Taylor Anderson - Maelstrom

Table of Contents

ROC
Published by New American Library, a division of
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First published by Roc, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

First Printing, February 2009

Copyright Taylor Anderson, 2009

All rights reserved

Photo of the author taken on the Battleship Texas (BB-35) State Historic Site3527 Battleground Rd.,
La Porte, Texas 77571, with the permission of the Texas Parks and Wildlife Dept.

REGISTERED TRADEMARKMARCA REGISTRADA

Lledged the sacrifices of the Asiatic Fleet before, but Alan Levine recently reminded me that its high time I recognized the sad ordeal of a few ships and crews in particular. Unlike Walker and Mahan , USS Pope was actually there at the end when Exeter and Encounter met their fates. Pope was destroyed as well, but the torment her survivors suffered at the hands of her Japanese rescuers must never be forgotten. Nobody really knew what happened to USS Edsall until after the war, when grainy pictures of Japanese capital ships using her for target practice came to light. Apparently, a couple of her crew were rescued, but they didnt survive internment. A similar fate likely befell USS Pillsbury and the gunboats USS Asheville and HMAS Yarra , but we will likely never know for sure. God bless and keep them.

PROLOGUE

There was a new rumbling sound below, but it went unnoticed by the eight-year-old girl swaying in the sailcloth hammock. Her slumber was already filled with the incessant rumbling and groaning of the working hull, and the endless, hissing blows of the pounding sea. Then came another rumble, and another, each more insistent than the last. Still, she didnt stir from her dream. In it shed been swallowed by a leviathan, just as shed dreaded since before the strange voyage ever began. Every night, as soon as the lids closed over her large, jade-colored eyes, the same terrible dream came again. She was in the very bowels of a leviathan, and the rumbling, hissing roar was the sound of its belly digesting the ship. The voices camethere were always voicesexcited, urgent voices in a tone entirely appropriate. Of course there would be dreadful voices in a dreadful dream. She knew what would happen next....

She was facedown on the thundering deck, and only her tangled bedding protected her delicate nose from the fall. Her eyes flew open, but she could barely see. The only light in the stateroom came from the meager glow of a gimbaled lantern on the far bulkhead. Slowly emerging from the dark nightmare of a moment before, she began to understand shed entered another. The deck felt wrong, its motion contradicting what shed come to perceive as normal. She still heard the voices, and although the words were muffled, they were louder and shrill with alarm. One word she clearly understood sent a spasm of primal terror through her heart: Leviathan!

The rumbling groan intensified, and the deck heeled sharply beneath her. She had the impression the ship was rising up, much of the noise coming from the mighty timbers of its very bones, stressed beyond endurance. With a screech of agony and a splintering crash, the stress fell away like a broken spring, and she tumbled against the aft bulkhead that had suddenly become the floor. With a sickening, wallowing lurch, the stateroom righted itself, but then quickly tilted toward the bow. She hugged her knees to her chest and sobbed.

The door crashed open and her heart leaped with relief to see the wispy form of her tutor, Master Kearley, stumble into the room.

My lady! he cried, over the rising pandemonium in the sta He even paused to straighten the lapels of his frock coat. Come along quicklyno, do not hesitate to dress! A simple shawl will do.

She was accustomed to following his orders, and she did so now without thought, snatching her shawl from the hook by the door and draping it around her shoulders.

And your bonnet too, I suppose, he instructed. Obediently, she took the bonnet from its place beside the shawl and pulled it down over her long, golden locks.

What has happened? she asked tremulously.

Come, he said. I will tell you what I know as we go, but we must hurry.

The darkened passageway swirled with kaleidoscopic scenes of shadowy panic. Shrieks of terror rent the air, and bustling shapes surged aft against the increasing cant of the deck. An indignant roar rose above the turmoil, and the girl thought she recognized the voice of Director Hanes. Even his exalted status couldnt protect him from the animalistic instinct of the throng. The metallic sheeng! of a sword leaving its scabbard quickly silenced the dignitary.

Hurry! Kearley prompted as they wove, hand in hand, toward a companionway. We have struck a leviathanor it has struck us. It makes no difference. The ship will quickly founder. Her back is broken. The girl sobbed again, and her terror threatened to overcome her. The nightmare was true after all.

Make way, there! Kearley shouted at the broad back of a man blocking the ladder. Are you unmanned? Dont you know who this is?

The big, dark-skinned man whirled and made a fist, preparing to strike the frail scholar. His eyes were wide and white with fear, his huge, disheveled black mustache almost covering his entire mouth. Before he released the panicked blow, however, he recognized the small form below him.

Yer pardon, young miss! he almost squealed with contrition. Clap onto me back, and Ill plow us a road!

Kearley grabbed a handful of belt with one hand and took the girls wrist with the other. Together they fought their way up the choked companionway to the tilting quarterdeck. Once there, to the girls surprise, the big man stooped and swept her off her feet.

We must put her in a boat this instant! he cried. His voice had returned to what was surely a more normal growl.

My thanks, good sir, Kearley replied. I appreciate your assistance. The man spared him an incredulous glance. Now that he recognized the girl, there was no question he would die to save her.

The girl was oblivious to the exchange. Around her in the darkness, there was no longer any doubt: her terrible dream had come to life. Helpless canvas flailed and snapped, and the once fascinating scientific intricacy of the rigging was a hopeless mares nest of tangled lines. A constant, deadly hail of blocks and debris fell from above. Beyond her immediate surroundings, she dimly saw the bow, twisting and bent, jackknifing ever upward until the bowsprit pointed at the sky. The fragile paddle wheels on either side, amidships, resembled twisted flowteam and smoke jetted from the funnel. In the center of this catastrophe, the deadly sea coursed into the ship.