.
They were trapped. He was wounded. And unless they wanted to run through the mountain range on the turn of winter with no provisions other than a few blankets and lanterns, there wasn’t anything else they could do but wait for the Swift.
There was the chance the ship wasn’t headed toward them, but was coincidentally stopping off at Old Jack’s to resupply. Hink had never met a coincidence he was willing to bet his life on.
The engine grew louder, but the peaks threw the sound around and broke it up so bad that for all he could tell, there were two or three ships out there.
“Two engines,” Cedar said from where he stood with the wolf not too far off from Hink.
Hink tipped his head. “Either you’re full of wishing, Mr. Hunt, or you have damn sharp ears.”
“I gave up wishing years ago,” Cedar said. “Is it the Swift?”
Hink took a breath and held it, straining to hear the familiar fans of his vessel. She’d be coming in fast, or at least he hoped to hell she was coming in fast for them.
Every time he thought he had a bead on it, the wind changed and snatched away the rumble of the fans, and all he heard instead was Theobald sneeze, or the brush around them rustle and scratch.
Cedar Hunt had said he heard two engines.
There. Yes. Hink could make out the pulses of two different ships.
One wasn’t the Swift.
But he would bet his bottom dollar the other was.
“Two ships,” he said, loud enough the others could hear. “One’s the Swift. I’d say she’s coming from the…south?” He glanced at Cedar.
Cedar nodded.
“She’ll land if we have time. If not, if that other ship decides to take a swat at us, or worse, tries to shoot us dead, then we might want to do a running board. Ever done that?”
Miss Dupuis shook her head. “Explain. And we’ll follow.”
“If she lowers ropes, you can catch them and hold on, they’ll winch you up. If it’s a ladder, get on and climb. If it’s the nets, hold still and let them bring you up. And no matter what it is that you’re holding on to, for glim’s sake, hold tight. The winds can knock the skin right off you.
“If there ain’t any time to pull us up, they’ll fly us out of range of the other ship, then take us aboard. It’ll be cold, and breathing might not be a lot of fun, but you’ll survive if you don’t let go.”
“Isn’t there anything else we can do?” Theobald asked.
“Sure,” Hink said. “If you get fired on by a ship that isn’t made of tin, shoot back.”
The wait was nerve-racking. The rattle of fans grew closer and closer until it was all that filled the air. Hink thought the Swift’s engines sounded louder, stronger than the other ship’s.
She might be closer. Seldom was a fine pilot in his own right. He knew how to skim the sky. Maybe he’d slip in before that other vessel.
But as the ships neared, Hink began to wonder if he’d have to set off another flare. He waited, hoping the Swift was closer than the other ship, hoping she’d got a good read on where they were tucked in.
He knew from experience it was difficult at best to wave down an airship. If they wanted feet off the ground, he’d have to shoot another light to guide them in.
Hink stood, aimed straight up. Mr. Hunt looked over at him, and whispered something to Wil, who was crouched tight by his side, and looking…different somehow. It was like the wolf was suddenly tired, all the steam out of him, without enough strength to even lift his head.
Hink hoped he wasn’t injured.
“Make fast for her,” Hink said. He squeezed the trigger and sent another wild orange and pink flare into the sky, blooming like a flower against the muddy sky.
“On the ready!” he called out.
He’d been right. The ships hadn’t caught tight to their location.
But now a ship homed into view. Twice as big as the Swift and painted red on her belly, the vessel was all one piece with an attached gondola, like the Swift, nets and lashes attached to her, but no trawling arms. She lifted up over the peak to the north, then nosed down toward them, tail in the air, like a kid bobbing for apples.
Nosing down revealed all the guns and cannons strapped to her. She wasn’t just coming in to Old Jack’s to resupply. She had seen their flare and was coming for them.
Crouched beside rocks, they weren’t under enough cover to resist an aerial attack. And those guns had a hell of a lot more range than their firearms. As soon as the ship leveled out and swung broadside, they’d be easy pickings.
Then they’d be dead.
“Do you know her?” Miss Dupuis asked.
“Not yet,” Hink said. “Turn, you bitch,” he whispered to the ship. “Let’s see your true colors.”
The ship swung to the side and her shadow drew a net of darkness across the valley, rolling over scrub and stone.
“The Devil’s Nine,” Hink said, a mix of dread and hatred rising hot through his veins. She’d gotten her name for how many cannons she carried. “That’s Alabaster Saint’s ship,” he yelled to the others.
The ship was still too high to shoot, but it wouldn’t be long before those cannons opened up.
They were about to be blasted into little bits.
If they had been spotted. There was a chance, not much of one but some, that the men aboard the ship couldn’t see them huddled in the shadows of the stones with the failing light of day.
Hink’s heart beat hard and even. Time to make choices.
Run while they were still out of firing range? Or stay still and hope they searched the next valley?
“Steady,” Cedar said, thinking along the same lines as him. “The ship is full of Strange. We bolt and they’ll chase us through that tunnel and tear us to shreds. We can’t outrun them.”
“I can’t,” Hink agreed. “You and your brother could.”
Cedar looked over his shoulder at him, his eyes the color of burnt copper. “We stay together.”
“Hold,” Hink said to the sound of shifting rocks behind him.
“Captain,” Miss Dupuis said, angling a spyglass to the sky, “there’s another ship.”
Hink craned his neck to see sky around the Devil’s Nine and squinted against the clouds.
Another ship. Coming in high and fast, sweet and slick as a silver needle glowing bronze as she sang through the clouds.
“The Swift!” he yelled.
She was coming in too damn fast.
At first he thought Guffin was at the wheel, overshooting the valley. But then the Swift tucked wing and turned, pulling around so hard you could hear the sails pop. She powered up above and behind Alabaster’s ship. That was one of Seldom’s moves.
The Swift dropped dozens of Old Jack’s glass jug firebombs that they’d smuggled along with the coal they’d loaded when they first landed.
Half the bombs hit the ship and started her on fire. The other half hit the ground and also ignited flames.
Hink let out a belly laugh. There wasn’t a situation in the world Seldom couldn’t cure with an explosion and burning something to the ground.