“You philosophers have your elections,” she said. “You have your theories, and you even have theories about what’s wrong with your theories! But none of you are talking about my father. Where is he? What is happening to him?”
The only sound in the room was the creaking of the aeroship.
“Well, my dear, there are several possibilities.” Mr. Godfrey held up a finger as if he were about to report the hour and the date. “First —”
“Francis!” my father said. “That’s enough.” He walked over and knelt in front of Jane. “Your father is fine, Jane. Major Washington will see that he gets safely back to Philadelphia.”
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Quite certain.” He took her hands in his. “And until you are reunited with him back home, I want you to know that I will do everything I can to see to your needs as he would have done were he here. You have nothing to fear.”
Jane sniffed and nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Bartram.”
“You’re welcome,” my father said. “Gentlemen, let’s set the matter of our betrayal aside, for the time being. Mr. Faries, please begin your repairs to the air system.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Billy,” my father said. “I want you to assist Mr. Faries.”
I hadn’t taken my eyes off Jane. “Yes, sir.” I wished there was something I could do for her.
Mr. Faries led me up to the weather deck. I followed him as he went to the starboard rail and turned to face the ship.
“The bullets came from this direction,” he said, leaning back, arms outward. “They would have hit the pipes and spheres on this side. Come.” We crossed to the foremast. “Start looking here.”
I did as I was asked, tracing each of the pipes from the deck, up the mast, to the spheres. Mr. Faries climbed a ladder up the mast, inspecting as he went, until he reached the base of the spheres. My stomach lurched at the thought of having to do that myself.
“I don’t see anything,” he said. “You?”
“No,” I said.
He climbed back down most of the way and then leaped to the deck.
“It must be on one of those two starboard spheres. I don’t mind admitting, I’m not looking forward to inspecting them.” He let out a sharp breath. “But there’s nothing else for it.”
He retrieved a coil of rope and tied one end around his waist, then he hopped up onto the rail and climbed out onto the ratlines. I barely breathed as he carefully made his way up to the spheres, inspected their underside, and then climbed past them onto a platform. From there, he tossed down a short, knotted rope that clanged against the metal. He took hold of the rope and used it to walk out onto the spheres. He crossed one, scanning its surface, and then the other, before pulling himself back up, hand over hand, to the platform.
“I found it,” he yelled down to me. “It’s not big.”
He returned to the ratlines, scrambled down to the deck, and untied the rope from his waist. “It should be a simple metal patch.”
“How will you secure it?” I asked.
“The vacuum in the sphere will suck it tight, but I’ll solder it to seal the edges.” He shook his head. “Which means we’re going to have to land the de Terzi.”
“Why?”
“The fire I need to heat the solder isn’t safe on the ship. If anything catches fire, we could all burn up before we hit the ground. I’ll go below and tell your father.”
He trudged away, and I coiled the rope he had just used and hung it over a belaying pin. Jane came up on deck then, and I decided to go talk with her, even though I wasn’t sure what to say. But when she saw me, she waved, and before I could greet her she spoke.
“Billy, I was just looking for you.”
“You were?”
“I wanted to thank you for coming to find me. I was lost in the woods.” She stepped closer. “But I heard you calling my name, and that was how I found you.”
I remembered the way her breath felt when she whispered in my ear. And I remembered the smell of lavender in her hair when I whispered in hers. Was I just imagining that now?
“It was brave of you to come for me.” Her lip started quivering. “I’m so sorry I put you and your father at risk.”
“Please, don’t apologize —”
“No, I must. It was my fault. It’s all my fault.”
I still didn’t know what to say to her.
She turned and walked away with tears in her eyes.
“We need to land the ship to make repairs,” my father said, addressing us all that night. “But we can’t land until we’ve put a safe distance between us and Marin.”
“What kind of distance?” Mr. Kinnersley asked.
