Romulus Buckle and the Luminiferous Aether (The Chronicles of the Pneumatic Zeppelin #3) by Richard Ellis Preston Jr. Read Free Book Online

as if he could see through them, see what was coming, see the outlines of the torpedoes against the ocean sky.
    “Of course,” Felix muttered calmly. “Well, there’s only one thing for it now. Take us down, Kishi. Vent the safety tanks. Drop us like a stone to eight hundred.”
    “But we are already exceeding maximum depth,” Kishi said, growing more frightened. “We’re already in the dysphotic. He can’t see us.”
    “He knows where we are.” Felix replied grimly. “Take us down. And on the double quick.”
     

VII
    THE GLOOM
    The Dart fell into a gray-green darkness, her iron skeleton groaning as the ocean welcomed her descent, reaching up to crush her. Water streamed down the inside of the bulkheads. A peculiar odor arose, similar to the smell of a hot gun barrel, and Buckle wondered if the pressure hull, compressing down at a molecular level, was emitting some sort of frictional heat.
    “Seven hundred and falling,” Kishi said, her  voice thin, tight.
    “Be quiet,” Felix whispered. He leaned into the chattertube. “Running silent,” he ordered.
    For thirty seconds there was no sound except the aching complaints of the hull, the bursting of pipes, the trickle of water. Buckle screwed his fingers around in his ears, cranking open his jaw. The descent seemed to be concentrating in his eardrums—the increasing pressure, the puttering rattle of bubbles escaping the submarine as it descended into their grave.
    “Seven fifty,” Kishi said, almost breathless.
    “What’s the exact rating on this thing?” Buckle asked, watching the darkness deepen rapidly by degrees.
    “You don’t want to know.”Rachel replied.
    “Ratings are subjective,” Felix said. “Right now, vanishing into the gloom is the only chance we have.”
    “Gloom?” Sabrina asked.
    “Six hundred and fifty-six feet and below,” Felix replied, staring at lines of silver mercury rising in a bank of glass pressure tubes. “Where the sunlight fails and the true darkness of the sea begins. Where the monsters live.”
    “You’re not helping,” Sabrina grumbled.
    “The Founders boat can’t see us now but he must suspect that he crippled us,” Felix said. “We have to get under his depth charges.” He opened a small cabinet door set in the binnacle and drew forth a bottle of rum, which he uncorked with a pop and tipped up for a big swallow.
    “That cork was a bit loud,” Sabrina whispered.
    Felix grinned. “If the blokes up there hear it, they’ll understand.” He offered the bottle to Buckle, who shook his head as he stared straight up. Buckle couldn’t stop staring straight up.
    “I’ll take a swig of that,” Sabrina said, and Felix handed her the bottle. Sabrina took a large gulp.
    A weird, unsettling moan echoed through the ship, followed by a loud crumple of metal.
    “She’s a finicky boat she is,” Felix whispered. “But she’s tough. Her sides are dimpling, but they’re not giving way.”
    Sabrina took another long gulp and handed the bottle back to Felix.
    The bulkhead rivets started rattling. The glass plate on the compass cracked with a sudden, sharp smack.
    “I’ve changed my mind,” Buckle said. “I shall take a snort of that rotgut if the offer is still open.”
    Felix handed the bottle to Buckle, who tipped the bottle and swallowed one, big, syrupy-sweet slug of rum.
    Outside the windows the last hints of light vanished. The ocean went black.
    “The gloom,” Rachel muttered.
    Buckle could see no more dim glow overhead. It was if the Dart had dropped through a curtain and into a void, the only light now provided by the small sea lantern and the green bioluminescence of the boil-lit instrument panels.
    “Eight hundred,” Kishi whispered.
    “Level out, stop descent,” Felix ordered.
    “Aye,” Kishi replied.
    Kishi and Rachel wound a set of hand cranks and threw a lever. The glass cover on the ship’s compass shattered and fell in on the bobbing, phosphorescent needle.
    Felix took a deep