Dark Humanity

by Gwynn White

  “I thought you were in Italy,” he replied with a slur.

  “Does the whole world know every move I make? I was in Italy. I’m headed back in the morning. I was craving Malta.”

  “There is much to crave in Malta,” he said with a laugh.

  “Why are you here?”

  “I have, in fact, come to collect a little something for Byron. There,” here said, pointing upward.

  I looked up. “What the hell is that?” I asked. Above us, a floating warship boasting double propellers and double balloons was anchored in the southern tower. It quite nearly blocked out the light of the moon. It was the most enormous airship I’d ever seen.

  “The Hercules. Commissioned by Byron for his expeditions. You do know you dear lord is about to go to war on behalf of the Greeks? I am headed to Athens to meet him with the ship. I bet he would be very happy if I arrived with you and the Hercules.”

  I looked at Sal. He was leaning against the bar and watching the exchange with a look of annoyance on his face.

  “I’m very sorry,” I told Sal. “Edward, do you know my associate, Salvatore Colonna? Sal, this is Edward Trelawny.”

  Sal raised his glass in toast, took a drink, then turned away. I had never seen Sal act in any degree less than cordial. I was confused.

  “Pleasure,” Trelawny replied absently, barely looking at Sal. “Come on now, Stargazer. Move that pretty little ass of yours onto the Hercules.”

  “I’m already about business that is of interest to Byron. Sorry, but no side trips until that matter is settled.”

  Trelawny sighed. “Well, no doubt you can elbow your way through a war zone if the mood strikes. George would love it. You know, Stargazer, of all the women he has, I think Byron might actually love you. Anyway, I’m off. Sure could use you on the Hercules. My air jockey is a lazy git. Safe travels,” he called then headed back downstairs.

  After he was gone, I turned back to Sal who was now working on his second glass. I ordered another and stood beside him in silence. My head was a fucked up euphoric mess, and the morphine had left my heart an open book. When I looked at Sal, I realized that the opium had the same effect on him. All this time, I thought Sal didn’t care I had other lovers or about Byron in particular. In fact, I just assumed he had other lovers as well. Maybe that was not the case after all. Maybe I had misread Sal. The look on his face, one I had seen him hide before, told me the truth. He was jealous of Byron. This was a problem.

  I took his hand. After a moment, he met my eyes.

  “I’ve noticed something,” I said.

  Sal tossed back the last of his drink. “Yes?”

  “You always call me my Lily.”

  “Do I?”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “And what do you make of that, my Lily.”

  “I love it.”

  Sal smiled at me, kissed me on the forehead, and then pulled me close to his chest. “Let’s go back to the ship, my Lily.”

  The first hint of light was beginning to show on the horizon by the time Sal and I made it back aboard the Bacchus. We crawled into our private sleeping area and slid into each other’s arms. Sal held me tight, and I slept soundly, without dreams.

  Chapter Twenty

  I woke a couple of hours later to the sound of Celeste’s gentle voice on the other side of the door. “Lily, sun is up,” she called.

  I groaned tiredly. This was not the way to start an all day cruise. I crawled out of the cot, shaking Sal who snored in reply. I decided to leave him where he was.

  The sun was shining annoyingly bright. I pulled down my dark glasses and went to look for the crew. They were sitting on a small rug on deck eating freshly roasted goat meat and Maltese bread rubbed with tuna. The smell of the fish and the hot, fatty flesh assailed my nose and moments later I was leaning over the side of the Bacchus throwing up yellow bile. When I was done, I lay my head on the rail of the ship and hoped God would just kill me where I sat.

  “Water?” Celeste said, pushing a cup toward me.

  I took it and drank greedily. My hands were shaking, my head pounding.

  “Here,” she said, handing me a small vile of laudanum. “At this point, it is the only thing that can help you, unless…”

  I took a drop from her vile and passed it back. “Unless what?”

  “Unless you quit.”

  “Quit?”

  “Eating opium…and anything else.”

