The Lost Kingdom

by Matthew J. Kirby

  She smiled and gave a quick nod. “Yes, it looks that way.”

  “Why did you only bring boys’ clothes?”

  “Just how well do you think a dress would fare in the wilderness?”

  I smiled back at her. “Welcome to the expedition, Jane.”

  Evening came on, and the sun set ahead of us, beating us to the horizon once again. We ate a supper of ham, boiled eggs, peaches, and buttered bread. And then we prepared for the first watch, which Mr. Colden assigned to Mr. Faries and me. Then it was time to work out new sleeping arrangements. Mr. Colden didn’t want Jane anywhere near Mr. Kinnersley’s cabin, so he hung a sheet and partitioned off the most forward bunk for her, creating a little space for her modesty.

  We all then went up and sat on the weather deck to watch the stars bloom. But the earlier tensions of the day remained, and no one spoke much to one another. My father still lingered at the edge of the group. Mr. Kinnersley wasn’t with us at all, choosing instead to perch himself at the bow, fixing a hawk’s stare on Mr. Colden. Andrew avoided looking at anyone and kept his gaze up at the sky as the last of its sunlight drained away.

  Phineas broke the silence. “It is nice to have you with us, Jane.”

  Mr. Colden whipped his head in the doctor’s direction.

  “Thank you, sir,” Jane said.

  “It is not at all nice to have her with us,” Mr. Colden said. “Make no mistake, she should not be here.”

  Phineas lifted his shoulders. “I merely meant that —”

  “Don’t bother, Phineas,” my father said from several feet away.

  And the silence returned.

  A moment later, Andrew stood. I watched him go below, wondering what he was doing, only to see him return holding a fife. He took up a position a little way away from us and put the instrument to his lips. He began to play a quiet, gentle song that soon set us all to swaying. When that was over, he chose a more lively tune. Something to set our toes tapping.

  When he started into a third, Phineas got to his feet. He went over and stood next to Andrew, watched him play a moment, and then started clapping along, his hands up by his head. Then he began stomping his foot on the deck boards with the sound of a loud, deep drum.

  The rhythm of the music got some of the others to their feet, stomping, too. I looked at my father before joining them, but soon even he and Mr. Kinnersley had started in, and before long we were all jigging and filling the night sky with our laughter and the thunder from our feet. Even Mr. Colden, whose style of dance looked something like a fence post bobbing in a river. When that song was done, we all fell back to the deck laughing and applauding.

  Andrew grinned around his fife. “Would you like another?”

  Panting, Mr. Kinnersley waved both arms. “No! No, thank you. I don’t think my heart could take it.”

  Andrew bowed, tucked his instrument beneath his arm, and sat down.

  “But if all of you would indulge me,” Mr. Godfrey said. “I would like to sing.”

  No one encouraged him, but no one objected, either, so he stood. And he sang. His voice surprised me. It wasn’t good, and it wasn’t bad. It sounded like the wind through a hollow log. He sang in what I thought was German, the melody both mournful and heavy, and by the end of it, the de Terzi felt as if it had descended several feet in the air under the weight. No one applauded, but Mr. Godfrey didn’t seem to mind.

  “What was that song?” Phineas asked.

  “‘Bittersweet Night Ode,’” Mr. Godfrey said. “A hymn by Johannes Kelpius.”

  I sat up at the name. “I know him. My father told me about him.” My father nodded.

  “And what did your father say?” Mr. Godfrey asked.

  “That he was a monk, a magician, and a madman.”

  Mr. Godfrey laughed. “Well, he might be right about one or two of those.”

  Everyone retired after that, leaving Mr. Faries and me alone on deck. Much about the small, sad man was still a mystery to me. He took up his position at the helm, and I went to stand next to him. Whether from the night air or the echo of Mr. Godfrey’s song in my ear, I felt a chill. I pulled my coat in tight and folded my arms, watching the banks of icy white clouds slide over and around us. And then I gasped as we flew right into one.