“They’re paddling with the river,” my father said. “Which means they’ll make good time. But they can’t match our speed. If we stay aloft for two or three more days, we should have enough time on the ground for Mr. Faries to complete his work.”
“They’re confined to the river,” Mr. Godfrey said. “But we are not. Why not simply strike out overland?”
“We need to follow the river for the time being,” my father said. “It is the surest way to reach the Mississippi, which will then lead us to the Missouri. From there, we will strike west in search of Madoc’s people. Perhaps by then, Marin will have given up his pursuit. Are we agreed?”
“Agreed,” came the reply, in unison.
“We must rely on Andrew,” my father said, “our … guide. To help us find a suitable place to land.”
Andrew accepted this with a nod.
My father then outlined the watches for the night, and after a solemn supper, everyone retired. I tried to get a few hours of sleep, but was unable to. I heard, or at least imagined that I heard, Jane’s muffled sobbing on the other side of the curtain, and it kept me awake.
Midnight found me with Mr. Godfrey, yawning, facing the next four hours of the middle watch. Since we were supposed to follow the river, rather than the compass, we had to keep a sharper lookout than previously, and make adjustments as the river changed its mind. Mr. Godfrey took the helm, and I positioned myself at the bow, so I could alert him as needed to alter course.
That left me alone for long stretches, facing the horizon with nothing but my thoughts. Earlier, my father had tried to reassure Jane with the promise that Mr. Colden was on his way back to Philadelphia. But I think everyone in that room had known the truth. Mr. Colden might be dead. Or captured.
“How does the river look, Billy?” Mr. Godfrey called.
I snapped my attention back to the ground. The river had already bent to the northeast. I scanned to see if it would right itself and double back, but in the darkness I couldn’t tell. I grunted and stalked down the deck.
“We need to turn, sir,” I said, pointing.
“Aye!” Mr. Godfrey said, taking obvious delight in both the word and the action of turning the wheel.
I trimmed the sails the way Mr. Colden had shown me, and I was about to resume my post, but Mr. Godfrey called to me again.
“Why so dour, Billy?”
Why was he in such high spirits? “Mr. Colden, sir. And Jane.”
The smile dropped away. “Of course. His is a tremendous loss to this expedition. And to Jane. But I suspect he is alive and well back at the Forks. The French were after this ship, and the moment we took to the air they took to the water in pursuit.”
That offered me a measure of reassurance. “I hope you are right, sir.”
“I am right,” he said. “And now I have a question for you. Why does your father think ill of the Indian?”
An uncomfortable shrug seized my shoulders. “I don’t know.”
“There is something personal in his hatred.”
“Nothing that I know of, sir.”
“You came on this expedition to be with him, didn’t you?”
“Yes, sir.” Though as I thought about his question, and about how I felt toward my father now, my answer felt less true than it had when we started. �
��I wish to be a botanist.”
“I have no sons to take after me. Nor daughters to dote on me in my old age.”
“I’m sorry, sir. You never married?”
He sighed. “No. For much of my life, I gave little thought to such earthly matters. A wasted youth spent chasing dead Greeks. I suppose that is why I came on this expedition.”
“How so, Mr. Godfrey?”
He gripped the ship’s wheel, his earlier glee returning. “I wanted to feel young again.”
Over the next two days, the more I thought about it, the more I believed Mr. Godfrey had to be right. Mr. Colden was safe.
The Ohio River meandered south and west below us. The country to either side of the river alternated between lowland meadows and densely forested hills, the peaks of which appeared to dangerously approach our keel. I was adjusting to the rhythms of manning the ship, and some of the tasks had started to become routine. Boring, even. Between my watches and those times when I had chores to do, there wasn’t much to occupy me.
So I made drawings. And it felt good to have the quill back in my hand and to feel the paper beneath my fingertips. Mostly, I drew whatever I saw below us. Like the Indians fishing from their canoes, traveling up and down the river. Or the occasional village near its banks. I can’t imagine what they must have thought of our ship. I don’t know what I would have thought, other than to doubt my own senses. But one thing I was sure of: Marin would only need to follow the trail of wide eyes and shocked expressions to find us.
