Amidst the now dancing glow of flames and the silver of a low moon, Thomas stood transfixed. Around him, he was aware of nothing. Nothing at all but the melodious elixir that poured into his ears like forbidden nectar. To his eyes, the inferno that had been the [i]Crimson Feather[/i], was not but a beacon of hopeful promise, silhouetting beautiful, even celestial figures of impossible brilliance. 

Thomas’ mind was so drunk with the entrancing lilt of their song that he did not even perceive Antonia standing before him, and he certainly did not notice the arc of the looking-glass as it hurled towards his face. When it struck him, Thomas spun about like a puppet being twisted cruelly upon its strings. For the barest of moments his feet left the deck, and he turned almost fully from the sight of the burning [i]Crimson Feather[/i].

For the first time since his ears had been over-filled with the intoxicating song of the sirens, Thomas felt something other than unadulterated longing and awe. Pain shot through his cheek, shattering the heavy blanket of his trance like so much pane-glass. When he hit the deck upon week knees and heavy hands, he gasped in shock. His heart roared in his ears as blood spilled down his face from the gash on his cheek, and he could taste the metallic bitterness of the same in his mouth. 

It was through that pain and surprise that realization came to him. His eyes widened as the dazzling memory of what he had witnessed just before morphed into something akin to reality, and the terrible truth of the beings he had been so enthralled upon revealed themselves to him.

[i]Sirens![/i] he thought in clutching horror.

He looked up, seeing the rest of the crew in a state of total fixation. Their faces were slack and distant, yet focused eerily upon the writhing nest of predators that called to them. Dismayed, he looked towards the helm. Relief and surprise came to him as he saw the First Mate clutching her hands over Jax’s ears, and her lips pressed passionately to his own. 

[i]There is hope for us yet,[/i] he thought. 

The sight of Nicolette jogged his mind, and he realized that Antonia had been the one to bring him back to his senses. With a wave of nausea, Thomas forced himself to stand, and he turned about until he found Antonia. In the midst of it all, there was no time to thank her for bringing him back to reality, only to act, so he called out to her as he reached to clutch her by the wrist.

“We must get to the bow cannon!”

Antonia seemed to instantly understand, as she followed without a word. The two of them wove their way through the tangle of awestruck crewmen. Not a one moved to stop or impede their progress, and blessedly it allowed them to reach the front of the [i]Skate[/i] in relative swiftness. 

When they reached the forecastle, Thomas looked up briefly to see that they were well within firing distance of the burning skeleton of the [i]Crimson Feather[/i], and closing fast. All the sail that Thomas had ordered to be run out to move them swiftly away from the threat, was now carrying them headlong into the clutches of death itself. He and Antonia would have one shot, one [i]literal[/i] shot, to bring the crew from the clutches of the Siren’s call.

Releasing Antonia’s wrist, he moved to one of the two, 12-pound bow cannon, and inspected it for readiness. In a stroke of miraculous luck, the men that had been manning the cannon had managed to load it with powder and wadding, and all that remained was to ram home the shot itself. 

“Get the touch rod!” Thomas yelled to Antonia before turning to the brass-triangle that held the pyramid of cannonballs in place. He picked one up, and hefted it into the barrel of the long, brass cannon barrel. He heard it roll dully down the length of the cannon, until it came to rest upon the bed of hay and the sacks of powder. 

Running to the rear of the cannon, Thomas sighted down the barrel, and could instantly see that fate had granted them another gift. The cannon was pointed directly toward the wreckage of the [i]Feather[/i] and thus the feeding-frenzy of Sirens. All that was left to do was time the dip and swell of the [i]Skate’s[/i] bow to gain the proper elevation, and for Antonia to strike the touch hole with the smoldering wick of the touch rod.

“Prepare to fire!” Thomas called, kneeling to squint down the cannon once more. “We’ve got one shot!”

For what seemed like an eternity, he watched as the bow of the ship bobbed up towards the starry sky above, and then down towards the orange-highlighted waves below. He allowed his mind to grasp the timing of the swells, to feel the movement of the ship, and gauge when at last he had to order Antonia to strike. 

Sweat beaded upon his brow, and trickles of blood fell from his jawline. He blinked the salty spray from his eyes, and licked lips that were cracked and dry. Once again, Thomas heard his heart pounding like an ardent drum in his ears, and a trance of a different kind commanded his focus.

“Fire!”