The Iron Duke (45 page)

They followed the aviators topside, where Seymour had halted beside Scarsdale on the quarterdeck, both men looking out over the bow.

“The admiral’s ship is coming round.” Seymour frowned and glanced at Rhys. “Perhaps concerned by my having taken so long listening to Haynes’s recording. I’ll scramble, sir.”

Yes, scramble
, Mina thought, watching the ship. Rather than directly approaching the
Terror
, the wind forced the vessel to come round on an arc, cutting through the calm seas at speed and displaying a stomach-dropping view of the enormous ship’s decks and gunports. Smoking hells, the
Terror
couldn’t stand against that—Mina would have more luck trying to take a hit from the Iron Duke.

“She’s moving into position to fire,” Scarsdale said.

Rhys’s gaze rose to Seymour’s airship. “He’s signaling now—telling Burnett that all was in order.”

That didn’t bring Mina any relief. “Then why are
Vitruvian
’s gunports opening?”

Seymour shouted over the airship’s side. “Sir! Hold fast! We’re signaling again!”

Rhys nodded—but apparently he had little confidence that the signal would do any good. He called to an older man standing amidships. “Mr. Smiegel, is the furnace burning?”

“Yes, sir. Low, as you said.”

“Stoke her up, then. Be ready to fire the engines on my signal.”

“Yes, sir.” But he paused, as if uncertain whether he’d misheard. “Fire them, sir?”

“Yes.”

Smiegel gave a tight nod. “Right, sir.”

He vanished down the ladder. Rhys caught Mina’s gaze. As if to reassure her, he said, “It’s too warm for kraken or megalodon.”

“So was the Gold Coast,” Scarsdale said in an undertone that wouldn’t carry past their ears. “And the sharks in these waters are big enough.”

“Yes. But we’ll have to take that risk.” Rhys’s mouth tightened as he marked
Vitruvian
’s progress. The sea smashed into white plumes against the onslaught of her heavy bow. “Mr. Charles!”

The gun captain who ran up to the quarterdeck couldn’t have been much older than eighteen, but years under the sun had already leathered his face. “Sir?”

“How quickly can your men mount the full complement of rail cannons?”

The gun captain’s chest filled up. “They’re ready to fire in forty-five seconds, sir.”

A time that must have been worthy of the man’s obvious pride. Rhys smiled a little, nodding. “All right. Have your men ready and standing by for my orders. Forty-five seconds later, I want
Vitruvian
’s waterline looking like a sieve.”

“Yes, sir.”

Charles left the quarterdeck. Mina tried to catch her breath. The rail cannons had a greater range than a traditional cannon, but were usually used as a last resort rather than the first option. But if Rhys was planning to fire them against
Vitruvian
, to stop the great ship from coming within range, then the rail cannons must be their
only
option.

Scarsdale looked uneasy. “If you fire first, captain, then the whole fleet will have no choice but to—”

“I know.” He raised the spyglass. “She’s coming around broadside.”

To fire on the
Terror
full on with more than sixty cannons. Mina squeezed her fingers together as Rhys shouted to the men in the rigging. Two sails dropped and filled, and the ship began to drift around the sea anchor, keeping the bow pointed toward
Vitruvian
—preventing them from using the
Terror
’s side as a target. Looking at the number of gunports, Mina doubted that it would matter. From the front or the side, they’d still be blown apart.

Her nails dug into her palms as the
Terror
began a different motion beneath her feet, a deep side-to-side rather than the forward up-and-down that had grown so familiar the past two weeks, the low waves moving against their side instead of their bow.

If the waves had been any larger, the alignment could threaten to capsize them. But even the low swells had the crew tense. The captain, too.

And
Vitruvian
had appeared enormous from a distance. As she closed in, the ship was simply terrifying. “Has the admiral’s ship given any signal at all?”

“No.”

Then what was the admiral waiting for?
Mina stared at the ship, trying to imagine. She had no mental picture of the man, couldn’t guess whether Burnett stood on
Vitruvian
’s quarterdeck, anticipating their demise with manic glee, grim determination and duty, or without any emotion at all, as if they were nothing but bugs. What went through such a man’s mind as he bore down on a threat, intending to crush it?

