Skyjackers - Episode 3: The Winds of Justice (Skyjackers: Season One) Read online

“We’ll try, mam.”

  The gap between the Dawnhammer and the Justice was too wide to jump, so Vivian grabbed a line and swung across. She heard marshals calling out after her as she ran for the aft hatch, but at the moment the Justice had little man-power to spare abovedecks.

  Below was a different story. The door to the cargo hold was guarded by a pair of red-jackets, with whom Misty was engaged in a fierce duel. Vivian was impressed with how much trouble one teenage girl could give two full-grown marshals. Misty’s greatest advantage, of course, was that she fought dirty.

  Vivian heard a crack when she reached the bottom of the staircase. This was a bone in one of the marshals’ legs. Misty smacked the other marshal across the knuckles with the flat of her blade and shoved him into a cluster of barrels before barging through the cargo hold door.

  Vivian followed, apologizing to the marshals on her way past. “Misty, you stop this right now.”

  Misty stopped and turned around. The cargo hold they were standing in was like any other, except that it was piled high with banded boxes, steel safes, and flat-topped chests. It’s no wonder this ship can’t maneuver to save its life, Vivian thought. It must weigh a thousand tons.

  Misty’s gaze was poison. “What are you doing here?”

  “We need to get off this boat before those marshals raise the alarm.”

  “I’m not leaving until every last coin is out of here,” Misty said.

  “Oh really? And how do you intend to carry it? What ship were you planning to escape on? The one you crashed into the side of this one?”

  “Go away,” said Misty. “Fun-ruiner. You always spoil my enjoyment of everything.”

  “Oh, I see. Well then, please accept my apology for coming to your aid.”

  “I accept nothing.”

  “Except for kisses from Jon—Captain Thorpe, apparently,” said Vivian. “I saw you two snogging in your bedroom.”

  Misty was pleased to hear it. “You did, did you?”

  There were footsteps down the corridor. Vivian slammed the door and barred it. “Yes. I did.”

  “How much did you see?”

  “Only enough to be completely put-off.”

  “Captain Thorpe and I are madly in love,” Misty said. “He told me he thinks you’re a bloody bognobbler. And he said to tell you he doesn’t appreciate your snobbery and always being so bossy.”

  Vivian smirked. “He said that, did he?”

  “Yes.”

  “Misty, stop this nonsense. You must return with me at once.”

  “You’re as obnoxious as Mummy sometimes.”

  The marshals began to beat on the door, threatening to knock it down if the girls didn’t come out at once. Cannons erupted somewhere outside.

  “You can’t hope to carry more than a fraction of this gold by yourself,” Vivian said. “And we can’t very well fight our way out of here while we’re holding it, either.”

  “I don’t mean to carry it,” said Misty. “I’m going to blow a hole in the floor and toss it all out. I don’t care what happens to the stupid gold as long as Daddy doesn’t get it.”

  Vivian gave a nod of understanding. It was starting to make sense now. “Are you cross with Daddy?”

  Misty folded her arms, pouting.

  “You’ve done your work, then. I doubt Father will ever get his hands on the treasure now, unless he turns up within the next five minutes. The whole convoy is on high alert at this point. And if we don’t get going, there will be nothing left of the Dawnhammer to ride home on.”

  Misty looked at the stacks of valuables, then at Vivian. “Are you sure Daddy won’t get it?”

  Vivian drew her blade and approached the door, where the marshals were still pounding away. “Come on. Draw and fight with me. We’ll get this all sorted out at home.”

  Misty jerked her sword free of its scabbard and joined Vivian at the door. Together, they counted to three, then lifted the crossbar and tossed it away.

  ***

  Jonathan was meeting with Admiral Farrelly aboard his Endeavor when there came a loud crash from outside. They hurried out on deck to find the crew of the Justice trying to disentangle another vessel from its hull. When a familiar-looking airship pulled alongside the Justice bearing an equally familiar ginger-headed pirate, Jonathan was stupefied. “Dear heavens,” he whispered. “I’ll never escape them.”

  “What was that, Thorpe?” asked Admiral Farrelly.

