Chapter 37 #2
“I…We can look, but do you really think we have enough rope to support the whole ship? And what would we use as ballast?”
Damn and bless Logan for being the perpetual voice of reason.
He’d kept Rowan out of many a scrape in their sixteen years of sailing together, but if Rowan wasn’t able to go off on a harebrained scheme to save his own ship, what hope was there?
And on top of that, if the Monsoon and the mercenaries had survived the storm, Zanta was still in imminent danger.
“The Kraken should still be nearby. We have extra supplies and—” Yves was interrupted by a long whistle from below the ship.
“Speaking of.” He strode up the quarterdeck steps with Rowan and Logan hot on his heels.
From this vantage point, Rowan could see the two spires of rock that held them were part of a cluster of pale, jagged rocks that stretched up toward the sky like needles scraping the clouds.
Only open sea surrounded them, no sign of land or other ships besides the Kraken anywhere on the horizon.
They peered over the stern rail to find one of the Kraken’s landing boats bobbing calmly on the waves with several crew members gazing up at them.
“Lo!” Doe called, raising a hand in greeting. “How’re you faring up there?” The weak sun sparkled off the debris-strewn water beneath the boat. The Kraken remained anchored a safe distance from the perilous rocks.
“Could be better!” Logan called back.
“Drop down a ladder!”
Rowan didn’t know if they had a rope ladder long enough.
After some searching, they managed to secure a few together and drop one end over the stern.
Doe made quick work of the climb, though the breeze swayed her like a trapeze artist beneath the ship.
When she made it to the rail, Yves helped her onto the deck like a gentleman.
The other two Kraken crew members stayed behind on the boat.
“Glad to see you’re okay, Captains, Mr. Crowder.” She tipped her hat to them with a grin, then looked around at the ship and its rocky prison. “Quite a predicament we’ve found ourselves in. What’s the plan?”
The four of them hunkered down in the center of the ship in the long shadow of one of the spires.
Doe told them the state of the ship as she’d seen it from below.
The Siren wasn’t as high up as Rowan had originally thought now that the water wasn’t taken up with producing massive waves.
Still, there was a good twenty to thirty feet between the hull and the water’s surface.
The two spires weren’t much thicker at the base.
But what held the Siren aloft besides the rock trapping the sides were two small ledges that had stopped their downward trajectory in the first place.
They tossed around ideas, sent crew members to take stock of supplies.
And with every idea that was brought up and shot down, Rowan lost a little bit more hope.
The Siren’s deck was cool and damp beneath his legs, scoured clean by the storm.
It was wrong that she should be so still.
In the decade since Rowan had first staged a mutiny and become her captain, he’d only had to dry dock her once.
And it had broken his heart. This was so much worse, because this time he didn’t know if he would ever get her back into the sea.
He picked at a pebble wedged between the boards by his knee.
“The way I see it, our only option is to chip away the rock and hope the ropes hold,” Doe said, expanding on the tenth iteration of a harebrained plan.
“The water is shallow here,” Yves cut in. “Even if we have enough rope, chain, and tackle, I don’t know if the Kraken can get close enough to serve as ballast.”
“Even if it all works out, it might take a damn long time to chip away the rock,” Logan said. Nods around the circle as they all contemplated. “Rowan? What do you think?” Logan finally asked.
As the captain and owner of the Siren Song, he had final say.
The plan was to dismantle the Siren’s rigging to salvage as much rope as possible.
Then run rope and chain as securely as possible beneath the hull and secure it above their heads to the rocks on either side, then to the Kraken.
After that, they’d carefully chip away the rock and possibly grease the sides until the Siren was free.
The free weight would inevitably drag the Kraken closer, but they were hoping the larger ship’s weight would slow the fall enough to save the Siren.
It was absolutely stupid. None of them were engineers, or even really good enough at mathematics to know if they had enough supplies to accomplish it. On top of that, the whole operation would take days, maybe even weeks.
