Thank you to all the reviewers. I'm glad I didn't disappoint with the random update.
Luan was keeping the sharpshooters at bay with musket and pistol, but she couldn't reload fast enough. Leni and Clyde managed to get the few remaining crewwomen above deck – all two of them, and heavily injured. Amazingly, Isabella was one of them. Marines were already attaching gangplanks and coming over, led by a burly sergeant who actually looked as if he knew his business. Looking back, Lincoln saw that the other frigates had been put down, either crippled or outright sunk, and Lori and Bobby were coming back for them.
Unfortunately, so was the Harvester.
"Lincoln!" Luan shouted, "Shoot them!"
Lincoln blinked, forgetting his lone pistol, the gift from Clyde. He lifted it, fighting down the nausea that came with killing. He hadn't had any nightmares for a while, but there were dark undercurrents in his thinking that gave him trouble. Another death on his conscience might drive him over the edge.
Looking at Luan, he realized her death would utterly destroy him. He took the shot as soon as he had it.
The sergeant had just set foot on the deck before the lead ball slammed into the meat of his chest and pushed him back into his men. They helped him up and forward. Much to his credit – and Lincoln's horror – the sergeant growled and unsheathed his saber, struggling to ignore the mortal wound. Lincoln quickly unsheathed his own cutlass – Luan's family heirloom. The Royal Marines rushed towards Luan, and she managed to get a final musket shot off before unsheathing her own blade, Leni and Clyde at her sides.
The sergeant was a fully-trained swordsman, a veteran schooled in the art of fencing from one of the world's premiere militaries. Unlike the raw recruits he was forced to command, drawn from the colonies, this man looked a true soldier and seamen. Lincoln wondered if he were a veteran of the War of Spanish Succession, and the idea terrified him. Every thrust was met with a master's parry, every swipe blocked and turned aside. It was all Lincoln could do not to get skewered himself. He wanted to see if the others were alright, but looking away for even a second would spell his doom.
In the end it was the wound in the veteran's chest that evened the odds. His movements grew heavier and leaden, his strikes slower and dumber, until even the novice Lincoln could match him. Seeing himself near defeat, the sergeant got a second wind and began to fight like him old self, but by that point Lincoln was fighting with confidence. Their swords clashed, sparks flew. Lincoln felt the rush Luna had described, as if everything had slowed down just for him. He intercepted every strike, took every opening. Finally, he parried the sergeant's blade before slamming his cutlass' guard into the marine's face, breaking his nose. Guard broken and dazed, the sergeant instinctively made to clutch his face. In that brief instant, Lincoln swung his cutlass downward, digging the blade through the man's collar and lodging it into the meaty bulk of the torso, wedged into the bone of the sternum.
Panting, Lincoln had to brace a foot against the dying man's stomach and use both hands to rip the cutlass from its fleshy sheath. The first mate quickly looked around the assess the situation and was startled to see that the other marines had already been killed, and that Bobby's large vessel was boarding the frigate from the other side, preventing the crew from sparing anymore attackers. Lori's vessel was approaching from the other side, preparing to aid their wounded ally. Every survivor of the schooner crew was staring at Lincoln in bewilderment, even Leni.
Before he could say or do anything to help alleviate the shock, the captain of the final frigate appeared at the deck railing. From the look of resignation on his face, it was clear he was set to lose. With a gesture, he brought several green crewmen forward, struggling to carry large clay pots. Lincoln heard Luan and Leni gasp as the sailors hitched the pots over the railing to shatter on the deck of the schooner. Luan and Leni didn't dare load their weapons. A water-like substance splattered across the deck with every impact, soon covering nearly half the decking. Too late Lincoln noticed the purplish and green reflection it gave in the sunlight – too late he smelled the fumes.
"Burn in Hell, pirate whores!" the captain laughed madly as he was handed a torch and threw it to the schooner. Immediately, all the covered portions ignited. The flames jumped so high that the tattered sails and rigging caught. Soon, all Lincoln could see were flames and he was forced backwards.