  “That’s a Caine vessel, sir,” said Jonathan. “No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to avoid them.”

  “So it’s you who’s lured them here, is it?”

  The truth was, Jonathan didn’t really know. He didn’t think anyone had been following the Maelstrom as it caught up with the convoy. Nor had the lookouts reported any dubious craft in their wake after the Caine girl jumped ship. “Well, sir, I—”

  “So you admit it,” the Admiral snapped. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were on their side.”

  “I’m not, sir. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  “What is happening, exactly? Would someone care to explain?”

  “It appears there’s been a collision, sir,” said a marshal standing nearby.

  “Yes, I can see that much. How did it happen? Who’s responsible? What are we doing to fix it?”

  “I’m not sure, Admiral Farrelly. I shall find out at once.”

  “Well it’s about bloody time you did something useful, isn’t it?”

  The marshal hurried off with his head tucked into his shoulders, like a turtle expecting danger.

  “I ought to be getting back to the Maelstrom, sir,” Jonathan said. “Perhaps we can waylay the Caine ship before it escapes.”

  “How do you know they’ll try to escape?”

  “It was only a guess, sir.”

  “An awfully suspicious one. Did you arrange all this with the Caines beforehand?”

  “Arrange it? Why, I—”

  Cannon fire erupted from a Regency cutter and tore through the Dawnhammer’s hull.

  Admiral Farrelly ducked his head in surprise. “Oh, gods, no. What are they doing? They mustn’t do that. The Caine vessel is not to be engaged.”

  “But Admiral… there’s only one of them, and nearly a dozen of us.”

  “That’s what those crafty Caines would like us to believe,” said the Admiral, eyes darting. “The moment we make a display of aggression against one, the others will come down on us like a sudden tempest. Mr. Alderman, get on the bluewave and tell that vessel to stop firing on the Caines at once.”

  Jonathan saw Vivian swing to the Justice and disappear down the aft hatch. “Shouldn’t the Dawnhammer be detained at the very least?” he asked.

  “So you are privy not only to their plans, but to the names of their vessels as well?”

  “I’m very good with names, sir.”

  “Not anymore, Mr. Thorpe. This is the final straw. As of this very moment, you are hereby relieved of your post.”

  Jonathan was stunned. “Sir… don’t you think that’s a bit rash?”

  “I know about the recent hostage exchange between you and the Caines, which you conveniently neglected to tell me. One of the reasons I called you aboard my Endeavor today was to give you the chance to come clean. I can see I’ve overestimated your character.”

  “Sir, I didn’t think it was important enough to bother you with.”

  “I was a fool to believe someone so young as you could handle the myriad responsibilities of command, Jonathan. If there’s anyone to blame for this, it’s me.”

  “No, Admiral, I would never.”

  “You shall serve a two-week suspension, after which you’ll resume duties as the Maelstrom’s quartermaster.”

  “Quartermaster? That’s a two-rank demotion.”

  “Yes. It’s as much power as I’m comfortable giving you right now. Your excellence in the classroom is no substitute for real-world experience. I see that now. You’ll learn a lot under Mr. Manchester
and Mr. Bigsby. They’ve both been at this a lot longer than you have.”

  A quartermaster’s salary would give Jonathan enough to live on, plus a little extra; nothing near what he’d been able to send home to Winifred and Mother. “Admiral Farrelly. Please reconsider.”

  “That’s my final word, Thorpe. When the convoy reaches its destination, you’ll begin your term of suspension. Take some time to think about what you’ve done and how you’ll improve in the future. At the moment, we seem to have encountered a problem which requires our attention.”

  Chapter 20

  Countless hours of sparring had granted the Caine children an intimate familiarity with one another’s fighting styles and abilities. Misty and Vivian fought for their lives in a dance of practiced grace that left the Justice’s crew outwitted and outmaneuvered. Vivian fought to disarm and disable, while Misty never hesitated to deliver a crushing head-butt or a bone-jarring kick. The marshals, who had at first neglected to take the girls seriously, found their sheer ferocity a frightful surprise.

