Angels in the Gloom_ A Novel - Anne Perry [127]
There was another explosion, a tearing thunder of sound, and the whole ship juddered and sank lower, throwing Matthew forward onto his hands and knees, then rolling him over, bruised and wounded, hands cut, burned, streaming blood. He clambered to his feet again, gasping and coughing, retching to catch his breath.
Was Hannassey still somewhere ahead of him? What if he was wrong, and he had abandoned the prototype and was even now saving his own life by jumping to the German ship? It would be possible. It was lower in the water now, at least from the raised port side.
He hesitated. Which way?
The ship lurched again. Was it even lower? There seemed to be smoke everywhere, and the heat was intense! Were they on fire? Please God, if they were, they would explode! Better to be consumed in a fireball, blown apart in an instant, than to sink knowingly, wide awake, into the darkness and the crushing weight of the ocean, struggling for breath, or drowned as the water poured in, black and ice-cold from the lightless depths.
But he’d get Hannassey first! If he’d already got the prototype, and was struggling to carry it, which way would he go?
Portside, of course. It was higher. If she listed any more there was a risk the starboard side would actually be below water level, and if it was holed either by enemy shot or their own gun turrets or magazines exploding, that would be the end.
It was not his imagination; it was getting hotter. His hands hurt from the broken glass. Somewhere there was burning. It could reach the magazine any minute. He had no idea where it was, or how bad. A voice inside him screamed to go up, toward the light and the air! Escape . . . escape . . . escape!
The smoke was thicker. He was having trouble breathing. His eyes were streaming, he could hardly see. He fell over another body, inert and wet with blood.
But he would get the Peacemaker, and die knowing for certain that he had destroyed him. It was worth it. Don’t die for nothing. He just wished he could have told Joseph that he’d done it.
And Judith and Hannah—they deserved to know, too. Especially Judith. He could not tell Detta, he could never tell her, but she deserved to know, for the way he had used and broken her also, and taken from them both what they could have had.
He went to the port side, sliding on the floor as the tilt became steeper, grabbing at anything he could reach to help himself, and finding it slick with oil. The noise was roaring in his ears, the engines racing, the shrill hiss of steam, the crash and boom of guns.
Then he saw Hannassey about five yards in front of him. He was balanced with the prototype in his arms. He saw Matthew at the same instant.
“Told you you’d go down,” he shouted above the din. “Never had time to use your marvelous invention, did you!” His teeth gleamed in what was left of the lights. Then his face changed. All triumph vanished in a snarl of rage and furious, complete understanding. “It doesn’t bloody work!” he screamed. He hurled it from him, toward Matthew as if he could hit him with it. “The goddamn thing’s no use! You didn’t use it because you can’t! Mother of God! All this for—nothing!”
Matthew avoided it easily, the pitch of the ship carrying it hard against the other wall, and Hannassey stumbled with the release of the weight.
“That’s right!” Matthew shouted back at him. “You came for nothing! You’ll die for nothing! You’ll never see your bloody empire!”
“I don’t . . .” Hannassey started, but the rest of his sentence was drowned in another bellow of gunfire. He turned and stumbled over wreckage toward the steps upward.
Matthew went after him, clawing his way along, feet slipping on burning corticine and broken glass, climbing over twisted iron and crumpled bodies he could not help, Hannassey always just a few yards ahead of him.
There was another crash somewhere above and the ship heaved, sending them both flying. There were several more