Phoenix Rising by Bryony Pearce Read Free Book Online Page B

deserted, then.” She whistled a short high note. “Peel won’t let you just take it.”
    Toby clenched his fists. “He’ll have to. I don’t have time to talk him round.”
    “Talk him round? He’ll go ape.”
    “I’m trying not to think about it.” Toby stopped to listen. “I can’t hear anything.”
    “All quiet.” Polly shuffled closer to his ear. “All hands on deck, remember? That includes Crocker and Peel.”
    Toby edged to the door and closed his fingers around the latch. His breath quivered on the glass panel, steamingit up, but not before he had peered in. Polly was right – the galley was empty, nothing but shadows in his way. Toby opened the door and slipped inside.
    His hand tightened around the moulded plastic head of the screwdriver. He had a job to do; in and out. If he was lucky, Peel wouldn’t even know Toby had been there; at least not until he tried to turn on the oven.
    The Phoenix tilted once more, reminding Toby that he was running out of time. Nevertheless, before he started to work, he gripped the big wooden table and dragged it until it formed a shelter in front of the blackened range.
    “What are you doing?” Polly flew on to the table while he moved it.
    “Peel may be on deck, but he could come back at any time. I’ll feel a lot less exposed with something covering my back.”
    Polly bobbed a nod and turned to face the door. “I’ll keep watch.”
    “Should I leave it open, or close it?”
    “Leave it ajar so I can see.” Polly tilted her head. “You don’t want him to surprise you.”
    Surprise was Peel’s most effective weapon. Despite his great weight, Crocker’s brother moved in a bubble of silence, padding around the ship on the rubber soles of his trainers. So many times Toby had thought he was alone, only tofind fingers pinching him brutally tight while he squirmed for freedom.
    But he trusted Polly, so Toby turned his back on the passageway and crawled under the table.
    The oven ticked in front of him, warm to the touch. Peel was cooking herring. Callum had netted them after a tornado had cleaned the junk from the deeps off Portugal and revealed an actual shoal swimming far beneath the poisoned currents. The crew had salted and barrelled enough to keep them going for several months.
    It would be a shame to eat uncooked herring, but with the boiler shut down, the oven would soon be losing heat anyway.
    The delivery line that linked the oven with the boiler room was on the back, so Toby would have to slide it out at least far enough for him to wriggle into the gap. He grabbed the metal edges and pulled.
    “Damn it.”
    “What’s the matter?” Polly didn’t take her eyes from the door.
    “It’s even heavier than it looks.”
    Toby put his shoulder to one side of the oven and yanked with all his might.
    He rocked it back and forth, the tendons in his neck tightening painfully. Finally the oven lurched towards him.With a cry, Toby forced it to twist before it dropped. He looked at the result of his efforts. The oven had come out a few centimetres, on one side.
    He sighed, moved to the other side and put his shoulder to it.
    Bit by rocking bit, Toby pulled out the oven. Every so often the Phoenix would pitch at just the right moment, shifting it in the right direction. By the time there was enough space behind for Toby to fit, his breath was coming in exhausted rasps. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, freed his screwdriver from his belt and set to work.
    The delivery line snaked from the rear of the oven, an oil-black tentacle. It was firmly fixed into the back with screws that had long ago rusted in place. Toby frowned. He squirted some fish oil from the small bottle in his pouch and began to chip away.
    When he had removed as much rust as he could, he nestled the screwdriver back into the head and turned hard. “I will get you out,” Toby muttered.
    With a sudden lurch, the last screw turned. Toby wobbled but managed to secure a grip on the delivery