For Forty Weeks the Sunbird Flew: An Airman's Tale

Chapter 17: The Wolfhound

"It's the Wolfhound sir! She's flying towards us with engines burning on full!"

Lawrence made to stand, grimacing as he clutched his now bandaged wound. Archer and Talon moved to support him, helping him hobble to a position where he could better see their last remaining foe.

"Gunnery Officer!" He called out, voice hoarse from shouting orders and the muffled screams he had forced to remain in his throat as Talon had worked. "What's the status on our guns?"

"We've had worse, captain!" She cried out in response. "Three of our thirty-two pounders are buggered, and one of our puckle-guns. Our sixty-eight pounders are still intact, thank God!"

Lawrence gave her a cursory nod.
"I want all the remaining guns loaded and the engines to burn on full. The second you can get some good shots in with the sixty-eight pounders, do it. Sergeant Rickard!"

"Aye, Captain!"

"Get your men prepared in the event that we need to fight off a boarding action. If nothing else then we can buy the prince some time to-"

Whatever Lawrence was going to say next was cut off as half a dozen cannonballs sailed past the Sunbird's larboard side. Large cannonballs as well; it seemed that not only did the foe have their own large guns, they had hell of a lot more of them than the Sunbird did.

"Fuck! Talwynn, if they're in range with their guns then how the FUCK are we not in range yet?"

Lawrence was as angry as Archer had ever heard him, minus a complete cold fury. Not that the Assistant Engineer blamed him; the man was strung taut with stress and was trying to retain consciousness after having a chunk of his side blasted out, which probably wasn't conductive to a level head even for someone who appeared as stolid and stoic as Lawrence usually did.

"We've got carronades, they've got cannons!"

Archer broke in, confusion mixing with his high-running adrenaline to put him in a similar state of mind as his captain and friend. The fact that one of his closest friends of these last few months was half-dead on his shoulder probably wasn't helping.

"And what in the ever-loving fuck does that mean?"

Talwynn rolled her eyes, her normal hyperactive and bloodthirsty demeanour seeming right at home at the moment. She didn't seem to take offense to either his or Lawrence's crass words, instead spelling out exactly what he'd asked with the same patience one might give to a new hire on a job.

"What it means is that our guns have more force and pack more of a punch, but theirs have a longer range. Rule of thumb is that the effective range of a carronade is two-thirds of a cannon chambered to the same calibre. Give me another few hundred feet, and I'll have our pretty little guns firing back."

Lawrence turned to someone, Archer didn't see who since he was busy staring at the approaching enemy cruiser, and spoke in a clipped tone.

"Are those engines fired up to full burn yet?"

Whatever he heard back must have satisfied him, for he nodded with as close to a smile as he could manage on his pained face when he spoke.

"Very good. Talwynn, you will forgive me a moment's lost composure, I hope. Today is rather too stressful for me to handle, I'm afraid."

It was almost eerie, hearing someone sound so cold and composed as the world burned around them, but Lawrence had always valued what he thought he should act like be over his own thoughts. Well, mostly. God forbid this happening to Lawrence before the pass, before Talon. Ice-eyes would have bled out by now, what with the man's former compulsion to be more machine than human.