  The Intrepid was still entangled with the Justice when the two sisters emerged through the aft hatch and ran for the rigging. Mr. Buffner gave the order to depart the second their boots hit the Dawnhammer’s deck. To Vivian’s great surprise, the Regency convoy did not pursue them as they fled. She sheathed her sword and gave Misty a wink. “You fought well back there.”

  Misty spat a gob of something colorful on the deck and smeared it with her boot. “I don’t need your approval.”

  Why do I bother? “I’ll have that damage report now, Ms. Giles.”

  “Aye, mam. The hull’s breached in four places. A few parcels torn up. Nothing we can’t fix with a few days at harbor.”

  “Is that all? I wonder why the convoy wasn’t more aggressive.”

  “I should think you have your father to thank for that, mam,” said Ms. Giles. “Word is, the Admiral’s on his payroll.”

  “Ah, yes. I’d forgotten about that. Admiral Farrelly’s vessel was present. Perhaps he gave the stand-down order. If so, we ought to send him a thank-you card. Mr. Buffner, set a course for Kailodos. And I needn’t remind you we’ll have to land on dry ground, given our hull’s lack of watertightness.”

  Cork Buffner nodded. “As you say, Captain.”

  Vivian turned to Misty. “Did you realize your new boyfriend’s ship was there?”

  “Where? In the convoy? Yes, of course I did,” Misty said.

  She hadn’t. Misty didn’t know the name of Jonathan’s ship, nor could she identify it by sight alone, despite having been aboard.

  “Don’t you think this relationship might prove a conflict of interest?”

  “Whatever that means,” said Misty. “Just don’t tell Daddy. You know how much he would hate it if he found out.”

  Vivian had speculated that her father’s inevitable disapproval of Jonathan was half the reason she’d felt any attraction toward him herself. “That’s what I mean by—never mind. Have you made plans to see each other again?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Just be careful, will you? Not only does this go against Father’s wishes… you’re also much younger than Jonathan.”

  “You can’t control me.”

  “What I’m trying to do is offer you sisterly advice.”

  “Jonathan and I are going to be married someday, so you might as well stick your advice somewhere dark and cramped,” Misty said. “Which leaves you out altogether. We’re going to have ten children, whom we’ll train from birth to despise the very thought of you. They’ll be better than your children in every way—if you ever find a man willing to crack one off in you. Then we’ll become fabulously wealthy and look down on everyone, and we won’t give you a moment’s consideration when you come begging for our pity.”

  “That’s an oddly specific plan,” Vivian said.

  “Your advice is oddly unsolicited. Take me back to my ship. I can’t stand to be near you.”

  “We’re returning to Kailodos.”

  “That’s not where the Moonmist is. It’s with Father and the rest of the fleet.”

  “Who knows where they’ve gone. I’ve been trying to radio them all afternoon. Since they never showed up at the attack point, Kailodos is the best place to start looking.”

  “I will tear this ship apart unless you do as I say at once.”

  “This is my ship,” said Vivian, “and you will do as I say, or I’ll have you restrained.”

  Misty drew. “Keep your hands off me, cur.”

  “Oh, gods. You never tire of being yourself, do you?”

  ***

  Benedict awoke in his cabin the next morning feeling sore and groggy. What in the heavens did I do last night? he wondered. Then he remembered. My birthday party. “The Justice.” He sat up like a shot. Pain swarmed in his forehead.

  “What are you doing, Ben?”

  Benedict gave a start. “How long have you been awake?”

  “Since two seconds ago, when you twitched like an epileptic bedbug. What is it?”

  “I was just remembering the steamship saddled with a fortune in gold bars and coinage. How we were supposed to steal it, and all.”

  “Would you have preferred that to the birthday party I threw you?”

  “No, no. I loved my party, bunny-button.”

  “Not as much as you would’ve loved pilfering billions of gold chips from the sky marshals, though.”

  “I only want our abode to be comfortable for you and the children.”

  “It will be. And it doesn’t have to be built on such a grand scale as the Azkatla mansion to satisfy me, either.”

  “Shall we go see it?”

