May 25th,
The doctor of the Aeolus assures me that my hand is merely bruised, and that as there is nothing broken he can do little but suggest a little rum for me to numb the pain with. In honesty I do not believe that he took an overly close look at my hand, but nor can I blame him. He has his hands full with the more seriously injured. There are several men who were badly injured in the battle who take all of the doctor’s time.
There was a battle after Blaze, Catfish, and I cut all of the ropes. The Stribog crew clearly had no time to set up the harpoon guns again. Only one more harpoon attached itself to us in the course of the battle, and that gun was trained close enough to a window that I had no more reason to climb about the ship. I thought my part of the battle was in fact over, but I was wrong about that as it turned out. I had not realized how deep the hatred between the two crews was. Rather than trying to escape now that we were no longer tied to the enemy, Blaze now took over the bombardment, and if anything it gained more foracity. I had no doubt in my mind that Blaze had every intention of sinking the enemy to the ocean below. The cannons on the Aeolus are not large, weight restriction were still a problem, no matter how good Blaze is at creating new designs. They are able to fire at unusually long distances, but the shot is only slightly larger than what is fired by a pistol. This meant that no matter how good the aim of the gun crew was, the damage was slow to take effect. In the meantime the crew of the Stribog was making good of the time, not only by firing their own guns, but also by trying to bring their ship close enough to ours that even without ropes between the ships they would be able to board us. Much to my shock, Captain Neriena ordered that they should be allowed to come to us. I would have much prefered that they be kept at a distance and sunk.
The two airships were not actually able to come against one another, since the airbags were wider than the gondolas, and they prevented the men on each ship from getting close enough to climb across. Neither pirate crew seemed troubled by this however. Instead now pistols and rifles came out and into play now. Finally Captain Jackson ordered his crew to come across on ladders slung across from his ship to ours. The ladders had hooks on the end, which bit into the sills of our windows, making them difficult to remove from our ship, especially when they had the weight of several men on them. It was clear that the ladders had been designed with just such an attack in mind. Blaze had been entirely right when he had said that Captain Jackson liked close tactics, it seemed that his entire armament was designed for such maneuvers. We were only able to tilt off one of these ladders before the others came. The men on that ladder fell to the ocean below, and I could see flotation devices dropped to them from the Stribog, so I suppose that they were fine. We were not so far from shore as it would be impossible to reach in such circumstances, though I must admit it struck me as hardly pleasant. It repeatedly passed through my mind that I had no desire for a similar swim, and I dearly hoped that we could remain in the air through this fight. I have no ability to swim, nor do my children, though I promise as of having witnessed this that I will see to it that Willie gets lessons when his health has improved. I never thought there would be a need for him to know how to swim, but my own adventures prove that you can never tell what life will bring to you.
Since Blaze, Catfish and I had been trying to prevent the enemy from coming across on the ladders, we found ourselves fighting together now that the enemy had made it aboard. I quickly noticed that Blaze was the only one of us who was a fighter. He had guns, so many guns that I quickly lost count, and when he had spent one of them, he quickly changed to the next, with apparently no concern of running out of weapons. I only had the knife that I had been given to cut ropes with, and Catfish contented himself with wielding the poll that had served as the handle for the ax. I had no notion what had happened to the ax head, I had not been watching, but judging by the splintered wood where it had been, it seemed that the ax had broken at some point. Catfish was making do with the axhandle, it being hard wood that was easily swung like a club. Catfish did not seem eager to cause actually permanent damage to anyone however. He aimed mainly for legs, and arms, avoiding anything that could potentially be lethal. I had to admit that I was much the same. Knives could be dangerous weapons in the hands of the right person, but I was not such a person. I was not able to shake the feeling that reporters and journalists were never meant to be combatants. I am certain that Catfish could have made the same argument about mechanics. Blaze however was a gunner, and seemed to relish in the bangs and small explosions he was causing, though they were very small explosions. Blaze was not crazy, and was not so foolish as to try to cause a fire on a ship that was kept in the air with a flammable gas. The walls and floor of the gun deck were covered in metal, and I suppose that they had Blaze in mind when they made that decorating decision. When I had first seen it I supposed that it was for extra armor against attack, but that was before I saw Blaze in action. Blaze has a great love for gunpowder.
I cannot say that I did much damage to the enemy, but as my goal was mainly to protect myself, I am not ashamed to write that. I would have chosen not to fight at all, except that I had my doubts that the crew of the Stribog would be understanding if I told them that I did not feel I was a fighter. In the end I was not needed to cause much damage. For all that Blaze had said that the crew of the Stribog had the advantage in a close fight, the crew of the Aeolus held their own and more. Captain Neriena has gathered under her a group of rough men, mostly former sailors from the looks of them, and every one of them seems ready for a fight. They fought with anger at being invaded by the enemy also, which only made them more powerful.
I had thought that the crew of the Aeolus fought without tactics or purpose, with each man for himself, but as I watched the men of the Stribog were slowly backed against the windows of the gun deck. They suddenly found themselves confronted with a choice, continuing a lost fight, or jumping from the window. It was clear that Captain Neriena had drilled her men at one time or another on what to do in just such a situation. One by one the crew of the Stribog began to throw down their weapons, though Captain Jackson shouted at them to keep up the fight in both English and Russian. It seemed that no matter how powerful the grudge was between Captain Neriena and Captain Jackson, his crew was not so invested in it as to wish to die for it.
Cluttered Journal 