to comprehend her peril, the ship returned fire. The shots came with an irregularity and inaccuracy that robbed them of threat. The peril of the “lucky shot” became more real, when a ball flew near enough over the quarterdeck for everyone to duck.
“Get below,” Thomas cried at Cate over the roar of guns.
“No!”
“Get below.”
Cate balled her fists and braced as he stormed toward her. “I will not,” she shouted up at him. Truth be told, Nathan would have never allowed her to remain on deck, but she had no intention of skulking below, amid the butts and hogsheads, left to wonder what was happening.
“Nathan would hang me by the balls if something was to happen to you.”
“Then tell him it was my fault.”
The blue eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “Small help coming from the grave. Damnation! How in the hell does he manage you?”
Rumbling oaths under his breath, Thomas spun away.
Backs glistening with sweat, the gun crews labored, driven by the indignation of being fired upon by a vessel deemed barely worthy: swabbing, ramming, loading, and then, with a rumble of wheels, hauling home the carriages. The space between the ships was thick with grey clouds of smoke, the lick of flame harbingers of another incoming round.
The Griselle dealt her damage, but took it as well: a foreyard was sheared, another shot snarling the forestays. There was the pained cry, and then two more. Sections of rail amidships burst into a shower of splinters. A jet of water shot skyward when the scuttlebutt was hit.
“Sharp shooters aloft! An extra ration to the one to take out that captain,” Thomas cried.
The ratlines went dark with men bearing muskets scampering skyward. Lethal barrages erupted in overlapping waves, the smoke and smell of gunpowder curling down to merge with what already swirled about the deck.
Shying under the Griselle’s accuracy, the ship veered on a larboard tack, putting her course directly across the Morganse’s forefoot once more. The turn brought her stern into view, Capricorn emblazoned on the sternplate. In a brazen move, she attempted to rake the Morganse with a sputter of guns as she crossed, but lacked both accuracy and angle to be effective. Squinting to see through the acrid-smelling smoke, Cate could see the Morganse’s damage: holes in the sails and the occasional spout of splinters.
The two pirate ships crisscrossed each other’s path with drill-like precision, the Capricorn always in the middle. The maneuver allowed each to maintain their speed, the gun crews smoothly shifting from side to side as they carved their turns. The Capricorn found herself in the dubious position of having to maintain a two-sided barrage. The pounding from both sides would render her decks a hellish scene. Canvas and wood was no match for 12 to 18 pounds of hurtled iron. The Capricorn wasn’t without teeth, however. A volley carried away two of the Morganse’s jibs and rigging, another hitting her foreroyal.
The Capricorn finally swerved away from the Morganse. This time, she carried too much sail, too high. The wind heeled her over, until her chains plowed the water. Her crew scrambled to compensate, but not before canvas and yards were carried away. The Morganse took advantage of the resulting lull in the Capricorn’s headway to put her sails between the Capricorn and the wind.
“Well, he’s got ’er!” Thomas came up alongside Cate, and shouted to the helmsman, “Lay ’er in irons. Let’s see what this rabbit is going to do.”
The Griselle’s bow nosed to the wind and slid to a halt.
“Now what?” Unable to tear her eyes from the two ships, Cate could barely breathe the question.
His hands coming to rest on the weaponry at his waist, Thomas lifted one shoulder in a casual gesture. “Nathan sends a boarding party, finds what he seeks, and takes it.”
“Sounds easy enough.”
“It is, if the good captain there chooses to abide. If he opts to resist…” He paused, pursing his lips. “Aye, it could be a mite nasty.”
“Nasty?” Cate turned to glare up at him. “Nasty!”
“Hand-to-hand combat, blood on the decks; ’tis always nasty business.” He looked down at her with teasing glint and a wide grin. “Don’t worry! One wrong move and we’ll be on that ship like sharks on a carcass. Nathan knows what he’s doing.”
“People could be getting killed over there,” she called to Thomas’ back..
“Then don’t watch.”
“Damned pirates,” she muttered under her breath.
Thomas took his leave, his laugh carrying back to Cate as she pushed the hair from her face. The Morganse’s momentum had carried