  I was not in the mood, and I didn’t know why people always wanted to have this talk with me. What I did was none of their business. I took another drink of water and handed the cup back. “Do you have the journal? I want to verify the coordinates,” I said brusquely.

  Celeste frowned then went to look through her things.

  I whistled to Roni’s crew. They wrapped up what was left of their breakfast and got the ship ready to debark. I was at the wheel checking the instruments when Celeste returned.

  “Any problems last night?” she asked as she handed me the journal.

  I double checked the coordinates. The ship was ready to go. Unfortunately, it seemed like Roni’s altimeter had stopped working, but I had no interest in going into high altitude. My head pounding, I was still high enough by myself. As for problems, as the memories of the night unfolded, I saw a number of issues now lying before me, none of which had anything to do with Celeste.

  “Nothing to worry about,” I told her.

  Roni’s gearman signaled that we were anchors away, and he was on his way below. The burners fired with a roar, and the balloon pulled us aloft and out of the docking bay. Once the balloon had lifted above the towers, I rang the galley. The propeller clicked on. I turned the wheel and set my compass east. After spending the whole night with her stalking me, I was on my way to hunt Aphrodite.

  I was grateful for the silence of the skies. Shortly after takeoff, Celeste disappeared back into the crew quarters, and Roni’s crew minded their own business. I was left alone to feel the wind on my skin and to look at the sky. It was a clear day. The clouds were high up in the atmosphere. The Bacchus chugged along, floating above the blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea. The wind was not overly brisk making the ride rather easy. For a moment, I even fantasized that the Goddess Aphrodite had conjured clear skies for us. That was good, because in my condition, I was not entirely sharp. I loved the feel of morphine, and I rarely came by it, but even I had to admit that the aftermath was horrible. Despite taking laudanum to keep the edge off, my head still ached terribly, my back and legs felt sore, and my nose kept running. I leaned against the wheel of the Bacchus. It was going to be a long day.

  A few of hours later, Sal came out of the quarters looking like I felt. He had let his hair hang loose. His long salt and pepper locks blew wildly around him. He looked tired. Perhaps, at his age, running around all night with a mess like me was bad for his health. He smiled as he approached me; he was carrying two cups of something hot. Steam rose from the drinks. Hiding behind my glasses, I was able to avoid meeting his eyes. I remembered very clearly what I had said to Sal and what he had said to me. I just wasn’t sure that either of us meant it.

  “The gods are at work this morning, my Lily. Tea,” he told me and handed me a steaming cup.

  “Thank you,” I replied, smiling carefully at him.

  Sal stretched, the muscles on his arms flexing, and grinned at me. “How are the skies?” he asked and went to the side of the ship.

  “Calm thus far. We’ve had the wind on our back so we’re making good time. I suspect we can put in by late afternoon.” I looked at Sal as he watched the waves below. How handsome he was, his brilliant mind tucked inside his lean, athletic body. I tried to imagine us building a life together in London. The picture seemed to fall in place very easily. “Sal?” I called quietly, still unsure of what I was going to say next, but then Sal spoke over me. He had not heard me.

  “Look, Lily. A whale,” Sal said as he peered below.

  I locked the wheel and joined him, claspi
ng my fingers in his as I came up behind him. In the deep blue waters, a large dark shape was skimming below the surface. We watched as it moved quickly under the waves. The Bacchus cast her own shadow on the water. It seemed as if the whale was keeping pace with us. Perhaps our shadow had confused the creature. Then I noticed something odd shining amongst the waves. A flash of light, like a mirror’s reflection, glimmered very briefly upward toward the Bacchus.

  “Did you see that?” I asked.

  “Yes, I did,” Sal said and set his cup down. He grabbed a spyglass from one of the storage cases and peered below.

  I watched the whale move. Something did not seem right. It lacked fluidity. “There it is again,” I called as the reflective light flashed once more toward the airship.

  A moment later, the Bacchus’ balloonman yelled down to Sal. I looked up to see that he too was watching the shadow moving under the water. I didn’t need to understand his words. His voice held the sound of warning.