On the morning of the third day since leaving the Forks, my father proposed landing the de Terzi for repairs.
“I advise against landing in this country,” Andrew said.
We had all gathered in a circle on deck.
“Why?” my father asked.
“There’s a large salt lick down there that is well-known to the people of this region. And we are very near the old migration routes of the incognitum. We are more likely to encounter armed hunting parties, here.”
My father turned to Mr. Faries. “What are your thoughts?”
Mr. Faries looked up at the spheres. “I’m reluctant to travel much farther. To maintain our elevation, I’ve had to take more air out of the three good spheres to compensate for the damaged one. I’m afraid of what that strain will do to them if we don’t land soon.”
Phineas tucked his blond hair back behind his ears. “Andrew, you mentioned a salt lick down there. Are there mineral springs?”
Andrew nodded. “There are.”
Phineas turned to my father. “I would like to land here, John.”
“What do you think, Francis?” my father asked.
Mr. Godfrey stood against the rail, looking over the side. “I have always wanted to see an incognitum. I vote we land.”
Andrew shook his head. I hadn’t let myself start to trust him, yet, but I did wonder why the Society had wanted to bring a guide along if they were simply going to ignore him.
“I believe the matter is settled,” my father said. “Mr. Faries, look for —”
“Does my opinion no longer matter?” Mr. Kinnersley spoke with a defiant chin held high.
“No, Ebenezer,” my father said. “For your previous lapses in judgment, I do not wish for your counsel.”
Mr. Kinnersley stamped his foot on the deck, like a child, and stormed below.
My father sighed. “As I was saying, Mr. Faries, look for a suitable place to set the de Terzi down.”
“Yes, John.”
The landing was much rougher than previously at Aughwick and the Forks. With one sphere not working, the ship lurched and swung, off-balance, until Mr. Faries was able to plop her down just a few feet off the ground. We had landed near the river, facing a dense and shadowed woodland. The sight of it set my skin tingling with the thought of men and beasts lurking beyond our sight, ready to strike when we turned our backs. We disembarked, gathered some dry driftwood, and made a fire.
Mr. Faries lowered his equipment down by pulley from the deck. As he began assembling it, my father called to everyone.
“I’d like to remain for as short a time as possible. Mr. Faries assures me he can have the repair made within a few hours. You have that time to do with as you please.”
“Andrew,” Phineas said, “would you be able to guide me to the mineral springs in this area?”
Andrew didn’t answer at first. “I believe so, yes.”
“Good.” Phineas swung a small pack over his back that chimed with the sound of empty glass bottles. “Lead the way.”
“My gun is on the ship,” Andrew said, though I saw his powder horn at his side.
“Let us venture without it,” Phineas said. “Unencumbered by emblems of fear.”
He and Andrew stepped into the forest, and within a few paces it had swallowed them.
“Come, Billy.” My father put on his wide-brimmed hat and thumped his walking stick. “You and I shall gather some specimens.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, and fell in behind him.
We entered the woods and came under its canopy of endless dusk. It felt oppressive and even sinister, but the sight of my father’s back proceeding through the brush and trees ahead reassured me. I was doing what I had always wanted to do, following him into the wild places.
His gaze swung from side to side. “These are common trees.” He pointed with his walking stick. “Liriodendron tulipifera. Gleditsia triacanthos. Magnolia acuminata.” In those few words, he wove a spell. “Do you recognize them?”
I studied the trees he indicated. They did look familiar, especially the one with the jagged and evil-looking three-inch thorns. “They’re all in your garden.”
“They are,” he said. “I have them all.”
Apparently, even when my father wasn’t finding something new, coming across a plant he already possessed brought its own satisfaction.
