CAPTAIN BRAGADIN SNATCHED THE SPYGLASS from her hand. A string of curses erupted as he peered out the window. Moa and Vaea ran over. More cursing followed.
The seadragons were directly behind the ship, halfway between the Anemone and the Lagoon. One blue, one green. The latter with a rose frill, the color of the heart flower. Hanalei watched with growing dread as they circled the Anemone in a wide arc. The second time they swam around, the arc had grown smaller.
Closer.
“They’re hungry,” Hanalei and Captain Bragadin said at the same time. They exchanged a look of mutual dislike and grudging respect. However much she despised him, there was no denying the captain knew the Nominomi Sea like the back of his hand. The Nominomi and the creatures within. Especially these creatures.
The arc would grow even smaller, Hanalei knew. And then, if nothing was done to deter them, they would surround the ship and squeeze, and squeeze, until the hull cracked and the forecastle collapsed and the sailors fell one by one into the sea. Open jaws. Wide, waiting mouths. There were calls from the deck directed up at the forecastle, asking for orders. No one sounded panicked. This was a dragoner, after all. Dragon hunting was their livelihood.
Moa headed for the door. “I’ll get the harpoons. What about fire?”
There was a catapult on the roof of the forecastle. There would be incendiaries stored beside it in a waterproof box. Firebombs. A foreigner’s invention, adapted for life at sea.
“No fire.” Captain Bragadin turned in a slow circle, following the seadragons’ path through the open shutters. The spyglass fell, forgotten, from his hand. Hanalei caught it before it hit the floor. “I won’t risk that dragon.”
Moa stopped. “Captain, it’s the dragons or us, I think.”
Hanalei had been looking through the spyglass. The Lagoon’s captain must have also realized the seadragons were preparing to feed. It was sailing away. No help would be coming from that direction. Hanalei could see the Lagoon’s crew gathered together, turned their way. The yellow-haired captain, Augustus, stood in the center, his own spyglass trained on them. Another figure appeared by his side. Much smaller, delicate. Wearing a red dress. Augustus gave her the spyglass. Hanalei said, “There’s an old woman on that ship. She’s wearing a crown.”
“What?” Captain Bragadin grabbed the spyglass.
“Who?” Vaea leaned out a window, squinting.
“Augusta,” Captain Bragadin said after a very long moment. “His grandmother.”
“Grandmother?” Moa asked, at a loss. “Who brings their mai mai on a dragon hunting ship?”
Captain Bragadin did not answer. His spyglass remained on the other ship, which was making good headway, putting more distance between it and the dragons. As for them, the Anemone had begun to rock as the sailors below raced from rail to rail, watching the seadragons draw closer. “Hey!” someone shouted. “Why are we just standing here scratching our—”
With a snarl, Captain Bragadin broke the spyglass in two and flung the pieces at the wall. He ran out of the forecastle and from the top of the steps shouted, “All of you, shut your mouths!” Silence fell instantly. “Get below and not a sound out of you! We are mice here, do you understand? Invisible. Now go!”
There was a rush for the hatch. Rattled, Hanalei watched what looked to be a whirlpool forming around the Anemone. It would have been fascinating to witness, had she not also been aboard. The hatch slammed shut, and a quiet fell over the ship.
It was a good idea, pretending to be a ghost ship. Sometimes seadragons would swim past a quiet vessel, uninterested. But these dragons were hungry and determined. They circled closer. Silence was not going to work, and by the look on the captain’s face, he knew it too.
Captain Bragadin stared straight out the back of the ship, hands clasped behind his back. “Moa.”
“Captain.”
“Two firebombs,” Captain Bragadin ordered.
Hanalei wrapped both arms around herself. It’s the dragons or us, Moa had said. It did not make her feel any less wretched knowing what had to be done. Moa did not bother to hide his relief. He ran for the door, then froze when the captain added, “Aim for the Lagoon.”
Three sets of eyes turned to the captain, disbelieving.
“Bragadin,” Vaea said, her voice strained. “That is the king’s son. The king’s mother. Kill the dragons.”
Hanalei began, “Captain—”
“Are you still here, Moa?” Captain Bragadin spoke quietly, every word a warning.
A muscle bunched along Moa’s jaw. He swung around and left. They stood side by side, the three of them—Hanalei, Vaea, Captain Bragadin—listening as the seadragons hissed and the water churned and foamed. Moa pounded up the outer steps to the forecastle roof. A terrible creaking sound followed, the catapult swinging into position. And finally, a single heavy thump as the first incendiary was dropped into place.
The first bomb sailed across the water. It hit the Lagoon’s stern and sent splintered wood and human bodies flying. Even from this distance, Hanalei could see one of them wore a red dress. The second bomb landed directly atop the forecastle, and within minutes, the Esperanzan ship was no more. It was not until Captain Bragadin released a breath that she realized the hissing had stopped and the churning had receded. Both seadragons had abandoned them, swimming toward the more convenient meal. There were people among the debris, arms flailing. The sound of screams carried over open water.
Hanalei made herself watch, made herself remember the details. Though she did not believe, deep down, that she would ever have the chance to bear witness to what she was seeing. And when she heard Vaea’s words, and the captain’s words, she knew.
“You fool, Bragadin,” Vaea said softly. “You think you’re invincible, but you go too far this time. We’ll hang for this.”
Captain Bragadin stiffened at the word fool, and Hanalei reached for the dragonscale at her back, braced for more violence. But all he said was “Only if we’re caught. Only if someone tells.”