The Map of the Sky (Trilogía Victoriana #2)(48)
“Finish it off, Kendricks!” Lieutenant Blair ordered the sailor closest to the Martian.
But Kendricks, crouched beside the crates, face splattered with greenish blood, was slow to react. By the time he began moving toward the monster, it had changed itself back into the spiderlike creature that had fled Reynolds’s cabin and was scuttling toward the hold door, where it quickly vanished into the darkness.
“Where do you think you’re going, you demon from Hell?” Kendricks cried, giving chase.
Lieutenant Blair, Griffin, and the others followed him, and Reynolds suddenly found himself in the hold, once more having survived, while the bodies of his fallen companions lay around him. By the light of the only lantern that had not been snuffed out during the commotion, he made sure there was nothing he could do for any of them, except for the young gunner, who was sitting propped against the wall of crates, a glazed look in his eyes, unaware of what was going on. Reynolds’s first impulse was to flee the hold and look for a safe hiding place, abandoning Allan to his fate. And yet something held him back. Only moments before, when everyone believed he was the creature and were preparing to kill him in cold blood, the gunner had stepped in to defend him against the entire crew. Nor could he forget that Allan had also agreed to hide in his cupboard. But was that display of loyalty reason enough for him to risk his life for the gunner? Since when was he moved by such considerations? He no longer needed Allan, so he could leave him there. Taking him along in his present state would make them both an easy target for the Martian. Just then the gunner raised his head, and Reynolds thought he had at least partially recovered his senses, because Allan managed to look straight at him and whisper his name.
“Reynolds, Reynolds . . .”
The explorer knelt at his side.
“I am here, friend,” he said, placing his arm around Allan’s shoulder, ready to help him up.
“Where is everyone?” Allan inquired in the faintest of voices.
“Well, having seen what is in the hold, the Martian has decided to inspect the rest of the ship. I think it wants to make sure we are seaworthy,” Reynolds jested, managing to elicit a weak smile from the gunner. “Do you think you can stand?”
Allan nodded feebly, but as he tried to rise to his feet, his ankle gave way, and he fell to the floor with a grimace of pain.
“Damnation, I think I’ve sprained it. I am not sure if I can walk, Reynolds,” he said in a strangled voice. “What the devil are we going to do?”
“I don’t know, Allan,” the explorer replied, slumping beside him. He pushed Peters’s head to one side with the toe of his boot. “Perhaps we should stay here and wait if you can’t walk—this is as good a place as any. Maybe the others will manage to kill the monster. And if it comes back, we have more than enough weapons,” he concluded, signaling the pistols that Foster and the captain were still clasping.
“No, Reynolds. You go and help the others,” the gunner croaked. “There is no need to stay here with me.”
But before the explorer was able to reply, they heard Kendricks’s voice in the distance.
“I’ve found him, Lieutenant!” he cried. “That son of a devil is hiding in the powder store!”
“Be careful, Kendricks!” the lieutenant warned him. “Don’t open fire in there!”
Then Reynolds and Allan heard several musket shots.
“For God’s sake, Kendricks, I told you not to—”
A blast cut the lieutenant short, and almost immediately afterward Reynolds and Allan felt the ship shudder violently. The pile of crates they were leaning against began to wobble, and Reynolds hurriedly pushed the gunner to one side, then rolled on top of him as several crates containing whole sides of lamb toppled over and crashed to the floor, right where they had been sitting.
“Damn you, Kendricks,” cursed Reynolds, standing up and hauling the gunner to his feet. Allan clung to him, stifling a cry of pain as he tried to rest on his injured foot. “Come on, Allan,” Reynolds encouraged him. “We’re leaving. I don’t think it is such a good idea for us to stay here.”
The echo from the first blast was still reverberating when they heard another, followed by a fresh convulsion. Reynolds realized that Kendricks had set off a chain reaction in the powder store, and it would not be long before the boxes of ammunition and barrels of gunpowder exploded, blowing the ship sky high. They had to get off the Annawan as quickly as possible. He dragged the gunner over to the trapdoor leading up to the deck where the officers’ and crew’s quarters were. Clouds of thick black smoke were billowing down the passage between the powder store and the hold, making it almost impossible to see. Reynolds assumed the sailors who had chased after the creature were dead and even dared hope the creature was too. Not wishing to suffer the same fate, he wasted no time praying for their poor souls, but urged Allan to climb the steps. Once they had managed to get to the lower deck, where there was not a sailor in sight, the explorer tried to think what to do next, but he scarcely had time to give Allan any instructions when they were startled by a third, even bigger explosion. The blast raised some of the floorboards, splintering the wood, and hurled the two men into the air, together with a handful of equipment and a few barrels. The explorer was flung against one of the walls and rolled along the floor for a few yards. Half dazed, he lay amid the debris; a dark fog began to cloud his consciousness.