Moon Sea Marauders Pt4

Steampunk serial

---

Previous chapters: Part 3 Part 1

---

The advantage of the lunar night, through which we swam, was that it cast an inky blackness upon the eye whenever one looked away from the nearest lantern or electric light - and with the fires of Absolution Point distracting the French, they did not see us coming until the Poseidon was virtually atop the first of the privateers. Captain Devworth had ordered full speed ahead once he spotted the ships on the horizon, and by the time our windmills had cranked up to their maximum revolutions the privateers had both landed on the outskirts of the flaming colony. We lost track of the second ship on the far side of the conflagration - but the first was clearly visible to us, and the Poseidon bore down on it with merciless intent. Shouts and rattling filled our decks as the long guns were run out, gunnery sergeants bustled about with orders and directions, and from my position atop the fore-castle I was treated to a great and contrasting spectacle: leaping fire and light ahead, filled with the scurrying of fleeing colonists and rapacious privateers - and behind me, the dark bustle and ordered rush that was the crew of the Poseidon as they prepared for combat. Marines scrambled into the riggings, hauling their muskets with them, and soon the lines and spars overhead were festooned with fur-coated bundles that looked on grimly while clutching their weapons.

Captain Devworth was usually not a gambling man, and his plan of attack was brutally simple: flash past the first grounded privateer, pound it with a vicious broadside from the starboard guns, then heel over to starboard and use the port batteries to ravage the second privateer’s presumed position on the far side of the settlement. There was a small gamble in the location of the second ship, to be entirely fair, but with speed on our side and a loaded port battery at the ready, there was ample leeway for a little guesswork. The marines above us, sharp of eye and quick of aim, would also decimate any man who tried to raise a weapon at the Poseidon’s passage - be it rifle or cannon.

The French must have been truly distracted by their plundering, for in the time that it took us to churn through the last few miles to the outskirts of the settlement, there was nary a sign that they had spotted us. A thick pall of smoke rose from the centre of the settlement, painting the sky ahead with bold curls of dancing orange and leaping reds from the reflected flames below them.The first privateer was ahead of us, two points off the starboard bow and perfectly lined up to receive our first salvo, and only at the very last moment, when our rushing passage bent the scattered treetops below us, did the tolling of an alarm bell float out of the darkness. We had been spotted!

Alas - for the French - there was little they could do in such a short time, with the bulk of their crew dispersed throughout the burning colony, and nothing except the pealing bell and scattered musket shots came flying back at us. Captain Devworth seized upon this opportunity with a boxer’s instinct, and hauled the steering wheel to starboard as we thundered across the last few hundred yards. We were skimming the treetops at this point, the Faraday coils spitting arcs of vicious light down at the poor moonpines below us, and when I felt the ship groan and inch its bow to the right, I finally understood what the captain had seen in those last moments before contact.

We passed directly over the still-grounded privateer moments later, from a height of approximately ten yards, and the Faraday coils on the keel of the Poseidon exploded upon the naked masts and unprotected decks of the French vessel with the fury of the Olympic gods of old. I did not see any of this myself, admittedly, for I had to duck down and cower behind the forward decking as we blasted through the privateer’s masts and rigging - a process that produced a terrible crashing and twanging of lines snapping, and a coarse shower of sparring and wooden splinters that swept the decks around me - but once we had passed and the Poseidon continued the rest of its planned turn to starboard, I could look back and see the devastation we had wrought upon the privateer.

Fires leapt and capered across much of the upper deck of the enemy vessel, rooted in deep, black, pockmarked craters where the Faraday lightning had earthed and discharged, and a scattered, unmoving mass of bodies had been flung in all directions around the vessel. Intermittent shots rang out from the marines in our rigging, but it was in vain - nothing moved. The privateer’s own Faraday coils, which had been powered down and barely visible on our approach, were now fully dead, and several cracks and tears were visible all along the side of its hull where coursing energies had twisted the planks and beams into tortured shapes.

Its privateering days were over, much like the days of those misfortunate enough to have occupied its decks moments before.

This still left us a second foe to deal with, and we had barely cleared the first ship when we entered the thick pall of smoke that hung over the centre of the colony. Heat buffeted us from below, shuddering the Poseidon like a carriage rattling along a poorly cobbled road, and there were cries of fear - and what sounded like elation, from some quarters - from the marines clinging to the rigging above us. Choking soot engulfed the Poseidon in a stygian grasp, and the crimson and umber shades which writhed below us were overlaid with the coruscating whites and blues of the Faraday coils as we plowed through the clouds. I must confess that I saw little enough after this first glimpse, for the air left me choking and my eyes watering, and only Captain Devworth’s steady hand on the wheel bore us through the murk. We emerged from the far side after what felt like minutes but must have been only seconds, and when I looked over the side of the ship, the far side of the colony - where the prisoners were barracked in vast camps - loomed below us.

This was also where we found the second privateer, and it - by some luck, or superior plan on its captain’s behalf - was already airborne and climbing. It was off to our port, some distance away already but barely higher than us, and as the Poseidon heaved to, we could see figures scrambling across its rear deck. Fire and smoke puffed from its stern, two chaser cannons lobbing shot at us, but their gunners were hasty, and we were at speed, and the shot passed us with a wail to disappear into the burning settlement behind us. The Poseidon groaned as we swung back to port again, our nose crossing the tail of the privateer within moments, and kept turning until our full starboard battery - still primed and ready after the Faraday-induced obliteration of the first privateer - was aimed at the retreating shape in the distance.

Commanding voices shouted behind me on the main deck, and the sky between us and the French disappeared in clouds of white smoke and crackling tongues of fire. Gun after gun fired, roaring in the dark with bright flashes before rolling back, and the full 20-gun salvo was unleashed at the second privateer as it fled. The distance was great, and our speed made the angle of fire a challenge, but my heart leapt when I saw several of the shots impact the distant shape in puffs of splintered wood and fragmenting metal. The vast stern windows of the privateer shattered, one of our shots punching clean into what must have been the French captain’s cabin, while other shots cracked through their rigging and engine nacelles. There was a ragged cheer as we saw one of their windmill arms sag off and spin free, for an airship lamed in such a fashion could quickly become an easy prey for our teeth.

As the Fates would have it though, pursuit and ultimate victory was not to be on that day. Even as our starboard cannons fired and their teams scrambled to reload, there was a cry from the lookouts on the port side of the Poseidon, and when I cast my eyes back at the devastation and fire which reigned in the centre of Absolution Point, I too spotted the climbing red, white and golden flares which someone on the ground had released. Signal rockets, filled with chemicals and leaving coloured smoke behind them, climbed into the sky alongside us, and Captain Devworth gave the order to reduce speed and prepare for an immediate landing. Someone on the ground had requested our urgent assistance, and although my understanding of signal colours was still limited at that point, there was no mistaking the golden-yellow smoke which signified a member of Her Royal Majesty’s court.

The Poseidon continued its turn to port, until eventually Absolution Point lay before us again, and as we set down amongst the burned and shattered houses on the outskirts of the colony, the second privateer limped off to the northern horizon, soon to be swallowed by the distance and the watching night.

Our day of reckoning would come - but it would not be this day.

---

Next chapter: Part 5

---