Weeks they didn’t have, because when they’d all foolishly sailed into that storm, Shaw’s ship and the Marigold had already been hot on the Monsoon’s tail.
Assuming they’d survived, Zanta and her crew might be fighting for their lives or already dead.
And then Shaw would come after Rowan and find the Siren and crew stuck like gristle between teeth, just waiting to be plucked out.
They still had one seaworthy ship. The Kraken. They could go after Zanta now and intervene before it was too late.
In the end, it was a choice between his ship, the only home he’d had for the last ten years, which ultimately was just an object, only wood and metal and sailcloth. Or his friend, whose life could not be replaced once it was snatched away.
Not to mention, if Zanta really did hold the secret to the Sleeping Isles, how many countless lives would be lost if Shaw was allowed to gain that knowledge?
“Rowan?” Logan’s voice was soft. They were all looking at him, and he knew by the sympathy on their faces that his expression must look as bleak as it felt.
“That plan will take too long.” He kept his voice slow and measured, betraying none of the panic he felt at the thought of abandoning the Siren.
“If Zanta and her crew survived, they’re in danger.
We’ll take the Kraken and deal with that, then circle back and see if we can save the Siren.
We’ll leave crew and supplies here to get started on the plan while we’re gone. ”
“You’re going with the Kraken?” Logan asked. “Surely Captain Yves can handle Shaw.”
“I got us into this mess, and I’ll see it through.” Besides, he’d promised Yves they wouldn’t be parted again.
Silence prevailed, but for the susurration of waves far below. Then Yves rose gracefully to his feet. “You heard the man. We’ve no time to waste.” He offered a hand to help Rowan to his feet.
They roused the crew quickly, divvying up who would go and who would stay.
Extra supplies were ferried from the Kraken to the Siren to last a month, in case they were late or failed to return at all.
Fox, Henri, and Robin all climbed down the swaying ladder.
They left the injured with the Siren, but traded the Kraken’s doctor—who’d suffered a broken ankle during the storm—for Robin, who would be more equipped to triage battle injuries.
Rowan had a feeling he would need Robin by his side for what was to come. He needed all his friends with him.
Even David was already tucked safely on the Kraken where Rowan and Robin could keep an eye on him.
As the second to last boat rowed toward the Kraken, Rowan closed his eyes and leaned back against the mizzenmast in the same spot he’d gotten fucked last night.
He didn’t dwell on that now. The curve of the wood pressed into this back, a calm and reassuring presence.
He listened to the creak of the timbers, the wind whistling through the lines, and missed the sound of waves slapping against the sides.
The Siren spoke to him, that haunting, calling song that had driven him to great lengths to become her captain, and now he was leaving her and his crew behind.
He inhaled the sharp, salty air through his nose and out through his mouth, then opened his eyes. Logan stood at his side with a rucksack slung over his back.
“What are you doing?” Rowan asked. They’d agreed Logan would stay behind to oversee everything. He was Rowan’s second in command, and besides, Rowan didn’t want him in the inevitable fight if he could help it.
“Doe agreed to take command of the Siren so I could come with you. The whole rope and pulley thing was her idea anyway.”
“But the crew don’t know her. And…”
“And she’s got two working hands?” Logan finished for him.
Sometimes, Rowan hated it when Logan knew exactly what he was thinking. But he knew Logan well too. Knew that stubborn look on his face and how he hated to be coddled. Rowan understood the feeling. He was doing the exact thing Yves had tried to do to him.
“And the Siren is your home,” Rowan finished lamely.
Logan’s eyebrows drew together in a scowl. “You’re my home, idiot. You think I’d be here, let alone a pirate, if it weren’t for you?” He stomped away toward the rope ladder muttering “dumbass” and “dimwit” under his breath.
Thoroughly told off, Rowan took in one last look at his ship—coils of extra rope and chain dotting the deck, and his crew up on the yards dismantling the rigging—then followed after his first mate.