ONE:
On SABRE, her hair whipping from the speed of their descent, now a dive, soon to be a glide. She’s moved to one of the POSTS, wrapping her hands around it.

She is trying not to be gleeful. Relief doesn’t cover it.

1. SABRE: Mister Coffey, wait ’til you feel the bite

TWO:
New angle, COFFEY has joined her at the second POST, and now both of them are heaving back, trying to pull Pegasus out of her dive.

2. SABRE: …and pull

THREE:
WEST reaching in behind COFFEY and SABRE respectively, one hand on each POST, pulling with them.

ALL of them are exerting themselves. There’s a lot of ship, and a lot more gravity to fight.

3. SABRE: —pull, PULL you magnificent wench—
4. SABRE: —my featherwood beauty, yield you glory