The Stone Angel bore down on the Spitfire with an increasing, inexorable speed.

Caleb had to fight to tear his eyes away from the scarlet gaze of the frigate’s figurehead. His gaze went to the rapidly shrinking gap of water between the two ships. Then to the set of embedded grappling hooks holding his sloop’s larboard side tight to its merchantman prize.

The wind’s filling their sails, Caleb realized, as he felt the breeze freshen as it blew straight into his face. They’ve got the weather gauge, and we’re pinned fast. There’s no way we can turn away in time. That leaves only one option.

“All hands!” he bellowed down from the quarterdeck. “To the steerboard side! Prepare to repel a boarding action!”

A chorus of Yezzirs! echoed up as the men and women aboard drew their cutlasses or pistols. But half of the crew was still aboard the Dromos Bay, even though more streamed across from the schooner every second Caleb did a quick scan of the numbers and realized how desperate the situation really was.

I’ve got maybe two dozen people on deck. They’re armed and ready to fight, but so are the two hundred Sea Vipers and Guardsmen aboard that frigate. We’ve got enough to make a valiantly doomed last stand, but that’s it!

“Delacroix has got us in a tight spot,” Donal murmured. “I don’t see a way out.”

Caleb nodded grimly. “Then we take down as many as we can. So we can bring an honor guard down to Lir and Danu.”

He lay his hand on the grip of his top pistol and felt the smooth wood against his palm. Even without his spyglass, he could just make out the bustle aboard the Stone Angel’s deck. A squad of black-clad Guardsmen arrived on deck amidst the blue coated Vipers.

Donal let go of the wheel and drew his weapon. The helm was useless from here on in. He felt a sour taste creep into his mouth, a mixture of despair and desperation.

Suddenly, a hawk-like scream came from the heavens.

Shaw emerged from the last swirls of fog. He became a blur of white and gold as he shot towards the enemy frigate. A chorus of shouts and the clanging of a bell aboard the frigate greeted his arrival.

The griffin swept past the first of the frigate’s three masts as he extended a muscular forepaw. He swiped with his leonine talons at the topmost crosstree of the second mast. A snap! echoed across the water as the thin, horizontal piece of wood fell away.

A chorus of bangs from the ship’s riflemen below turned the sailcloth around the mainmast into a fabric sieve. Shaw cartwheeled and dove for the sea, disappearing below the waves astern with a massive splash.

The crosstree hung up in the stays and rigging for a moment. Then it came tumbling down, its sharp ends catching in the ragged, bullet-holed mainsail. With a whispery ziiiiip, gravity tugged it down, tearing a huge swath as it did so.

It bounced off the fighting top, knocking two of the three men there from their high perch. They fell screaming to their deaths below. The crosstree landed astern on the quarterdeck, making the helmsman dive for cover as a pile of wood and sailcloth buried the ship’s wheel.

The Stone Angel heeled over sharply to larboard as the wheel jammed the rudder to one side. Vipers leapt for and held onto the rigging as the deck tilted under their feet thirty degrees, a slope more suited to a racing yacht than a warship.

By comparison, the Guardsmen were unaccustomed to reacting to a ship’s movements. They slid across the deck en masse as they lost their footing. Pistols and swords tumbled over the side as the men dropped them to keep from being pitched overboard.

“Bless you, Shaw!” Caleb said triumphantly. “Donal, change of plan! Put away that sword and get back to the wheel.”

“Aye, Captain,” Donal replied, as he sheathed his weapon and returned to the helm. “That was valiant, but Delacroix’s ship didn’t suffer any real damage. As soon as they move that pile of canvas, they’ll get their ship back on course.”

“Buys us enough time to make a fight of it, at least.” Caleb leaned over the rail and began shouting orders once more. “Belay that last order! All hands, let out full sail and then stand ready to fight! Quartermaster! Sound off!”

Sienna came to attention. “Yezzir!”

“Release the grappling hooks holding us fast! Cut us free if you have to! You’ve got sixty seconds, no more!”

“Captain!” Sienna called back, “We’ve still got people below decks on the Dromos Bay!”

“Send a runner to call them back! They’ve got sixty seconds to get aboard, or they’re staying with the schooner!”

She nodded, understanding. Sienna grabbed the shoulder of a short, blond boy next to her. He recognized the youngster as Aiden, one of the two lookouts. He nodded after getting her instructions and took off at a run. He made it to the merchantman vessel in a flash and then disappeared belowdecks.

Members of the Spitfire’s crew continued to cross over from the schooner, back over to the sloop. Only a few carried a sack or bag in their hands; most had followed orders to drop whatever they’d laid their hands on to get back aboard. A quick scan of the deck told Caleb that at least four-fifths of his crew was back aboard now.

Shaw burst from the water astern in a swash of spray and foam. He landed heavily on the afterdeck. To his alarm, Caleb noticed that some of the water dripping from the griffin’s fur and feathers was colored pink with blood.

Caleb stepped back and rapped on the door to the great cabin. Tavia poked her head out and looked around. She seemed unsurprised at the state of things.

“I’m not hearing anything more over the crystals,” she reported. “Our friend Shaw’s actions drew Delacroix and Captain Jurek outside. But not before making Delacroix let loose enough cursing to turn the air blue.”

“It’s bought us time,” Caleb agreed, pointing up towards the afterdeck. “But Shaw’s hurt. Can you tend to him?”

Tavia nodded. “Of course, Captain.”

“Fret not!” Shaw said, as the unicorn made her way up to him. “None of my wounds appear to me more than a mere scratch.”

