A Matter of Temperance
ICHABOD TEMPERANCE
Copyright © 2013 Ichabod Temperance
All rights reserved.
ISBN-10: 149744750X
ISBN-13: 978-1497447509
The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance
Volume One: ‘A Matter of Temperance’
Volume Two: ‘A World of InTemperance’
Volume Three: ‘For the Love of Temperance’
Volume Four: ‘A Study in Temperance’
Volume Five: ‘In a Latitude of Temperance’
Volume Six: ‘The Measure of Temperance’
Volume Seven: ‘The Seventh Voyage of Temperance’
Volume Eight: ‘The Title of Temperance’
Volume Nine: ‘A Journey of Temperance’
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1 – Adventure!
Chapter 2 – Nocturnal Disturbance.
Chapter 3 - London!
Chapter 4 - A New Ally.
Chapter 5 - The London Journals.
Chapter 6 - Stanley’s True Colours Revealed.
Chapter 7 - MisAdventure With A Scoundrel.
Chapter 8 - Disturbance At The Queen’s Hotel.
Chapter 9 - A Stroll In The Park.
Chapter 10 - No Escape.
Chapter 11 - The Ghost.
Chapter 12 - Aftermath at the Queen’s Hotel.
Chapter 13 – A Cup of Tea.
Chapter 14 – The Morning Periodicals.
Chapter 15 - Chemysts.
Chapter 16 – Homecoming.
Chapter 17 – Trapped.
Chapter 18 - Step into my Parlour.
Chapter 19 – A Monster Built for Two.
Chapter 20 – Ipswich after dark.
Chapter 21 - Paris.
Chapter 22 – No Human Hand.
Chapter 23 – Road Wrath.
Chapter 24 – Footsie.
Chapter 25 - Do I Need a Pass Port Too?
Chapter 26 - Devices Of Destruction.
Chapter 27 - The Battle of Graz.
Chapter 28 – Clipping Across the Pond.
Chapter 29 - The Good Ol’ U. S. of A.
Chapter 30 - Dreams.
Chapter 31 - Error and Trial.
Chapter 32 – Pee-Gee Double Dee.
Chapter 33 - Restless.
Chapter 34 - Bad JuJu.
Chapter 35 - Reunion.
Chapter 36 - An Errand.
Chapter 37 - Departure.
Chapter 38 - Natural Enemies.
Chapter 39 – Pacific Passage.
Chapter 40 – Lonely Hours.
Chapter 41 - I Am Devoured.
Chapter 42 – Timing.
Chapter 43 - A Welcome Sight.
Chapter 44 - The Battle For Planet Earth.
Chapter 45 - Manifestation.
Chapter 46 - Together.
Chapter 47 - Ichabod and Persephone.
AFTERWORD
Acknowledgements
I humbly thank my friends in professional wrestling. It is through them that I have learned the art of storytelling.
Thanks go out to my wonderful karate dojo friends,
and my Aetherweb pals.
Special thanks go to Mr. Wolfgang Metzger for generously providing the silhouettes that appear on the cover of this novel. They are the very silhouettes that are mentioned in this book and do, in fact, survive the disaster detailed therein.
Sincere gratitude is extended to the ever obstreperous Sergeant Turk for his tasteful graphic design of this book’s cover.
Thank you A.L. Williams for the additional artwork and design.
I am eternally grateful to the cast and crew of the movie,
‘Engines of Destiny’!
These brave film-makers generously allowed me to be a part of their magical world. In doing so, they opened up the world of ‘steampunk’ to me. My wonderful castmate, Arthur Hinds, inspired me to write a backstory for my character and this is the result.
Finally, a special thanks and acknowledgment go out to the beautiful, loving, gracious, patient and kind muse,
Miss Persephone Plumtartt,
for her invaluable assistance and inspiration without which this story would not have happened.
Chapter 1 – Adventure!
