"Just a little farther," croaked Henry Smalls.
The steward's voice brought her back to the present. Lina bent back to bailing, cupping her hands and tossing water overboard. The crewmen around her were ready to collapse in exhaustion, and she was as well. The only one who did not row or bail was the captain, sitting serenely up at the bow, confident that his crew would not fail him. By now the water in their bilge filled a quarter of the boat, and was halfway up Lina's calves where she sat on a bench.
"Put your backs into it!" roared Sarah. The piratess heaved at the oars, seemingly indomitable. The dying vessel surged with each powerful stroke, leaping forward in fits and starts.
Lina felt like she would die. Slowly they crossed the lagoon, sinking lower with every passing moment. Two-thirds of the way across, the water came up to her waist, the bench seat she sat on only just above the waterline. When they finally made it to the town and pulled in along an empty pier, only the tips of the gunwales were above the water.
The longboat scraped to a stop against the stony shore. Up above the tideline the pier turned into a weathered boardwalk bordering the docks from the rest of the town. Captain Fengel stood and nimbly climbed the ladder up to the pier, conveniently having stopped just next to it. His crew half-walked, half-swam after him, or made for the bow and the shore.
Lina floated in the drowned longboat, resting. Then, in floundering fits and starts, she pushed away from the boat and dog-paddled her way up to the shore where the boardwalk stretched out to the pier. She collapsed, panting, and barely noticed the shadow that fell across her. Lina glanced up to see Captain Fengel peering down at her through his monocle, a vaguely surprised expression on his face.
"You can't tie that wreck up here!" shouted a voice.
A figure appeared out of the gloom. Tall, sandy-haired and ruggedly handsome, he was a pirate straight out of the penny-shows that Lina had loved as a child. He looked to be several years older than her, in his early twenties, his smile easy and cocksure. He held a mug in one hand, brimming with foamy ale. "Other ships need the space," he said with a smile.
Fengel and Lina both glanced back down the dock at the empty piers. Henry Smalls crept over to join them, standing deferentially behind his captain and looking like a scruffy, half-drowned bulldog.
The stranger stepped over Lina as if she weren't even there and came to a stop before Fengel. He grabbed at the captain's hand and pumped it, slapping his shoulder as well. "Goddess' teats. I was waiting for you up at Skydock near our usual watering hole. Then I saw the little longboat floundering around down here in the lagoon. Where's our bleeding ship at?"
Fengel considered the man calmly. It must only have been a trick of the light that he seemed to sway. Henry stepped beside his captain. "It's gone, Lucian," said the little steward. "The Flittergrasp is gone."
Their captain reached out, took Lucian's drink, and downed it in one smooth gulp. "First mate Thorn," he said to Lucian, his voice a harsh croak. "We’ve had a rather rough time of it. I would appreciate if you could take up the command for now."
Lucian stared at Henry in dismay, his drink forgotten in the face of their news. "But how? What happened to the ship?"
"Aetherite blew it up in Triskelion," said Henry. "We've barely made it back."
"In a longboat? Across the Atalian Sea?"
"It was a kind of balloon at first. Someone's idea of an airship. Happened to be attached to the longboat, thankfully."
Lucian covered his eyes. "Our ship. Our beautiful ship." He straightened with a sigh. "Captain...there's no loot either, is there?"
Captain Fengel only frowned.
The first mate groaned. "Captain, you need to pay off Mr. Grey. Very, very badly. And now, without a ship..." He looked back to Fengel. "Captain, we need to talk about this. But you'll have to go pay obeisance to Blackheart first."
Fengel staggered as if he had been shot. An ugly scowl curled its way onto his face. "Ah. Yes. Obeisance."
"She's up at the Bleeding Teeth. But—hello. Who is this?" The first mate stared down at Lina, one eyebrow raised.
Lina tried to stand and talk at the same time, and failed. Lucian reached down to help her up. "Lina," she tried again, attempting a smile at the dashing first mate. He winced, and she knew she had been less than successful. Oh, that's right. I've no hair anymore.
"Doxy from Triskelion who wanted to be a pirate," said Henry. He turned to Fengel. "Sir, you can't put off your obeisance to Blackheart, but we can't be going up to Natasha in this state."
Fengel shook, as if surprised to find himself where he was. "What? Poppycock." His voice wavered. He looked around, as if taking in the dock and the town for the first time. His eyes darted down to the groaning pirates laying about the pier and he frowned as if surprised to see them there. "Mr. Mate, I would be obliged if you could take care of the crew."