Had been as near dead as can be and not hear angels. Skipper was filling tanks anxious to get rid of us and take on passengers--that Dutchman never.

What a scheme! He was smart about more than science. She liked that. So she didn't blab his secret. In fact maybe that secret was what had tipped her into her typical teen crush. It would pass in about two months—they always did—but it added urgency to her quest. She had to get a chance to ask him.
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Destroyed three of his ships and killed hundreds of his men with their horror weapons but for all of their marvels they weren't gods. They were mortal and as they put their helm hard over to break away from their attack their course brought them where he could get at them. They were moving so quickly there was no possibility of adjusting his gunners' aim. Indeed there was no point trying to aim at all but Tesdorf Vadgaard would see himself damned and in Hell if he didn't at least try. His sword was in his hand-not that he remembered drawing it-and he thrust it wildly at the careening American vessel. "Fire!" he screamed. It was the end of the world. Actually only a single shot from Christiania's entire broadside found a target. The eighteen-pound roundshot was what pilots three hundred years in the future would call a "golden BB"-a fluke hit that should never have happened. But it did. Eddie Cantrell had a fleeting moment to see.
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