Blue Sea Burning by Geoff Rodkey Page B

long island. The
Red Throat
’s 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.
    â€œSon, when your number’s up, ducking won’t cheat the reaper. What happened to your wrist?”
    â€œI, um . . .” I didn’t want to tell him the truth, but my brain got stuck, and I couldn’t come up with anything else. “Fell out of my hammock.”
    Healy’s smirk widened, and I felt my cheeks turn hot. “What happened to your head?” I asked, just to change the subject.
    â€œSame thing.” He winked at me with his one good eye, and I couldn’t help smiling.
    The cannon roared under our feet. Healy whipped his head around in time to see the
Red Throat
’s crooked foremast fall still farther off its line before the smoke from our guns blocked the view.
    â€œNot bad,” Healy murmured. “Pity we can’t finish her here.”
    â€œBecause of the patch failing?” I asked.
    He nodded. “Do you understand what’s happening?”
    â€œNot really,” I admitted.
    â€œOur enemies are down to three ships. And if I hadn’t lost the ability to maneuver at speed, we might have settled things right here. But that’s no longer an option. So we’re plotting a course through the Fangs.”
    He pointed at the channel in front of us.
    â€œWhen we get closer, you’ll see why they call it that—it’s quite shallow, with a lot of exposed rock sticking up like teeth. Very tricky to navigate, and for all his bluster, the Ripper’s a rather timid sailor. Couple that with him losing a mast, and it’s likely he’ll break off. Take the long way around Finger Island and try to catch us on the other side.” 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 didn’t even blink, and I had to fight the urge to flop onto my belly.
    â€œBut I suspect
Li Homaya
’s got just the right mix of stupidity and arrogance”—he didn’t bother to pause even as the boom of the
Red Throat
’s cannon reached us, and its latest round sizzled into the sea not more than ten yards from the ship—“to follow us into the Fangs. If he does, he’ll either sink on the rocks or run aground at the far end, and we can finish him off as we please. And if he’s got brains enough not to follow us, he’ll have to take the long way around with the Ripper. That’ll give us time to position ourselves upwind on the far side before we reengage—which should help compensate for the fact that I can no longer turn to port without punching a hole in my ship. Any questions?”
    I thought back to the ominous looks on Spiggs’s and Pike’s faces. “Just, um . . . the tide?”
    Healy’s mouth turned down at one corner. “That’s the one fly in the ointment. If the tide’s too low, there’s a chance
we’ll
run aground. In which case . . . the forward cannon on those men-of-war will make rather quick work of us.”
    The voice of a lookout called down from the crow’s nest.
    â€œRed Throat’s
breaking off!”
    Healy looked back at the Ripper’s ship. Her bow was nosing around, turning away from us.
    Healy smiled. “And so he goes.”
    Over the next ten minutes, there were a few final rounds of cannon fire—which kept me sweaty with fear even though they didn’t faze my uncle a bit—but 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. “Think I’ll snatch a nap while we find out if the Short-Ears are game. You’re welcome to string a hammock in my cabin if you