Проект Эдуарда Пройдакова
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As the Iron Duke heeled over, the U.P. 5 spoke. A flash of orange fire tore through the gray mist, followed by the bone-shaking cr-ump of 16-inch shells. The sea around the Iron Duke erupted in towering geysers of white spray. One shell clipped the aft deck, turning the mahogany into kindling and sending a shiver through the ship’s spine. "Return fire!"
The battle for the seas had only just begun, and the legend of the U.P. 5 was already being written in blood and coal dust.
"Signal the 5th Flotilla," Vance whispered. "Tell them to find the Ghost's heart."
The humidity in the boiler room of the HMS Iron Duke was enough to wilt a man’s spirit, but Petty Officer Miller didn’t have time to sweat. The telegraph clicked with a frantic rhythm:
"Begin the turn," Vance ordered, his voice steady. "We cannot cross her 'T' if we're sailing into her teeth."