Finally, colors flew from
Vitruvian
’s bow as they hoisted the signal pennants. But the starkness of Rhys’s face told her that it wasn’t the response they’d hoped for. “What is it?”

Almost drowned by the sudden whine of the airship’s generator, Scarsdale called to her, “He ordered Seymour to fire on us!”

Boots pounding the deck, Rhys raced to the stern, where the airship hovered thirty yards behind the ship. He roared over the noise. “Stand down, Seymour!”

Mina’s hands flew to her mouth. The aviator captain himself had manned the airship’s rail cannon. The long barrel swung down, aimed for the
Terror
.

She was jerked off her feet as Scarsdale yanked her against him, crouched over her, shielding her with his body. An explosion of splintering wood sounded to her right. Scarsdale’s grip loosened. She looked up, heard his disbelief.

“He only clipped the rail. He
missed
. Impossible from that distance.”

“He saved our ass.” Striding across the deck, Rhys hauled Mina up. “We’ve been fired on. We’re justified firing back. Mr. Smiegel! Mr. Charles! Now!”

His shout had barely faded when the rumble of engines shook the boards beneath her feet. Generators screamed to life. Men raced to mount the rail cannons.

With no recoil, no sound, she couldn’t tell when they fired them—except for the implosions in
Vitruvian
’s hull. Timber exploded in a rough pattern along the waterline, shattered wood splintering and flying into the sea. Smoke puffed from the first-rate’s gunports. Geysers erupted between the
Terror
and the admiral’s ship, cannonballs falling far short of their mark.
Vitruvian
faltered as she took on water through her shattered hull, slowly tipping to port.

“Another round to her engine deck!” Rhys ordered.

Mina looked to him with wide eyes. Was that necessary? The ship was doomed.

Scarsdale must have read her face. “She’ll go down slow. The captain can’t allow them time to fire up their own rail cannons. So he’ll take them out. Their only option left is abandoning ship.”

“Sharks coming in astern!” The shout came from the crow’s nest.

Mina spun around, and her heart dropped through to her knees. Three metal-plated, razor-edged fins knifed through the water, each half as tall as the captain. Beneath the surface, sleek shadows arrowed toward the
Terror
at shocking speed.

Rhys didn’t look. “How big?”

“Thirty-five feet!”

He shook his head. “She’ll survive them. Another round at her engines, Charles!”

More timbers shattered—and that must have been enough. Rhys ordered the engines off.
Vitruvian
sat low in the water, the waterline almost at her second deck. Her men poured into small boats. Seymour’s skyrunner fired its propellers, lowering its platforms and ropes as he flew toward the men abandoning ship.

“Strike the colors!” Rhys shouted. “The rest of the fleet will know we’re done.”

Mina glanced astern, looking for the sharks. Red water seemed to boil almost two hundred yards away—and there were far more than three sharks now.

“Yasmeen took one out with her rail cannon,” Scarsdale said from beside her.

And the blood had started a frenzy. She watched in horrified fascination, until a shout from the crow’s nest sent ice sliding down her spine.

“
Endeavour
’s firing her engines, sir!” The man pointed toward a column of steam rising from the center of the fleet. Mina turned, stomach trembling. No generator’s whine, not yet.

“She’s out of our range,” Scarsdale said.

“But not theirs.” Rhys strode to the rail, calling orders to the crew. “Get on those flags, signal to Seymour! And tell the fleet to blow her out of the water.”

 

 

Mina would liked to have seen the dreadnoughts destroying
the ship, but the Iron Duke ordered every bugger on the
Terror
into the steel-plated cargo hold—including her and Scarsdale. They waited there until Rhys came down to tell them that
Endeavour
was nothing but a few floating planks barely visible through the clouds of gunpowder smoke.

