Hail Mary Ship Novels & Stories

Beatrice perched on the sofa opposite, leaning forward in anticipation. “Me an’ Agnes dug deep an’ uncovered a sorry tale, make no mistake,” Maud said quietly. “The ship was called The Raven. A galleon that sank off the coast of Ashby-on-Sea in 1588. Captain was a fella by the name of Jackson Crane. A God-fearin’ man, like many around them times. Maybe that explains why folk did what they did, but havin’ a reason don’t make everythin’ ye do in life right.” Beatrice frowned. “What do you mean?”

"Do it." I dived. One shot. Precise. The slug shattered the rudder control mechanism at the stern of the ship. The flagship groaned, its propellers spinning uselessly. It began to drift, turning in a slow, helpless circle. The other destroyers were dead in the water, their electronics fried. The fleet was paralyzed. "Attention, harbor," I broadcast on all channels. "This is Queen Marigold. Your ships are disabled. Your weapons are junk. Your Captain is a coward."

Rage and hate poured from him in a sickly red aura. Methodically, like he knew he was being watched, he turned to the side, revealing a ship. White with orange trim. Lifesavers mounted to the starboard dipped and rose with the tide. Distorted blue letters were printed on the rear stern, but she couldn't read them through the haze.

However, because the sound of the waves was too loud, Aurora could not hear the full content of the story they said. Aurora hears some clues: two girls... cheating... under the sea... losing. Aurora vaguely recalls Mary's last words before putting her into a coma. She said she wanted to bet with Aurora to see who Phelan would choose between Mary and Aurora. At this moment, the towel on her head was pulled down. Aurora narrowed her eyes, and it took a while to adjust to the bright sunlight. She realized that she was on a very large ship, this ship was sailing in the middle of the vast ocean. She and another girl were hanging from the bow of the boat. That girl is Mary.

“That’s not possible.” Fear slid through the ship immediately. Gabriel followed his stare. Then his expression darkened too. Far across the ocean lights were appearing through the storm. Dozens of ships. Black ships. Covered in silver moon symbols. Hunters. An entire fleet of them. And standing at the front of the largest ship was a woman wearing a silver crown.

The white metallic tentacle squeezed our small boat until the fiberglass cracked. We were being dragged backward, away from the open sea and straight into the dark shadow of the yacht. Above us, the fleet of ships with the silver eye symbol moved closer. They looked like giant, floating predators. "Hazel, the virus!" Jane shouted, her voice weak. She was clutching Elle, trying to shield the baby from the freezing spray of the ocean. "Use your strength! You have to cut us loose!"

She was worried but she was certain Fawn had not lied to her because that would have been too far a line to cross. A drop of rain fell and landed on Garin's arm and he felt it. "Here we go, Hannah," He called out and they braced their selves. The rains began to descend upon them and the waves escalated quickly. In about a minute, the waters were rising higher than mountains and the ship danced aggressively on the water. "Quickly, Hannah, steady the mast while I open the third sail," Garin ordered.

The wooden ship appeared through the morning mist like a ghost from another century. I stood on the beach with Ava beside me and Maya on my hip. Madeline was a few steps away, her hand shielding her eyes from the sun. The vessel was old. Real wood. Real sails. No engine. No metal hull. Just planks and rope and canvas. Ava spoke first. "Is that her? Is that the rescue ship?" Madeline nodded slowly. "That is the boat Victor kept in reserve. I recognize the lines. The single mast. The red stripe on the hull."

My heart raced as the royal ship stirred, the Night Crawlers behind her. Is Cathena the salvation I am looking for?

Termâs could hear the cries of survivors but there was little he could do. “Doesn’t a rough sea mean a slow pace?” “Well, Saron, my men are rowing as fast as they can.” Erwaith looked out at the high foaming whitecaps that surrounded them. His white hair flew around wildly in the strong north winds. Careath was still within view but disappearing quickly. His fleet was made up of forty ships with roughly four thousand armed men. The Silver Hawk was by far the largest and was in the lead. The coast of Myrmidar was bleak and lifeless; even the usual animals were noticeably missing. Erwaith and Saron could see smoke to their northeast in the direction of Dymor.