Ichabod
The rumbling purr of an impossibly big cat thrums through my body. Rhythmic vibrations emanate from the titanic engines powering this colossal ship. Wheels the size of four story buildings mercilessly paddle the Atlantic Ocean into submission.
“Hey, Ichabod, are you up here?”
“Call me Icky.”
“I guess you are up here. It’s the middle of the night, Icky; why can't you behave like the other passengers?”
“Sorry, Spike, I don't mean to make your job as ship’s steward difficult. I reckon I just like to climb on things. Lying on the roof of the Triumph’s wheelhouse, connects me with this ship. Through her, I can sense the dark expanse of the ocean depths spreading out below, while at the same time, I can look up into a bright ocean of stars bursting outward above. It’s as if I am tumbling through the aether of space, swimming in a celestial ocean.”
“It’s an ocean of wonder below, Icky, and an ocean of unexpected phenomena inhabiting the astral void above.”
“Yessir, our world became even more wondrous nearly six years ago, during that fateful summer of 1869, with the coming of the ‘Revelatory’ comet. Unlike Haley’s Comet, this visitor had not been recorded in history. That fiery white snowball entered our unsuspecting solar system meekly enough, but when it made a pass around the Sun, it came out the other side and back towards planet Earth as if slung by some Titan discus thrower. Racing along its elliptical trajectories, many astronomers feared a collision between the heavenly bodies. The incredible, inter-galactic meteor looked like it was gonna smack right into us, but its path crossed ahead of our planet’s orbit. Mother Earth traveled safely through the comet’s tail.”
“That was the summer of '69, and today’s date is March 16, 1875. That makes it a little over five and a half years since our planet crossed the comet’s sparkling wake.”
“Yessir, Mr. Spike, sir, and ain’t it amazing what a strange effect that comet had on this planet?”
“You've got that right, Stinky.”
“Icky.”
“Whatever. Everywhere on Earth, tens of thousands have become affected by the comet's passage in an unusual way. Not all people, but many, have found that any natural talent they already possessed has been greatly enhanced. The changes were subtle enough that people may or may not have been immediately aware of their amplified aptitudes.”
“Nossir, and it didn’t take long before tinkers began to sprout up like wildflowers in spring. It’s amazing how quickly society has become accustomed to this contraption-filled world, and come to accept this state of being. Nowadays, you can’t swing a bucket without hitting some sort of tinker, engineer, actor, acrobat or musician.”
“I find it all a bit diabolical, Sticky.”
“Icky, please.”
“Whatever. Every apothecary I go to now has a laboratory of some sort, with bubbling cauldrons, smoking thuribles, and tangles of complicated glass tubing. Every barber has a wall of assorted, fiendish, gleaming, glistening, never before seen devices for the grooming of the hair-suit, excuse me, hirsute man. Few men have the courage, nor strength of will, to face down these gleaming apparati for a fresh haircut and a smooth shave.”
“I’m lucky. The peach fuzz growing on my face will come
off to a kitten’s lap.”
“Don't interrupt, Itchy, for I’m talking about how this world has been built by steam, spring and electricity. I was trying to tell you how suddenly, inventions great and small came to surround us.”
“Yessir, like steamer carriages, postal sorters and personal, portable, oscillating fans. I’ve heard of certain blacksmiths, more affected than most by the Revelatory Comet’s passing, who have built entire clockwork - that is to say, mechanical - horses, giving them life by spring and steam, due to the magic of the ‘Comet’s’ visit.”
“It’s one thing to see craft of sea, and land quickly achieving the pinnacle of perfection, but what’s really astounding is to see airships, great and small, prowling the skies around the world.”
“I’ve seen a balloon before!”
“A balloon! Bah, that’s nothing, farm-boy. Balloons will soon be a thing of the quaint past. Nowadays, it’s blimps and fancy gondolas. Of course, these aircraft pale in comparison with the floating fleets of majestic Zeppelins in operation around Europe.”
“I heard that there was a band of dangerous air pirates at loose in the North Atlantic, Spike. Is that true?”