  The world became a gray void. The ground was lost, the sky was lost. Forward and backward were lost. We were suspended in a moonlit mist that wet my lips and bejeweled our wool coats. The air felt heavy in my chest.

  “They appear so solid,” Mr. Faries said. “From the ground.”

  I nodded.

  “And yet, when you get close to them, they’re nothing more than a wisp of moisture in the air. So much in this world is like that. Things that seem real, things you believe in, turn out to be nothing more than a phantasm. A cloud in the wind.”

  I could only nod again.

  “I’m sorry, Billy. I shouldn’t trouble you with my grief. Let’s talk about something else, eh?” He rapped the ship’s wheel hard with his knuckle. “Would you like a turn at the helm?”

  “Me, sir?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “Take hold, then.”

  He broke away and I slipped into his place. The wood felt warm where his hands had been, and the wheel turned easily.

  “Hold her steady,” he said.

  “Yes, sir,” I whispered. I stared ahead, as intently as I could, feeling powerful and almost overwhelmed by it. I was in control of the ship.

  “Now, check the compass there,” he said. “It looks like we’re a few degrees off course, so you need to adjust your heading.”

  I tightened my grip on the wheel. “How do I do that?”

  “Just turn the wheel and watch the needle. We need our heading to be two hundred and eighty degrees.”

  I breathed deep and turned the wheel, just a little. The mist around us gave no indication that we had changed course, but the needle on the compass flicked into place.

  “Excellent,” Mr. Faries said. “Hold her there.”

  I sighed a little but didn’t loosen my grip. A few moments later, we broke out of the cloud, emerging on the solid world of mountains and rivers, the moon, and the clean sharp air. As time passed and the miles glided by, the wheel felt more comfortable, and I found myself relaxing into my role.

  “May I ask you a question, sir?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why did you come on this expedition?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, aside from finding Madoc, my father came to study plants. Phineas is looking for the Fountain of Youth. And Mr. Godfrey said that everyone on this expedition has their own reasons for being here.”

  “I suppose I …” He paused and checked the compass. “I suppose I just wanted to fly.”

  As I stood there at the helm, the wheel in my hand and the ship at my will, that seemed reason enough to me.

  At the end of our watch, Phineas and Andrew came up to relieve us. We went below, and I climbed right into my hammock. But I lay there for a while with my eyes open, kept awake by the fading exhilaration of flying.

  “Billy.”

  Someone shook me.

  “Billy, wake up. We’ve arrived.”

  I opened my eyes. My father stood over me.

  “We’ll be setting the ship down shortly.” He squeezed my arm and left.

  I rubbed my eyes and rolled out of the hammock. I put on my boots, grabbed my coat, and snatched a biscuit from the galley on my way up to the weather deck, where I found everyone else admiring the vista below us.

  From the northeast came the Allegheny River, and from the southeast flowed the Monongahela, both mighty and a quarter mile wide. They met at the tip of a spit of land and merged to form the Ohio, which continued on to the west.

  “So this is the Forks,” Phineas said. “Equally coveted by England and France.”

  “The trading post is located there.” Mr. Colden pointed. “Where the rivers come together.�
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  “So much trouble for such a small piece of wilderness,” Mr. Kinnersley said.

  Mr. Colden scoffed. “That piece of wilderness down there has absolute command of all three rivers. It needs a fully garrisoned fort.”

  “Shall I take us down?” Mr. Faries asked.

  “Yes,” Mr. Colden said. “Close to the water’s edge.”

  Mr. Faries returned to the helm and let air into the spheres with a familiar rushing sound. As we descended, the trading post appeared among the trees, where once again the sight of our vessel brought the inhabitants out into the open to gawk at us. Mr. Faries flew the de Terzi over the cluster of cabins and outbuildings and landed her on the opposite side, at the confluence of the rivers.

  “Let go anchor!” Mr. Colden called, and with a little jerk the aeroship came to rest.