“But keep your eyes open, son. You must let yourself be guided by evidence and fact. As Linnaeus wrote, ‘All that truly can be known by us depends on a clear method by which we distinguish the similar from the dissimilar.’ You must learn to see the world that way. The blossom with six petals instead of five. The leaf with serrated edges, rather than smooth. Once you start to see them, those differences sound a clarion call and are all you notice.”
Was that how he looked at Andrew, too?
I followed him for some time, up hills, through glades. He stopped often to study a flower or a bush or a weed or the bark of a tree. But to each he eventually said, “Ah,” as if recognizing an old acquaintance.
It went on that way for an hour. An hour that settled into monotony.
Before, when I used to imagine exploring with him, I never thought about this part. The countless specimens he had to sift through to find just one undiscovered and unclassified jewel. And I was beginning to grow bored.
But then, without any warning or preamble, he bent over a flower and whooped. “Look at this!”
I examined it, and even though I didn’t know enough for it to appear remarkable to me, I grinned with him, catching his excitement and joy.
“Beautiful,” he said. He took out a small trowel from his bag and dug up the plant by its roots. He then wrapped it and put it gently into his bag. “You’ll draw it back on the ship.”
“Yes, sir.”
After that, we began finding new plants with greater frequency. Two new trees, whose leaves and seeds my father pressed in a book. A new shrub, from which he took a cutting. And two more flowers, which also ended up in his bag.
We eventually emerged from the forest onto a large, sodden meadow that held a spring. The ground around it had turned to mud and marsh in places, and the grass and reeds grew tall. Mosquitoes and flies clogged the air with their swarms.
“This is part of the lick,” my father said. “Animals gather here to lick the salt and other minerals that come from the spring.”
I looked around and noticed dozens of animal tracks in the mud. Deer, raccoon, and even little bird scr
atches. But then I saw a round, deep indentation. It was large, the size of a platter. And then I saw another. And another. My perspective widened, and I realized they were everywhere, layer upon layer, all around us. Beneath our feet. My own boot print fit easily inside them.
“Are these … tracks?” I asked.
My father studied them. “Yes. Incognitum tracks.”
I suddenly felt very small standing there, imagining the marshy meadow filled with a herd of the towering animals, their tusks and trunks swinging low.
“This was a large herd,” my father said. “It is rare to see so many together. They must have come for the salt lick and then moved on. By the looks of it, they’re heading west.”
“Like us,” I said.
“Yes, like us. Perhaps, if we’re lucky, we’ll see them. But judging by the state of these tracks, they were here some time ago.”
I hadn’t taken my eyes from the ground. What would they sound like on the move, all those beasts? I crouched down to put my hand inside one of the footprints, and noticed another track. It was almost as large as the incognitum print, but it had toes. And dagger points in front of those.
Claws.
But there was only one animal I knew of with paws that size.
“Father?” I pointed at it. “What kind of animal made that?”
My father looked at it, and then jerked upright, scanning the forest. “We should get back to the ship.”
His reaction confirmed what I feared. But I needed him to say it. “What is it?”
“Come, son.” He pushed me forward.
“Father.”
“It is a bear-wolf, Billy. Now, hurry.”
On the way back to the ship, I jumped at the snap of every twig, and every rustled leaf sounded like the breath of a bear-wolf lurking in the trees. I had never seen one before, but I had seen their eight-inch claws, and I could imagine the rest. Seven feet tall on all four paws, twelve feet when standing on its hind legs. It was said they could run as fast as a horse, and their jaws could crush incognitum bones.
“Father —”
“No talking,” my father whispered.
He led us swiftly back the way we’d come, and before long we reached the river. Mr. Faries dangled in front of the spheres, suspended in a leather harness. Mr. Kinnersley stood on deck, passing up equipment to him by rope and pulley. Mr. Godfrey sat on a log by the fire as Jane cooked something in an iron kettle over the coals.
The Lost Kingdom Page 10
