long island. The
Red Throat
âs muzzles flashed again. I hit the deck, but the volley sailed wide of us. When I got back up, my uncle was watching me with an amused smirk.
âSon, when your numberâs up, ducking wonât cheat the reaper. What happened to your wrist?â
âI, um . . .â I didnât want to tell him the truth, but my brain got stuck, and I couldnât come up with anything else. âFell out of my hammock.â
Healyâs smirk widened, and I felt my cheeks turn hot. âWhat happened to your head?â I asked, just to change the subject.
âSame thing.â He winked at me with his one good eye, and I couldnât help smiling.
The cannon roared under our feet. Healy whipped his head around in time to see the
Red Throat
âs crooked foremast fall still farther off its line before the smoke from our guns blocked the view.
âNot bad,â Healy murmured. âPity we canât finish her here.â
âBecause of the patch failing?â I asked.
He nodded. âDo you understand whatâs happening?â
âNot really,â I admitted.
âOur enemies are down to three ships. And if I hadnât lost the ability to maneuver at speed, we might have settled things right here. But thatâs no longer an option. So weâre plotting a course through the Fangs.â
He pointed at the channel in front of us.
âWhen we get closer, youâll see why they call it thatâitâs quite shallow, with a lot of exposed rock sticking up like teeth. Very tricky to navigate, and for all his bluster, the Ripperâs a rather timid sailor. Couple that with him losing a mast, and itâs likely heâll break off. Take the long way around Finger Island and try to catch us on the other side.â Healy glanced back at the
Red Throat,
which was coming into view again now that the smoke was clearing.
Its muzzles flashed a third time. Healy didnât even blink, and I had to fight the urge to flop onto my belly.
âBut I suspect
Li Homaya
âs got just the right mix of stupidity and arroganceââhe didnât bother to pause even as the boom of the
Red Throat
âs cannon reached us, and its latest round sizzled into the sea not more than ten yards from the shipââto follow us into the Fangs. If he does, heâll either sink on the rocks or run aground at the far end, and we can finish him off as we please. And if heâs got brains enough not to follow us, heâll have to take the long way around with the Ripper. Thatâll give us time to position ourselves upwind on the far side before we reengageâwhich should help compensate for the fact that I can no longer turn to port without punching a hole in my ship. Any questions?â
I thought back to the ominous looks on Spiggsâs and Pikeâs faces. âJust, um . . . the tide?â
Healyâs mouth turned down at one corner. âThatâs the one fly in the ointment. If the tideâs too low, thereâs a chance
weâll
run aground. In which case . . . the forward cannon on those men-of-war will make rather quick work of us.â
The voice of a lookout called down from the crowâs nest.
âRed Throatâs
breaking off!â
Healy looked back at the Ripperâs ship. Her bow was nosing around, turning away from us.
Healy smiled. âAnd so he goes.â
Over the next ten minutes, there were a few final rounds of cannon fireâwhich kept me sweaty with fear even though they didnât faze my uncle a bitâbut soon enough, the
Red Throat
was showing us her stern, the cockeyed foremast poking out to starboard like a broken tree branch.
Healy yawned as he watched her limp off toward the men-of-war, still moving in our direction. âThink Iâll snatch a nap while we find out if the Short-Ears are game. Youâre welcome to string a hammock in my cabin if you
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
John O'Riley
Brenda Sinclair
Christopher George
Stephen Lloyd Jones
Karl Iagnemma
Celya Bowers
Jill Gregory
Aria Cunningham