on, Ryan,â she said. âI like where I think this is going.â
âCaptain,â Arliss said, sounding pained that she was taking a landlubberâs advice, when it ran dead counter to every bit of his own rivermanâs lore.
âYeah,â he told the captain. âI got a plan. Bring the Queen as close as you can to the east bank and still safely sheer south. Then cut the barge free before you start your turn. I donât know if thatâs the right lingo, so I put it as plain as I know how.â
She managed a smile, albeit a thin one, and fleeting.
âClose enough for getting on with. Natalyââ
The helmswoman had subtly straightened her shoulders. âAye-aye, Captain!â she said smartly. She had clearly grasped Ryanâs intention.
Arliss frowned, then he nodded and showed a gap-toothed grin.
âGood one,â he said. âIf weâve got to write off the barge, we can use her to lay us a smoke screen. And give those Poteetville bastards something to think about to get around it. You do know your shit, Cawdor.â
Ryan nodded once, briskly.
* * *
HE HELPED THEM beat down the fire. Fortunately only one of the roomsâwhich the Conoyers and their crew rather grandly called âstateroomsââwas gutted. Sadly, Suzan had shared it Edna, and all their possessions were write-offs. That didnât matter a bent shell case to Edna anymore.
It took Ryan, his friends apart from Krysty and Mildred, and the Mississippi Queenâs crew only minutes to reduce the flames to smoldering char. But they were intense minutes, and when they were done even Ryan had to find a cable coil to sit on while he caught his breath.
Krysty sat next to him, still seeming subdued. Though mostly concerned with keeping an eye on the captain, Mildred had not neglected to watch her concussed friend. She only let the redhead out of the cabin when the fire was out.
His friends found places to flake out on the deck or railing, as did the regular crew theyâd been helping: Jake Lewis, tall and saturnine, Avery Telsco, Suzan Kenn, the cheerful bear of a South Plains Indian, Santee, a medium-sized dude named Abner MacReedy, who looked way too much like a rabbit, although he wasnât particularly shy or skittish, and finally Arliss Moriarty, leaning back against an intact wall of the cabin smoking a corncob pipe. For some reason that gave Mildred the uncontrollable giggles every time she looked at him.
Jak, meanwhile, scrambled back onto the cabin roof. Unable to engage in his usual wide-ranging scouting, he settled for perching up there like a pelican, keeping watch at all hours of the day or night. He even slept up there. Aside from the fore and aft ends, both to portside, where shells had struck, the roof seemed pretty sound structurally. Ryan declined to worry about it. Jak of all people knew how to be careful where he put his feet, and not venture out on anything that wouldnât support his slight weight. And anyway, it was his stupe neck.
âBy the Three Kennedys!â Doc exclaimed.
He had been squatting on his long, skinny shanks, facing aft. All that was visible behind the tug was churning green water. Arliss and his red-haired crony, Sean OâReilly, who was back helping Myron and Maggie nurse the engines as usual, had cut the barge loose at what Trace Conoyer judged the optimum moment.
By that time it was fiercely ablaze from one end to the other. Enough so that Ryan could feel the heat beating off it as he helped work the pumps. Had the wind not been blowing the sparks away from the Queen, they might well have set the tug alight too.
Now Doc drew himself up to his considerable height and flung out a long arm to point dramatically over the taffrail.
âThe blackguards have found a way around the burning hulk, and are emerging from the smoke!â
J.B., who was sitting just aft of the cabin near a boat hung in davits with his back to the stern, barely tipped his head back and turned it to glance over his shoulder.
âNothing shaken, Doc,â he said.
Ryan was surprised that J.B. could see over the stern, as short as he was. But the Armorer was the last person in their group to say more than he knew. âWe knew it was going to happen sooner or later. Theyâre way out of range now, anyway.â
âTheir frigates canât keep up with us now,â Arliss said. No longer weighed down by the massive barge and her currently burning-to-nuke-shit cargo, the tubby little tug was making surprising time downriver. âTheyâre slow and handle like pigs, with all that armor. Unarmored patrol boats likely canât catch us, even.â
That last bit of information was delivered with a note of unmistakable pride in his voice.
He shook his grizzled head.
âItâs lucky we got off as light as we did,â he said. âExcept for poor Edna. Weâre lucky, and thatâs a fact.â
âCount no man lucky before his death,â Jake said.
Arliss put his hands on his hips and stuck his elbows out to the sides. âWell, arenât you Captain Gloom ânâ Doom? What, are you taking lessons from Nataly now?â
âItâs an old Viking saying. From my Viking grandmother, Freya.â
âShe werenât no Viking.â
âYou didnât want to tell her that.â
âWhere are we going, anyway?â Ricky asked.
âCaptain says she means to head back up the Yazoo,â Arliss said. âFrom there weâll play it by ear.â
âSo weâre basically in the clear?â The youth sounded relieved.
Krysty lifted her head and gave him a wan grin.
âDonât ever say that, Ricky,â she said teasingly. âItâs only tempting fate.â
âShips ahead!â Jak cried out from above. âWar boats!â
âItâs the New Vick fleet!â Arliss exclaimed. âAnd they got their big tubs with âem!â
Krysty climbed to her feet in alarm. Without even looking, Ryan stood up beside her and reached an arm to steady her.
Ryan gazed south, along the length of the cabin. Out beyond the prow of the Mississippi Queen a V of five blasterboats was steaming toward them with little mustaches of water by their bows. He knew that meant they were driving hard, although the slow but strong Sippi currentâs flowing against them slowed them.
Behind
