Fengel looked up to the bow where his first mate stood. "Don't worry yourself overmuch, Miss Stone. You surprised us all at first when we realized what you were doing; we didn't understand. That's forgiven, though. We're not some Navy ship, ready to punish quick thinking. Lucian's just upset now that he didn't catch that detail about our lovely new vessel. Still, maybe you should head down below, if only to find something else to drink."
Lina smiled, bright and brittle. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." The young woman turned back to the gunwales and pulled a hempen sack up and out from between it and the exhaust-pipes. "Chirr," she seemed to say again. Glancing furtively about, she bowed to him and ran for the aft hatch belowdecks.
Fengel watched her go, then shook his head. "Strange girl," he muttered.
He examined the ship as he made his way up to the bow. Blood smeared the boards, most of it the black ichors of the scryn. Fengel swore another curse at the horrible creatures under his breath. They really were vile things, and one of several reasons he didn't fly much in this direction. Though he'd never seen it himself, there were horror stories of scryn-swarms burrowing into the frames of the airship gasbags, attracted to the smell of light-air gas. Inevitably such stricken vessels crashed into the ocean with no survivors. Fengel did have to wonder at that last bit, though. If no one survived, how did anyone know about it?
The crew took notice of him as he passed, calling greetings. Fengel returned the favor, and commended those who'd fought well. His men and women were all skilled and confident in their abilites, he knew, but, like everyone else, they liked it to be noticed. Fengel made sure that he did; it was one of the many carefully orchestrated reasons they all stayed so loyal to him.
Up near the bow, he finally found Lucian. The first mate was eyeing a stanchion connecting an anchor line to the gas-bag above. "The little vermin will chew on anything," he muttered at Fengel's approach.
"Did they go after anything else?" asked Fengel.
Lucian turned to his captain. "No, thankfully. The new girl got rid of them before they had a chance to really run wild. As for the ship herself; we knew she was a beauty, guess that means she's a bit more delicate than we thought too. I chatted with the Mechanist."
Fengel raised an eyebrow. "Chatted?"
His first mate grimaced. "Was lectured by, rather. These skysails will give us a higher consistent motivation along the aetherlines, apparently. But we can't subject them to the kind of pressure we're used to in places like the Maelstrom." He sighed. "Yet another thing that girl caught that I didn't."
If Lucian had any faults, Fengel knew, it was a tendency towards perfectionism. He was much like his old nemesis Mordecai Wright in that respect. It also meant that Lucian tended to dwell on failure. Both of them knew it, though, and Fengel was careful not to prod at it any further. "And the crew?" he said, changing the subject.
Lucian shook his head. "Could have been a lot worse. Mostly cuts and bruises. A few got stung. That's going to hurt. Scryn-poison is painful stuff, but not usually deadly. We're going do be down a few more on day-watch while they recover."
Fengel rested his hands on the bow railing. "Well, we should be right enough. It's good that it's not any worse." He watched the horizon, then gestured at the distant, dark stain of the sky. "The course was correct. That's the Stormwall, if I guess correctly. And thus, the Yulan Continent." He smiled at his first mate. "Payday is almost here."
Lucian nodded. "We'll have to find the Silverpenny River. I went over the maps, and it should be somewhere south of the Engmann's Run terminus. Not far, but the place was only seen once before by a Perinese survey team. We'll have a day, a day and a half maybe, to get things back in order." He turned to his captain. "Looks like you were right this time."
Fengel grimaced. "I've been wrong enough lately that I think I'm due. It's good to get a break once in awhile."
"Ship ahoy!"
They both turned back down the deck. One of the lookouts, a skinny youth by the name of Jonas, had scrabbled down the ratlines from up above. He pointed out and upwards. "Ship ahoy! Dropping fast on us from above, starboard-side!"
Fengel met Lucian's gaze. Then both of them ran for the starboard gunwales. Reaching it, Fengel leapt up onto the rail and grabbed at the mesh of the ratlines leading up to the gas-bag frame and above.
The dark, bulbous shape of an airship was falling fast on them from up above, using only propellers and steam. She was on a direct bearing; there was no mistaking her intent.
It can't be. Fengel fumbled in his jacket for his spyglass. It can't be. Yet he already knew who it was. He brought out his spyglass and extended it, peering into the sky. The distant skyship resolved into a black-hulled vessel, ancient and makeshift. He let out a soft, but heartfelt, curse.