فصل 62

CHAPTER 62

UNDER FIRE

THE FLYING SHIP THE De Vliegen approached the palace wall, leaving a trail of chaos on the streets of Maknar, where crowds wailed and scattered in terror at the sight of the massive, dripping, barnacle-encrusted hull passing overhead. George, at the helm, was frantically trying to learn how to pilot the ship. He was getting a feel for the steering, but having little luck controlling the altitude. He saw now, as the De Vliegen reached the palace compound, that it was too low. He felt a lurch and heard a grinding sound as the hull scraped the wall, knocking some stones into the courtyard below.

The crash of the stones drew the attention of the men in the courtyard, who shouted and pointed in alarm. Their shouts interrupted the heated argument between Glotz and Zarboff, who looked up at the flying ship, gaping in amazement. Zarboff’s surprise turned to wrath when, by the light of moon and meteor, he saw heads poking over the ship’s rail, looking down. With a roar of rage, Zarboff recognized his slave boys.

He whirled and, with spittle flying from his mouth, screamed an order to his soldiers. Immediately they raised their rifles and began firing at the ship. As muzzle fires flashed, the slave boys jumped away from the rail.

Bullets thunked into the ship, splintering the woodwork. George spun the wheel hard. The ship began to turn, but it was now below the top of the wall; unless George could gain altitude, they would be trapped inside the courtyard and eventually cut to pieces by the riflemen. Bullets struck the hull and whistled through the rigging, some puncturing the sails. George looked high overhead and had an idea.

“Take in the topsail!” he shouted up to James, who was crouching high up on a yardarm.

“Do what to the topsail?” James shouted back.

“Make it smaller!” shouted George.

James flew up to the highest sail and, as bullets zinged past him, began trimming it. Slowly, ever so slowly, George felt the bow of the ship rising. As more bullets zinged past, he yelled commands to Slightly, Prentiss, Thomas, and the other boys, ordering them to pull in this sail, let out that one. The ship was rising more quickly now and moving with greater speed. George got it high enough that he felt reasonably safe from the bullets, though the occasional shot still came close. Using both rudder and sail, he put the ship into a gentle turn, such that it circled high above the palace. He assessed the damage; there was a good deal of splintered wood and a few tattered sails, but, incredibly, nobody had been hurt.

George wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t know how long the ship would keep flying. He also didn’t know where Peter was, or even if Peter was still alive. He had no idea how to go about trying to rescue Molly and her father from the hornet’s nest of angry, shooting men below. He peered over the side: the soldiers had dragged a catapult onto a rampart and were busy setting a burning cauldron into its sling. They were going to try to burn the ship out of the sky!

We can’t stay here, George thought. But Molly was down there somewhere. Lord Aster. Possibly Peter. How could he just fly away and leave them? But what choice did he have?

Waving urgently, Prentiss shouted at him from the bow. “To the right! To the RIGHT!” He and Thomas and Nibs had a large crate of nails, which they were hoisting onto the gunwale.

George looked down: the boys meant to bomb the catapult. He spun the wheel to port and steered directly over the rampart. The boys heaved the heavy box up and over the gunwale and let it drop. It fell directly onto the catapult, smashing it and hurling the cauldron of fire down the wall and into the courtyard, scattering the soldiers. The boys on the bow whooped in triumph.

George, allowing himself a brief smile, steered the ship back over the courtyard, still pondering a rescue attempt.

Maybe…

He jumped as a hand tapped his shoulder. He whirled and saw…

“Peter!”

They had never been great friends, but in that moment they came very close to hugging each other, each stepping hesitantly forward before stopping and settling for a manly handshake.

“I know I asked for a ship,” said Peter. “But this…” He gestured at the flying vessel, grinning. “Well done, George!”

“Your wish is my command,” said George, with a mock bow. His face became serious again as he asked, “What about Molly?”

“She’s still in the dungeon, with her father and Bakari. I couldn’t get them out. Aster demanded we leave them here, but of course we won’t do that.”

“I should say not!” said George.

Idiots, observed Tink, sitting on Peter’s head.

“What did she say?” asked George.

“She says we need a rescue plan,” said Peter, as a volley of gunshots rang out below.

“I agree,” said George, ducking away from the gunwale.

“Peter!” The shout came from James, who was high up on the mast and had just spotted his friend. As Peter watched in delight, James flew down to him; the other boys quickly followed, flying to the quarterdeck.

“Peter!” shouted Prentiss. “We can fly!”

“So I see!” said Peter.

“Although I think it’s wearing off,” said Thomas, who had hit the deck a bit hard.

“No, it’s not,” said Ted. He jumped upward, then came right back down, landing on his rear. “Yes, it is,” he amended.

The boys gathered around Peter and began to pepper him with questions about the rocket, the starstuff, and Ombra. He waved them off.

“There’s no time,” he said. “We need to get Molly out of the dungeon. The door’s locked, and I’ve no idea who has the keys. Does anybody have any ideas?”

“What about that black powder, for the rocket?” said Prentiss. He pointed down at the powder wagon, still in the courtyard. “Could we use it to blow open the cell door?”

Peter, looking at the soldiers milling in the courtyard, shook his head. “We can’t get near it,” he said. “They’d cut us down.” As he spoke, another volley of shots forced the boys to move away from the gunwale.

“I wish we had guns,” said Thomas.

James frowned. He poked his head back over the gunwale.

“What about those?” he said. Cautiously, Peter leaned over the rail and looked where James was pointing. He smiled at James, and James smiled back. Then Peter stood up.

“George,” he said, “do you know how to fire a cannon?”