"Maybe there were more than two . . ." Gwen said. "No, only two had those black balls in their heads."
"Jumping catfish! Don't make it more complicated than it is!"
Gwen said, "If those two could've entered, then we should compare their characters with Piscator's."
"I vath around Firebrathth a lot, and he thmelled chutht like any human. Thith Ethical left a thmell behind him when he vithited Tham. It vathn't human. Pithcator, he vath human, though he did thmell Chapanethe. I can dithtinguith different typeth of people becauthe of their diet."
"But you never met a person who smelled nonhuman," Sam said. "So we don't know if the agents are nonhuman. They certainly look as if they are human."
"No, but they mutht've been around me," Joe said. "And thinthe I never thmelled anybody that didn't thmell human – though that ain't nothing to brag about – thmelling human, I mean, then the achentth mutht be human."
"That mought be," Johnston said. "It seems to this here child that if a non-Earthman cain look like a real person, then he cain smell like one."
Joe laughed and said, ''Vhy don't ve chutht potht a notithe in the main lounge? Any Ethicalth or achentth aboard pleathe report to Captain Clementh."
Gwenafra had been fidgeting about and frowning. She said.
"Why do all of you duck the question I brought up? What about Piscator?"
"Maybe we're like the circus midget who found the giant's shoes under his wife's bed," Sam said. "Afraid to ask.
"Very well. I wasn't too well acquainted with the gentleman from Cipango. He showed up about two months before the Mark Twain left. From all reports, he was a very quiet and likable person. Not withdrawn or aloof, just not aggressive. He seemed to get along with just about everybody. Which, in my book, makes him suspect. Yet he wasn't a yes-man. I remember he got into an argument with Firebrass about the size of the airship to be built. He thought that it would be better to build a smaller one. The end of the discussion was that Piscator said he still thought he was right. But since Firebrass, was the boss, he would do as he said."
"Did he have any peculiarities?" Gwenafra said.
"He was crazy about fishing, but I don't count that an eccentricity. Say, what're you asking me for? You knew him."
"I just wanted to get another viewpoint," she said. "When Gulbirra gets here, we'll ask her about him. She knew him better than we did."
"Don't forget Thyrano," Joe said. "He knew him."
"Joe loved Cyrano,'' Sam said. "The Frenchmen's got a bigger nose than his. Makes Joe feel right at home."
"That'th a crock of thyit. Ain't none of you pygmieth got a nothe to be proud of. I chutht like him even if you two get along like two male hyenath in mating theathon."
"I don't care for the simile," Sam said coolly. "Anyway, what do you think of Piscator, Gwen?"
"He radiated a sort of, what do you call it? Not animal magnetism, since there was nothing sexual about it. Just a warm attractiveness. You knew he liked you. Though, again, he wouldn't put up with fools. He'd go along with them, even when they were being stupid. But he got rid of them in a nice way.
"I don't think he was, what is the word? A fundamentalist or fanatic Moslem. He said the Koran was to be understood allegorically. He also said the Bible was not to be read literally. He could quote long passages of both, you know. I talked to him a number of times, and I was surprised when he told me that Jesus was the greatest prophet after Mohammed. He also said the Moslems believed that the first person to enter heaven will be Mary, the mother of Jesus. You told me Moslems hate Jesus, Sam."
"No, I said they hated Christians. And vice versa."
"No, you didn't. But that's not important. To sum it up, Piscator impressed me as a wise and good man. But there was more to him than that. I don't know how to describe it.
"Perhaps it was that he seemed to be in this world and yet not of it."
"I think you're saying this," Sam said. "He was somehow morally, or perhaps it's better to say spiritually, superior."
"He never said so or acted like he thought he was. But, yes, that might be it."
"I wish I'd known him better."
"You were too busy building your boat, Sam."
Chapter 65
* * *
Frigate did not come into the hut until about an hour before suppertime. When asked by Nur where he had been, he said that he had waited all day to see Novak. Finally, Novak's secretary had said Frigate would have to come back tomorrow. Novak could spare a minute or so for him in the morning.