“Actually, there are several competing bands of air pirates there and other places. With all the new mechanicals everywhere, everyone wants to turn these modern devices to their own megalomaniacal purposes.”
“Gee!”
“It’s a dangerous world, Ricky. Marvels unheard of just a few years ago are now commonplace. For instance, this magnificent ship on which we voyage, is a mighty, eight wheeled, ocean paddler.”
“Goodness gracious, she’s quite a miracle of human achievement, sir. She’s like a Mississippi riverboat, but grown to fifty times her normal size. Four wheels on each side propel this amazing ship ever forward. A heavy steel keel runs her length. Steel ribs support her wooden hull and decks. Extra steel reinforcements support her mammoth engines and drive wheels, amidships.”
“Ah, but it’s a Sol Furnace that powers this ship's mighty steam boilers.”
“The Sol Furnace is the greatest invention to arise in this explosion of ingenuity that has taken the world!”
“That's right, kid, the power of the Sun itself has been captured, and harnessed for the the use of Mankind, by Professor Henry Plumtartt.”
“I know him! He's an eminent physicist, though also reputed to be an initiate of several arcane orders. By a process that is understood by only a very few, he has developed a technology capable of generating a seemingly endless source of energy.”
“You're lucky to be on this ship. This is a historic crossing. It is expected to set a new speed record. This ocean paddler is on her return trip to England, completing her maiden cruise.”
“Yessir, Mr. Spike! I have a special attachment to this ship, and to her furnace. Little ol’ me, Ichabod Temperance, just an Alabama farm boy, count myself as one of the many from around the world affected by the Revelatory Comet’s passing.”
“You're full of bilge!”
“Nossir. I was fourteen years old that summer of ‘69 when the comet passed. My family has a small place in Jefferson County. I didn’t realize the change at first. Little ideas would pop into my mind. After the idea, the formula for bringing the idea about would similarly materialize in my mind like a flower quickly spreading into bloom. I swiftly developed a knack for design and engineering solutions to problems. I specialize in goggles. I crafted a pair of goggles for Professor Plumtartt himself for working with the dangerous elements involved with the outrageously powerful Sol Furnace.”
“Is this on the level?”
“Yessir. The Plumtartt goggles brought me a bit of notoriety, which has led to other commissions. That is the errand I am upon now. My most precious invention to date are my ‘Green Beauties’. I hate to let them go! Last year, I sent Professor Plumtartt his goggles. Professor Plumtartt’s “Elemental Protectors” got to enjoy the ocean voyage to England. These marvelous goggles are likewise commissioned by a British client. This year, I have decided to not send my marvelous new goggles to my esteemed customer; instead, I’m going to deliver them myself! Why should they have all the fun? The ‘Beauties’ are destined for adventures in Darkest Africa. For the first time in my life, I have left Irondale, Alabama, USA, to cross the Atlantic Ocean, and to visit jolly old England. I never would have dreamed that one day I should make a journey to the legendary city of London, herself!”
“Congratulations. Try not to slide off the roof and kill yourself, kid.”
“This is the greatest adventure I have ever known!”
Chapter 2 – Nocturnal Disturbance.
Persephone
“I am a Plumtartt and I must gain control of myself!”
What is this cold panic that has awoken me? Tremors shake my body, and tears form in my eyes.
It is the same terror I felt in Father’s laboratory at the time of the accident. The atmosphere of evil that filled the room on that tragic, fateful night, when I thought we had banished these horrors forever, has returned.
“Persephone Plumtartt, get a grip on your senses, young lady.”
I command myself to still the core-rattling vibrations that shake my body, but the rebellious fear disobeys my orders.
