The Steam Spy (Steam World Book 2), page 20
I climbed into the pilot’s seat. Meara strapped a rope around her waist and another around the boy and then sat at the back of my chair, held tight by yet another bit of rope.
“Ready?” I called over my shoulder, feeling the power lever, the rope above me and the left and right levers.
“Ready!” Meara called back loudly. Mowbley was a bit more subdued. It can be argued that he merely squeaked.
“We’re ready!” I called to Mr. MacArdle.
“All right, lads, smartly then!” he called out. “Bow one!”
“Bow one, aye, sir!” one of the lads sang out. I could feel Dart lifting upwards, questing for the night air, ready to soar once more.
“Stern one!”
“Stern one away!” another lad called out.
The Dart seemed to quiver, the deck rocking just slightly as another bond to the earth was released.
“Bow two!”
“Bow two, aye!”
The deck lurched upwards and I heard Meara and Mowbley cry in alarm.
“Let go the last one, she’s pulling for the sky!” I cried.
“Stern two, away!” Mr. MacArdle called.
And I could feel it. Dart didn’t rise slowly into the night air.
She practically jumped, like a horse eager to take a fence.
“Oh, oh, oh!” Meara cried.
Me? I smiled, pushed the power forward, pulled on the right lever and slowly began to circle in the night sky, rising ever higher and higher.
“I’m circling!” I cried over my shoulder. “You should be able to see the ground and the torches below. Tell me when you do and how high we are.”
“How would I know that?” Meara cried in desperation. “Oh! Oh, I see them! They’re waving! And the barn! We’re way above it!”
“Start your timer, I’m turning us to Derby,” I said, pulling the turn tighter.
“My timer?” Meara cried. “What timer?”
“One one thousand, two one thousand,” I called back. “Count quietly as I’ve got to steer this girl.”
“And what makes you think she’s a girl, miss?” Mowbley asked.
“Because she’s higher, faster, and braver than any boy!” Meara answered. And then, as if she’d forgotten, “Five one thousand, six one thousand…” I heard a thump and she muttered, “You, too! Earn your way. But quietly, to yourself, like!”
I straightened the ship up, pushed the power to full, and then pulled it back almost as quickly — the Dart had surged forward in the air and the wind was freezing my face. I set the power to just a bit more than halfway. That was easier on me but still very cold.
I hoped we were flying quickly. I couldn’t imagine if we had to be up here in the cold air for hours.
Minutes passed, I could tell. We were close to Derby although it was hard to see because we were so high. I waited a bit more and then said to Meara, “Time!”
“Nine hundred sixty one thousand, nine hundred and sixty-one one thousand,” Meara called out. “We’re past the village, aren’t we, Mowbley?”
“Nine hundred sixty-four one thousand,” Mowbley sang out, adding, “Yes, we are.”
I did some quick calculations in my head. “That’s sixteen minutes,” I said aloud. “And that’s… thirty miles an hour!”
“No! It can’t be!” Meara said in awe. “We’re going that fast?”
“Well, if we are then we’re… what?” I paused, checking the sky in front of me and glad that it was a cloudless night, at least as far as I could see. I decided that we simply had to find a way to know our height. I would have to talk with Danni. Maybe Mr. MacArdle had some ideas. So… sixteen minutes to go eight miles. So eighty miles is ten times that. I smiled, the numbers were easy.
“So it’s one hundred and sixty minutes at our speed,” I said.
“We’ve already gone sixteen minutes, miss,” Mowbley reminded me.
“Right!” I agreed, shaking my head at my foolishness. “So that’s one hundred and forty-four minutes from now.” I did a rapid calculation. “Two hours, twenty-four minutes.” I nodded to myself. “So if we don’t see what we’re looking for in two and a half hours, we turn back.”
“And let them get away?” Meara cried in shock. My seat shook slightly and I guessed she was shaking her head. “Perhaps we turn back and head up the coast.”
