The Saint Asne hit the top of its turbulent pitch. Suspended at apogee, Marie pulled the trigger. Flash and recoil. A shadowpult turned from red to white as its Sanguinaire gunner’s brain matter sizzled on the overheated reflector.

Six minutes.

The frigate opened fire from long range. It shots fell short. The forward sloop fired another broadside. Her deck guns sprayed grapeshot at the Saint Asne’s main deck. One of the bow gunners went down in a spray of blood. Marie’s loader handed her another twist gun. She braced to the loop and fired again.

Musket fire erupted from the high sloop. Everyone with a gun blasted away at the twisting, darting bird that was Bitterlich. Sanguinaire officers’ bloodshadows reached for him, but he swept under the ship out of sight. The sloop’s turvy guns hammered the air in his wake.

Bitterlich swept up the stern, turned into a monstrous hybrid of bear and snake, and twisted the rudder spines into a knot. The ship lurched out of control.

Isabelle shouted down the hatch to Similce, “Charge the keel! One-point pressure!” The Saint Asne dared not alter course any farther, but she could lift at least a mast length and still stay on target.

The ship had barely begun to lift when the forward sloop delivered a broadside. Wood cracked and splintered. The frigate fired, the shots went low. Something bucked and the ship started to drag.

Sail’s loose, Forenzio said.

A horrible dread filled Isabelle’s chest and packed it tight so she couldn’t breathe. They must not lose speed. Isabelle ran to starboard and leaned over as far as she could to see the damage. A lucky shot had snapped some shrouds. The sail got backed to the wind, and a spar was twisting, threatening the whole mast.

Isabelle leapt through the hatch onto the gun deck. Rebecca was shifting powder with the other powder monkeys.

Isabelle grabbed her by the shoulder. “Turvyside!” she yelled to be heard over the gunfire. “There’s a loose spar with a sail. Cut the sail loose and fix the shroud! Understand?”

Rebecca’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates. “Cut the sail, fix the shroud. Aye!”

Rebecca flew down the ladder and out the turvy hatch. Isabelle launched herself up from the hold to the main deck in one great leap, her Fenice strength a wonder even in this chaos.

The Saint Asne sailed through the gap where the second sloop had been, firing as she went. The third sloop came about to run alongside the Saint Asne, losing way. The frigate made to pass her stern.