Quickly making sure the rest of the cannon deck was clear, Ryan tossed some rope out the cannon hole and stood guard while the rest of the companions climbed inside. Moving up the stairwell, they found only pieces of men, gore trickling down the steps leaving a grisly trail.
Reaching the main deck, the companions paused, listening for any voices, then charged out and spread apart as they searched for cover. The entire deck was smashed, pieces of planks jutting wildly from the tremendous explosion. Small fires burned here and there, and in the deck was a gaping hole large enough to drop a tank through. Teeth and slick stains told of several kills. A wounded man sat with his back to the mast, a belt tied tight around the oozing stump of his left leg.
“Ya fucking shifters!” he screamed, and fired both of the flintlocks in his hands. Even before the smoke of the double discharge cleared, he tossed the weapons aside and drew another set from his belt, clicking back the spring-driven hammers.
“Kill ya all!” he spit, reddish foam at the corners of his mouth.
J.B. threw his hat at the man, and as he shifted the aim of his weapons, Ryan fired. The slaver slammed backward against the mast, cracking his head. Slumped over, blood dribbling from his slack mouth, the man straggled to raise the blasters once more.
Ryan fired again and ended the matter.
Staying low, the companions studied the ship from their safe locations. Nobody else was in sight, on the deck or in the rigging above. The bow was piled with rope, and the quarterdeck was a full story above the main deck. The steering wheel would be on top, the captain’s cabin and chart room underneath.
Rocking to the motion of the sea, the huge ship creaked gently as the evening tide carried it farther and farther away from the island.
“Not like,” Jak said, scowling. An easy victory usually meant they had missed something important.
“Agreed,” Ryan said, brushing back his hair. “J.B., Mildred, check the bunk room for survivors. Krysty and Dean, take the hold. Make sure they haven’t done anything to sink the ship. Jak, with me,” Ryan commanded, and started sprinting along the long deck of the battered vessel.
Everybody moved with a purpose.
Staying alert, the two men headed for the quarterdeck, using as cover one of the low turnstiles that rotated to lift the heavy anchor chains. Going to the door of the cabin, Ryan covered the teen as he stayed flat against the wall and pushed at the door. It swung open on oily hinges.
Diving inside, Ryan hit the floor and saw that the room was empty. The bed was a blood-stained mess, the table smashed, the honeycomb of holes that formed the chart locker empty. Every map was gone.
Exiting the cabin, Jak assumed guard, while Ryan walked past the companionway that led to the top of the quarterdeck. As he passed, a shot rang out, and Ryan jerked aside, hearing the whine of the passing bullet. He hit the deck and rolled to safety away from the steps.
Masked by the shadow of the mainsail, Jak tilted his head and gave Ryan a nod. He had expected an ambush, yet that was no flintlock, but a predark revolver. Rushing the man between reloads wouldn’t work this time.
“Wanna try again, slave!” a man shouted in laughter. “Lots more where that came from. Ya got any more a dem bombs?”
“Don’t need any more,” Ryan shouted. “You’re the last man alive.”
Another shot and more laughter. “Bullshit! Every stud in the ville is with their baron! Ya couldn’t have chilled sixty this fast. Ain’t possible!”
“Then call for help, Baron. Go ahead, do it!”
A minute passed with only the sounds of the sea and the creaking ship.
“Shitfire. Okay, let’s cut a deal!” the man shouted from the quarterdeck. There was a motion near the companionway and a revolver hit the wood planks, skittering along to drop down the hole in the deck.
“I’m unarmed,” the baron shouted. “But move slow, or we all go ta hell!”
In the shadows, Jak asked a silent question, and Ryan grimaced. Unfortunately it didn’t sound like bravado. The local baron had seized a fully armed gunship, and taken its crew prisoner, so he was no fool. The man had something in his favor, and Ryan could guess what it was.