Iron Seas 03 - Riveted

them both. “Get your things ready, but don’t carry much. We’ll try to make it to shore, but if we can’t, we’ll take the gliders.”
    They wouldn’t risk the lifeboats with the whale in the water. “Are you coming directly back?”
    “Not yet. I have to stoke her as high as possible—we’ll let the engine take us as far as she can back to shore before they ring the bell to abandon ship. I must go.” She backed away, holding his gaze. “Safe journey, David. Mr. Dooley.”
    She turned and ran for the ladder. David glanced at Dooley.
    “They’ll put the passengers off before the crew. When they evacuate, you take the first round of jumps. I’ll stay back until Annika goes.”
    Dismay filled his friend’s face. “I’m not thinking that’s—”
    “I’ll help her shovel. I need you to look over my aunt, take her with you. Please.”
    “It’s an arseways time for you to fall in love.” Dooley clasped his hand, gave a firm shake. “All right. So long as you’re off when the crew goes.”
    “I will be.”
    Because he’d be making damn sure that Annika made it off, too.

Chapter Seven
    Though Annika wished David had stayed above, she was glad to see him—and she couldn’t afford to reject his help. She gave him two pieces of cotton for his ears and a shovel, then steered him toward the furnace. She climbed up to the engine room and saw Mary coming in. With the engine already at full steam and David helping below, there was nothing for Mary to do here but wring her hands. Annika shoved her out to collect their things and to wait for evacuation.
    Down to the boiler room again. David had stripped off his coat and jacket, tossed them over her blue mantle. In his shirtsleeves, he rhythmically scooped shovelfuls from the rolling bin to the furnace. Annika dumped the bin onto the boards, left him a small hill of coal. She pushed the bin to the coal bunker and refilled it before jettisoning the rest through the emergency chute.
    She felt faintly sick. Fifty tons of coal, straight into the drink—but it would lighten the ship, give them more of a chance. Digging her boots in, she hauled the full bin back to the furnace, grabbed another shovel.
    Scoop and toss. Scoop and toss.
    Her world narrowed to that single motion, repeated over and over again. Her back ached. Her face itched with sweat. How far had they been from shore when the harpoon had struck the balloon? Ten miles, perhaps. At full steam, a little over fifteen minutes. They had to be close. She hadn’t yet heard the bell signaling the order to abandon ship. Perhaps they would make it to shore? If so, she needed to close all of the hatches, stop the engine before they landed or risk their own propellers tearing Phatéon apart.
    She glanced at David. The white-hot glow from the furnace glinted off his beads and eyepiece, glistening over the sheen of perspiration. Unlike Annika, his pace hadn’t slowed. He looked as if he could keep this up for hours—and with the nanoagents, perhaps he could. “I’m going to see where we are!” she shouted.
    He nodded without breaking the rhythm: scoop and toss. Annika’s sweaty hands almost slipped on the ladder rungs. She hauled herself up into the engine room and stopped, her heart thumping.
    She could see Iceland’s shoreline through the portholes. Oh, that couldn’t be right. They were at the tail of the ship, the portholes on the sides, and Phatéon was supposed to be flying toward the island; she should have only been able to see the ocean. And the ship was low, low—only a few yards above the surface. Was Vashon hoping to settle into the water and let the propellers drive them in, like the engine of an old ironship?
    It wouldn’t work. Phatéon would float for a short time, but the weight of the engine made her draft on the stern too deep. The engine room would flood, water pouring in through the hull along the propeller shafts and vents. She’d drown within minutes.
    Annika yanked the cotton from her ears and shouted into the pipes. “Captain!” No answer. But someone had to be on the bridge. “Captain!”
    What the devil was going on?
    Her stomach sank, and she knew. Panic followed her to theporthole again. She pressed shaking hands against the thick glass, stared toward the shoreline. There, the winged figures in the air. Gliders.
    They’d already abandoned ship…and she hadn’t heard the bell.
    Terror exploded within her. They had to go now . She hauled the engine lever back to