He looked around and panicked. The flames had spread faster than he expected, roaring louder than he ever imagined. He couldn't see anything through the blaze and thick smoke, and certainly couldn't find a way to Luan and the others. The fear of them being burnt alive gave him courage at the same time it ripped his heart apart. Remembering their last position, he faced a wall of flame and gulped. What was the worst that could happen?
Luan and Leni were helping the wounded crewwomen to the deck railing when Lincoln jumped through the flames, startling them. Luan gasped and dropped her crewwoman before running over and helping her husband get out of his burning coat and hat, stamping them into the deck much to Leni's dismay; after she had spent so much time fixing them, too…
"Are you crazy?!" Luan demanded, bringing Lincoln in for a hug and returning them to the railing, "You could have been burnt alive!"
"Funny, I thought the same thing about you three," Lincoln chuckled, mirthlessly, "I couldn't find any of you and I panicked."
"Why didn't you just, like, jump over the railing?" Leni asked, "That's what we were planning."
"I, uh…" Lincoln cleared his throat, "I can't swim."
Rather than laugh, the two nodded at the information.
"You'd be surprised how common that is among sailors," Luan said, "Actually, in our crew, I think only Leni and I know how to swim."
"Admiral Lori likes to make sure her officers can, like, survive at sea," Leni beamed, "Lynn's really good."
"Speaking of surviving and being really good," Luan looked Lincoln up and down, "where'd you learn to fight like that?"
"I'm not sure," Lincoln chuckled, "I just did what came naturally, trying not to die."
"You hear that?" the boatswain nudged the Captain, "He says he's a natural; I married a natural."
"Lucky you," Leni smiled, then frowned at the flames.
She looked over her shoulder to see Lori's ship approaching. Then the splintering of wood caught everyone's attention and they looked up at the main mast collapsing in the flames. Screaming, they jumped out of the way as it slammed into the railing, jutting from the burning ship like an accusing arm. Lori's vessel couldn't come close enough to board their stricken ally, the burning mast preventing them from moving closer.
"Wait!" Lincoln looked around, "Where's Clyde?!"
The other officers looked around in surprise. How the hell did they overlook his disappearance?
"Clyde!" Lincoln charged through the flames, forcing Luan to scream in panic, "Don't worry, Luan! Make for Our Fair Lady! We'll catch up!"
"So heroic," Luan sighed as Leni dragged her to the railing.
"They'll, like, catch up," the Captain assured her, "Now come on! We have to get these girls to safety."
"But Lincoln can't swim," Luan said, "Clyde can't, either!"
"We'll worry about that later!" Leni said, "We're, like, running out of floorboards!"
The Captain and boatswain jumped overboard with their wounded. Lincoln let out a sigh of relief, just catching their departure through the flames and smoke. At least they were safe. Lincoln coughed as smoke filled his lungs, and he struggled to navigate the burning deck. Where would Clyde have run off to? He wasn't stupid, so he'd so the smart thing… Lincoln looked up and saw the fire was largely on the portside, the smoke drifting towards aft. He rushed for the bow, jumping through thin veils of flame when he couldn't go through them and ignoring the burns he accrued.
He almost missed the quartermaster, who was working his way along the deck railing in search of the others. The two met up and clapped arms, grinning.
"You look like you've been through Hell, Linc," Clyde chuckled.
"Nothing I couldn't handle," Lincoln returned the laughter, but it was cut short by the sight of the fire spreading down the ladderwell, "When this damned blaze reaches the powder stores, we're dead for sure!"
"Then we'd better get off while we can," Clyde said, "A small favor, if you don't mind… Could you carry me? I never learned how to swim."
"What?!" Lincoln paled despite his burned features, "I don't know how to swim! I though Lori had all you officers trained!"
"Galley officer, remember?" Clyde sighed, "I'm not even invited to the officer meetings, remember?"