Frigate looked disgruntled. Waiting in line made him very impatient. That he had done so for such a long time meant that he was deeply determined. But he refused to say what he had in mind until he had talked to Novak.
"If he says yes, then I'll tell you."
Farrington, Rider, and Pogaas paid him little attention. They were too busy discussing means for getting the Razzle Dazzle back. When asked if he would help them, Frigate said he did not know yet. Nur only smiled and said he would wait until they had made up their own minds about the ethics of the deed.
Nur, as usual, knew more about what was going on than the others. It was he who told them, just before they left the hut to eat breakfast, that the discussion was only academic. The Razzle Dazzle had been loaded with artifacts for trade by its new owners and would sail down-River just after breakfast.
Martin exploded. "Why didn't you tell us about this before?"
"I was afraid you three would do something rash such as trying to seize the ship in daylight before hundreds of witnesses. You would never have gotten away with it."
"We're not that stupid!"
"No, but you're that impulsive. Which is a form of stupidity."
"Thanks a lot," Tom said. "Well, maybe it's just as well. I'd much rather go off on one of those patrol steamboats. But we'd have to get the old crew together first and find some people to replace the women. This is going to take time and lots of planning."
There were some delays, however. A man from the government office told them they had to go to work for the state or clear out. Frigate was absent when this happened. He returned grinning broadly and did not seem at all upset by the news.
"I talked Novak into it!"
"Into what?" Farrington said.
Frigate sat down in a bamboo chair and lit up a cigarette.
"Well, first I asked him if he would build another blimp for us. I didn't expect him to agree, and he didn't. He said he meant to build two more blimps – but not for us. These would be used for patrols and for warfare, if war should come."
"You want us to steal their blimp!" Farrington said. Though he had been angry when Podebrad had deserted them, he had later been relieved. He had denied this, but it was obvious that he was glad that he did not have to fly in the airship.
"No. Neither Nur nor I believe that you would steal anybody's property, even if you like to talk about it. You two fantasize a lot. Anyway, Nur and I won't have anything to do with stealing.
"After my first proposal was turned down, I put forth my second. Novak hemmed and hawed, and then said that he would do what I suggested. It wouldn't require near the materials nor time that the blimp did. He felt bad because we'd been cheated, and he thought that helping us would compensate us.
"Besides, Novak is interested in balloons. His son was a balloonist."
"Balloons!" Martin said. "Are you still pushing that crazy idea?"
Tom looked interested, but he said, "We don't know anything about the winds above the mountains. We could be blown south.''
"That's right. But we're a little north of the equator. If the upper winds are anything like they are on Earth, we could be driven north and east. Once past the horse latitudes it's a different matter. But I have in mind a type of balloon that could get us to the arctic zone.''
"Crazy! Crazy!" Martin said, shaking his head.
"You refuse to do this?"
"I didn't say that. I've always been a little touched in the head myself. Besid
es, I don't think the winds will be going the right way for us. We should get down to business and build us a ship."
Farrington was wrong and probably knew he was just expressing a wish. The air, at the altitude at which they would float, flowed northeast.
However, when the others heard what type of balloon Frigate proposed making, all objected vehemently.
"Yes, I know it's never been tried out, except on paper,'' Frigate said. "But here's our chance to try something unique."
"Yes," Martin said. "But you say Jules Verne proposed that idea in 1862. If it was such a hot idea, why didn't anyone ever try it?"
"I don't know. I would have done it on Earth if I'd had the money, Look. It's the only way we can get a considerable distance. If we use a conventional balloon, we'll be lucky to get four hundred and eighty kilometers. That still might eliminate a million kilometers of surface travel. But with the Jules Verne, and a lot of luck, we could get all the way to the polar mountains."
After much argument, the others finally agreed they should give his plan a try. But when the project began, Frigate became uneasy. As the time for lift-off neared, he became downright anxious. Several nightmares about balloons showed him just how deep his apprehension was. Nevertheless, he expressed only the greatest confidence in the project to the others.
