Airship Shape & Bristol Fashion

by Howard, Jonathan L

  Robert stopped laughing and looked at his father intently.

  “You should know that I have begun to take proceedings to have you declared insane. The evidence has been clear to me for years and now I have persuaded some doctors to agree with me. It is just a matter of time until everything that is yours is mine, and then I shall sell these pathetic slaves you surround yourself with. Well, all except you Benjamin, you will be found work in my home. And educated again, I think, so that you learn your true place in this world.” The edges of Robert’s lips curled. His face showed intense satisfaction, his thoughts finally spoken aloud.

  Ben felt heat rise in the welts on his back. His souvenirs of that day long gone always hurt in the heat of the warehouse, but now he found anger did just the same thing. He looked to Lord Craddock to see his face lined with outrage.

  Lord Craddock shook with anger. “You think I don’t know what you are up to? You think I don’t know how you have made your money this past year? A slave trader! After all that I have taught you about equality, about looking to the future.” Craddock waved his hands out to his inventions. “I will see this nation rise above retarded thoughts like yours. You embarrass your family name. You shame me!”

  Robert furrowed his brow. His brown eyes suddenly looked darkened as he screamed at his father, spittle flying. “You miserable fool, I recognise the most primal aspect of human nature. We each have a place and I will see your pets put in theirs!”

  He turned to the collapsed automaton. “And as for this feeble toy…” Robert struck the machine with his cane.

  A burst of steam exploded from it and a loud ‘pop’ sounded. It had seemed innocuous but Robert began to scream from within the cloud of hot steam.

  The sound was horrible. The steam cleared to show Robert holding the side of his face.

  He turned to them, shaking. The right side of his face appeared to have melted. Ben could not help himself; he retched and vomited, partially at the sight but more at the smell. As he looked up at Robert, he saw now that the small cog he had earlier given to Lord Craddock was embedded in Robert’s right eye.

  Lord Craddock ran toward Robert. “Quickly, let me help you. Let me call Doctor Jones.”

  Robert’s disfigured face contorted equally in rage and pain. He twisted the pommel atop his cane and a blade slid out. Robert slashed right to left across his father’s torso. Lord Craddock fell instantly, his chest sliced open, his life blood gushing out. Robert turned and ran.

  Ben caught the falling form of Lord Craddock. He held him close, as his life essence slipped away. Powerless, he wept like a child until the authorities came. The local constabulary balked at the sight of a weeping black man cradling a Lord. Luckily Nathaniel arrived and took Ben home, away from the terrible scene.

  After the funeral had taken place, police questions answered, and Robert sought — but not found — Ben and Nathaniel spoke quietly, whilst walking the gardens of the late Lord Craddock.

  “Can you speak truthfully about what happened now?” Nathaniel asked Ben. “I know your voice so well, I know that you told them the honest truth, but I also know that you left something out.”

  Nathaniel allowed Ben to navigate him to a nearby bench and as they sat, Ben sighed deeply, “It haunts me, that moment - creeps into my thoughts in the day. It invades my dreams in the night. His final words to me were maybe not as poignant as they should have been.”

  Ben recounted the final moments to his friend. “I cradled him in my arms. There was nothing I could do for him.

  “With blood gurgling in his throat he looked at me and gasped, ‘I’m sorry Ben. You won’t like what I’ve done for you. You may come to call me a ‘right old bastard’. Just know I did it out of love and I know you will do…’”

  Nathaniel could hear Ben gulping back his emotions. “And with that he died. I cried like never before, a grief and pain new to me. I never will call him ‘Bastard’. The only name I will ever use is Father.”

  Nathaniel reached out for his friend. He placed his hand on Ben’s and pulled him close. He desperately wanted to tell him that it was alright, that they still had each other. Embarrassed, unsure, mostly scared, he kept his thoughts to himself.

  He heard Ben chuckle, “And what was this great crime done to me? He has left me his title, his money; everything. Here lies my problem. I am a Lord, a rich man in my own home. Step outside of that and I am a slave, a servant, a black man who does not know his place.”

  “So, what will you do now?” Nathaniel asked.

  “My inherited name is Lord Benjamin Craddock. I know I should be grateful but the title sticks in my throat. Whilst Father never finished his sentence to me, I believe he hoped I would do some good, maybe carry on his work. I don’t know if my plans for ‘good’ are the same as what he had in mind, but they are mine.”

  Nathaniel was getting frustrated, “Yes, but how, what are your plans? I know you, I know you cannot simply idle your days with me, reading books.”

  “I aim to end slavery and to this end I have already provided support to people such as Thomas Clarkson. He seeks to bring laws that might stop this cruel trade. I am providing some financial support, quietly. I realise, though, that I cannot just walk into the Seven Stars pub and help. I need other means, other ways.”

  An exasperated Nathaniel raised his voice, “Which are?”