  We gathered by the rope ladder. I could make out the trading post through the woods, but saw no one waiting for us below. Instead of climbing down, Mr. Colden said, “We’re not expected here. Hopefully they’ve seen our English flag. But just in case …” He produced a white handkerchief and waved it over the side. “We hail from Philadelphia! We’re coming down!” He looked sideways. “Jane, you will wait here.”

  “But, Father —”

  “You dare defy me now?” he said.

  Cowed, Jane backed away from the edge.

  And with that, Mr. Colden descended the rope ladder, as did we all. On the ground, we were about to move toward the trading post when a dozen men erupted from the woods and surrounded us, guns aimed. I froze, and my father pushed me behind him. A tall, red-haired man in military uniform stood at the fore.

  “Gentlemen,” Mr. Colden said, still holding the handkerchief. “We are servants of the Crown. There is no need for such hostility. We are here to assess your situation and make recommendations to the government as to your needs.”

  “Which government?” the military man asked.

  “Pennsylvania,” Mr. Colden said.

  “Who are you?”

  “I am Cadwallader Colden, and with me are several members of the Philosophical Society, sent by Benjamin Franklin. You may have heard of him.”

  “I’ve heard his name,” the man said. He looked to his side. “Lower your weapons.”

  The barrels came down, and I let out a long, deep breath.

  “I am Major George Washington,” the man said. “I, too, was sent to survey this location.”

  “On whose authority?” Mr. Colden asked.

  “Governor Dinwiddie of Virginia,” he said. “These men are all with the Ohio Company. What business does Pennsylvania have here?”

  “What else but the common interest of our opposition to the French,” Mr. Colden said.

  Major Washington looked back and forth between us and the de Terzi, shifting a little on his feet. “Proceed to the trading post,” he said.

  His men parted, and with a glance back at the de Terzi, Mr. Colden led the way through them. The Society members followed, and my father set me on the path in front of him, bringing up the rear. Major Washington fell in behind us with the rest of the Ohio Company traders, their guns at the ready. We took a well-trod trail some distance through maple and black locust trees, until we entered a clearing lined with log buildings and sheds. A massive incognitum skull leaned up against a wall, a hunting trophy, perhaps, and away to the side, livestock filled a small paddock. The men of the post, more fur traders and a few Indians, had all stopped in the middle of what they were doing to stare at us.

  “This way,” Washington said, continuing past us. With the exception of a few who went with him, our armed escort broke apart and gathered with the others, whispering.

  Washington marched us to a smoldering fire pit encircled with stumps and rocks for sitting. “Please,” he said, and motioned for us to take them.

  “I must admit,” Mr. Colden said. “This is not exactly the welcome we’d hoped for.”

  Washington propped a boot up on a stump and rested an elbow on his knee. “Mr. Colden, any offense I’ve given you is unfortunate, but I won’t apologize for taking precautions. You send no word of your coming, and then you arrive here in a ship that sails the air like a bird? Under the circumstances, I hope you’ll forgive these men for not showing you the manners to which you are accustomed.”

  Mr. Colden nodded. “Of course.”

  “The mind leaps to witchcraft and dark arts when you see a schooner in the sky,” Major Washington said. “But let’s leave the topic of your ship a moment and return to your reason for being here. The king granted Virginia and the Ohio Company rights to this land six years ago. Pennsylvania has no claim —”

  “We are not here in that capacity,” Mr. Colden said. “Nor do we dispute Virginia’s rights.”

  “Then why?”

  “The French incursion into the Ohio Country must be stopped. We were simply tasked with assessing the strength of this position and those stationed here.”

  “Is that so?” Washington said, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

  “How many men do you have here, Major?” Mr. Colden asked.

  After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “The post has thirty-six men. It needs a fort constructed, manned by a company of regulars, and twice that in militiamen.”

  Mr. Colden looked around. “I agree with that assessment.”

  “Good,” Washington said. “When you report back to Philadelphia, you may assure them that Virginia will see it done.”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake,” my father said. “If the French take this territory, do you think it will be Virginia alone that suffers? And if England and France go to war, will Virginia alone be called upon to fight?”