Lincoln growled in frustration but stood on the deck railing.
"W-well, we don't have much choice," he said, "Come on, Clyde! I think I'd rather drown than be blown apart, anyway."
"You're the boss," Clyde muttered, following Lincoln as he jumped overboard.
They splashed into the water at nearly the same time, floundering and kicking towards the surface. A sudden detonation, which Lincoln felt rather than saw, pushed them nearly five meters away in a tumble. Looking through the salty sea, the two saw the unnamed schooner, her spine broken and hull blasted apart, folding in on herself and sinking downward. The two sailors resumed their mad flight to the surface, but only Clyde seemed to be moving upward.
Lincoln began to panic. His soaked clothes felt like lead weights, and his waterlogged boots were anchors. The sword he could never lose hanging from his hip suddenly seemed much heavier and tangled with his frantic legs. He felt himself sink, saw the surface grow further away, and even felt the tug of the schooner taking him with her. Screaming in panic, he saw bubbles rush upward from his lungs, briny water rushing down his throat and making him panic more. His kicks grew more feeble and the light began to fade.
…
Slowly he came out of the void, hearing dull rumbling. The rumbling became more stratified, a series of grainy sounds. He was vaguely aware of vibration, rhythmic and forceful. Numbly he registered the pattern of pressure being applied to him, though he still didn't know what was where. One, two, three, he felt hard pressure, then a long, singular pressure, then back to the three. Slowly the sounds became more clear and the pressure more noticeable.
Then a crystal clear voice rang out.
"Breathe, you son of a bitch!"
And Lincoln felt a very painful slam into his chest.
He shot up, gasping, then vomited water onto the deck of Our Fair Lady. He laid there, groaning for a moment, before unscrewing his eyes and taking in the scene. Lynn was crying and laughing at the same time, bringing him in for an embrace and very clearly struggling not to kiss him. Lincoln's mind was still groggy from lack of oxygen, but he tried to process what was happening. Luan stood alone, looking down in disappointment while hugging herself. Clyde was still recovering, possibly having to need resuscitation, also. The two wounded crewwomen were gone, likely taken below. Leni was leaning against the deck railing, looking distant while Lori continued to shout orders to the rest of the crew.
"W-what happened?" Lincoln managed, snapping Lynn out of her delirium.
"Huh?" the gunnery officer realized she was still hugging him and forced herself away from him, "You, uh, almost drowned. I saw you struggling while we were helping the others onboard, so I jumped into rescue you."
"Who rescued Clyde?" Lincoln asked, feeling dizzy.
"Captain Leni, after she dropped off the wounded, "Lynn gave a short bark of laughter, "Don't tell her I said this, but I think she might be the better swimmer."
"You gave me mouth-to-mouth?" Lincoln sat up, rubbing his head.
"Anytime," Lynn laughed before remembering the wedding, "Ah, belay that. I'm just overwhelmed at the moment. Four of my friends nearly died, we've lost a ship, and Royal Hound is riding our ass harder than Nippon steel."
"…Nippon steel?" Lincoln looked at her, askance.
"Oh, right," Lynn grinned, "you've never been to the Orient. Well, there's time aplenty for that later."
She helped him up and brought him to where Luan was standing. Feeling like a third wheel, she quickly left to make sure Clyde was alright. Lincoln saw how Luan avoided looking at him, but he didn't care. He felt overwhelmed and brought her in for a hug, startling the older girl.
"I'm so glad you're safe," Lincoln murmured into the curve of her neck.
"L-Linc," Luan blushed. She wanted to return the embrace, but she gently undid it instead, much to Lincoln's sorrow. "I'm sorry, I just… I failed."
"What?" Lincoln asked, "Failed? How?"
"I should have gone with you," Luan sighed, "I should have carried you. At the very least, I should have been the one to rescue you!"
