Her side stitched painfully as she ran, wondering how she could both remain free and retrieve Noelle. How long would it be before the Blockaders went to Owen’s house? Would the whole family be taken into custody?
Buildings streamed past her as if blown backward by the wind. Her breasts ached with her movements, their fullness uncharacteristic on a body honed by three years of near starvation. Her lungs didn’t feel much better, laden with an overabundance of acrid, coal-soaked air. Carts lined the street as she came closer to the warehouses around the docks. She kept an eye out for a horse, hoping to find a way to move quickly through the streets, but each one she saw was tethered securely.
She heard shouting and knew the Blockaders were closing in. Why hadn’t she found the time to rebuild her strength? She should have been preparing physically for a strenuous life as a smuggler again. The Fennas’ new airship was nearly complete. After a glance behind her to judge how far she was ahead of the Blockaders, she slid on a pile of steaming horse droppings and only stayed afoot by stabbing her hand into the dirt. A man, dressed for the outdoors in a heavy coat and hat, loading a cart, looked up when she exclaimed. Their eyes met.
She lifted her chin toward Everard, who could be seen in the distance. That wiry build of his was indicative of a running regimen, it appeared.
The costermonger nodded and pulled his cart into the road. "Pob lwc.”
Good luck. She smiled when another man pulled his cart into the road, both shielding her and buying her time. Maybe she was a criminal, but they knew she was one of their own. “Diolch.” Thank you.
Since the Blockaders were close, she decided to run into a warren of small houses and tenements to lead them off course. She didn’t know the streets well and lost herself in the zigzagged neighborhood. Soon, she had to slow to a walk and cross her arms over her chest to relieve the pain. Only the smell of sea air put her back on track toward the docks. By that point she hadn’t seen the Blockaders or heard any disturbance for at least twenty minutes, so hopefully they were more lost than she had been.
Ten minutes later she crept into a warehouse inside a small, dingy shipyard. The Gravenor family officially built fishing boats, but they had a sideline in smuggler airships. The only part of the operation that needed hiding was the balloon-building, but even that fabric could be explained by the need for sail canvas. The hull of the new Fenna airship rested on wooden planks in the tarp-covered building. Lit lanterns hung on the walls because the sky was so dark that day. Terrwyn circled the hull, judging that the thirty-eight foot craft was ready to go.
She heard the warehouse door open and crouched behind the hull, clutching the knife in her pocket. Had someone seen her? She let out her breath and stood when she saw Brecon Gravenor. A distant cousin of her family, he shared her Fenna curved lips and winged eyebrows.
“Time for a test flight?” he asked, quirking a brow as she stepped toward him. Brecon was her age and sinfully handsome, but she had never found men who knew how good-looking they were nearly as appealing as they found themselves.
She had no time for banter. “Is it ready?”
He patted the red-painted oak. “We haven’t tested it yet, but she should be set for her maiden flight.”
“Can you load coal into the burner? I don’t have much time.”
“You can’t fly her yourself,” Brecon warned. “The youngest Bebb daughter ran to warn your family when the Blockaders came to your stall. Owen, Cari and the babes will be along soon enough.”
The Fenna house was only a mile from the warehouse. Could she risk waiting for them? Neither could move fast, hampered by sore joints and babies.
“I hope you are right,” Terrwyn said. “Please, the coal. Let’s be ready for them.”
Brecon sighed. “It’s madness, this is. I’ll have to go with you. You need crew.”
Terrwyn knew Brecon had been looking for a wife, but after suffering the attentions of the prison guards and officials in order to save herself from starvation, she wanted her skin free of a man’s touch for a long time to come. “Don’t fret. I’ve been flying since before I could walk.”
His grin was as charming as a stage actor’s. “I could use an adventure. We haven’t flown for three years, you know, but I can tell you we had quite a party when we heard old Gladstone had retired. Business has improved greatly.”
“I’ll probably have company in the skies, then.” She didn’t care as long as no one got in her way.
