Authors: Paul Finch,Neil Jackson
Craddock (12 page)
“
Quickly man!” Craddock shouted, hacking harder at the rope.
Quickly man!” Craddock shouted, hacking harder at the rope.
Its fibres began to fray, then Palmer’s weight took over. The next thing, he was loose in their arms, rangy and difficult to manage. They’d have lowered him to the ground, but that ground was tilting beneath their feet. With the constable slung between them, they staggered sideways. All across the floor of the hold rents were appearing, the entire chamber filling with the light, which had a rippling, shimmering quality.
“
This way,” Craddock panted, making for the door to the next section of hold.
This way,” Craddock panted, making for the door to the next section of hold.
He grabbed his lantern as he went, but like Munro, couldn’t resist a backwards glance. What he saw brought him to a stupefied standstill.
The ballast had finally fragmented, and an immense, gelatinous
something
was slowly writhing free of its clutches.
something
was slowly writhing free of its clutches.
It would have been impossible for either man, given the brief time he stood there, to offer a complete description of the abomination they now beheld. But they caught fleeting glimpses of translucent, tentacle-like protuberances oozing up through the rubble, and in the central area – where Burnwood had drained his victims, and then died himself – a blob-like focal point, a quivering mound of vitreous flesh slowly forcing itself upwards, palpitating, glistening – and, at the same time,
glowing
, for it was from this very thing that the eerie, oceanic light seemed to emanate. Yet, phosphorescence wasn’t the only thing the monstrosity contained. In the very midst of it, in the thickest part, directly below the emergent point – the head, if such a thing could be called a ‘head’ – the two officers saw a human figure deeply embedded. Preposterous though it seemed, this figure appeared to be riding the creature, or at least controlling it; a demonic human agent safely encased at the globular core, issuing commands through malignant thought-impulses.
glowing
, for it was from this very thing that the eerie, oceanic light seemed to emanate. Yet, phosphorescence wasn’t the only thing the monstrosity contained. In the very midst of it, in the thickest part, directly below the emergent point – the head, if such a thing could be called a ‘head’ – the two officers saw a human figure deeply embedded. Preposterous though it seemed, this figure appeared to be riding the creature, or at least controlling it; a demonic human agent safely encased at the globular core, issuing commands through malignant thought-impulses.
Of course all this was fantasy, and unhinged fantasy at that.
The enclosed figure was neither riding nor controlling anything. It wasn’t even moving – not of its own accord, for it was no longer sentient. It wasn’t just dead, it was
long
dead, little more than bones and carrion. Yet it struck the two officers with horror all the same, for though many of its clothes had faded and rotted away, they were still recognisable as the ragged remnants of a French naval uniform.
long
dead, little more than bones and carrion. Yet it struck the two officers with horror all the same, for though many of its clothes had faded and rotted away, they were still recognisable as the ragged remnants of a French naval uniform.
“
Holy Christ!” Munro screamed.
“HOLY JESUS CHRIST!”
Holy Christ!” Munro screamed.
“HOLY JESUS CHRIST!”
Craddock stared in mute disbelief. Even as they stood there, further sunken relics became visible: skulls, femurs, pelvises, and the shreds of common street-garb – a frilled bonnet, a streetwalker’s lace-up boot – scattered wide but lodged deep in the oily bulk.
Sick to their stomachs, the two policemen scrambled away across the next section of hold, half dragging-half carrying Palmer. He’d now become a dead weight, and getting him up to the Carpenter’s Walk was an onerous task. But with new shafts of green light shooting up all around them, they found strength they’d never previously imagined, and manhandled his inert form up the steep ladder with relative ease.
Craddock was the last of the trio to ascend. His was seething with sweat and wheezing painfully. Though a fit man, at fifty-seven he wasn’t the robust, front-line warrior he’d once been; but there was still no flight without fight in his book. The moment he was up, he turned and flung his lantern back down into the hold. There was a shatter of glass as it burst apart on the rungs, then a whoosh of flame as the fuel ignited.
Munro was appalled: “Sir, what the hell are you doing?”
“
A simple measure, to slow the thing down.”
A simple measure, to slow the thing down.”
“
Slow it down?
You’ll burn us to death!”
Slow it down?
You’ll burn us to death!”
“
I doubt it. This ship’s sodden through.”
I doubt it. This ship’s sodden through.”
Munro shook his head. “It’s not just timber, it’s hemp and canvas. It’s thick with tar. Sodden or not, it’ll go up like a tinder-box!”
They faced each other, breathless. Then it struck Munro that he was only saying something his superior already knew.
“
Good Lord. You’re not trying to slow it down, you’re trying to kill it!”
Good Lord. You’re not trying to slow it down, you’re trying to kill it!”
“
Give me your lantern,” Craddock said.
Give me your lantern,” Craddock said.
“
In God’s name, why?”
In God’s name, why?”
Flames were already flaring in the trapdoor, spreading up the bulkhead wall.
“
The lantern, I said!”
The lantern, I said!”
