Failed to post this update yesterday. Apologies.
Today’s wordage: 4,200
Today’s writing time: 2 hours
Total wordage: 98,400
Total writing time: 58 hours
A volley rose from the ground, loud and long. Something out of his line of sight squawked in pained surprise, then a cheer rose from the other rail. Notus’ waist guns spoke one more time.
It was the silence of straining engines, crackling flames, whimpering men passing the door of death, the creaking of lines, the groaning of planks, spent cartridges dropping metal-dull to the deck, the sigh of three score survivors realizing they might live to see another sunset. It was the silence of whistling pipes, Harrow shouting orders in a voice so hoarse he might have been calling from beyond the grave himself, a bell tolling from the poop, a signal gun firing, flags flapping as they were dropped overboard on a weighted line to communicate…what?
With that thought, Kitchens realized he was back in his own head again. Whatever madness had seized him had past, leaving him smoky, blood-spattered, and tired as he’d ever been in his life. He looked over the rail again.