Everything happened at once.
The cannon fell overboard, pulling the second one after it. Then the third, and fourth, and fifth. At the same time, the rail disintegrated and the rope supporting the cargo net hanging from the bow flew forward. Shards of wood flew through the air, pelting the two of them.
The two weights fought, pulling the rope back and forth. More cannons fell overboard, turning the tide and teasing the rope in their direction. As Lina had hoped, the weight of the cannons was greater than the whole of the crew. She ran back down to the deck, ignoring Allen's shouts, drawing the heavy cutlass he'd found for her.
Faint cries echoed up from over the bow. They grew in strength with every passing second until the cargo net full of pirates appeared. It rose up over the bow like a catch of so many screaming fish, flinging up over the gunwales to land on the forecastle deck. The pirates within all grunted at the impact, then yelled as they tumbled en masse down to the main deck. The guide-rope Lina had attached earlier for security pulled taut in the other direction now, bringing the crew to a halt and giving the whole ship a mighty jerk. Lina raised the cutlass and brought it down, severing the rope stretching from the cannons to her crewmates. It parted with a snap, and the stanchion holding the guide-rope parted from the deck with a wrenching squeal, whipping down the deck, past Allen, and off into the sky.
Silence stretched across the deck; most of the crew were stunned. And that's Problem Two. She ran forward, drawing her borrowed knife again. She knelt at the net and started sawing at its fibers. Allen was there in a moment, helping.
Coincidentally, Captain Fengel lay before her. He looked up blearily at her through the mesh. "Miss Stone?" he asked in confusion. "What in the Goddess' name did you do?"
Lina paused, sat up. "I," she said proudly, "have improvised."
Chapter Eleven
Fengel spun the wheel of the Copper Queen, despondent. It turned free, disengaged for the moment from the rudder. That's it. There's the thing exactly. I am utterly rudderless.
The primitive airship drifted through the night. His crew moved about its decks, cleaning up the mess left behind by Miss Stone's impromptu engineering. Ropes, cannons, and stray oddments like loading rammers and iron gaff-poles were being packed back out of the way. Lucian called out for reports while Henry saw to the wounded. Sarah Lome, Maxim, and a few others searched the lower decks for further surprises left by his wife. Fengel was weary now that his ire had run its course. He stood by the helm, not doing anything of worth.
And if he could, then what? The crew kept their eyes down, stayed out of his way. He didn't blame them. The battle aboard the Dawnhawk had been lost before the tide had even turned, and all because of him. But what should he have done? His men knew the risks; they were pirates, and there was no shame in falling to honorable combat. Yet for Henry, or any of his crew to be blithely executed while he watched? No. He could not, would not let that happen while he had the power to stop it.
Of course, that meant they'd lost the fight. And their ship. And more than a little of his pride. Natasha had won, leaving a hole that only revenge could fill. But she was long gone; that solace was lost to him.
The wheel still spun. Fengel put out a hand and stopped it. Through its spokes he spied Maxim ascending to the aftcastle deck. The aetherite looked disheveled; his clothes were burnt and his skin blackened in places. His duel with Konrad had unleashed strange, otherworldly energies. For all that, it was the exhaustion on his face that spoke his pain the loudest. Fengel must have looked even worse.
"We're secure for the moment, sir," said Maxim. He turned to mutter something to his shoulder, then turned back to his captain. "Let me take the wheel. You should head below and get some rest."
Fengel thought of arguing. What's the point? Where were they going to go? If he returned to Haventown without the treasure, there would be no safe place to haven from Mr. Grey. That, and they were in the Copper Queen. Euron's ship. That would not go over well.
But what else was left to them? Not piracy. The airship was a scow. A fantastic, impractical thing cobbled together a long time ago on a daring dream and not a little recklessness. Its raiding days were done.
He didn't know what to do. In sweeter times there would have been someone he could turn to. The crew all idolized him, though he didn't dare confide in them. But Natasha...Fengel felt his mouth twist as the incongruity met him head on; his horrible wife was responsible for their situation. Fengel spat and shoved the thought aside. With a nod to his navigator he made his way down to the main deck. Lucian and Henry Smalls conferred nearby, looking up as he passed them.