On the maindeck, where DRAKE and the cluster of CREWMEN are trying to put out the fire.
Of the three remaining FLYERS, we can see TWO in the BG, here, buzzing around like wasps on meth, coming around for another pass. The CLOUD of SMOKE still visible, blocking the view of Iron Crown.
A couple of the DECK MARKSMEN are taking SHOTS at the FLYERS, and missing.
DRAKE has realized that the sand they’re throwing won’t get the lines doused in time.
1. TAILLESS: —sand, get some sand on it—
2. TAILLESS: It’s spreading, keep it from the sails—
DRAKE tosses away his BUCKET of SAND, and is producing a bone-handled KNIFE from somewhere on his person where we’ve never seen it before because I want him to have a knife for this, Rick, okay, deal with it.
3. TAILLESS: —Maker’s name, keep it from the sails!
DRAKE slices the BURNING RIGGING with one hand, grimacing as he grabs hold of the burning ropes with his other, casting them to the deck.
4. DRAKE: gnhn
Past DRAKE, reacting, as the GUNNER from the doomed flyer that has just passed overhead comes crashing to the deck, landing atop the burning rigging that’s just been discarded.
5. SFX: WHUMMP
6. GUNNER/wobble/faint: *groan*