were curving toward what indeed looked to Krysty like solid land at a good rate of speed. She gripped the sill in front of her with her right hand and Ryanâs arm with her left. Bracing was the only thing she could think of to do.
The vessel shuddered to another hit.
The land rushed toward them. Krysty held her breath.
âBy the Three Kennedys!â Doc crowed from behind them. âI see it!â
Then Krysty did, too. The weeds were thinner directly in front of them, stretching twenty or twenty-five yards to either side. The Queenâs bow slid smoothly among them, right into a channel Krysty would have bet her life a few seconds ago was not there.
âLadies, gentlemen,â Trace said, âwelcome to Wolf Creek.â
An explosion came from behind. It was as loud as rolling thunder, and made the stout little vessel rock violently back and forth. Instantly Krystyâs keen nostrils smelled fresh smoke, and not just of burned black powder.
âThereâs another fire in the cabin,â Avery yelled from the hatch in the aft bulkhead.
âGet anybody whoâs not pumping out the hull to fight the fire, Avery,â Trace ordered. Her voice was getting as thin as hope.
âThatâs us,â Ryan said, straightening. Krysty went with him.
âRyan,â Trace called. Krysty saw her sway despite Mildredâs strong hand supporting her. âHave that albino scout of yours keep his eyes skinned. Stand ready to repel boarders.â
âRight,â Ryan said.
âNataly, take us up-channel at least a mile. Then look for the best place to ground her.â
The first mate had the steel back in her spine. âAye-aye!â
âMildred, help meâ¦lie down. Then youâre relieved from tending me to join your friends. I need to pass out now.â
âThen let us help you out on deck to get you laid down,â Mildred said, working her hands professionally up the captainâs solid body as she stood up. âIâm not laying you down in this slop, no way.â
Traceâs short-haired head lolled on her neck. âWhatâ¦ever.â
Her eyes rolled up in her head. Mildred was ready, but still had to bend her knees to hang on to the woman when her knees sagged.
âIâll help you, Mildred,â Krysty said. She went to support the now-unconsciousâor perhaps semiconsciousâcaptain from the left.
It feels good to be able to do something, she thought. Even if weâre nowhere near safe yet.
* * *
âFIREBLAST!â RYAN EXCLAIMED as the sound of cannon fire echoed between the banks of Wolf Creek.
But when he paused in chopping away burning planks from the starboard side of the Mississippi Queenâs cabin to look astern to where the dull booms came from, he saw nothing but clear green water on Wolf Creek. They had rounded enough of a bend in the stream that the original screen of weeds that had shielded the creekâs mouth had passed out of sight. But he could clearly see two big banks of smoke like river-hugging fog, off above the flat land with its tall grass. The tops of the smoke clouds were already tinted gold by the rays of the sun sinking into the horizon.
âPoteetville and New Vick,â Arliss said grimly. The ship rigger was perched perilously atop the weakening roof of the Queenâs cabin forward of the fire, directing water from a canvas hose into its hungry red heart. âThey found better things to play with than us. Meaning each other.â
âThink theyâll follow us this way?â Ricky asked. He was taking a break from manning the deck pumps, which worked on a teeter-totter sort of principle, like a railway flatcar. Although now that they were in a side channel, and out of the line of fire, Myron had throttled back the Diesels and diverted some power to pumping out the water gushing in through the breach. Instead Ricky and Jak were kicking the burning planks chopped free overboard.
There wasnât enough power to spare for the above decks pumps too. Myron clearly reckoned that if the boat sank, it would take care of the fire, anyway. So his priority was keeping her afloat. His prime enemy as he saw it was water, and Ryan couldnât disagree.
Avery laughed. He was pointing out to Ryan where to cut with the ax, plus helping out with one of his own.
âNot triple likely, kid. They probably forgot all about us. The only stuff we had worth stealingâs burned to the waterline. Least as far as they know.â
âThe only reason either bunch really had for shooting at us,â Arliss pointed out, âwas that theyâre both plain mean. Theyâve been rival king-ass fucks lording over this stretch of river for generations, each with only the other to give them any kind of check. And it went to their heads.â
âSo are they meaner than the countryside hereabouts?â Ricky asked.
âUnless the stickies or the swampers got themselves some cannon,â J.B. replied, âIâd reckon yeah.â
âToo slagging right,â Jake said. He was handling the portside hose, where Krysty and Mildred worked the pump, while J.B. and Doc operated the starboard one that fed Arlissâs.
Ryan wasnât pleased about Krysty working as hard as she was so soon after her concussion. But since the concussion wasnât literally life-or-death, but putting out the fire might be, he knew better than to try to order her to sit this one out.
âBut we gotta beach her soon,â Lewis said. âThen everything changes.â
It was the longest speech Ryan had heard the lanky man make. His tone carried a sense of doom. And if Ryan had any doubt the Queen was doomedâat least so long as she stayed in open waterâArliss chilled it at once.
âSheâs riding lower in the water as every minute passes.â
âAt least we mostly got the fire beat down,â Avery stated.
âWhat happens if we go down?â Ricky asked.
âNile crocodiles,â Jake said with doleful satisfaction.
Ricky emitted a yelp of terror. Everybody laughed. He blushed.
Suzan came back aft. âCaptainâs compliments, Ryan, and she asks that you present yourself on the bridge at your earliest convenience.â
Obviously under the inspiration of their captain, Ryan had noticed the crew was partial to the use of old-timey-sounding nautical talk on formal occasions. âShe requests your advice picking a spot to ground the vessel.â
âRight,â he said. Just because he knew the game didnât mean he had to play. Their employers didnât