  “To the outside world Nathaniel, you are now the new Lord Craddock and I am Benjamin, his ‘seeing eyes’ servant. Nathaniel, you are my most trusted friend and it has been good for me to see how the world treats you, either with pity or abhorrence, like your blindness might be catching. I realise we have more in common in this unforgiving world than I had ever thought.”

  Nathaniel was stunned. He opened his mouth to speak but was too aghast at this turn of events.

  Ben explained. ”The ruse will allow us to enter certain establishments and social functions, that we might gather intelligence on slave traders. Then we can try and help by buying the slaves their freedom, or forcing it if necessary.”

  Nathaniel found his voice, “I care about you Ben, deeply. But we two cannot make the kind of difference you are suggesting.”

  Ben embraced Nathaniel. “I care about you too. We are brothers and together we can do anything. If all we manage is to put one family back together, then we will have done something truly wonderful.”

  Nathaniel sighed, “Brothers it is…”

  They spent the next four months preparing the act, making themselves known in the social circles of Bristol, ensuring they got invited to all the dinners and balls where they might learn more.

  Ben focused on this endeavour, only breaking his attentions to continue Lord Craddock’s work with steam. Nathaniel fretted over Ben but worked hard to perfect his over the top persona. He took to the role of ‘peacock’ well. He soon had the reputation of a party-going gentleman about town. Added to that, a few well-placed whispers of mistreatment of servants, and soon the slave traders and upper class undesirables all wanted to make his acquaintance.

  Another party had come around and therefore another opportunity arose.

  “I hate this, Ben. These people we meet have ugly souls. Even a blind man can feel that.” Nathaniel shifted uneasily in his best refinements.

  Ben placed his hand on his friends shoulder. “That fact, that you do hate these parties, these people, is what makes you the good person you are. I know who you really are and one day, all will know it. First we have our mission.”

  Ben faced Nathaniel, “Now, Lord Nathaniel Craddock, time to become a racist, cruel cad.”

  ”Life is but a stage…” Nathaniel mumbled the sentence away and after a few deep breaths, stepped out of the horse drawn carriage.

  Placing his hand on Ben’s shoulder, he loudly instructed Ben to lead him to the party.

  Ben handed Nathaniel’s invitation to the doorman, expertly keeping his eyes down and yet trying to scan the room for their targets.

  As Ben led Nathaniel
into the room murmuring rumbled among the gathered guests. The quartet playing in the corner slipped a couple of notes but admirably played on despite the shock at the two guests’ arrival.

  A fat, red faced man approached them. ”My good man, please remove this servant from the room. We do not want his sort here.”

  Nathaniel gathered himself, “Quite so,” he replied, “however I, Sir, am blind. This ‘boy’ provides me with a set of eyes, that I might find my way.”

  Ben rankled at the term ‘boy’ but a soft squeeze on his shoulder from Nathaniel reminded him of the act and he allowed the tension to disperse from his muscles.

  The bloated man in front of them huffed and puffed, seemingly unsure what to do or say.

  A voice carried from over his shoulder; “You must be Lord Craddock, you and your ‘seeing eye’ slave may of course stay.”

  He introduced himself as Simon Renshaw, owner of this lavish home and host of this party.

  “You know, I met this fellow who plans to train dogs to guide the blind. I must tell him of your idea. There could be profit to be made for us traders!”

  Ben resisted the sigh rising in him. He had lost count of how many times this comment was passed.

  “Send your servant downstairs. I’ll have my daughter guide you for the evening.”

  He beckoned over to a young woman. She had long dark auburn hair and deep brown eyes. Ben momentarily looked from her to her father and guessed that the looks must have come from her mother. He realised that he had lifted his head, realised he was staring at the young lady. He swallowed hard, trying to get some moisture into his mouth and quickly stared down at the ground again, hoping no one had seen his faux pas. He caught his breath and wondered if they had looked at one another, if there had been… something. He scolded himself for even allowing the thought to simmer in his mind.

  Nathaniel turned to Renshaw. “I warn you sir, I see by touch. I trust you will not be offended if I take a long look at your daughter.”

  Ben had heard Nathaniel use this line many times now. He was always amazed at how the most tightly wound spinster would giggle like a harlot, when Nathaniel reached forward with his hands.

  Slightly flustered, Renshaw replied, “Um, uh, of course Lord Craddock. It is uh, perfectly understandable. May I introduce my daughter, Sarah?”

  Nathaniel reached forward, only to be stopped by a slap across the face. Ben winced, as yet again they had drawn the room to a deathly hush, and this time the musicians had stopped too.

  ”I do not wish to be groped, especially by a man such as you, Sir,” Sarah railed. ”I know who you are; you treat servants like animals and now you even brag about using this man instead of a dog.” She drew in her breath, “Sir, you disgust me.”

  With that Sarah turned on her heels and left the room. The quartet quickly began to play and guests turned to one another. The party gossip kicked into another gear.

  “Forgive me Sir,” spluttered Renshaw. “I shall punish her immediately.”

