Jenny took to the tiller as she gunned the motor, laying in a course for her boat to the northeast as she opened the fuel line and tapped the throttle a few times to get the best mix in the engine.
Before Georgie could ask, she said to her, “Go with the slugs, full tube. Try not to hit anyone unless you have to, but we may need some punch.”
“Is that going to even work against a bulkhead?” Tia asked.
“Maybe not, but the sound of a slug hitting one’s got to give us a little edge, ain’t it? You know, shock and awe and all?”
Tia took a moment before she shrugged as Georgie loaded the magazine and chambered a round.
The laker took her time to come more fully into view. The intercept Jenny plotted kept the larger vessel from looming quickly, the view delayed as both vessels made their way due east in the night.
“So when are we going to go for her?” Georgie asked.
“Give ‘em a second,” said Jenny as she took her binoculars to her face and looked astern. “If they did as we discussed we should be seeing som- There, I think that’s them.”
“They kept up with her?” Dutch asked.
“Yep, and they’re going to go astern. Hang on, we’re going in.”
Jenny took her seat by the motor and made a sharp correction, aiming her bow closer in on the laker’s assumed plotted course, aiming her boat down the line her prey headed.
“Get the throw lines ready,” Jenny yelled after she made another correction. “She looks pretty low in. I’m hoping for surprise and luck to still be with us, but just in case, get it right the first time.”
Charlie and Dutch picked up the hooked ends of the knotted lines, coiled towards the bow of the boat. Charlie gave his end a few small twirls to loosen up his wrist as they got closer.
A few corrections later, Jenny was abreast of the laker. She could read her name painted on the bow, the Edward Fitzsimmons, as she nudged her craft closer, positioning herself slightly behind the forecastle where the laker’s rails were closest to the waterline.
“Can you get her in just a little closer?” Charlie asked.
Jenny nudged her boat slightly to port, but stopped closing and corrected to go abreast a yard before her craft entered the Edward Fitzsimmons’ wake. “That’s going to have to be it,” she said.
“Okay, on three,” said Dutch, as the both of them started to spin the hooks at the end of the lines. “One… two… THREE!”
Both lines flew into the dark sky over the side and made a thud on the laker’s deck. They pulled the lines until the hooks grabbed the rails, and secured the other ends of the line to the boat’s forward benches.
“Okay, that’s step one,” said Jenny as she let off on the throttle until the laker pulled the lines attached to her taut, dragging her craft slightly as she holstered her pistol to her thigh and tied another line to her waist.
“Now it’s time for step two,” she said, trying not to think too much about what was next…
All content Copyright © 2012 James Ryan