“On the horizon, you say? But how—” Seward crossed to the rail and looked out. “By Mar! But you’ve got keen eyes, lad!”

“Actually, the maintop crew spotted it first, sir. Sounded like Seaman Melborn, sir.”

“I’ll be buggered. Looks like three ships, Mr. Wesley. Call all hands.”

“Aye, aye, sir!”

Wesley roused Bristol, who woke the rest of the crew. In a matter of minutes men ran to their stations. Lieutenant Bishop was still buttoning his coat when he reached the quarterdeck, followed by Mr. Temple.

“What is it, sir?”

“The Dacca have returned.”

Wyatt, who was taking the helm, glanced over. “Orders, sir?” he asked coldly.

“Watch your tone, helmsman!” Temple snapped.

“Just asking, sir.”

“Asking for a caning!” Mr. Temple roared. “And you’ll get one if you don’t keep a civil tongue.”

“Shut up, the both of you. I need to think.” Seward began to pace the quarterdeck, his head down. One hand played with the tie to his robe; the other stroked his lips.

“Sir, we only have one chance and it’s a thin one at that,” Wyatt said.

Mr. Temple took hold of his cane and moved toward him.

“Belay, Mr. Temple!” the captain ordered before turning his attention back to Wyatt. “Explain yourself, helmsman.”

“At that range, with the land behind us, the Dacca can’t possibly see the Storm. All they can see are the lanterns.”

“Good god! You’re right, put out those—”

“No, wait, sir!” Wyatt stopped him. “We want them to see the lanterns. Lower the longboat, rig it with a pole fore and aft, and hang two lanterns on the ends. Put ours out as you light those, then cast off. The Dacca will focus on it all night. We’ll be able to bring the Storm about, catch the wind, and reach the safety of Wesbaden Bay.”

“But that’s not our destination.”

“Damn our orders, sir! If we don’t catch the wind, the Dacca will be on us by tomorrow night.”

“I’m the captain of this ship!” Seward roared. “Another outburst and I’ll not hold Mr. Temple’s hand.”

The captain looked at the waiting crew. Every eye was on him. He returned to pacing with his head down.

“Sir?” Bishop inquired. “Orders?”

“Can’t you see I’m thinking, man?”

“Yes, sir.”

The wind fluttered the sails overhead as the ship began to lose the angle on the wind.

“Lower the longboat,” Seward ordered at last. “Rig it with poles and lanterns.”

“And our heading?”

Seward tapped his lips.

“I shouldn’t need to remind you, Captain Seward,” Thranic said as he joined them on the quarterdeck, “that it’s imperative we reach the port of Dagastan without delay.”