Inferno Read Online Free PDF

there was an unsettling, sinister air about the place. On this side the light of day could not touch the gloom of the craggy fastness. The sea heaved and struck in sullen white explosions against the dark coast, and as they neared the tortured tumble of rocks, it seemed impossiblethat they could reach through to the glittering prize that lay inside.
    Aileen G
sailed by a long grey-sand beach and low pass leading down it to the precipitous pinnacles of the next point. Following on closely,
Maid
doused her main at the same time and the two eased on their sheets to come to, just beyond the highest headland and close to an inward twist in the tall crags.
    It was as Laddie had said: a narrow inlet flanked by two majestic buttresses and there, on a stony slope leading to the impenetrable dark of a sea cave, the blackened remains of a considerably sized wreck.
    All about were seaweed-covered rocks, even in this good weather seething and soughing – some unknown captain had achieved a miracle to con his ship through into this last haven in dark and storm to what he must have thought was blessed safety.
    The cave, however, had been a deadly trap for there was no way out: the vertical outside rock-face was a hopeless barrier, and no soul could have survived the swim of a mile or more through the currents while being hurled against razor-sharp barnacled reefs.
    Anchors were cast – two, this close.
    The malefic aura reached out and quietened both boats as Stirk prepared. He looked down into the opaque green depths and shuddered. No sailor cast himself into the sea without good reason but there was nothing else for it.
    In loose tunic and trousers he eased himself over the side.
    The cruel cold bit into him but he wasn’t going to let it deter him. He struck out for the slope, feeling the great surge and pull of the swell as he made for his goal, now looking so far away.
    A clumsy swimmer, Stirk progressed slowly across the thirty yards to shore. He’d taken it on partly to be sure there was fair play but also to see for himself what lay in wait for them. Puffing like a walrus, he finally felt the pebble seabed under him and emerged on all fours next to the wreck timbers.
    He had a light cord tied to his trouser belt at the back, which he used to pull in an oilskin bundle floating on a pig’s bladder. It contained a warm jacket, a short spade and a pick.
    Throwing a quick reassuring wave, he crunched forward, sizing up the task.
    The ship lay sagging and spiritless, the ribs gaunt and jagged, weed slimed and decayed. The decks had long since collapsed and the timbers been driven clear; the outline of the frames was now stark and unrelieved. Stirk moved past the beached hull towards the bow and entered the cave proper. It was dim and stank richly of seaweed and brine. Every step on the shards and pebbles echoed sharply.
    He shivered: up this far he might be coming on the bones of long-dead sailors – or, worse, trespassing on the haunt of mermaids and sirens. Every nerve on edge, Stirk fought down his fears and entered the wreck through the skeletal ribs. It was almost unrecognisable, a jumble of anonymous weathered timbers and decay above the tide-line and below it more of the same, green-slimed.
    He stumbled about inside, looking for anything that could bring life to the remains, but it was quite bare. The ship’s bottom timbers curved away and he made out foot-waling above it; the decks overhead were completely gone. The wreck had been scoured clean.
    It was a bitter blow. Here and there were shapeless, encrusted masses but a few exploratory blows with the edgeof the spade showed them to be mast stumps, the iron of fittings, a tangle of heavy cable nearly eaten away – nothing resembling a treasure chest.
    Shuddering with the bite of the wind he stumped about, trying to think. It was no good hacking at the wreck – these were the last vestiges, the hold and bottom timbers. Nothing more was below