Sea of Ghosts - Alan Campbell [94]
They were in the Border Waters, the confluence of the Mare Lux and Mare Regis. It was an area of unpredictable weather and vicious currents. Ships were apt to drift leagues away from their assumed positions. He’d heard rumours of reefs, too, shoals of copper sharks and wisp lights, and even great deepwater erokin samal capable of claiming entire crews with their searching tentacles. But the stories that troubled him the most were those of wandering deadships.
He pulled a cord and blew the ship’s foghorn. A deep, low blast reverberated through the mist. He did not expect to find another ship out here, but the sound reassured him nevertheless. It filled the sepulchral air with a sense of life.
He hadn’t heard Lucille come in but turned at the sound of her voice.
‘He’s asleep,’ she said. ‘At least he was until a second ago.’ She inclined her head towards the foghorn cord. She was dressed, like him, in deepwater gear. In her bulky whaleskins she looked pitifully small and fragile. She removed her goggles and took a moment to unwrap the silk scarf from her face. ‘I asked one of Mellor’s boys to watch over Jontney.’
‘That scarf’s not really necessary,’ he said. ‘These mists don’t do much damage.’
‘It’s the word “much” that concerns me in that sentence, Ethan.’
He smiled. ‘Mist blisters heal. I’d still love you, even if you looked liked a sea monster.’
‘And you’d love me no less if I didn’t.’ She stared ahead into the mist. ‘Where are you taking us?’
‘Losotans called it the Whispering Valley,’ he said. ‘Before the flood, I mean. Lots of old Unmer settlements down there.’
‘So lots of treasure?’
‘That’s the idea.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s as thick as soup out there. Do you think Ianthe would be able to see through this?’
He said nothing, but kept his gaze on the crimson fog.
She nuzzled against him. ‘This reminds me of Hattering.’
‘The mists?’
‘Well, apart from the mists,’ she replied. ‘And the boat. We were both dressed in whaleskins. I thought you looked quite dashing.’
He smiled ‘Dashing? In whaleskins?’
‘What was the name of that friend you were with? The naval officer?’
‘William Temping.’
She nodded slowly. ‘That’s him. Whatever became of him?’
Maskelyne sniffed. ‘I cut his throat.’
He felt her tense, just slightly. And then she moved away. ‘I’d better go check on Jontney,’ she said.
‘He was a terrible fraud,’ Maskelyne said. ‘Did you know he even cheated on his wife? Some woman he kept in Losoto, apparently.’
‘Was that why you killed him?’
‘No.’ He was silent for a heartbeat, thinking, but he couldn’t recall. Finally he said, ‘I must have had a good reason.’
She looked at him for a long while, then shrugged. ‘I’m sure you did what you thought you had to do, Ethan.’
A bell began to ring on the deck below. Maskelyne peered out through the window and saw the bow lookout’s gem lantern swinging madly in the mist. He reached for the engine throttle but then changed his mind. One of his crew was rushing across the deck from the lookout’s position, but he couldn’t yet make out who it was.
‘What is it?’ Lucille asked.
Maskelyne opened the wheelhouse door and looked out. The crewman on the deck shouted up to him, ‘Deadship, Captain.’
‘Bearing?’
‘Straight for us. Like she knows.’
Maskelyne closed the door again and spun the wheel hard to starboard. And now through the red fog he could make out the dim black shape of a ship. She was a huge, ancient ironclad, bereft of masts, yards or sails. Upon her midships deck stood a solitary tower – a latticework of metal struts supporting a rusted toroid. She was one of the old electrical ships that had once carried whale oil