Whitehorse scrambled to finish the knot while Hunter shoved the barrel onto its side. O’Fallon nodded.

“Luck, Cap’n.”
Hunter returned the nod and charged the drake, rolling the barrel across the deck.

At first, the drake was oblivious of this one man and his barrel due to other distractions. Hunter was mere feet away when the beast sensed something wrong. Too close to the beast, Captain Hunter vanished beneath the its claws.

“Cap’n!” O’Fallon yelled, raising his rifle for the lightning drake, but it hauled the captain aloft, jerking taut the rope that kept the captain bound to the Brass Griffin. At the other end, Krumer strained to keep the fraying rope from slipping free of the mast.

“O’Fallon! Shoot!” Hunter yelled over the storm, despite a searing pain in his side and left arm.

“Cap’n, ye’ll get caught when she blows!”

“Damn it, man! Fire!”

“Shoot, O’Fallon! Now!” Whitehorse shouted with a roar.

Reflexively, the quartermaster shouldered the rifle and squeezed the trigger. The shot struck home, ricocheting off the large connector of the insulated barrel. Startled, the drake spat a burst of hot red lightning at the barrel containing two Tesla coils and canisters of zinc and copper sulphate.

The blast struck the barrel square on the connectors. At first, the large battery tried to contain the energy, but it was
just too much. Overwhelmed by the lightning, the barrel split apart in a blinding explosion. When the flash and sound subsided, both the drake and Captain Hunter had completely vanished.

“Check the netting!” Mr. Whitehorse ordered, pointing to the ruined steel mesh that hung loose from the ship’s starboard side.

Those not stunned either ran for the rail to reel in the battered mesh or helped those who suffered the direct impact of the blast to regain their senses. Krumer and O’Fallon looked over the railing at the rolling storm clouds.

“Damn it all! Krumer, dae ya think there be a chance?”

Krumer closed his eyes for a moment and sighed deeply. “There’s always that. However slim it may be. Mr. Wilkerson! Come about! Lay us into that cloudbank, down twain fathoms!”

A shout returned from the pilot’s wheel, “Aye, sirrah!”

O’Fallon gave the first mate a concerned look. “How long dae we look?”

“We’ll look as long as we’re able,” Krumer replied with a tired sound to his voice. “Spirits willing, we’ll find him. Captain Hunter never leaves crew if he can help it and neither will we.”

“If there’s anything tae be findin’.”

“We’ll find him.”

Krumer paused and looked away from O’Fallon and into the rolling gray storm clouds. Beneath them, the ship turned to starboard and angled down.

“Spirits willing, we’ll find him.”

Tags: Brass Griffin, Red Lightning, Steampunk