He checked the wide expanse all about the ship. Nothing gave him pause. In the distance, leagues ahead, he thought he saw a dark stain on the horizon. That would be the Continent and the Stormwall, still a day's worth of travel at their current rate. He called out to the lookouts at their stations. Their answering cries came back a few moments later. The ocean was free of nearby islets that might harbor more scryn.
As good a place as any. He looked again to the gearbox, where a brass tube emerged from its top. Earlier, the Mechanist had informed him that it would allow vocal communication down to the furnace-room where he resided. Fengel cleared his throat, leaned forward and spoke clearly. "Cool engines. Full stop."
He waited for acknowledgement. There was no reply. Fengel frowned and leaned in closer, wondering if he'd been heard. The Mechanist would be irritated, having just gotten the furnace fired up again. He opened his mouth to speak again and a shrill cacophony erupted from the tube. Fengel jerked back in startlement, his ears suddenly ringing.
Apparently it worked. The rhythm of the furnace below changed, its constant low vibration slowed. He glanced back to the stern to see the steam-pipe exhaust dwindling, the chain-driven propellers halting in their spin.
Fengel waved down a passing crew-woman, Andrea Holt. He gave her the wheel and told her to keep it steady, then walked up to listen to Lucian's reports on the state of ship and crew. His first mate stood up near the bow. Fengel started to make his way up, but stopped a short distance from the helm. The new girl, Miss Stone, crouched furtively near the port-side gunwales.
Lucky, indeed, to have you along. The incident with the skysails was embarrassing, but losing them entirely would have been disastrous. Not to mention expensive. As well, though, her quick thinking with the scryn-swarm would have her firmly in the crew's good-books, raising him again in their eyes as well for letting her aboard. Who knew that a Triskelion doxy would prove so useful? "Miss Stone?" he asked. "Are you well?"
Lina whirled in surprise. She clutched a hip flask in one hand, white-knuckled. "Yes!" she cried, over-loud. "I'm fine! Perfectly fine." She smiled, leaning back against the exhaust-pipe. "How are you?"
Fengel paused for a moment to consider the question. He felt tired from the stress and the strain of their recent exertions. Mistakes had just been made, and they were his to own. Abruptly an acute pang of loneliness washed over him. In times past there would have been someone else to prop him up, help check his blind spots and poor decisions. His wife...
He blinked, surprised at the feeling. He shoved it aside as a pointless and treacherous line of thought. I've been better, but also a lot worse. Fengel smiled at Lina. "Capital," he said, "thanks in no small part to you." A caustic stench tickled his nose, making him sneeze. Only one thing smelled like that. The flask in her hand must be filled with Cure-all. "Good Goddess above." He waved a hand to disperse the stink. "You're not actually drinking that stuff, are you?"
Lina appeared to notice the flask in her hand for the first time. She jerked it behind her back. "No! No, I—" She quieted, calculation in her eyes. Then she pulled the flask back around, staring at it. "Yes," she continued, voice now deadpan. "Yes, that is what I am doing." She glanced down at the flask, and then back up again at him, as if trying to decide whether to take a swig from it, and really hoping not to.
Fengel frowned. Miss Stone was acting decidedly suspicious. Then it came to him. "It's all right," he said with a smile. "We're pirates, not Perinese sailors, Miss Stone. It's fine, so long as you're not drunk on watch." Everyone dealt with the stress of battle differently. And she had been through a lot today, not including getting reprimanded by Lucian awhile before. "You're not the first to calm their nerves with drink after a bit of a scuff."
"Chirr."
Miss Stone went pale as a sheet. Fengel raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry?"
Lina coughed, fist to her mouth. "Um, hrm. Excuse me. That was...ah. That was me." She glanced around like a cornered animal. "I may have overdone it? I'm a little drunk?"
Fengel nodded. "Perfectly understandable. But as I said, please remember that your watch is on in several hours." He leaned in. "Personally, if you want some advice, you're going to want something that takes the edge off but doesn't put you under too much. Cure-all is something I would probably stay away from."
Lina stared at him. Then she nodded eagerly. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." She glanced back up the deck toward the bow. "I'd, ah, I'd best get below for a bit. Henry said I should avoid Mr. Thorne for a little while to come."