I pull my knees to my chin and covers to my face. This great house, the palatial Plumtartt Manor, is so huge and empty. It is here where I have always felt surrounded by family. Father, ‘Uncle’ Victor, our long-time family retainer, and dear Michael, the stable boy: these were my family. They, the rest of the staff, and the whole bustling estate, made for a happy place to live. Now they are either dead, have fled, or I have ordered them to leave for their own safety. How I wish I had someone here with me now. I am in the grip of a mounting terror and I know not why. I have never before been afraid to be alone, not in the least. However, this moment, this night, is different. I can feel it. Dreadful solitude and loneliness solidify in my heart.
Oh, my. I have the most ominous sensation.
There is a commotion from the lower, forty acres. The dogs are worked into a terrible fit. The fearsome brood of the estate's canines are tearing into something, a few hundred yards from the buildings. Far from what would be expected, they make the most heartrending cries I have ever heard. This pack is a ferocious group, yet the stout canines are whelping like frightened puppies. The great pack of mighty canines can be heard to retreat from our estate, yelping, whining, and with tails presumably between their lowered haunches.
An unnatural quiet engulfs the grounds, a terrible silence that should not be. I feel as if my hearing has been greatly amplified as I am acutely aware of the tiniest sound. What on Earth could have scared away that fearsome pack? How is it that I know that the invader comes for me?
An unclean presence approaches. I hear the animals in the pens and stables panic. What is that crash that I hear? Good Heavens, the horses are kicking their stable doors apart! The livestock are doing all they can to flee that which comes!
Now, once more, a silence grips the estate, uncanny in the wake of all the tumult. Something has frightened away the fierce pack of dogs that reside here. They would have given their lives in my defense, but unimaginably, they have fled in terror. So too have the other livestock managed to join the exodus. The barnyard is disturbingly quiet, after the beautiful horses have fought their way from their stables and taken flight from the peaceful estate.
Oh, that ominous sensation is washing through me again. Something terrible is coming for me; I can feel it. I want to flee as the animals of the estate have, but I am trapped by a paralyzing fear that has me secured within my boudoir.
An intuition tells me that something oppressively large and foul is on the property and it means to get in. A thing of loathing steadily approaches. It is touching the house. Somehow, I know evil is in contact with the old building. A presence, oppressively heavy, is pushing against the North wing of Plumtartt Manor.
I hear a creak.
There is another, but
stronger this time. It must be the magnificent stained glass window in the Northern Annex. Saint George, slaying the dragon, is beautifully rendered in lead and coloured glass. Capping the wing on that side of the house, the great, circular, historic window sits a full twenty feet off the ground, yet somehow a massive weight is pressing against it.
Slowly, one pop and snap at a time, I hear the pride of our family home giving way. Shattering cracks signaling the failure of the distressed glass come faster and faster. More than a hundred years old, the intricate pattern of coloured glass shatters, raining down shards of her priceless myriad of colours. With a huge reluctant creak, followed by a large crash, the famous old window pushes in.
A disconcerting thud resounds along with the crash of breaking glass.
Evil is in the house.
The noises I hear coming to me are unidentifiable. There is a sucking pop, followed by heavy plop. The disgusting sounds repeat, again and again, as something large and unthinkably heavy makes its way down the hall. The hateful sound is slowly coming closer. My heart races. I want to scream. I want to flee. I am paralyzed with fright! The hair along the back of my neck rises.
A pale, green glow shows around the edges of my bedroom door. I clutch my sheets all the tighter to my throat as something touches the heavy wooden entrance. The oak creaks with tortured resistance, as a tremendous weight is inexorably pressed upon the portal. The thick oak planks bend in futile resistance to the weight of the lime luminescence on the other side. The deeply anchored iron bolts of the heavy hinges, one by one, fall in defeat before the in-opposable predator. I push myself against the wall atop my pillows, but I am trapped!
The door gives way!
“No!” I helplessly cry out, begging mercy of the horror by which I am besieged.
An enormous paramecium pours through the failed aperture. Its grotesque, jellied form, first pushes and now pulls itself into my bedchamber. With deliberate effort, the shapeless blob maneuvers itself towards my canopied bed. Pseudopodal limbs crawl up over the bedrails.
A Matter of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 1) Page 1