“
Major … it’s the scientific discovery of the age.”
Major … it’s the scientific discovery of the age.”
“
Give me your bloody lantern, and that’s an order!”
Give me your bloody lantern, and that’s an order!”
Munro handed the lantern over. “And just how do you propose we find our way out of here without light?”
“
There’ll be light enough. Like you said, this whole ship is a tinder-box.”
There’ll be light enough. Like you said, this whole ship is a tinder-box.”
The major turned and hurled the lantern past as far along the Carpenter’s Walk as he could. On landing, it exploded and spurted its burning payload for yards down the passage. A rush of heat engulfed them.
“
Get his feet,” he barked, grabbing Palmer’s tunic and hauling him along.
Get his feet,” he barked, grabbing Palmer’s tunic and hauling him along.
“
I hope you know where you’re going!” Munro retorted.
I hope you know where you’re going!” Munro retorted.
Craddock thought that he did, but, as they commenced their frantic retreat, he was trusting as much to directional instinct as to his memory of how he’d worked his way down here. At least darkness didn’t pose a problem; no matter how fast they climbed, a searing red glow rose behind them, casting wild and frantic shadows.
At least – they
thought
they were shadows.
thought
they were shadows.
It soon became apparent that this wasn’t entirely the case.
As they wound their way through convoluted passages, clambering one narrow stair after another,
things
came out of the murk: grizzled faces, worn to the bone and twisted with expressions of bitter accusation; skeletal hands fumbled at them; there were screams of outrage, cries of despair. They blundered through it all, bouncing from bulkhead to bulkhead, refusing to look, closing their ears to the dirge, until an apparition blocked their path that they simply could
not
ignore. They were at the foot of a central companionway, which would lead up to the quarter-deck. But time was short: the timber panels were drying beneath their feet; on all sides tendrils of smoke spiralled upwards. And now this – a phantom that stood rigid as it barred their way. It leaned slightly to one side, and was blackened all over. The clothes it wore were charred rags. Its hair and side-whiskers had been fried to stubble, but the eyes in its scorched face were alive and livid.
things
came out of the murk: grizzled faces, worn to the bone and twisted with expressions of bitter accusation; skeletal hands fumbled at them; there were screams of outrage, cries of despair. They blundered through it all, bouncing from bulkhead to bulkhead, refusing to look, closing their ears to the dirge, until an apparition blocked their path that they simply could
not
ignore. They were at the foot of a central companionway, which would lead up to the quarter-deck. But time was short: the timber panels were drying beneath their feet; on all sides tendrils of smoke spiralled upwards. And now this – a phantom that stood rigid as it barred their way. It leaned slightly to one side, and was blackened all over. The clothes it wore were charred rags. Its hair and side-whiskers had been fried to stubble, but the eyes in its scorched face were alive and livid.
They regarded it with awe, too shaken by the things they had witnessed to make sense of this new nightmare. Only then did Munro sight curved steel – a cavalry sabre – clutched in one of its sooty, muscle-knotted fists.
“
Good God,” he breathed, “Kenton.”
Good God,” he breathed, “Kenton.”
The wounded hussar said nothing, but gazed at them with hatred so intense it practically smouldered. Then he struck, sweeping the sword at their heads. Craddock, who was the closest, ducked, and in doing so, stumbled and fell to his knees. The blade knocked a huge chunk out of the woodwork behind him.
The major glared up. “What the devil …”
“
He’s with Burnwood!” Munro shouted, releasing Palmer and going for the firearm in his pocket.
He’s with Burnwood!” Munro shouted, releasing Palmer and going for the firearm in his pocket.
Kenton came forwards, intending to cut at Munro. Craddock responded first, throwing himself against the hussar’s legs, trying to pull him down. But even burned and blistered, the burly trooper was solid as a rock. He smashed the pommel of his sabre several times on Craddock’s head and shoulders, dropping him to the floor. Munro had now drawn his revolver, but Kenton slashed at it with the sword, catching it by its barrel and sending it flying. Munro threw a punch, and then attempted to grapple with the hussar, but he was a lightweight in comparison. Kenton head-butted his face, then took him by the throat, swung him around and forced him up against the bulkhead. Munro gasped for breath. He kicked, but it made no impression. He clawed at the hand that held him, to no avail. Kenton responded with a rattling croak of a laugh, then made to thrust with his sabre, a blow that would surely have skewered the officer to the wall.
And then there was a
crash
, which rang and rang in that broiling, airless passage.
crash
, which rang and rang in that broiling, airless passage.
Kenton hurtled sideways, struck a pillar, and slid down it like a pat of half-melted butter, though the slimy trail he left behind was ruby-red instead of golden-yellow.
Palmer lay flat, but though bloody and bleary-eyed, he was now conscious and had the revolver in his hand. Its barrel still smoked.
“
Did … did I get the right one?” he mumbled.
Did … did I get the right one?” he mumbled.
Munro hurried to help him. “Can you stand?”