“If we find it,” I said. I glanced at the compass. “We’re on our heading, one hundred and twelve degrees, thirty minutes.”
“We’ve no way of knowing if there’s a wind,” Meara said. “It could be pushing us north or south.” A moment later, she muttered, “I wish we’d brought a clock, it’s hard to keep counting.”
“I’ve got it miss,” Mowbley volunteered, adding out loud, “Nine hundred and ninety-seven one thousand, nine hundred and ninety-eight one thousand — when we get to one thousand, I can’t go on, I’m afraid.”
“Then tell us and start over, lad,” Meara said. “Do it to one thousand nine times and we’re almost there.”
“And you?” I asked. “How far can you count?”
“I know my way up and down numbers,” Meara said. “Our Danni drilled me on them. She’s a bit stiff like that.”
“Oh, is she?” I said, grinning to myself. I grew even more fonder of the amazing woman who was leading us all. To glory or death.
#
“I’m freezing,” Meara said two hours later. “How are you?”
“Wishing we’d thought to bring blankets,” I said, my teeth chattering.
“It’s no good flying up with the birds if we catch our death of cold,” Meara grumbled. “At least we’ll be there in another twenty minutes or so.”
I asked Meara for the exact number, subtracted it from ninety-six hundred second and said, “Meara, I want you to start counting down, can you do that?”
“Yes,” Meara said dubiously.
“And Mowbley, can you count without speaking?”
“I’ll try, miss,” Mowbley said.
“Good lad!” I told him. “Meara, start counting down from two thousand and thirty eight. That’s two zero three eight.”
“Two thousand and thirty seven one thousand, two thousand and thirty-six one thousand…” Meara went quiet.
“When you reach nought, let me know,” I said to her. “I’ll scan for the sea. We should be at Skegness about then.”
Meara murmured a bit louder with her count so that I could tell she understood.
#
It seemed forever. I began to feel that I’d be frozen to my seat, that ice would form on my arms and eyes and that I would go on forever, some frozen body staring straight ahead forever until the Screamer ran dry and the airbag collapsed, drowning us all, too frozen to care.
“Two hundred and forty one thousand, two hundred and thirty-nine one thousand,” Meara called loudly, tapping my back with her arm in warning.
“Four minutes,” I called back in acknowledgement. “Is Skegness as big as Derby? Should I see it soon?”
“Two hundred and twenty-nine one thousand — yes — two hundred and twenty-eight one thousand,” Meara called back.
I scanned the ground below us. And then I saw it. No, not the village. The sea.
“The sea! It’s straight ahead!”
“We must be near,” Meara called. “Two hundred and fifteen one thousand, two hundred and fourteen one thousand…”
“There!” I cried out, pointing. “Is that it?” Of course, they couldn’t see. I pulled back on the power and turned the Dart north to the spot I’d seen ahead. “I’m turning us so you can get a look,” I said. “Keep counting, in case I’m wrong.”
Slowly I circled the Dart in a great circle.
“That’s it!” Mowbley cried. “I see it!”
“Me too!” Meara added joyfully. She patted my back. “We found it, we found it!”
“Okay,” I said. “You can stop counting. I’m going to start lowering us, be ready, we’ll be pointing down for a bit, don’t worry.”
“Easy for you to say,” Meara muttered, “you’ve done this before.”
“Just the once, and in daylight,” I reminded her.
“Ach! That’s comforting!” Meara snorted.
I couldn’t blame her. I reached up and pulled on the rope overhead. For a moment nothing happened and I had the fear that it might have frozen in place. But then I felt us falling.
“We’re going to die!” Meara wailed.
“Hush, you’ll wake the whole village,” I called back. “And we’re only going down.”
“We’re not going to die?” Mowbley squeaked.
“Not today,” I replied. “Not if I can help it.” I looked at the ground slowly turning beneath me and let up on the rope. I could feel it going taut. Good! The air bag closed again. After a while, we slowed and then stopped falling. I continued circling, slowly, peering as best I could before me.