  “No need,” said Nathaniel, rubbing his face, “I understand that women sometimes do not see the world as clearly as we. In time she shall. Perhaps we may discuss you allowing me to call upon your daughter, at some time in the future.”

  Renshaw was clearly agitated by Nathaniel’s gall but hastily composed himself. He quickly pretended to have been called by another guest. “Excuse me one moment.”

  Nathaniel smiled, graciously bowing. “I’ll just take my servant to join the others you have here and then I shall return to the festivities.”

  “I really like her,” whispered Ben.

  Nathaniel grimaced. “How’s my face look?”

  “It’s a bit red but nothing too bad. Let’s head to the servants quarters.”

  Ben guided Nathaniel out of the room, avoiding eye contact with the guests. “Once I’m in the servants’ quarters, I’ll climb the dumb waiter shaft. A ‘friend’ in service here has already explained to me how to get to the meeting room. I’ve got to get there now before the meeting starts. You only need to find your way out the back door.” Ben realised he was pointing. Even after all these years he still sometimes forgot.

  “I’ll get there,” smiled Nathaniel. “You are sure you don’t need me?”

  “We both know this party is just the front for the meeting of all the main players in the slave trade. I know that there is a ledger detailing where they are bringing them from, where they are docking and where they go to. I want it. With it, I can smash their operation wide open. I’ve got ships chartered, ready to get these people home to their families.”

  Ben’s determination made his voice rise a little. He recovered himself and again spoke in hushed tones. “You know how you love the French language?”

  “Not so much the language,” said Nathaniel, “more the geniuses behind Braille. If — no, when, there is an English version, I’ll read that but until then, I love what those French bumps on the paper give me.”

  Ben smiled at his friends delight. “Well, out the back is a carriage for you. It is under a sheet, directly opposite the door. It’s something a little special I’ve made for you. Find the cards in the pouch, in front of your seat and read the Braille on each one.”

  Ben looked left and right to see if anyone could see them. He gave his friend a quick hug, turned him in the direction of the door and whispered, “Go, slowly, but go.”

  Ben went across to the servants quarters entrance and hastily through the door. He was gone. Nathaniel quickly got his bearings and headed to the back door.

  Above Nathaniel, a voice rang out. “Wait, Lord Craddock, wait.”

  It was Sarah. “I saw you talking to your servant, I saw you embrace that man like he was your brother.” She did not say this accusingly, but instead sounded both shocked and elated.

  Nathaniel fumbled with his cane. “You are quite mistaken, my lady. I am a cad, slave trader and all round bad person.”

  Sarah responded, “You, Sir, are a terrible liar, a passable actor and a fascinating person.”

  Nathaniel listened to her movements. Her boots tapped on the wooden floor and her dress rustled as she looked around the nearby corridor, checked up on the stairs and listened carefully at each of the closed doors near to them.

  “Look, I am sorry I hit you. I just get so angry at the injustices in this world. Why the colour of your skin, the place of your birth or even your gender, should make you a servant to another is not only ridiculous, but I firmly believe that nations involved in this will suffer greatly in the end. This is Britain, Great Britain.”

  Nathaniel smiled. “No my lady, this is Bristol and that makes us better than great!”

  Sarah squeezed his hand in agreement. “I do apologise for earlier. I know what kind of man my father is and it is not evil, it is weak. There is a particular power in this city, a person that holds sway over the rest and from what I have discovered; his drive is not just for power and money. It is something far worse. I have heard tale of slaves, straight off the ships, taken for torture. Apparently this person likes hurting anyone of a different creed or colour, particularly those of African descent.”

  Nathaniel cocked his head to the side and furrowed his brow. “Is there a name for this person?”

  “I do not know,” Sarah sighed, “Father and the others both revere and fear him. I only know two facts. One, his preferred method of torture is steam. Even some of the men here in this party hide horrendous burns under their shirts.”

  Nathaniel stood staggered by these revelations. They were here to pick up a ledger, a book and hopefully redirect some poor souls home to their families. The idea of some all-powerful person, some evil deviant, had not crossed his mind.

  Nathaniel reached for Sarah’s forearms and pressed his grip firmly. “You said there were two things that you know. Pray tell me the other. It may be important.”

  “The only other thing that I have learnt is that this person, I refuse to call him a gentleman, wears a hood.”

  “
He seeks to hide his identity?” queried Nathaniel.

  “It would seem so but more than that. I sense from overheard conversations, that he is somewhat reticent about his appearance.”

  Nathaniel took in this information earnestly. He needed to tell Ben about this but realised the best way to do that was to get out the house, as had been agreed, and quickly.

  “Sarah, I am grateful for your words, which I am sure are truthful. I may be blind but I have long learned to listen to the inflections in a persons’ voice, their breathing, to be able to fairly accurately detail a lie from a truth.”

  He stepped back from her and bowed low. “Now I must depart. My colleague and friend will be expecting me. I thank you again for your words and know that I shall wear this bruise on my face proudly, as a souvenir of our encounter.”