  “What is it?” I asked, pulling on my goggles and snapping down the telescopic lens.

  The water at the surface began to froth as the creature rose up. The waves retreated violently as the beast emerged from the sea.

  “Here she comes,” Sal said with a mixture of terror and awe in his voice.

  As if in slow motion, it emerged from below the waves. I had heard of experimental underwater vessels but had never seen one. Some said the French were developing a marine weapon. Indeed, more than once I’d heard sailors whisper of seeing a shadow pass underwater that looked like the sea monsters of lore, but I just assumed it to be fantasy. Yet, as the copper hulled behemoth rose up from under the water, I started to panic. It was every bit machine. From its copper skin to the strange shaped piping on its roof, one could see that it was manmade. And everything in the shape of its construction told me to fear it. Logic told me that it couldn’t do anything to us because we were aloft, but my instincts defied that. I trusted my instincts.

  “Altitude!” I yelled at the balloonman, pointing up. “Now!”

  At once, he set the burners on high. The Bacchus started to lift. I rang the bell to the galley calling for speed and grabbed the wheel.

  “What do you see?” I called to Sal as I began to turn the airship leeward. From the wheel, I could not see over the side of a ship.

  “The crew has come out from below. They are launching a sail on the top of the ship. They’ve got some sort of hand crank. The sail is rising up from a storage locker in the hull. It’s not large, but it seems to be fully functional. They are trying to catch the same wind you’re riding. There is a propeller at the back of the vessel. I can see it churning the water. The craft must be twenty feet long. They are moving with some considerable knots, Lily. They are keeping pace with you.”

  The door to the crew quarters slapped open and Celeste rushed out. “What is it? Pirates?” she asked alarmed. She joined Sal at the side of the ship.

  “You won’t believe until you see,” Sal replied then handed her the spyglass.

  “What is that?” she asked, a tremor in her voice. “My god, it looks like a metal sea monster! Is that copper?”

  “So it appears,” Sal replied.

  “There are windows all along its side under the water. And I think, as well, at the front. You can just barely make them out,” Celeste said and handed the spyglass back to Sal.

  “They are assembling some kind of apparatus on the top of the ship. Get higher, Lily!” Sal called and shouted in Italian at the balloonman who pushed the burner. It roared as the flame found its limit. The Bacchus groaned, and I started to worry about the old balloon catching fire with so much hot air circulating inside. The ropes on the balloon creaked as it began to pull quickly upward.

  Celeste ran from the bulwark and opened the door to the gear galley. She yelled below. A moment later the propeller turned harder.

  “Elven Rue…the name of the ship is pounded into the metal,” Sal called again looking through the spyglass, “some call number after…S7081J. Elven Rue S7081J.”

  “Could be English or French. They post an ensign?” I asked.

  “No, it appears they are too busy assembling some kind of weapon,” Sal replied.

  “Weapon!” Celeste shouted aghast and rushed again to the side of the airship.

  “Let’s hope your Aphrodite is truly on our side today,” I called to Celeste. “I need your eyes, baby,” I yelled to Sal.

  “They are keeping pace with you. You’re going to have to get above or dodge whatever is coming.”

  “Fuck!”

  Sal shouted up to the balloonman who responded in such a way that I understood there was nothing more he could do. We were, however, still gaining altitude.

  “Lily, remember what Roni said. This isn’t the Stargazer,” Celeste warned.

  From the water below, I heard a strange popping sound. It sounded almost like a cannon.

  “Turn! Turn!” Sal yelled.

  I yanked the wheel hard and tried to find a wind draft to get some extra speed. I was lucky. The wind pushed us leeward and whatever had been shot toward us flew just behind the ship, missing us. I watched as something attached to a line shot about twenty feet above the stern of the Bacchus. Sal ran astern to get a look as the device fell back into the sea.

  “Some kind of grappling hook,” Sal called.

  I heard the device splash into the water below with a crash.

  “They are reeling it in fast,” Celeste called. “They have some kind of crank pulling it in.”