“They say the Blockaders only have one working airship in their yard right now. You’ll be fine.” He helped her attach the balloon framework to the hull, then she pried open a can of black paint and carefully wrote Valentine near the bow.
“Named her, have you?” Brecon asked, tugging over a coal bucket.
“She’s a Fenna airship. It’s a proper name given the day.”
“She’s a Gravenor airship until she’s paid for,” Brecon warned.
“I’ll get you your money. You know we’re good for it.”
“And how is that, cousin, when you’ve destroyed my livelihood?” Owen shouted, limping into the warehouse, followed by Cari, holding seven-week-old Noelle and ten-month-old Lleu.
“I’ll take the Valentine to France and liberate some goods. You’ll recoup your losses in a month.” She climbed the ladder to the steam engine and started loading coal.
“How could you abuse my hospitality like this?” Owen said, stopping to stare at the hull where the airship’s new name gleamed wetly. “This is my airship.”
Cari climbed up to Terrwyn so she could take her daughter for a moment. Terrwyn wished she could nurse to ease the pain in her breasts but there wasn’t time. She kissed her sleeping daughter’s curls and handed her back.
“You meant to join the Owler free traders down in Sussex as soon as she was ready,” Terrwyn called in her most reasonable tone. “I don’t know why you want to leave a good trade here, but you do. I just changed the timetable of when you would move. I’m a more experienced captain than you anyway. You’re lucky to have me.”
“You weren’t captain before, but crew.” His expression was mulish.
“I’ve more experience than you do, apprenticed to a locksmith as you were back then. You were earthbound usually, unlike me.”
Brecon’s two older brothers and his father came into the warehouse.
The senior Gravenor held up a hand maimed long ago when a heavy log had crushed it. Owen closed his mouth and turned to listen.
“The Blockaders are on the move,” the old man told them.
“How many?” Brecon asked.
“Perhaps five officers and two automen.”
“Are they close?” Cari asked, hugging Lleu to her chest. The baby stuck his fist in his mouth and gurgled.
Not a care in the world. Terrwyn wished for a moment like that, but knew they’d be a long time coming.
“They lost Terrwyn’s trail where the carters blocked the road a mile away from here, but a mile isn’t much.”
So they hadn’t followed her into the neighborhood? Had she wasted all that time?
“Good,” Owen said. “They hadn’t come to my house by the time we left.”
“Any airships yet?” Terrwyn asked.
“No, but you haven’t much of a lead. They’ll send telegraphs out and some of the fleet will ring the area.”
“You got us into this mess, I suppose I have to let you get us out,” Owen said and nodded at the men.
The Gravenors busied themselves doing final adjustments as the Fennas loaded coal. Within half an hour, Terrwyn had Owen installed at the wheel and the babies tucked into the cabin with Cari, while Brecon manned the ratlines and she stood at the burner. They didn’t have any cannons aboard, but they also had no one to man them. At least the Valentine was a smaller airship than she was used to and hopefully would be less noticeable to the Blockaders once airborne.
Brecon’s brothers climbed ladders to the top of the warehouse and untied the ropes holding the roof tar
p taut. The tarp was painted to look like slate, but made for easy access to the sky. Terrwyn glanced at the gray February heavens, grateful for the cloud cover. With a bit of the old Fenna luck, they could make the trip in less than three hours.
Brecon’s oldest brother, Dafydd, pulled out an Owler-made spyglass and turned three-hundred-sixty degrees above her. She saw no telltale puffs of smoke from the silver band around the spyglass, nor any clicking sounds, warning them of BAE airships.
“Time to waltz with the wind.” Terrwyn fired the burner and the fabric envelope began to inflate.
A few minutes later, the airship ascended without trouble. As the senior Gravenor waved them past the roof, Terrwyn saw a puff of smoke emit from his spyglass. Blockaders were in range. Everard and his friends must have gone back to their airship.
“Head out to the Channel toward Penzance,” she called. “We’ll have to take the long way. We can’t lead them straight to Hastings.”