  Major Washington scowled. “Do not presume to lecture me about war, sir.”

  “How old are you?” my father asked. “Twenty? Twenty-one? Have you ever seen war, Major Washington?”

  The major said nothing.

  “The French are building forts in the Ohio Country,” Mr. Colden said. “Are you aware that Captain Paul Marin is leading an army of fifteen hundred men south as we speak?”

  I noticed the other Society members exchanging glances, and I remembered that Mr. Franklin had intended for that information to be withheld from them. Mr. Kinnersley and Mr. Godfrey began to whisper, while Mr. Faries shook his head. Only Phineas appeared undisturbed by the news. Perhaps Mr. Colden or my father had already told him.

  “I am aware of that,” Washington said. “My orders are to deliver a letter to the French commanders demanding that they withdraw from the territory.”

  “A letter,” Mr. Colden said. “The French send soldiers, and Dinwiddie sends a letter? And not only that, but he entrusts this letter to a boy? If you are not careful, Major Washington, you could end up starting a war rather than preventing one.”

  Major Washington brought his boot down hard and stood up tall. “I was entrusted because I am more than capable. If your motives truly are to secure this territory for England, then let me take your flying ship north to deliver our demands. Can you imagine what the French would think? Have you considered its tactical and military potential?”

  “The de Terzi is a vessel of philosophy,” my father said. “It is not a ship of war. We have no weapons on board.”

  Washington turned to my father. “And what would you do with it, then?”

  “We are searching for allies,” Mr. Colden said.

  “What allies?” Washington asked. “Indians?”

  “No,” Mr. Colden said. “The Welsh.”

  Washington cocked his head for a moment. “Madoc?”

  Mr. Colden nodded.

  “The governor is very interested in Madoc,” Washington said. “I’ve heard the reports, of course. And out here on the frontier there are rumors.”

  “What kind of rumors?” my father asked.

  “Hearsay, mostly. Men who’ve talked to men who’ve talked to men who’ve talked to men who claim to have seen them. They are supposed to live somewhere beyond the
place where the Mississippi and Missouri Rivers meet.”

  “Then that is where we will search,” Mr. Colden said.

  Washington snorted. “You’re mad, the lot of you. Chasing a frontier legend.”

  Mr. Godfrey spoke up. “Legends often trace their roots to fact, young man.”

  “Perhaps so,” Washington said. “Regardless, I wish you luck in your —”

  “Major Washington!” someone shouted. A man came running from the woods, skidded to a halt, and bowed.

  “What is it, Corporal?”

  “The French, sir!” He looked pale. “They’re here.”

  The Society members all stood up at once.

  “Report,” Major Washington said.

  The scout swallowed. “A large company approaches by water.”

  “How far?”

  “We spotted them a mile upriver.”

  “How many?”

  “I counted eight boats, perhaps twenty men to a boat.”

  “Colonials or regulars?”

  “Marines, sir.”

  Washington nodded. He turned to Mr. Colden. “We must consider surrender.”

  “Surrender?”

  “We are outnumbered four to one,” Washington said. “And we have fur traders for soldiers. Theirs are experts at wilderness maneuver and combat, almost as dangerous as the Indian.”

  “They must not be allowed to take the de Terzi,” Mr. Colden said. “We must depart at once.”

  “I can’t allow that yet,” Washington said. “We may have need of your ship.”

  “You have no authority to — !”

  A cry went up at the edge of the trading post, and a few of the traders emerged from the trees with two men between them. They wore light-colored military coats with leather leggings, and one of them carried a white flag. Major Washington moved to meet them, and I edged closer to listen.

  “Major.” One of the strangers bowed and presented a letter. “I speak on behalf of Captain Paul Marin de la Malgue” — he gestured to his companion, a grizzled and hardened burl of a man — “whose reputation, I am certain, precedes him, and who brings terms for your surrender.”

  Major Washington eyed Marin and took the letter. “Perhaps your captain needs to be reminded that this land belongs to England, secured by treaty. Why would we surrender what is ours?” He cracked the wax seal.