Clive Cussler - Dirk Pitt 20 Arctic Drift

DIRK PITT ADVENTURES BY CLIVE CUSSLER

Treasure of Khan
(with Dirk Cussler)

Black Wind
(with Dirk Cussler)

Trojan Odyssey
Valhalla Rising
Atlantis Found
Flood Tide
Shock Wave
Inca Gold

Sahara
Dragon
Treasure
Cyclops
Deep Six
Pacific Vortex
Night Probe
Vixen 03
Raise the Titanic!
Iceberg
The Mediterranean Caper

KURT AUSTIN ADVENTURES BY CLIVE CUSSLER WITH PAUL KAMPRECOS

The Navigator
Polar Shift
Lost City

White Death
Fire Ice
Blue Gold

Serpent

OREGON FILES ADVENTURES BY CLIVE CUSSLER

WITH JACK DU BRUL

Plague Ship
Skeleton Coast
Dark Watch

WITH CRAIG DIRGO

Sacred Stone
Golden Buddha

OTHER FICTION BY CLIVE CUSSLER

The Chase

NONFICTION BY CLIVE CUSSLER AND CRAIG DIRGO

The Sea Hunters The Sea Hunters II Clive Cussler and Dirk Pitt Revealed

DRIFT
CLIVE CUSSLER
A N D
DIRK CUSSLER

G. P. PUTNAMS SONS
Publishers Since 1838
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,
New York, New York 10014, USA Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East,
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Copyright 2008 by Sandecker, RLLLP

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned,
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Published simultaneously in Canada

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Cussler, Clive.
Arctic drift / Clive Cussler and Dirk Cussler.
p. cm.

eISBN : 978-1-440-65427-5

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

While the author has made every effort to provide accurate telephone numbers and Internet addresses at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for errors, or for changes that occur after publication. Further, the publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

http://us.penguingroup.com

In memory of Leigh Hunt.

And yes, there really was a Leigh Hunt.

A dear friend, bon vivant, wit, and madcap Don Juan who had a way with women that made him the envy of every man in town.

I killed him off in the prologues of ten Dirk Pitt books. He always wanted to play a bigger role in the stories but didnt complain because he enjoyed the fame.

So long, old pal, you are sorely missed.

PROLOGUE

PASSAGE TO DEATH

APRIL 1848 VICTORIA STRAIT THE ARCTIC OCEAN

THE CRY RATTLED THROUGH THE SHIP LIKE THE howl of a wounded jungle beast, a mournful wail that sounded like a plea for death. The moan incited a second voice, and then a third, until a ghoulish chorus echoed through the darkness. When the morbid cries ran their course, a few moments of uneasy silence prevailed until the tortured soul initiated the sequence again. A few sequestered crewmen, those with their senses still intact, listened to the sounds while praying that their own death would arrive more easily.

In his cabin, Commander James Fitzjames listened as he squeezed a clump of silver rock in his hand. Holding the cold shiny mineral to his eye, he swore at its luster. Whatever the composite was, it seemed to have cursed his ship. Even before it had been brought aboard, the mineral carried with it an essence of death. Two crewmen in a whaleboat had fallen overboard while transporting the first sample rocks, quickly freezing to death in the icy Arctic waters. Another sailor had died in a knife fight, after trying to barter some of the rocks for tobacco with a demented carpenters mate. Now in the last few weeks, more than half his crew had gone slowly and inexorably mad. The winter confinement was no doubt to blame, he mused, but the rocks somehow played a role as well.

His thoughts were interrupted by a harsh banging on the cabin door. Conserving the energy needed to stand and answer, he simply responded with a raspy, Yes?

The door swung open to reveal a short man in a soiled sweater, his ruddy face lean and dirty.

Capn, one or two of em are trying to breach the barricade again, the ships quartermaster stated in a thick Scottish accent.

Call Lieutenant Fairholme, Fitzjames replied, rising slowly to his feet. Have him assemble the men.

Fitzjames tossed the rock onto his bunk and followed the quartermaster out the door. They stepped down a dark and musty passageway, illuminated by a few small candle lanterns. Passing the main hatchway, the quartermaster disappeared as Fitzjames continued forward. He soon stopped at the base of a tall pile of debris that blocked his path. A mass of barrels, crates, and casks had been strategically wedged into the passageway, piled to the overhead deck and creating a temporary barricade to the forward compartments. Somewhere on the opposite side of the mound, the sound of shifting crates and human grunts resonated through the mass.