“
Du … dunno …”
Du … dunno …”
At first Palmer couldn’t, but when flames burst into life at the far end of the passage, he made a remarkable recovery; in fact he was back on his feet with minimal assistance. Now it was Major Craddock in a semi-helpless state. His white hair was clotted with gore, and he groaned as his underlings hauled him along – but only for a few moments.
“
Alright,
alright!
” he grunted, shaking free. “What are you two idiots playing at? We should’ve been out of here ten minutes ago!”
Alright,
alright!
” he grunted, shaking free. “What are you two idiots playing at? We should’ve been out of here ten minutes ago!”
He led them up two more flights of stairs, before they broke out onto the quarter-deck. By this time smoke was belching past them, and the roar of the blaze rose at their backs. After the heat and fumes below, the night air was ice-cold. For seconds they were zombified in its grip, then Craddock came to himself fully and gestured his men to the gunwales, where the scaling-nets hung overboard.
They glanced around once before descending. The black ship had come to angry life. The inferno inside it drove raging light through every aperture. Flames licked their way up the main mast. When they stood by the breastwork and peered down the netting, fire could be seen flickering out around the edges of the closed-off gun-ports, threatening their escape route.
“
Lord help us,” Palmer moaned.
Lord help us,” Palmer moaned.
“
You first, Palmer,” Craddock said. “Don’t be frightened to drop if you have to. That sand’s softer than it looks.”
You first, Palmer,” Craddock said. “Don’t be frightened to drop if you have to. That sand’s softer than it looks.”
The young constable gave the major a dubious glance, then stripped his cape off before going over the side. Craddock made to follow, but Munro stopped him. “What are we going to tell them?” he asked.
Craddock looked bemused. “I don’t understand.”
“
With all respect, sir, you do. I mean about Burnwood?”
With all respect, sir, you do. I mean about Burnwood?”
“
There was a gun-battle. He and his confederates died.”
There was a gun-battle. He and his confederates died.”
“
But what about the things he said? The thing he showed us?”
But what about the things he said? The thing he showed us?”
“
Nothing, Munro. I’m going to say nothing about that.”
Nothing, Munro. I’m going to say nothing about that.”
“
We can’t just say nothing.”
We can’t just say nothing.”
Craddock stared at his subordinate. “If you sincerely believe that, then you’re madder even than Burnwood was.”
“
But that’s just the point, isn’t it? He
was
mad. They all were. In fact, they all
are
. Certainly on the evidence of what we’ve just seen.”
But that’s just the point, isn’t it? He
was
mad. They all were. In fact, they all
are
. Certainly on the evidence of what we’ve just seen.”
“
So?”
So?”
“
So … we must take action.” An appeal had crept into Munro’s voice. “That’s why he lured
you
here, sir. Because he felt that
you
were a man who’d understand.”
So … we must take action.” An appeal had crept into Munro’s voice. “That’s why he lured
you
here, sir. Because he felt that
you
were a man who’d understand.”
“
Then he misread me, Munro. Very badly indeed.” And with that, Major Craddock clambered away down the rigging.
Then he misread me, Munro. Very badly indeed.” And with that, Major Craddock clambered away down the rigging.
In keeping with the courage – or lack of it – that they’d shown earlier, Captain Ryland’s hussars hung well back from the
Catherine-Maria
now that she was on fire. Even the unexpected silhouettes of Major Craddock and two of his men appearing over the gunwales and swinging ape-like down the netting, while titanic plumes of flame and smoke rose higher and higher behind them, failed to entice the militia forwards.
Catherine-Maria
now that she was on fire. Even the unexpected silhouettes of Major Craddock and two of his men appearing over the gunwales and swinging ape-like down the netting, while titanic plumes of flame and smoke rose higher and higher behind them, failed to entice the militia forwards.
The three bedraggled figures had reached the ground and hobbled some fifty yards over the fire-lit sand before they met the first bunch of dismounted troops. Captain Ryland was with them. He acknowledged Craddock with a curt nod, but seemed more interested in the conflagration engulfing the ship. A fresh cheroot hung from his mouth.
“
Once we heard the shooting, we gave you up,” he said, almost as an aside.
Once we heard the shooting, we gave you up,” he said, almost as an aside.
Craddock, sweating and gray-faced, loosened his scarf. “Very rational of you.”
Ryland looked round. The tunic still hung open beneath his cloak; his breath smelled not just of tobacco but of recently-consumed ale. It seemed likely he’d taken another sojourn in the tavern while the policemen had been engaged aboard the hulk.
“
We could’ve gone in at that moment, of course, but if you were already dead, what would’ve been the point? There’d have been no-one for us to help?”
We could’ve gone in at that moment, of course, but if you were already dead, what would’ve been the point? There’d have been no-one for us to help?”
Craddock mused: “Well, I suppose it’s good to know that the men who might’ve rescued you are being philosophical about why they didn’t.”
Ryland chose to ignore the stinging remark. It made Craddock wonder if stinging remarks were something this particular officer of militia was well used-to.
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