Navigating the ship at such an extreme angle was an excercise in upper body gymnastics. The worst part was trying to monkey around the upper decks. Going outside was not only treacherous but deadly. A single misstep could cause a man to fall to his death.

I was crouched precariously on a thick iron pipe, when I heard Bannon shout, “Miles, up here!”

Above me, the bloodied first mate gave a salute and tossed a rope down. “Secure yourself n’ we’ll have ya up right quick.”

I tried not to hurry, because I knew that rushing caused fatal mistakes, but the angle of the ship afforded a view of the ground far below. There was very little between me and it. If I fell… I shuddered and looped the rope around my midsection twice before tying it off. I gave an experimental tug. It seemed solid.

“Go!” I called.

As if my voice was a catalyst, the air filled with the screaming sound of tearing metal from below. The Heart’s Desire gave a violent upward jerk and I slipped off my perch.

Screaming, I fell into open air.