“Optics are family heirlooms in these parts,” Ableyard said. “I’ve a telescope; it’s a relic, not much better than a kid’s toy. It’s just above the chart table behind you.”
With that he fell silent, observing the boat running toward them. It would beat the crab boat, easily. “No,” Ableyard said, putting the silver binoculars to his face. “No! It’s definitely a patrol boat. New England Fleet. They’re burning a blue flare. That means we’re to slow the engine to just enough to hold a course, and assemble on deck, hands above heads.”
“We won’t be able to try the same trick twice,” Valentine said.
“If they even bother boarding us before sinking this pig,” Ableyard said. “That turret is manned. It’s aimed right at us. They’re probably just waiting for an order to fire.” His cheek twitched nervously.
“They might not know for sure what happened,” Ahn-Kha said. “The boat behind is now nearer the debris.”
“They must have our description,” Ableyard said. “A big crab boat, mistaken for us? Not likely.”
“Should we abandon ship?” Valentine asked.
Ableyard shook his head. “No point. We’re in range. We’ll be blown away before we can get the raft manned. I’d rather let the shells get me than freeze in that water.”
“We can take some solace in the thought that the crabs that eat up the bits will be pulled up by your fellow fishermen,” Ahn-Kha said.
“Hell of a thing to be thinking about, old horse,” Valentine said.
“Our friend behind comes up fast,” Ahn-Kha said. “The crab boat. I wonder why.”
The crab boat showed a surprising turn of speed, but it wasn’t making an escape; it was overtaking them, setting an intercept course between them and the other patrol boat.
“Damn if I know the name of that crabber,” Ableyard said. “The captain must be insane. What does he think he’s doing?”
As if in response, the blue trap-marker barrels fell away, revealing two crewed cannons hidden behind the false wall of plastic. Duvalier wasn’t anything like an expert on naval weapons, but one looked like it might be a 30 mm. The barrels dropped quickly as the gunners aimed using foot pedals, and loaders stood at the ready with shells in racks like magazines.
“It’s a Q-ship!” Ableyard exclaimed. “Damn if the Halifax Coast Guard wasn’t shadowing us!”
“I’m glad the good guys found out about us, too,” Duvalier said.
“I might have mentioned it unofficially to a couple of friends serving in the Coasties,” Ableyard said. “They took the hint. We’re going to have a no-shit naval engagement in about five seconds.”
Duvalier found the spyglass in its bracket above the chart table and undid the little hook holding it to the wall. She left the control room to get a better view.
The patrol boat’s gun shifted from their own boat to the converted crab boat. It fired. A yellow tongue of flame flashed briefly from the cannon muzzle and a second later Duvalier heard the report.
The shell splashed close behind the crab boat.
She felt a presence, and glanced down to see Valentine watching the action from the deck next to the control room, too.
Her seasickness forgotten in the excitement, Duvalier jumped up onto an emergency raft box bolted to the side of the control room and hung on with the aid of the overhang that shielded the front and side windows. Using the spyglass, she could now see both participants in the battle.
Naval cannon fire cracked across the distance between the two ships. The crabber, which she could now see was named the Skylark according to the white letters on her bow, returned the fire. Stabbing tongues of flame spat out of the cannon mouths each time one of the quick-firing guns sent a shell toward the Quisling patrol boat. The smaller of the two cannons turned out to be the deadlier, firing with a distinct sound, half spitting and half buzzing, peppering the water all around the patrol craft with splashes and sending torn pieces of hull and superstructure flying in all directions. Two secondary explosions ripped through the Kurian patrol boat, and the sleek little boat was transformed into a burning wreck in an instant.
The dead boat still came on for another thirty or forty yards thanks to momentum, before rolling on its side like a dying whale.
“Poor bastards,” Valentine said.
Duvalier had learned her first lesson about naval actions: once the shells started flying, matters were decided very quickly. She and Valentine returned to the warmth of the control cabin. Ableyard was putting on speed to leave the area of the fight in case another boat—or worse, a plane—showed up.
“That’ll teach the damn pirates to board in these waters,” Ableyard said.
The crab boat dropped an inflatable with a power motor and a cowling to keep out the spray. It shot toward the sinking wreck, bouncing across the waves.
“Men won’t last long in these waters. Let’s hope a few made it off,” Ableyard said.
“A moment ago you were damning them,” Ahn-Kha said. His powerful breaths were fogging up on the front windshield of the control cabin.