Jules Verne had proposed in his novel Five Weeks in a Balloon, an idea which seemed feasible – though dangerous. It worked in his book, but Frigate knew that reality often failed to give diplomatic recognition to literature.
The balloon was made, and the crew took twelve practice flights. These, to everybody's amazement, especially Frigate's, suffered only minor mishaps. However, all the training runs were made at low altitudes which kept the aerostat below the top of the mountains walling the Valley. To rise above them was to be carried away from a reasonable distance of New Bohemia and so make it impossible to return before they were ready for the final flight.
The crew would have to get on-the-job training when they ventured into the stratosphere. ,
Doctor Fergusson, Verne's hero, had made a balloon based on the fact that hydrogen, when heated, expanded. This principle had been used in 1785 and 1810 with disastrous results. Verne's imaginary heating device was, however, much more scientific and powerful and worked – on paper. Frigate had available a more advanced technology than that in Verne's time, and he had made some modifications to the system. When the balloon was finished, he bragged that this was the first of its type in reality. They were making history.
Frisco said quite vehemently that nobody had tried Verne's concept because nobody had been crazy enough. Though he agreed with him, Frigate did not say so. This was the only type of aerostat that could go the immense distances to be traversed. He wasn't going to back out. Too many times, on both worlds, he had started something and then had failed to see it through. Even if this killed him, he was going all the way.
That it might also kill the others bothered him. However, they knew the dangers. No one was forcing them to go.
The final lift-off went according to schedule just before dawn. Arc lights and torches blazed on the immense crowd on the plain. The envelope of the balloon, painted with aluminum, floated like a wrinkled sausage skin hanging from an invisible hook.
The Jules Verne, at this stage of flight, did not correspond to the layman's idea of a balloon, a completely expanded sphere. But as it rose the bag would fill out from applied heat and decreasing air pressure around it.
The speeches had been made and the toasts drunk. Tom Rider noticed that Frisco was using a bumper twice as large as the others. He said something about "Dutch courage" but not loudly enough for Frisco to hear him. By the time Frisco entered the car, he was smiling and waving merrily to the onlookers.
Peter Frigate completed the weigh-off. Until now, this had always involved making sure that the weight – envelope, gas, net, cargo chute, load ring, car, ballast, equipment, supplies, aeronauts – was slightly less than the lift. The Jules Verne was the first aerostat in which the lift-off weight was slightly more than the upward pull of the gas.
The car hanging below the bag was pumpkin shaped, and its hull was a double-walled magnesium alloy. In the center of its deck was a vertical L-shape, the vernian. Two thin plastic pipes ran from the metal contraption holes in the overhead. These were tightly packed to prevent escape of air from the car.
From there, the plastic pipes extended upward and for some distance beyond the hermetically sealed neck of the envelope. Their ends were fitted to light alloy pipes which rose to varying heights inside. One was longer than the other; both were open-ended.
The crew had been talkative before boarding. Now they looked at Frigate.
"Close the main hatch," he said, and the lift-off ritual began.
Frigate checked a gauge and two stopcocks affixed to the vernian. He opened a little hatch on the side near the top of the L-shape. He adjusted another stopcock until he heard a slight hissing. This came from a narrow nozzle at the end of a steel pipe inside the highest compartment.
He stuck an energized electrical lighter at the end of an aluminum rod into the furnace. A tiny flame popped from the nozzle. He turned the stopcock to increase the flame, adjusted two more to regulate the mixture of oxygen and hydrogen feeding the torch. The flame began heating the base of the large platinum cone just above it.
The lower end of the longest pipe extending into the bag was fitted into the apex of the cone. As the heat was expanded in the cone, the hydrogen in it moved upward, flowing into the bag and causing it to expand. The cooler hydrogen in the lower half of the bag, aided by a suction effect, flowed into the open end of the shorter pipe inside the envelope. It went down this pipe into the side of the vernian and into the side of the cone. There it was heated and rose, completing the circuit.