"Luan," Lincoln used his thumb to wipe the tear that had slipped past his wife's guard, "You saved a woman's life – a woman who would have died if you had gone after me. It doesn't matter who saved me, though I'm glad they did. All I could think of when I was sinking was never seeing you again. It scared me worse than all my other nightmares."
Luan blushed vividly now, but there was a glowing joy in it at having heard those words. She giggled.
"Geeze, Linc," she moved closer to him, "you always know the perfect thing to say to a girl. You sure your father was a priest?"
"I've heard he was a sinner," Lincoln chuckled, sharing a brief, yet powerful kiss with his wife, "before he was a saint."
Luan could only let out a content sigh.
"I know the marriage is new," Lucy interrupted, startling the two, "but we are in the middle of a situation, here. The Admiral is holding an officer's meeting and wants you there."
"We're not ship officers, anymore," Lincoln pointed out.
"We all have to work if we want to eat," Lucy gave a small smile, "or would you prefer going back to your old job?"
"Okay, let's go," Lincoln sighed, entwining his fingers with Luan's.
The table was splintered and riddled with shot, and broken glass coated the deck from the shattered windows. There were almost no chairs as they had all been shot to pieces. The officers all stood, anyway. Lisa had already laid out her charts and maps, muttering things in Italian that Lincoln could almost understand from his knowledge in Latin. Almost. It was mostly stuff about weather and astronomy.
"It seems," the young navigator lisped, "that the Harvester is attempting to drive us into the Devil's Triangle."
The officers began muttering prayers, which startled Lincoln. He had been convinced he was the only who prayed – and even he had been growing infrequent.
"Is he mad?" Lori asked, "Whatever happens to ships in this area will surely happen to his, too."
"I've observed that our enemy does not seem to care about losses," Lisa explained, "Despite being of considerable rank in the Royal Navy, with a dozen – correction – several ships at his disposal, he only ever sent them against us in small groupings. To slow us down, surely, but even so the losses he's suffered were perfectly avoidable."
"The man always was a heartless bastard," Lori shuddered, "Can we break away and limp back to Tortuga?"
"I'm afraid not, Admiral," Lana spoke up, having adjusted to her role as the new boatswain well. Luan nodded, approvingly, at her former protégé. "The battle damaged much of the ship. Repairs will take a while, and until they're done, we can't move too quick. We're taking on water with every meter, and the sails have been shredded."
"Along with Captain Bobby's ship as damaged as it is," Luna added, "it'll take a miracle for us to just stay ahead of his fleet. If we make any turn, he'll easily catch up to us."
"Which is likely why he's driving us to dangerous waters," Lisa concurred, "He wants us to change course so he can intercept us."
"Recommendations?" Lori asked her gathered officers.
"If we change course, Our Fair Lady will be overrun within the hour – Fair Maiden even sooner," Luna explained, "If we head straight, we have at least two hours before the bastards catch us."
"And with Luan's help, two hours should be enough time to finish some repairs," Lana said, "They won't help much, but they should improve our speed some."
"Of course, by then, we'll already be in the Devil's Triangle," Lola pointed out. She might have only been the new cabin girl and manned the crow's nest, but she had no problem voicing her opinion to her superiors. Lincoln found he admired that.
"I believe most of what we've heard of this region is simple hyperbole," Lisa said, but only Lucy and Lincoln understood the word. The navigator sighed in irritation. "Exaggeration."
"Ships go missing all the time there," Leni spoke up for the first time since Lincoln had seen her last, "There's, like, all kinds of stories from survivors of sea monsters, daemons from the sky, and rogue waves, whirlpools, and water spouts that boggle the mind."
"As I said," Lisa nodded, "hyperbole. We should worry more about the Harvester, and less about old sailors' superstitions."
The officers shifted uncomfortably at the prospect of offending the Powers by Lisa's lack of fear. The navigator sighed. She had expected the behavior from most of them, but she had hoped Lucy and Leni would have been more rational.
