Chasing the Lantern(54)

Fengel shook his head silently.

"Or how about we go up atop the bag? I'll clear everyone off, so you can read your poetry in peace." He frowned again. "Um. Though I think your kit bag is still back aboard the Dawnhawk. But ah, you've got your favorites memorized, right? That's like reading them. We'll make a morning of it."

Fengel shook his head silently.

"Well," said Lucian. The first mate walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. He held a thick folio in one hand, battered and stained by travel. "I hate to interrupt a good bit o' self-pity. But there may be a chance we're not done yet." He smiled like he knew a secret, then cracked the book wide and shoved it into Fengel's face. "Take a look at this."

The tome was a journal. Its left page was a scribbled shorthand, a collection of notes, measurements, and geographical datum. The right was what looked like a map, a carefully sketched bit of coastline around a river mouth, and the boundaries of the river for several miles inland.

"What's this?" asked Fengel.

"This," said Lucian with a flourish, "is the original survey logbook from the expedition that found the Silverpenny River. Really, it's full of all sorts of interesting notes. I don't know who Natasha beat up to get her hands on it, but they left it behind when they retook the Dawnhawk."

Fengel felt a glimmer of interest. It was obvious what Lucian wanted. Fengel wanted it too. But why even bother? "Interesting. But we know where she's going. There's no way we can catch up to her in time with this old scow, even if her skysails are damaged."

"That's true," said Lucian. "At least as far as it goes. But as I was reading through this book, I noticed something interesting." He tapped the mouth of the river, where a series of notes had been scrawled. "The Silverpenny apparently has a number of rocks at its mouth, and according to the original survey, an unusually strong tidal draw, matched with a very deep riverbed."

Henry made a small, curious noise. "So the H.M.S. Albatross got sucked over and ran aground as it was passing by?"

"Likely so. But it's been almost a week now. A week of constant tidal draw."

"Which could have sucked the wreck farther upriver," said Fengel, understanding. He pointed at the map. "Probably there, where the survey noticed a shallow draft. But how does that help us?"

Lucian placed his finger beyond the map. "Engmann's Run comes up at the river from an oblique southern angle. It's fast, but goes around in a curve." He moved his hand up onto the page, north of the river mouth. "I estimate we're somewhere here. Natasha's got a head start, but if we move quickly, in a straight line, we might be able to meet them there. Same way they got us. We're so damned dependant on the aetherlines that we never think to go straight."

Henry blanched. "We'd have to go overland and cross the Stormwall. There wouldn't be enough coal for the return trip."

Fengel blinked. Slowly it came to him; Lucian was right. If they went in a straight line, and the maps were accurate, then there was still a chance. He could beat his wife to the treasure. Fengel saw Natasha in the eye of his mind. She was laughing at him, laughing herself sick at having taken his ship and his treasure to boot. But slowly her visage changed to one of stunned incomprehension, and then the mask of inchoate rage that would come when she got to the wreck and realized that he had beaten her again.

He threw aside the coverlet and shot to his feet. "Lucian!" he cried. "I want two watches, evenly distributed. Get the Mechanist, Lina Stone, and one other assigned to patching up this wreck. Take stores and inventory, I want to know what weapons we've got, and what supplies. Henry! Go down to the kitchens and get me an egg, then meet me atop the wheelhouse. Bring a razor; I'll want a shave."

Fengel strode to the cabin door and threw it open without a further glance at his officers. The sun was rising in the east, casting long shadows across the deck. Chains, ropes, and other equipment were piled up neatly along the wooden surface as his crew took inventory. A light breeze blew, tousling his hair. Fengel straightened his monocle and climbed up atop the wheelhouse. Maxim stood there, eyes red, his exhaustion apparent.

"Navigator," said Fengel. "You are relieved. Go get something to eat and then get some rest. I want you fit and prepared for the next watch. Prepare some Workings."

Maxim started back in surprise at his captain's fervor. Fengel stepped in and took the wheel, spinning it. Without instruction, the navigator had kept their heading north by northeast, fortunately. Slowly, Fengel oriented the ship toward the cloudy eastern horizon.

"Captain," said Maxim. "Where are we going?" Lucian and Henry ran out onto the deck, looking up at him. The pirates nearest paused in their tasks to listen as well.