One of the compartments at the base of the vernian was an electrical battery. This was far lighter and much more powerful than the battery used by Fergusson in Verne's novel. It broke water into its elements, hydrogen and oxygen. These flowed into separate compartments, and then went to a mixing chamber, where the oxyhydrogen was piped to the torch.
One of Frigate's modifications to Verne's system was a pipe that led from the hydrogen storage chamber to the shorter pipe. By opening two stopcocks, the pilot could allow hydrogen from the storage chamber to flow into the balloon. This was an emergency measure used only to replace hydrogen valved off from the bag. When this was done, the torch was turned off, since hydrogen was highly inflammable.
Fifteen minutes passed. Then, with no motion noticeable, the car lifted off the ground. Frigate shut off the torch several seconds later.
The shouts of the spectators became less audible, then died out. The huge hangar shrank to a toy house. By then the sun had cleared the mountain, and the stones alongside The River thundered like artillery.
"That's our thousand-gun salute," Frigate said.
No one moved or spoke for a while after that. The silence was as intense as that at the bottom of a deep cave. However, the alloy walls of the hull had no sound-absorbing qualities. When Frisco's stomach rumbled, it sounded like distant thunder.
A slight wind sprang up now, carrying the vessel southward, away from their goal. Pogaas stuck his head out of an open port. He felt no sensation of movement since the balloon traveled at the same speed as the wind. The air around the hull was as still as if he was in a sealed room. The flame of a candle set on top of the vernian would have burned straight upward.
Though he'd gone up in aerostats many times, Frigate was always gripped by ecstasy during the first minutes of lift-off. No other form of flight – even gliding – could thrill him so. He felt as if he was a disembodied spirit, free of the shackles of gravity, of the cares and worries of flesh and mind.
This was a delusion, of course, since gravity had the balloon in its paws, was playing with it, and was likely to bat it around at any moment. Nor was there much respite from worries and cares. There was often work fo
r both body and brain.
Frigate shook himself like a dog coming out of water, and he got down to the work that keeps a balloon pilot busy during much of the flight. He checked the altimeter. One thousand eight hundred and twenty-nine meters. A little over 6000 feet. The verimeter, or statoscope, indicated that the rate of ascent was increasing as the sun warmed the gas in the bag. After checking the O and H storage chambers were full, he disengaged the battery from the water. For the present, he had nothing to do except keep an eye on the altimeter and verimeter.
The Valley narrowed. The blue-black mountains, splotched with vast patches of grey-green and blue-green lichen, sank. The mists that ribboned the stream and the plains were disappearing as swiftly as mice that had gotten word a cat was in the neighborhood.
They were being carried southward increasingly swifter. "We're losing ground," Frisco muttered. However, he spoke only to release nervous tension. Test balloons had shown that the stratospheric wind would carry them northeast.
Frigate said, "Last chance for a cigarette." Everybody except Nur lit up. Though smoking had been forbidden on all hydrogen balloons previous to the Jules Verne, it was permitted on it at lower altitudes. There was no sense in worrying about burning tobacco while an operating torch was present.
Now the balloon had risen above the Valley, and they thrilled at the sight of more than one at a time. There they were, row on row. To their left were the valleys – broad, deep canyons actually – which they had passed in the Razzle Dazzle. And as they soared higher, the horizon rushed outward as if in a panic. Frigate and Rider had seen this phenomenon on Earth, but the others gazed in awe. Pogaas said something in Swazi. Nur murmured, "It's as if God were spreading out the world like a tablecloth."
Frigate had all the ports closed, and he turned on the oxygen supply and a little fan which sucked carbon dioxide into an absorbent material. At 16 kilometers or almost 10 miles altitude, the Jules Verne entered the tropopause, the boundary between troposphere and stratosphere. The temperature outside the cabin was -73° C.
R.W. III - The Dark Design Page 45
