Iron Rage. James Axler
us.â
âButââ
âIf you think Mildred would do as good a job taking care of the Diesels as you would, by all means swap places with her. But somebody needs to be down with those engines, and not just Maggie. Sheâs ace, but doesnât have a third of your chops.â
Myron bobbed his balding head. âAye-aye, uh, Captain.â He turned and hurried back below, shaking his head at the sad mess that was all that remained of Edna.
Ryan and J.B. had settled Krysty on the floor, as clear as they could of the still slightly smoking Edna, the captain, andâmost important, in Ryanâs viewâthe helmswomanâs feet. He had folded his long black coat and propped her head up against it. Her hair lay limply across it, as if eager to give up the fight.
âThank you, lover,â she said as he kissed her cheek and straightened. âIâll be back on my feet before you know it.â
âNot before I tell you youâre ready,â Mildred said sternly, not even looking around from examining the captainâs dressing.
âLetâs go, J.B.â Ryan jerked his chin to the door. Though the Queen sported powered pumps, at times like this they used hand pumps to allow the engines to devote full power to driving the vessel and her burden. From the way the deck shuddered beneath his feet, he knew that Myron had followed his wifeâs initial order to redline them and keep them there, regardless.
Ryan approved. His own team worked that way: if he told them to do something that pushed the envelope, or even seemed flat crazyâand their own judgment told them it might actually be worth a tryâthey did it. And they usually pulled it off.
âRyan.â Traceâs voice rasped as if sheâd been gargling lye. âStay. If you will.â
That latter part was one of the shipboard niceties the captain liked to maintain, and Ryan knew it. He turned back. Aboard the Queen, she was his boss. And in this case what she was calling him back from was adding the strength of his back and arms to saving her ship.
âI need youâ¦to advise me,â she said. âWeâve had more than one run-in with people who want this cargo, and Iâve seen that you know something about tactics.â
âYouâre the authority on ship-handling,â he said. âI canât pretend to know nuke about it.â
âWe put ourâ¦heads together, then,â she said, managing a wan smile.
She was triple tough, there was no question. When her ship and crew were on the line, she would do her job and die doing it. For their part, the crew knew it, and responded accordingly.
Even Ryan and his people knew that. Good, honest bosses were hard to come by.
âIâm fresh out of ideas, now,â he admitted, as another volley came rushing in with a hurricane sound.
He felt a tremor beneath his feet, accompanied by a thunderous bang from astern. Immediately voices began screaming, âFire! Fire on the barge!â
A moment later, Suzan Kenn appeared in the door, her gray-shot brown hair in more than the usual disarray.
âA shell hit the barge right where the lumber meets the cloth bales, Captain!â she exclaimed breathlessly. âShe started burning like Billy Jesus right off the mark. The only hope weâve got of dousing the blaze is turning on the power to the pumps.â
âWe canât do that,â Trace rapped. âCut her loose.â
Suzan blinked. âCaptain?â
âAre you sure, Trace?â Arliss asked.
He was the Mississippi Queenâs master rigger, which meant he kept the steering linkages in top shape, among other duties. A little guy, somewhere between J.B. and Jak in size, he had a short frizz of graying hair and a beard, prominent ears, and a missing right front incisor. He was the second-best financial mind on board, after the now-deceased Edna, and usually advised the Conoyers in negotiations, a job Edna had been too shy to do well. Like everybody aboard the Queen, he was ace at his job, and Ryan knew that part of his job was to keep his captainâs eye on the bottom line.
âThe priceââ
âProbably wonât buy us a new ship, Arliss, and definitely wonât buy a new us. We canât die for the load.â
âBut Baron Teddyââ
âWill have toââ she winced at a twinge of pain as Mildred adjusted the bandage ââdeal with his disappointment. We can send him a nice note from upstream. He knew the risks when he ordered the goods. Cut her loose, Suzan.â
âWait,â Ryan said.
Everybody looked at him. âYou sound like a man with a plan,â Trace told him.
âI donât know if Iâd dignify it by calling it that,â he said. âYet. Give me a minute to look outside.â
Suzan started to pull back away from the door as he headed for it. Then she ducked hastily inside at the thud and shudder of another impact.
Ryanâs nut-sack tightened in anticipation of the following explosion, which didnât come. He poked his head outside.
The middle-aged deckhand had not been lying. Great clouds of white smoke were pouring out of the barge. He could see flames leaping to a height he judged to be higher than his head. He doubted their ability to put out the fire, even with power to drive water at good pressure through hoses stretched far astern. That wasnât anything he knew much about, but his gut told him he was right. He trusted it.
The wind was still blowing out of the east and freshening slightly as the sun headed for the horizon behind the tall weeds of the western shore. There was already a respectable wall of smoke extending across the wide river in that direction.
The Queen was almost turned clean south. Ryan glanced upriver. As he feared, the half-dozen or so smaller craft giving chase were closer now, and at least three of them were big enough to be what he took for the so-called frigates, and armored.
They had one bit of luck: when he stepped briefly out to the rail to look astern, he could only see the easternmost of the bigger Poteetville ships now lying broadside to their fleeing prey. The rest were completely blanketed by a brown-gray haze of their own gun smoke. That was the thing about black powder weapons: unless you had a wind blowing up double brisk, you only had a few good shots before you were nigh-on blinded by a smoke screen of your own creation. The only bonus to that was that if your enemy was similarly armed, they had the same problem.
Good to know, but not particularly significant, Ryan thought. They were getting close to the point at which there was no sense wasting the powder and ball in hopes of scoring some lucky hits. In fact, he couldnât see any muzzle-flashes from the stationary capital ships and frigates, even the one that was mostly clear because the breeze blew its gun smoke away. But the pursuing vessels all had bow cannon, even the patrol boats, and they were all banging lustily away as soon as their crews could reload them, which wasnât fast, fortunately.
But now Ryan had his plan. He smiled and stepped back inside.
âItâs about time to straighten the rudder to run downstream, Captain,â Nataly said as he reentered the bridge. She had gotten her strength back and stood tall.
Trace had her eyes shut and her head back against the bulkhead, but she was awake and alert.
âYou still have the helm,â she said, wearily but firmly.
âKeep us turning counterclockwise,â Ryan said. âUh, to port.â
Nataly