Beyond the Poseidon Adventure by Paul Gallico Read Free Book Online Page B

him up the rope. The possibility that there might still be people to be saved on board had tilted the balance in his mind. But, with every heave of his hands, he thought, Klaas van Zeevogel, you are becoming careless and stupid in your old age.
    Coby had no such doubts. She loved her days on the Magt, she loved the sea, and she loved her father. But the excitement that boiled inside her came from the man with one name who had just sailed into her life. She felt the clean, unquestioning confidence in this shining new emotion that dies at the first lie, the first deceit, the first mistake. She knew, and that was more than enough. She wriggled up after them, and when Jason’s arm around her shoulder steadied her for a second all her shapeless fantasies merged into one face.
    Klaas began to lower himself into the opening in the propeller-shaft housing. He said, “Now we shall see what hidden treasure lures survivors back to a sinking ship.”
    Jason grunted agreement, but his eyes were on the Komarevo’ s industrious approach in the distance. He was more concerned to know what hidden treasure there was aboard the Poseidon that would interest Captain Ilich Bela, and how many bodies he was prepared to step over this time to get to it.

MINDING THE STORE
    4
    The fear which had spurred them in their climb up the tangled mountain of wreckage when they were fleeing the ship had gone; now the three survivors struggled laboriously down to the ceiling which had become the floor of the inverted engine room. Without the adrenaline fired by that terror, they saw all too clearly the drop beneath them to the saw-edged wreckage of the gigantic machinery. Turbines, dynamos, reduction gearing, everything of any size and weight, torn away from its bolts, now lay in tangled turmoil below, and Martin whistled his shocked surprise when he realized what they had achieved. Manny saw nothing but the shadowed corner by the pool where he had left his wife’s body.
    Rogo refused to look down to the silent pool where Linda and Scott had both died. He was the cop again, back on the job. “C’mon you guys, move it.” It was the first lesson learned in a street accident: keep ’em moving. Driven by his words, they edged out into the crazily distorted web of metal which had been their final ascent to salvation. The lighter metalwork of the room, the platforms and handrails and catwalks and steps, remained, but they had been smashed into an erratic lacework pattern that stretched from the curved, studded interior of the hull to the jungle of shattered machinery and weird pools that was now the floor. First James Martin, then Manny Rosen, and finally Rogo moved step by cautious step across and down the mutilated scaffolding. Manny, his eyes still searching for his wife’s body, lost his footing on a catwalk greased with the oil that coated almost every surface. For a moment he teetered on one leg, hands frantically scrambling in the air for a hold; the rock-solid arm of Rogo caught him.
    Rogo thought, Cripples! A deal like this and what am I stuck with? A couple of goddamn cripples!
    He repeated it to himself when a handrail which Martin was testing broke the half-shorn bolt that held it, and went spinning into the abyss. The sharp clang of its landing echoed through the cathedral-like vault.
    It was only when they reached the bottom that Rogo took in the scene to which duty had recalled him. Belle Rosen’s body was slumped, lifelessly draped without dignity among the girders, at the spot where she had sacrificed her life to save theirs. Beside her was the small pool which filled the stairway leading to the rest of the ship. Beyond it lay the larger pool which had swallowed the Reverend Scott and Linda Rogo.
    Rogo’s breath rasped from the climb down. The only other sound was the drip of oil and water, and the occasional creak of the deformed metalworks. It was a fearful sight, made more so by the similarity in space and sound to a church. Each drip