Caleb shook his head at that. To a griffin, anything less than a sucking chest wound is a ‘mere scratch’.

Instead, he pulled out his spyglass once more and put it to his eye. Over on the Stone Angel, men swarmed over the pile of broken rigging and torn sail that lay over the quarterdeck. He made out Delacroix’s tiny but still formidable figure as the man blustered and shook his fist back at him.

Pity we’re so far away. I’d shoot him the bird in return. Or just shoot him. That would be just as satisfying, and more final.

“The frigate’s caught in a wide larboard turn,” Donal observed, as the Stone Angel now faced sternward to them. “Better, but definitely not the best situation.”

“Agreed. They’ll be able to circle around, get the wind in their favor again, and we’re back to square one.” He leaned over the rail once more. Only two of the five grappling hooks holding them fast to the Dromos Bay had been released. “Sienna, how goes it with those damned lines?”

“We’ll be loose any moment now, Captain!” she called back.

Ethan, the second of the two young lookouts, arrived and handed her the ship’s hatchet. She hefted it over her head and brought it down with a thwock. The third line holding the ships together parted with a twang. She repeated the action twice more, and the Spitfire was free.

“Donal,” Caleb ordered, “We need a hard turn steerboard, now!”

He got a Yezzir and a grunt in reply as Donal spun the wheel over.

The sloop shuddered as the crew let the mainsail out fully and the wind rippled against the fabric as if confused. Caleb reached out with his mind and pulled out the spells he needed.

Wind Shift, Minor Wind Cast, Minor

He brought the wind around from the larboard quarter instead of from dead ahead. Then he boosted it by burning some XP. Finally, the sail billowed out in the right direction.

In the distance beyond, he watched as the crew on the Stone Angel finally pitched the offending crosspiece and attached shreds of sail over the side. The helm finally began to answer, and the frigate continued around in her wide arc, this time under firm direction.

Aiden appeared on the Dromos’ deck just as the two ships began to pull apart. He put his head down and made a dash for the sloop. Breathlessly, he leaped across the widening gap to cheers from the crew aboard the Spitfire.

“Captain!” the young man called, “There’s three more of our crew on the schooner! They’re coming, you have to give them time!”

Caleb hated himself for what he had to say next.

“When Delacroix comes about, he’ll be in the perfect position to fire on or board us. We can’t stay. Get to your post or stay on deck and prepare to repel boarders.”

“But–”

“You have your orders! Follow them or get out of my sight!”

The lad’s voice died in his throat as he caught sight of his Captain’s face. He nodded sullenly and went to grab a cutlass.

New screens appeared in Caleb’s Quest Window.

Adventurer's-Level Quest: Complete the looting of your first merchant ship taken as a prize. STATUS: QUEST FAILED. New Veteran Adventurer's-Level Quest: Attempt to escape Lord High Captain Delacroix’s flagship without an advantage in climate or the weather gauge. STATUS: IN PROGRESS.

He flicked them out of the way and braced himself as his vessel’s deck tilted as steeply as the frigate’s had earlier. One advantage the sloop had over the frigate was that it could turn must more quickly and sharply. The view of the Stone Angel ahead vanished behind the mainsail as the Spitfire came about.

“Tavia,” Caleb called, “how’s your patient?”

“I am hale as ever!” the drake announced. “Shouldst there be any doubt–”

“Quiet, Shaw!” Caleb snapped. “I’m talking to the unicorn treating you!”

“Our friend has taken two bullet wounds,” Tavia replied. “One went cleanly through the web of his forepaw, so I’ll agree that it’s not mortal. I’ve removed the second from his side, at the base of his wing. It’s more serious.”

“Define ‘more serious’.”

“I can slow the bleeding but not stop it.”

“All right, I’ll call Harper O’Breen up here.”

Tavia shook her head, making the beads in her mane rattle. “It’s not a matter for stitches. Our battle-hardy friend here will simply need to forego moving his wing for a few hours, or he’s liable to pass out from blood loss.”

Caleb took a moment to control his expression. Then he went halfway up the stairs to the afterdeck. The tightness in Shaw’s beak and the look in his eyes said that he was in pain, but the griffin would be loath to admit it.

“Okay, that’s decent news,” he finally said. “Shaw, that was a hell of a good turn you did us back there. Bought us a fighting chance. We won’t need a flyer from now on. But I may need you to help repel boarders. Are you up for it?”

“‘Tis no challenge,” the griffin scoffed. “With this scratch, I merely need to hold my wing against my side.”

“Good. Stand by, you’ll know when I need you in action.”

No sooner had Caleb returned to the quarterdeck than he heard a commotion down on the main deck.

Look, there they are!

Run, boys! Run!

Poor lads, they’ll never make it!

He looked over the side towards the Dromos Bay. Three men tossed aside whatever treasure they’d been struggling to bring up and dove over the side of the vessel. As soon as they hit the water, each began swimming as fast as they could towards the sloop.

It was clear after a few seconds that the Spitfire was pulling away faster than they could swim the distance. Caleb considered slackening the wind that filled their sails.

Then he looked astern.

The Stone Angel had just about completed its turn at the same time the Spitfire had completed hers. The baleful scarlet eyes of the figurehead came into view again. They’d opened the distance between the two ships, and Shaw had reduced the frigate’s speed advantage by damaging her mainsail.

But is that going to be enough? Caleb thought desperately.

As if in answer, he saw the twin gunports cut into the frigate’s bow swing open. A pair of cannon muzzles emerged. Caleb watched the bow chasers carefully, waiting for them to erupt with a flash and boom as Lord High Captain Delacroix went on the attack.