Raucous cries echoed about the deck of the Queen. Natasha's crew of brigands all massed on the port-side gunwales. Eclectically armed, they loaded pistols and brandished axes, or just waved their swords in the air, howling for plunder and blood. The old scow listed dangerously. Thankfully, though, the Mechanist had done his job, solving the wild steering problems from earlier. Mordecai found he didn't care much. They'd burned through most of their coal stores to make it to the Maelstrom on time. Now they were mere moments away from taking back their ship, their real ship. Whatever came afterward for the Queen was worth less than a worry to him. The makeshift airship could go to the bottom of the sea, so long as it got them to their prize first.
An overeager pirate fired his musket. They were still a hundred feet off from the other ship; the ball wouldn't have hit a thing. Mordecai frowned. Unruly and bloodthirsty though they were, his crew knew better than to waste shot. He took a step toward the ladder down from the aftcastle deck, ready to discipline the man.
"Save yer fight!" yelled Natasha. The pirate princess stood up on the bow, gorgeous and wicked. Gone was the cranky, frustrated woman he'd had to put up with over the last two days. Now she stood like something out of a painting or a boy's penny-paper. Her hair was bound by a bandana, the free ends dancing in the wind. She smiled, a crooked, dangerous thing that held ugly promises for whomever it was aimed at. A bandolier strapped a brace of pistols to her chest, wrapped snugly under a blouse cut low to cause distraction.
"You won't hit a damned thing at this distance," she said, voice mocking, chiding. Mordecai's captain turned back to face the aftcastle deck, where Mordecai stood next to Konrad at the wheel. "So let's remedy that! Bring us in, Mordecai!" She addressed her men, raising her sword high. "Get up the hooks! Get ready for blood! Get ready to take our ship back!"
The assembled buccaneers all roared. Despite Natasha's rebuke, a few more pistol shots rang out. Those nearest the rail picked up the boarding-ropes. These were a standard tool of the trade, thick rope attached to a chain with a grapple. Normally they were thrown into the rigging or rails of merchant ships from up above to preclude any thought of flight. But the grapples would suit here well enough.
The Copper Queen closed on the Dawnhawk. Fengel's Men had organized, muskets arrayed along the rail, hatchet-men standing by to repel the grapples. Mordecai raised an appraising eyebrow. That was one thing he'd give Fengel; the man knew how to organize his people.
One hundred feet shrank to fifty, then twenty-five. Mordecai spied Captain Fengel standing back from the action where he could see and be seen by his men. The pirate captain drew his saber and raised it high, shouting a command. Those with muskets along the rail fired, a staccato racket that echoed in the space between ships. Two of Mordecai's crew fell and he heard the whip-hiss of a ball as it sailed through the air near his head, a miss, but close.
"That all you've got?" Natasha cried. She howled laughter and gestured at the Dawnhawk with her sword. The crew on the deck below her roared. Muskets and pistols returned fire, and those with grapples let fly. The hooks shone in the fading light, like captive birds of bright metal trailing thick leashes behind them.
Some of the heavy hooks fell short, bouncing off the hull. Some went too far, braining those in the enemy crew at the rear. But enough fell just right, catching on the railings and behind the gunwales, connecting the ship almost bow-to-bow, like a pair of sky-borne animals nuzzling.
Natasha's men knew their work. The first wave of pirates up against the rails grabbed the ropes and heaved, pulling them tight and taut before the defenders could unhook them. The second wave knelt, preparing to clamber over.
Fengel's hatchet-crew hacked at the hooks, severing a few even through the chain. Mordecai watched in irritation as Sarah Lome, Fengel's giantess, reached over the rails to grab a rope in each hand. She yanked and six of Mordecai's men, three to a rope each, jerked forward against the rails, releasing their grip before they plunged down between the airships. Sarah then took up the slack and unhooked the grapples, throwing them overboard before reaching for another pair.
Mordecai frowned. He held out his hand to Konrad. "Gun," he said. The aetherite passed a pistol into his hand. Mordecai cocked it, took aim, and fired at the giant piratess. The ball just missed, scarring the wooden railing near her hand. Sarah Lome cursed and fell back. A hit would have been nice, but that was good enough.
The ships slammed together. Roaring their bloodlust, Natasha's crew clambered at the rails of the Dawnhawk. Fengel's Men fought back, forming a hedge of swords, axes, and pistols that flung the assailants repeatedly back onto the Copper Queen. Mordecai watched in irritation.