Ship Breaker (Ship Breaker #1)(72)

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!”

Pole Star was on top of them. Nailer could see half-men on the gunwales, twirling grappling hooks, eager to leap aboard. Dauntless’s sails flapped and then suddenly filled with wind. Dauntless surged forward again, gaining speed. Pole Star threw herself up beside them, seeking to grapple, but Dauntless lunged past, carried by the surf.

“Right!” Nailer yelled. “Go right!” He could see the island. The teeth were already beneath them. The big ones would be. They were going to run aground.

“Starboard is what we call it,” Candless said dryly as he spun the wheel. The man seemed strangely relaxed suddenly. Dauntless surged forward, shoved by the waves toward the rocky outcrop of the island, and then they were sucking through the shallows and past the island and the Teeth.

The ship settled into the bay’s relative calm.

“Storm anchors!” Captain Candless shouted as the crew furled the ship’s sails. Dauntless wallowed, then shuddered and swung about as prow anchors bit. Waves rushed against her sudden immobility. She turned with the waves, her nose pointing out into the surf, and then the aft anchors dropped and the ship stilled.

Nailer clambered down from the conning deck and out into the slash of the rain.

“Launch in two!” Reynolds shouted. “Prepare to board!”

Lightning flashed. The great bulk of the Pole Star was coming for them. Nailer clutched the rail as the monster roared in. “Fates,” he whispered, and touched his forehead. He hadn’t realized he was religious until just now, but suddenly he found himself praying.