“I wish we could see over the side,” I said. Then, “Meara, you wouldn’t…?”
“Hail Mary, full of grace…” Meara muttered fervently.
“Huh, I didn’t take you for a Catholic!”
“There’s no crime in it!” Meara snapped back. “At least, not now.” A moment later, she added, “And I didn’t think much on it until I was up here, falling from the heavens.”
“Well, you’re one with the angels tonight,” I said, “so would you mind maybe peering over the side to see what you can?”
“Are you mad?” Meara screamed back. “I’m scared half out of my wits and you want me to —”
“Well, if it’s only half,” I teased. “You’ve got a rope around you and the deck’s steady enough — and didn’t you say you rode on a Walker?”
“And this is just as bad, but a thousand times higher,” Meara murmured in reply. She muttered to Mowbley, “If you stand up, I’ll get up from behind you and you can warm yourself where I was.” I felt and heard Meara move, heard Mowbley whimper and felt his thud as he dropped into Meara’s place. “If I die, Claire, you tell them it was your fault!”
“Of course,” I said. “I’ll remind them that you never volunteered for this, that you did it only —”
“Oh, shut up!” Meara said, her tone brightening. “It’s really not so bad, standing up.” I could feel the deck tilt as she moved toward the side. “It’s not quite a Walker and I’d be happier if we had railing but —” she paused. “Oh, my Lord!”
“What?”
“I think we’re there,” she said, moving forward to kneel in front of me and smile broadly into my face. “We’re maybe a hundred feet up, can you bring us down to twenty?”
“There’s no trees nearby?” I asked, glad when she moved out of my way but worried when I saw her go to the prow of the deck, which leaned down with her weight.
“Not that I can see!” Meara said, turning back. “Although, I must say, I don’t fancy going over the bow.”
“And the propellers are at the rear,” I added, “I don’t suggest going there, either.”
“So portside or starboard,” Meara decided. “Are you going to let us down?”
In response, I pulled on the rope behind me. Meara turned to see me do it and asked, “And that lets the air out?”
“Yes,” I told her.
“Can I do it?” she asked.
“Only a little bit and stop when I tell you.”
“Of course,” she replied. I let my arm slacken, just keeping a touch on the rope. Meara matched my pull. A moment later, I said, “Let go, and let’s see how we’re doing.” The airship was falling quite fast and I got worried. “If I tell you, push a sandbag off each side. But only if I tell you.”
“So we’ll go back up?” Meara guessed. I felt Mowbley move behind me and the deck lurch. “No, Mowbley! You go to the other side, to balance us.”
“Okay, Miss,” Mowbley squeaked. I relaxed as the deck leveled up once more. “I can see the town! I can see the tavern, too! We’re nearly there!”
“How high, Meara?” I asked. The Dart was leveling off.
“Another twenty feet, if you can,” Meara told me.
“You do it.”
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“You did well enough last time, you’ve got to get the feel,” I told her.
“The feel? Why?” Meara asked suspiciously.
“We’re going to build four more airships,” I said. “Someone’s got to pilot them.”
“Is that enough?” Meara asked, releasing her hold on the rope.
Dart settled again, slowly.
“I can only see ahead,” I reminded her.
“Well, we’re doing good,” Meara said. “Where’s that knotted rope?”
“Over here,” Mowbley said and the deck tilted again as he moved toward it.
“I see it,” Meara said hastily. “Perhaps it’d be best if you stayed where you are.”
Mowbley said, “Yes, Miss.” From his tone I could tell that he was only too glad to oblige.
“Okay, rope’s away!” Meara called. She peered over the side and I feared for her and what would happen with a gust of wind. I pulled all the way back on the power, not quite shutting it off. The Screamer groaned as its speed declined, like a horse whinnying to go faster.
“It’s touching the ground,” Meara called. I could feel the deck tilt even more. “Wish me luck!”
“No, Meara,” I cried, “when you let go, Dart will rise! I can’t say how much.”