  “Today?”

  “Why not? I’ll wager the construction is coming along splendidly.”

  “Then yes. Let’s.”

  The fleet reached Kailodos just after luncheon that day. Benedict was in a sour mood, but he kept any further comment regarding the Justice’s cargo to himself. Around dusk, word came back that the shoreline had been secured, and a rowboat carrying Benedict, Gertrude, and their selected crew and servants was dispatched.

  A short trek through the island jungle brought them to the building site of their new home. The cellars were dug, the foundations poured, and the walls framed in. It was indeed a smaller structure than the mansion in Azkatla, for the sake of both time and money. The main domicile could be completed faster this way and expanded later, as funding permitted.

  As Benedict studied the structure, he found that something about it didn’t seem quite right. “Something doesn’t seem quite right,” he said.

  “I agree,” said Gertrude. “The walls are leaning off by nearly four-and-a-half degrees. It looks as though the foundation has been poorly leveled.”

  “You have a superlative mind, muggle-bum. That’s precisely the problem. Mr. Parsons, fetch Mr. Rivers, would you?”

  The foreman was blond-haired and middle-aged, with curious close-set eyes and a look of perpetual confusion emanating from behind his spectacles. “Ello, Mister Caine,” he said when Parsons brought him forward.

  “Hello, Rivers. What do you call this, exactly?”

  “We call it an house, guv’nah.”

  “I’ve told you not to call me that. Commodore or sir will be fine.”

  “The house doesn’t look particularly straight to my husband and me,” said Gertrude. “Would you care to explain why?”

  Rivers studied the building. He cocked his head and gave it a scratch. “I apologize, Mister Caine. I’ll have that fixed right up for you.”

  “At no additional expense, I hope.”

  Rivers pursed his lips as if to think. “I’ll do the job meself. Won’t set us back more than two days, I expect.”

  “That isn’t what I was hoping to hear, Rivers. You did an excellent job on my last home. Why the mishap now?”

  “If I could be so bold as to say, sir… it’s these scabbers we got working for us. Ever since the earthquakes, it’s been h
ard to find a half-decent squad. These lot are scared of the natives, to boot. Makes them jittery. A little off on the measurements.”

  “Would they perhaps be more… on… on the measurements if were to, say, make peace with the locals?”

  “I imagine it wouldn’t hurt, sire.”

  “Not sire. Just sir will be adequate.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Very good, Rivers. That is what we shall do. Parsons, I want the crew fully armed. Provide ten extra rounds and a fresh horn of powder to every man, woman and child. See that their blades are sharp. We’re off to make peace with the tribesmen.”

  ***

  When the convoy landed in Cardemere, Jonathan retrieved his belongings from the Maelstrom and boarded a train. He paid for the ticket himself, even though a call to Alexander Atwell would’ve been all it took to get a free one. It was a two-day journey through lush, rain-soaked countryside before he arrived in Falstead, the welcoming little town where he grew up, and where his mother and sister still lived. Instead of going straight home to see them, Jonathan stopped off at the Atwell estate to see how things had progressed since the accident.

  The butler let Jonathan inside and left him waiting in the grand foyer while he fetched the master of the household. Alex entered in a fluffy white bathrobe, offering Jonathan a handshake before pulling him in for a damp hug.

  “Chaplain Thorpe,” Alex said. “Good to see you as always, old bean. I didn’t expect I’d be hearing from you for quite some time. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  It’s Captain, Jonathan might’ve said. But it wasn’t captain, was it? Not anymore. “Yes, well, it seems I’ve come home for a visit.”

  “Lovely. I was just about to sit down for tea. Do join me.”

  “Of course.”

  They sat at a table on the outdoor patio, where the sun was bright and the gardens were brilliant with springtime color.

  “So, how’s life among the clergy these days?” Alex asked.

  “I wouldn’t want to bore you,” said Jonathan.

  “Nonsense. I’m your best friend. You must tell me everything.”

  “What I was really hoping to talk about was Lydia. How’s she doing? Is she making headway in her recovery?”

  Alex thought for a moment. “Who are we talking about?”