Sitting by Andrew, she threw her arms around him before running to Rhys and letting him sweep her up into a sweet, victorious kiss. The giddy relief lasted through endless questions as
Bellerophon
’s rear admiral and the van squadron’s vice admiral boarded the ship.
Vitruvian
was lost, and although much of her crew had been rescued, Mina wasn’t surprised to learn that Burnett had gone down with the ship. But even with a king’s decree in hand, an admiral’s death couldn’t be pardoned without rigorous examination. When the admirals opted to continue their questioning on
Bellerophon
, Rhys left with them on Seymour’s airship. Mina spent the rest of the afternoon writing out a long report to Hale. At sunset, Yasmeen and Scarsdale joined her for dinner at the captain’s table—and as they’d made an early start on their celebratory drinking, Mina was well entertained until midnight approached, and Rhys finally returned.

With him were Captain Seymour, several lieutenants, and warrant officers who would fill the positions of the men the Dame had executed. While the officers left to claim their quarters, Rhys and Seymour came into the cabin. With a greeting to the airship captain, Yasmeen stood and stretched in a long sinuous arch. Seymour returned her greeting, his face deeper red than usual.

She grinned and looked to Mina. “I’m leaving for Venice in the morning. I could have you back in England within five days.”

Aware of Rhys’s sharp gaze, Mina shook her head. “I’ll stay on the
Terror
for the remainder of the journey. But if you would deliver a report to Hale, and a message to my parents? It would relieve them to know that my brother has been found.”

Yasmeen nodded, but Seymour spoke up. “I say, I could deliver them within two days. I’m flying ahead to take the vice-admiral’s report to the Admiralty Board, and to inform them that
Vitruvian
has been lost.”

Two days was even better, and Yasmeen didn’t look put out at being passed over as messenger. Almost dizzy with relief and happiness, Mina handed over the envelopes. She smiled and nodded as they all took their leave, and spun to face Rhys as soon as they were alone.

He stood in the middle of the cabin, watching her with a lazy grin. “So you’ll stay?”

“Yes,” she said, and gasped out a laugh as he hefted her up against his chest, until their eyes were on level.

“Two more weeks won’t be enough for you, either.”

Sudden sorrow squeezed the laughter in her throat to nothing. He was right. But it hardly mattered. “It has to be,” she said.

“Why? How can I ruin you, your family?” His dark brows lowered over his searching gaze. “I
will
protect you both. And a connection to me can only raise their status—politically, socially, financially.”

Her heart hurt. “No. It won’t.”

Setting her heavily to her feet, he pushed away to stare out the gallery windows. “Why won’t you try?”

“You always attract the notice of the newssheets and the public. If I’m with you, then so will I, and
that
will ruin us.”

“So you said.” Frustration hardened his jaw. “Why assume that?”

“Because I’ve already seen it.” And she didn’t want to show him. But she braced herself, and dug the flyer from the bottom of her valise.

He frowned when she passed it over to him. “What is this rubbish?”

“That’s me.”

“The
hell
it is!”

His gaze shot to hers, burning with sudden fury. Tears started to her eyes. She turned away before they spilled over.

She’d imagined many reactions, had seen them all, from laughter to horror to a shrug of dismissal, as if the drawing shouldn’t matter. But anger didn’t seek to smooth or dismiss hurt feelings, as if she’d simply been a victim of a thoughtless joke. His anger said that she’d been
wronged
.

And she loved him for it.

But his fury also said that someone needed to pay . . . and that he didn’t understand that there was no
one
to do it. He thought that this wrong could be righted with a sweep of his mighty iron hand. And so he wouldn’t understand that she couldn’t be protected from this—or why, no matter how much she wanted to stay with him after they reached London, she couldn’t.

His voice came from behind her, low and dangerous. “Who did it?”

Mina lifted her hands. “Most likely one of the ladies at the meeting. Not that she intended
this
. But she probably mentioned to her husband or to her brother that you’d accompanied me home, and he mentioned it to another man at a club, and by the morning these flyers were being passed out on the streets.”

“
Who
passed them out?”

“Street urchins. Do you want to know who drew it? I don’t know. Do you want to know who asked him to draw it? I don’t know. Do you want the name of the man with the printing press? I don’t have that, either. And what if I did? Would you burn down the printing shop? Ruin every man who had a finger on that flyer?”

“I’d do a hell of a lot more than that.”

She believed him. But he still didn’t understand. “And the newssheets, too?”