“So our young Mr. Mowbley should go first, is that it?” Meara replied. “Because I’m an old fatty?”
“No!” I said in disgust. “But he’s lighter, so the ship will climb less.”
“Okay, Mowbley,” Meara said. “You heard the captain.” I felt the deck steady as Meara moved back to the center. “Now, I’ll pick up your safety line and let it out slowly, to let you climb down, is that all right?”
“I’ve climbed trees higher than this, miss,” Mowbley replied easily. The deck tilted as he went to the edge, grabbed the knotted rope and dropped himself over. “I’ll be fine!”
“Please, Lord, let it be so,” Meara murmured softly so as not to be heard by the lad.
“Amen,” I added in quiet agreement. As the deck jerked lightly with the boy’s descent, I had a sudden thought. I pulled on my seatbelt and loosened it. I got up and stretched — that felt so good!
“What are you doing?” Meara demanded as she turned at my motions. “Are you mad?”
“No,” I said, waving to the side where the knotted rope hung. “I just realized that when you go over, the deck will pitch even worse, particularly if our Mowbley is still holding on.”
“And?”
“Well, I should move to the other side to balance things,” I said.
“And scarper back right quick to your seat when I get down,” Meara added. She frowned. “And how will you know when that is?”
“How about you tug on the rope twice?” I suggested. “I should feel it from up here.”
“Okay,” Meara said, half to herself, “that works. That’s good.”
The Dart stopped jerking. Meara looked at me. “My turn,” she said. “Wish me luck.” She moved toward the portside and I moved to the other side, our weights keeping the Dart’s deck level. I turned just as she dropped down to her knees and grabbed the knotted rope.
“Good luck!” I called.
Meara’s head disappeared over the side. Dart shook as she climbed down. I stayed where I was, realizing that I’d unbalance her if I caused the deck to drop toward her. Finally, the Dart stopped shaking. I felt two slow tugs, dipping the deck portside and I raced to my seat, belting myself back in. How to signal her?
I jerked the power forward and then back again, hearing the propellers behind me whoosh at the power and then mute down again. I waited minutes more, decided that there was nothing else I could do and slowly increased the power.
Very slowly I inched the Dart in a great circle to the left and peered down. In the dim light, I saw the flash of two arms and two faces. They were safe, on the ground. I eased the power back as far as I dared, and pulled on the right lever to circle back to the right. I decided that I would circle one way then the other until they returned.
#
After a time, I could see that I was drifting toward the sea, so I added more power and flew back to my starting point. A sea breeze blows offshore at night, onshore during the day, I realized.
Once I got over that fright, I grew colder and more bored. I worried about how much fuel we’d burned. I got back up and went around to the engine and the tank at its side. The gauge showed that it was nearly empty. Frantically, I recalled my instructions from Mr. MacArdle, glad that he’d explained them to me. I opened the cap, found the funnel, found one of the gallons of fuel and slowly — very slowly, poured it into the tank. The gauge only rose a little. Another gallon then. And another — after four gallons the gauge was level with the top. I pulled the funnel, let it drip over the side for a bit, put it away and then screwed the cap back on, much relieved. We still had a gallon in reserve. Of course, with the offshore breeze, we’d be working against it on the way back, so… Well, I was glad of that gallon in reserve.
The deck wobbled and I cried out in surprise. Then I remembered Meara and Mowbley. I went back to my seat and strapped in, slowing the Dart back down. A moment later the deck tilted to port and I felt the movements of someone climbing up on the deck. I could tell by the way the airship tilted that it was Meara.
Or someone near her weight. What if the German had spotted us? What if he — or more likely — his man was climbing up to throw me over and steal the ship?
I put my hand on the rope to the air bag. If it wasn’t Meara, I’d pull the rope and let all the air out. Fast enough and the deck would shatter, the fuel would spill out and catch the whole thing on fire.
“We’re back!” Meara cried as her head rose into sight. “Let me get in place and then I’ll tug on the rope for Mowbley to follow.”