The next hour was a flurry of activity aboard the two remaining ships, Lincoln rushing to support Luan and Lana in repairing the leaking hull of Our Fair Lady, while Lynn had her crews repair gun racks and heft cannons back onto their tracks. Lucy helped manage the crew while Luna kept the ship moving alongside the stricken Fair Maiden. Lola swung from loose riggings from one ship's masts to the next, carrying messages between Bobby and Lori as the state of things. Apparently, the ship-of-the-line had not taken as much damage as they feared, but was still a heavier, slower vessel. Bobby had sails to spare and the two vessels sailed perilously close to try and exchange the cloth while moving.
When Lincoln returned to the deck, sweaty and with blisters along his hands, he looked up and saw the sky. The beautiful, tropical weather had turned sour, quickly. Soon everyone was forced to acknowledge it, their hats blown off by gale winds as clouds blotted out the sun. The seas grew choppy and, after nearly smashing into Fair Maiden, Luna was forced to steer further away. It hardly mattered since they would have to furl the sails or risk breaking the mast. Lola stayed at her post in the crow's nest, battered by the wind and rain, struggling to watch the enemy fleet through the thickening sheets of rain.
Fog settled across the water, drifting across the decks and making the crews anxious. Lincoln heard Lisa mutter something about cold, northern rain mixing with the warm, tropical waters, but she didn't sound to convinced. It became impossible to see much, and Luna looked a nervous wreck as she lost sight of their allied vessel. They were moving with the sea, even as the sails had been fastened shut. The wind became so fast, so loud, that the whipping noise drowned out most orders and ripped hats and turbans off; one crewwoman lost her coat from a convenient gust slipping into it, leaving her shivering and soaked on the deck. Lightning cracked and illuminated an otherworldly scene that made several crew members scream in terror while Luna cursed loudly, turning hard on the helm.
Giant columns of water dominated the seascape, only visible through the lightning strikes. Everyone hung onto something – anything – as if it would protect them from their ship being smashed apart by nature's fury. The ship rocked about and spun, pitching crewmembers every way. One nearly toppled over the railing she was clinging to, while Lincoln slipped and slid down the shifting deck until Luan caught him. They hung onto each other, trying not to panic at the unnatural storm.
Then, out of the mist, looming high over their vessel, the Royal Hound came in from port. It happened suddenly, a looming dark spot in a dark gray background suddenly taking shape less than ten meters from them.
"Brace!" somebody shouted, too late.
With all the speed lent to the British vessel by the choppy oceans throwing them around, the Royal Hound slammed straight into Our Fair Lady, the reinforced bow striking the portside hull perfectly in the middle. The British were clearly as startled as the pirates, for many of their crew pitched violently overboard at the sudden impact. The much larger man-o-war simply shattered the beloved frigate, the speed and force of the sea and wind forcing both ships to collide with meteoric ferocity. The Royal Navy vessel was not spared, however, its bow splintering inward even as it cut through its enemy like a knife.
Everyone was thrown to the slippery deck and Lincoln heard Lola scream as the mast shattered and tumbled onto the British deck. Lincoln felt himself sliding further and further away from Luan as the deck dipped downward. The boatswain, herself, had been closer to the rip and fell between the shattering planks and the Royal Hound. Lincoln let out a scream of horror at the prospect of losing her, struggling to find purchase on the slick decking.
"Look out!" someone screamed.
Lincoln looked up in time to see the lead mast of the Royal Hound tumble over their railing, snapped in half by the frigate's own mast spearing into it. Lincoln could only gape as the massive timber construct twisted towards his half of the ship. It was traveling fast, but its relative size made it appear to be gracefully dipping. Lincoln closed his eyes and felt the impact finished the stressed decking off. He felt the planks come apart beneath him, nails twisting out of the wood from the force of the impact. Opening his eyes, he had just enough time to register a portion deck railing tumble towards him before it filled up his vision.
Then everything went black for the second time that day.
Besides some Redshirts, I'm pretty sure everyone's fine. Plot armor is the sturdiest substance in the universe.