Below, the middle Gravenor brother, Griffin, untied the ropes holding the airship to heavy anchors in the warehouse. Terrwyn moved along the rail, hauling up the hanging cords, then went back to the engine.
Owen turned the wheel and Terrwyn gave the engine maximum power.
They were across Cardiff Bay in moments and had cleared the docks before she saw the airship they’d been warned of. Terrwyn wished she had a spyglass of her own and wondered if there were any stores on the Valentine. Probably not since the airship hadn’t been readied for a test flight yet, assuming she’d even have received one given the illegal nature of her existence.
“Are there any weapons aboard?” she called to Owen.
“I’m afraid not.”
She put a hand to her forehead to shield her eyes and saw Brecon, high above, examining a panel. “Do you have a heater?” she shouted.
He didn’t hear her, but she didn’t expect a shipbuilder to be armed, even one with a sideline in illegal airships.
“My kingdom for a cannon,” she muttered.
Behind the propellers, she could see the Blockader airship streaming toward them, moving at approximately twice their speed. Her coal burner was full, but she didn’t think the Valentine’s engines were working to full capacity.
She could see the fat Blockader standing on the wheelhouse. Was he the captain? Not who she would have pegged as leader. This escape would be short-lived if she didn’t think of something.
She stared at the engine, wishing she knew something about its workings rather than everything about locks. A lantern hung over the coal burner, where Brecon had placed it when they began to load coal. She considered it thoughtfully.
“How about a store of paraffin?” she called to Owen. “I don’t see any more lanterns on board. Anything I can make bombs with?”
“No!” he called. “Nothing!”
She swore. The Blockader airship neared to shooting distance, then turned in the sky until it was broadside. Below her, she could see fishing boats bouncing in choppy seas.
She waved her hand at Brecon. She needed him to lower the pressure in the balloon. If they got close to the water, they could jump into it. The fishing boats might rescue them. But how could she risk the babies that way? Brecon kept climbing, and soon was out of her sight, on top of the balloon.
What was he up to?
She jumped a ratline and began climbing herself, hoping to get to a gas valve and open it. At least Cari and the babies were inside the cabin. Three cannon doors in the Blockader’s hull opened and the round metal mouths of cannons pushed through. Nothing was going her way. Could she lower the airship in time? Now all she thought about was getting out of range of those gaping holes that would soon be full of projectiles, and if she didn’t have speed she needed to change altitude.
We’re all going to die.
~*~
CHAPTER TWO
Terrwyn refused to give up her daughter’s life so cheaply. If there had been ballast aboard she’d have dumped it so they could rise above the Blockaders’ airship and attempt to hide in the clouds, but all she could do was reduce the gas in the balloon so they’d sink close to the Channel. She kept climbing, the familiar feel of hemp under her fingers reminding her of that last voyage on the Hallow’s Eve, when she’d come into port and found two dozen Blockaders with heaters and chains. They may not have taken her to her death, but she’d lost everything nonetheless. She didn’t want to lose her chance to regain her former life.
Forget the past. The present held worse terrors. Once the Valentine lowered, they’d have lost their ability to fly since they had no hydrogen stores.
She heard a whir and a gust of air pushed her against the balloon as the Blockaders fired a warning shot. It clipped one of the cables holding the cabin to the balloon, but thankfully the rope was redundant and they didn’t lose structural integrity.
They had to get out of range. She climbed the ratlines like a monkey and had her hand to the first gas valve she found when she heard Brecon screaming above her.
“Stop! Look!”
Was he calling to her or screaming at the enemy airship? She couldn’t risk the former, so she climbed until she could see over the top of the fabric envelope. Brecon pointed and she followed his finger with her gaze.
To the north, she saw three tiny dirigibles with black balloons rushing toward them in the sky. She’d never seen airships move so fast. Streams of light emitted from them, as if they were firing heaters as they flew. Useless, as heater rays only kept their deadly intensity for about ten feet, but rather daunting to watch.
She reached Brecon at the top of the balloon. “Who are they?”
“They’re coming from Barry. Definitely not Blockaders.” Brecon lifted one hand from a ratline to push black hair out of his eyes.
