Sea of Ghosts - Alan Campbell [104]
Indeed, both crewmen were now missing from the scene entirely.
Maskelyne removed the spectacles. Kitchener and Roberts reappeared, standing there regarding him as if nothing had happened. He put the spectacles back on. The two men simply vanished before his eyes, leaving the surroundings intact, but stammering in that darkly uncertain light. Suddenly he thought he detected movement at the corner of his vision, and turned abruptly. But there was nothing there, just the cabin walls and the door.
Had that door just closed?
Remarkable. Was he witnessing some previously hidden property inherent in the objects themselves? The very essence of sorcery? Could that explain both the consistency of the cabin and the sudden disappearance of his two crewmen? The ship was sorcerous, but his comrades were not? Was it possible that these spectacles could perceive one and not the other? Maskelyne could not imagine another solution. He wondered if he could tune the spectacles to eliminate the interference and produce a clearer picture.
He turned the wheel back to its original position.
This time a searing white light blinded him, as if a magnesium powder flash had been set off directly in front of his eyes. Images crashed into his retina: the cabin, a ship, the sky, cabin, ship, sky, all accompanied by a terrible stuttering roar. Maskelyne tore the spectacles from his face, overcome with agony, and pinched his eyes.
‘Captain?’ Kitchener said.
After-images remained burned into Maskelyne’s retinas. He’d glimpsed something he recognized . . . But what was it? Now he couldn’t see a thing. ‘I’m blinded,’ he cried, and realized that he couldn’t even hear his own words. The roaring sound still drummed in his ears. Yet even as he spoke, he realized that this sensory storm was already beginning to fade. Slowly, his vision began to return to normal. He heard himself breathing once more.
‘Some water,’ Kitchener said to Roberts. ‘Fetch clean water.’
‘No,’ Maskelyne replied. ‘I’m all right. I can see again. I can hear.’ He set down the strange spectacles and then took a deep breath. His nerves felt utterly shredded. He was shaking. What was it he’d glimpsed during that terrible glare? A face? The more he thought about it, the more he felt sure that was it. A hideous iron visage, scorched and blackened by fire. ‘Blame my own foolishness,’ he said at last. ‘I should have known better than to make assumptions. You are quite right, Kitchener. Normalcy is not a quality one should ever associate with the Unmer.’ He shook his head clear of the last vestiges of the vision. ‘Start bringing the crew over now. Leave the trove, but bring the gas welders and grab as much water, food, rope, tools and sailcloth as you can carry.’
‘Sailcloth, captain?’ Kitchener inquired.
‘I want to put a spinnaker up on that tower,’ Maskelyne replied. ‘If there is a will at work here, we ought to give ourselves the opportunity to thwart it.’
Ianthe retreated into the darkness of her own mind. She found that she was breathing rapidly. What had happened? She’d been looking out at the cabin through Maskelyne’s eyes. She saw the optical experiments and watched her host pick up the spectacles. She had looked out of his eyes in awe at the change in luminance when Maskelyne had first turned the wheel and then gasped at the abrupt disappearance of the two crewmen. And then . . .
Suddenly Ianthe had no longer been able to perceive the cabin at all. She had been standing right here, on the deck of Maske-lyne’s dredger, gazing up at the figurehead upon the Unmer ship. She had been looking at the scene through her own eyes.
When the Excelsior began to shudder violently, Granger knew he’d been away from the wheel too long. He vaulted