Page 117 of An Imperfect Scoundrel

“The pipes exploded.” Mr. Hayward gestured toward the furnace.

“Woodford’s dead,” a glum voice added.

“One of the valves—”

“There’s no time to repair the damage.” Cedric coughed, the black smoke filling his lungs.

“We couldn’t if we wanted to.” Mr. Hayward grabbed Cedric’s arm and squeezed as he pulled Cedric down to his face. “You know I verify everything. This accident shouldn’t have happened.”

“Sabotage?” Cedric asked, his eyes flicking to the other man.

They both nodded.

“The Navy is almost upon us,” Cedric replied, coughing again as the thickening cloud pressed in on them. “Can you both walk?”

“I can.” Mr. Hayward struggled to his feet, but the other man either couldn’t or wouldn’t stand.

“You’ll die if you stay down here.” Nudging the man’s leg with his toe, Cedric gestured for him to follow them.

“What’s the purpose?” the man replied, his shoulders curling forward. “We’re all going to die.”

“Annesley! On your feet!” Mr. Hayward barked.

The man—Annesley—jerked and glanced up at Mr. Hayward as though seeing him for the first time. Then, he nodded, slowly rose, and trudged to the ladder, which he began climbing without complaint.

When he was halfway up the ladder, the furnace exploded a second time, flinging tiny balls of fire at them. Screaming, Mr. Annesley scurried up the ladder and popped through the hole before the sparks could reach him, but Mr. Hayward wasn’t as lucky, and his oil-soaked clothing caught fire.

Cedric ripped him from the ladder, flung him to the floor, and, using his shirt, smothered the flames coating Mr. Hayward’s arm and back.

“That could have been worse,” Mr. Hayward said once Cedric climbed off of him and forced a chuckle.

Pushing onto his knees, Mr. Hayward sat back on his haunches, pulled the smoldering pieces of cloth from his body, and dropped them to the floor.

“I’m starting to think this voyage is cursed.” Standing, Cedric ripped his spoiled shirt in half and held out the pieces.

Mr. Hayward took the first strip and wrapped the cloth around his left forearm, a subtle wince indicating the pain he was hiding. He wound the second piece around his bicep, then glanced up at Cedric.

“How close is the ship?”

“We’re going to have to fight.” Cedric held out his hand and pulled Mr. Hayward to his feet. “Are you strong enough?”

“I’m going to forget you asked me that.” A dark expression crossed Mr. Hayward’s face, the scar stretching his features into a terrifying scowl.

Cedric nodded once. “I shall meet you in Wiltshire.”

It was both a promise and a farewell.

He hoped he’d see his first mate again. The man had been a constant staple in his life for almost a decade—an older brother—but they’d used up their lives, and Cedric feared they didn’t have enough luck left to get them out of this confrontation alive.

As Cedric hurried up the ladder, Mr. Hayward two rungs beneath him, a third explosion occurred in the furnace room. Heat rolled toward them, threatening to incinerate their legs. Launching themselves upward, they fell to opposite sides of the hole and landed hard on the deck to avoid the tongue of fire that spurted upward.

“You are forbidden from tempting the fates again,” Cedric said, lifting his head and finding Mr. Hayward’s pale face.

“Agreed.”

“Ready the cannons!” Cedric yelled as he climbed to his feet.

They couldn’t outrun the Naval ship, not with just sails, but they could outshoot them. And with only one ship to contend with—