“Smugglers?”
“Probably. Quite a bit of French wine has made its way onto my father’s table recently.”
“Maybe your father contacted them.”
“Let’s hope so.” Brecon grinned. “Because we’ve got nothing to fight with here. At least there aren’t many men aboard the other airship. It’s running too light to have a full complement on the gun deck.”
She stared at the Blockader airship, close enough for her to see the name Defender stenciled on the hull, flying between them and their possible salvation. Brecon was right that the dirigible couldn’t be holding its full complement of men. She recognized the three officers who had tormented her at the Market, and a couple of white-shirted men in the ratlines. But she knew some men were also below deck, at the three cannons. They couldn’t know how many souls were aboard.
As if to point out their lack of knowledge, two of the three cannons fired. The lengthy booms made the airship vibrate in the sky. Terrwyn ducked instinctively, clutching the ratline, but both shots went wild, whistling past them in the sky. Only the central cannon was trained properly on the Valentine.
“If they board us I’ve got a knife,” Terrwyn said loudly, not willing to quite admit defeat. “Help me open the gas valves so we can lower ourselves out of cannon range.”
Brecon pulled out a knife of his own. “Quicker to just slice the fabric open.”
“I want to descend, not die,” Terrwyn called out. “There are babies aboard.” She heard another boom and the airship rattled again.
Brecon raised his voice to a shout. “Aye. You take starboard then, and I’ll take--”
Black shapes shot between them. Terrwyn leaned back on her ratline as Brecon stopped speaking.
“What was that?” she asked. “Bird shot? Rocks?”
A look of confusion crossed his face and he swayed.
“Brecon?” She smelled burning rope and realized the ratline his left hand had held was gone. Blood sprayed. Where was his hand? Her mouth stayed open in a horrified rictus as he screamed.
They both looked at the blood staining the fabric. As they both realized his hand had been cut off his body, Brecon fell away from the airship, his right hand still holding a rope attached to the
airship at one end. She watched him wrap his legs around the rope in an attempt to hold on. He was still conscious, then.
She screamed his name, as if words could help. As he became a mere speck below her, she heard another boom and ducked her head, sliding back down a ratline toward the gas valves. Only she was left to lower the airship now. There were still precious lives to save.
Far below, she heard a splash, but she didn’t know if it was Brecon’s body or a cannon ball hitting the water.
Death had stalked her in the cells of Newgate Prison for years, and before, in the uniforms of Blockaders along the Sussex coast. One more death meant nothing to her, as long as her baby still lived. At least, she had to tell herself that. But family, even distant family, wouldn’t be as easy to forget as a stranger’s death.
Forcing Brecon from her thoughts, she opened one gas valve, then moved to another. Their cruising altitude was only about one hundred feet, so she didn’t need to empty too much gas. This journey would be over almost before it began.
“I’m making for Lundy Island!” Owen called.
“We’ll never make it!” she shouted.
“The Blockaders have stopped firing! Don’t lower us any more!”
Swearing, Terrwyn climbed back to the top of the envelope and saw all three of the small mystery airships were within range of the Blockader vessel. Did they have cannons onboard? That would have stopped the bloody cowards. She slid down a ratline as fast as she could to check the rudder and load more coal.
If there was anywhere in the Channel where they’d find allies, Lundy Island would be it. She hoped.
*****
Aboard the Blockader airship Defender, Ian Cavill grasped the ratline with his good hand and attempted to remain stoic as he watched the newly handless air pirate fall into the Bristol Channel, but he couldn’t help glancing at his own brass appendage in sympathy. The fallen man might be dead or alive at this point, but at least he wasn’t enslaved to the Blockaders.
The ever-present clicking in the center of the Defender was a constant reminder to the impressed men aboard that they were being watched. Anyone who tried to escape service had a hand chopped off and replaced with an automac one. While it functioned clumsily as a hand, it also contained a tracking device monitored by a large automaton in the captain’s cabin of each airship.
Captain Fenna's Dirigible Valentine Page 2