  I scanned the horizon. On the port side, two sea hawks were spiraling upward in a thermal. A small, rocky archipelago was causing a heat draft the birds were riding. I turned the airship toward the birds.

  “They are reloading,” Sal called.

  I was not going to make it in time.

  Again I heard the popping sound. There was a whoosh as the hook flew up just behind the wheelstand. It fell just short of snaring the balloon. Instead, it snagged one of the Bacchus’ ropes tethering the balloon to the gondola.

  The balloonman shouted in panic and threw a knife down to the deck. The blade stuck in the wood. Sal grabbed it and ran toward the rope. Just as the line on the grappling hook grew taut, Sal severed the balloon tether. Above, the Bacchus’ balloon rocked as her grip on the gondola loosened. The grappling hook slid off the rope and fell onto the deck of the ship. It slid across the deck.

  “No you don’t,” Sal said and kicked it hard. The hook pulled off a small piece of rail as it went overboard, falling back toward the sea.

  Sal turned to me. “Whatever you’re planning…be fast.”

  I rang the galley again and giving a final heave, the Bacchus’ propellers pushed us forward. Moments later we floated over the small, stony island. Hoping the balloon, one tether short, would hold, I rode the Bacchus into the thermal. Up we went. I pulled the bell to the galley, and the propeller went still. One of the sea hawks cried to see us infringing in his air space. The Bacchus rode the heat upward, gaining altitude fast. The only downside was that we, like the birds, had begun to slowly pivot in the heat draft. The effect was dizzying.

  “They are turning aside to miss the island,” Sal called.

  While Sal watched what has happening below, I watched the sky above. Not too far above us, a lateral wind was cutting off the thermal. Some smaller cumulus clouds were forming at the top, a foaming bubble on our thermal boil. This was a good thing in that the thermal was releasing. Not being able to keep an eye on altitude would lead us to the same worries we had when we outran the Burning Rook in the Stargazer. On the other hand, when we reached the top of the thermal, the wind shear could grab us, and it would be a hell of a ride backward or worse. If we were sideways, it could spell disaster. I was not sure that the Bacchus could handle it.

  “Lily, we must be out of range. They are pulling down the sail and packing in the grappling gun,” Sal said then.

  “Fantastic. Now, if the clouds don’t kill us, we might just make it to
Kos.” I looked at the sky and calculated.

  After a few moments, Sal reported that the metal sea monster was once again diving below the waves. “It’s gone,” he said. I couldn’t help but notice the awe in his voice.

  I asked Celeste to have the balloonman keep the burn pan on high. The galleyman had stuck his head out. I instructed him to keep the propeller off. An argument then ensued between the balloonman and the gear galleyman, and for a moment, I felt like Angus and Jessup were with me.

  “They are debating, but they think you should turn the propeller on,” Sal said as he listened to the exchange.

  Celeste stood at the center of the ship. She had gone completely pale and was holding onto a rope for dear life.

  I looked back up at the clouds and considered. “No,” I said then.

  Sal looked thoughtful. “No doubt you know best, my Lily.” He then turned and instructed the men to keep as we were.

  Silence filled the space as we waited. The cloud bank at the top of the thermal neared. We were still spinning. I held the wheel. The rush of the wind stroked my face, and I began to feel the cool air from the approaching clouds. I closed my eyes. I remembered then the story of Aphrodite, Adonis, and the anemone flower, the blossom that could bloom in and be destroyed by the same strong wind.

  It happened so gently. The Bacchus popped out of the thermal. A wind caught the ship from behind and pushed it softly forward. Since I’d kept the balloon overfull on hot air, the change in temperature once we were inside the cool cloud never caused the ship to stir. The lift simply slowed, and the Bacchus settled into the lateral wind shear. We were inside the cloud. The air felt dewy. I opened my eyes to see the deck of the Bacchus draped in mist.

  Celeste looked around in surprise. Sal and Roni’s crew were smiling from ear to ear.

  “Now, turn the propeller back on. Easy as she goes,” I told the gearman; Sal translated.

  The gearman said something in Italian, smiled at me, then went below.