The Oilman's Daughter Read Online Free PDF Page B

bent, wood splintered.
    Phinneas couldn’t busy himself with their ails, though. He pulled himself back to the deck, locking his hands around the scope handles. His ears popped, and then popped again. “Bloody hell, we’re ventin’ air! Damage control, find that leak.” He looked at the helmsman’s ruined head and wished he hadn’t. “You, Sebastian. Take the helm.”
    “B-but . . . I never . . .” The boy raised his hands in feeble protest.
    “Goddamn you, boy, take the helm!”
    “Aye aye, Cap’n.” Sebastian pulled himself into the helm station. Phinneas would have preferred Zeric, but the First Mate’s arm was shattered and his pockmarked face was painted with agony.
    “Engine room,” called Phinneas into the tube. “What’s our situation?”
    No reply.
    Phinneas leaned closer to the tube to listen, but heard nothing except a familiar whistling sound. Air was flowing into the tube from the cabin. He grabbed his tarry foam and shot it into the tube. The leak was either in or near the engine room. He hoped the crewmen in there had gotten their helmets sealed before it was too late,
    All that would have to wait. The Southampton was still out there, and the Ethershark was wounded. Phinneas didn’t know the extent of the damage, and wouldn’t until they reached the Grotto. And reach it they would. He refused to accept anything less than success.
    “Don’t they know we have a hostage, sir?” Sebastian glanced away from the dials and levers of the helm to look back at his captain.
    “I doubt it, Sebastian. How bad off are we?”
    “I think we’re down to sixty percent pressure. Make that fifty-five, sir. We’re hurt bad. I bet the Southampton ’s gaining on us. If she takes another shot, we’re done for.” The boy gasped, struggling to find breath in the thin air.
    An idea presented itself to Phinneas. “Then we’ll just have to make sure she doesn’t take one.”
    “Sir, I think we’re spinning.” Sebastian’s youthful brow wrinkled in consternation as he tried to interpret the gauges.
    “Engines to full stop, Sebastian. Don’t try to correct the spin.” Phinneas looked around the bridge at the rest of the crewmen, already busy with damage control. He couldn’t spare anyone else, so he went to the flag lines and composed a message upon them. He spent the extra time to use individual letters so there could be no misinterpretation in his two-word message: Hostage Aboard . He added the signal flag for Vessel Disabled, and Request Assistance and, swallowing his pride, the white flag of surrender. He inflated a small rubber balloon, tied it to the end of the cable, and fed the cable with its flags into a small airtight case at the edge of the cabin. Air hissed as he pulled the lever to open the case to vacuum. Pulling another lever employed the needle that pierced the balloon. As it deflated, it towed the message out into the void.
    “Orders, Cap’n?” Zeric’s voice sounded shaky, but Phinneas knew First Mate was a strong man who could shake off almost anything.
    “Everyone we can spare to reroute pressure through undamaged pipes. Give me two gunners on the starboard cannons and leave Sebastian here on the helm.”
    “Aye, sir.”
    Phinneas ordered the gunners to triple-load the cannons. They tried to argue that doing so could cause them to explode inside the ‘Shark .
    “Do as I say or ye’ll ride the next cannonball out,” shouted Phinneas. “Leave the ports closed. Ye’ll be firin’ through them. We’ll get only one shot at this. Best we make it count.” He buried his face against the scope, watching as the Southampton steamed closer.
    The Ethershark slowly tumbled through all three dimensional axes. The message cable had unfurled without tangling and so far, the Space Guard cutter hadn’t fired again. Her ports remained open, and Phinneas knew they could unleash a second wave of rockets at a moment’s notice, which would send the Ethershark and everyone aboard to Willy