Dawn of Steam: Gods of the Sun

by Jeffrey Cook

  Miss Penn had a most unfortunate time of it, for while she found a secure handhold in the room where she'd gone to make sure Miss Bowe was awake, the root locker also came open during her time there, and as she has reported since in order to explain the bruises, she spent most of the trip shielding her face with one arm, holding tight with the other, and being pelted with loose potatoes. She seems to have no luck whatsoever with storms.

  After his injuries last time, Mr. Franzini managed to take hold of a rail this time at the first sign of the difficult weather. On one hand, he came out of it quite safely and unharmed, but he was also of no use to anyone throughout the struggle. I cannot claim that I was at all surprised, then or now.

  Eddy and Miss Wright would eventually struggle forward to safer ground, with Eddy carrying Miss Coltrane. According to Miss Wright, the suit had partially collapsed on Miss Coltrane when the ship pitched backwards. Her injuries were not nearly so severe as they might have easily been, but she did receive a nasty blow to the head, and one of the work gloves she was wearing was in shreds, though it protected her left hand sufficiently that it only suffered small scratches and one broken finger, which we later set as best we were able. Thankfully, it seems to be healing nicely.

  One of the engineers was also injured, suffering significant burns to his chest, neck, and upper arms, though he too is healing well. The others were able to keep the systems running without more than superficial injuries, though in hearing again how dangerous the engines are during a storm, I marvel at the bravery of these men who get put to such work without any of the glory the rest of us enjoy. I am grateful that we did not lose any of them this time.

  Untroubled by his previous brush with disaster, Matthew was right back about the ship during this storm, fetching all the rope he could before finding his own handhold, in case quick repairs were needed or anyone needed to secure themselves better. We all came through that storm rattled, but grateful that it had not been worse.

  Our second disaster, less dramatic but equally severe, came two days later. Whether it had been the storm, or smaller patches of difficult weather, something had torn lose some of the stitches patching the balloon section of our ship. We were slowly losing altitude, no matter how the engineers worked at it. By the time this was discovered, they'd already woken the people off shift to help man all the stations and check everything they could.

  Eddy, using his goggles, was finally able to find the point where the tear had been made, but the concept of trying to repair an inflated dirigible in flight when over nothing but rough seas, with no platforms, safety ropes or the rest had much of the ship quite worked up. Worse, one person would not be capable of the feat, for in order to complete such a patching job, even a small one, the loose section would have to be held tightly, while someone else worked the stitching.

  Finally, our best climbers volunteered for the job. Surprisingly, while she certainly objected, Mrs. Fisher agreed that Matthew was one of the best suited. And so, with Miss Bowe leading the way, she, Eddy and Matthew climbed the single rope that would take them close to the damage. She moved up it with ease, even while we were in motion. Eddy struggled more, but certainly had the strength needed to complete the difficult venture. Matthew had great difficulty on the way up, tiring out when exposed to the winds outside the ship, but he heroically struggled through, and all three made it, leading to the secondary difficulty of how to go about the patch job. Miss Bowe finally wound her leg under the ropes, eventually hanging upside down (wearing pants, thankfully, as Mrs. Fisher has mostly given up on requiring split skirts of her when we are not near any sign of civilization).

  Hanging like that, while being buffeted by the winds, she still managed to free both hands for the work ahead. Eddy was carrying most of the materials needed for the repairs, gathered from our dwindling supplies inside the ship's stores, making his climb no less precarious. I'm still not certain how Miss Bowe managed to fish out the needle and heavy stitching thread without dumping out her packs, but she had it ready by the time Eddy was in place. He found as firm a hold as he could and struggled mightily to hold the damaged section in place while Miss Bowe fought to stitch the old patch and new material in place. There were not enough hands dedicated to the task. Finally, Matthew had to climb partially up the rope and partially up Eddy until, from a precarious position, he could hand over materials from Eddy’s pack.

  When the precise work had been done, he fished out the gloves they'd fortunately thought to bring along, perhaps with some memory in Eddy or Miss Bowe's mind of the mercenary back in Peru who had met his death of rope burn. Matthew slid down first, quite exhausted by the time we helped to pull him back into the ship. Eddy followed, tired, but flushed with exertion and victory. Miss Bowe came down the rope last in a similar state. The patch only recently began leaking again, but it is believed we can make it to land before it becomes a complete disaster, so that we need not risk anyone's lives a second time in order to complete basic repairs.

  Though I agree that this is for the best, it is quite worrisome that for the first part of this new adventure, we will not have the benefit of quick escape, or being able to drop Miss Coltrane down upon the enemy at our convenience. At least she is recovering quickly enough from her head injury that she might again be able to pilot the battle suit. This limits our tactical options considerably, but we are all doing our best not to dwell upon that for the time being.

  From the journals of Gregory Conan Watts,

  May 7th, 1816

  37º03' S 175º53' E

  Seen from above, this land is a wonder. Majestic mountains, sheer cliffs, lush forests, wide sand beaches, and only the barest signs of habitation. We have not seen our enemy's craft, but we are certain that we shall, given enough time to explore. Indeed, from the tales of this land and Miss Bowe's cautions, we are equipping ourselves to be ready to treat everything here as hostile, for there is no doubt that our approach has to have been seen.

  The Captain landed the craft out on the highest point of an open beach. With one of the world's finest snipers on our side, we decided our best advantage, in comparison to the likely numbers gathered against us, would be ability to see our enemy coming from as far away as possible. Ever since our landing, Eddy and Matthew have been taking turns at watch, using Eddy's goggles, while the other slept.

  There was some thought put towards seeking as much cover from the weather as possible. In its damaged state, the airship is not the best cover, and being out in the open only exposes it to suffering more wear and tear. However, for the moment, threat of human dangers, both native and York alike, have outdone the natural world in holding our concern. As it is, we are still left closer to wooded land than we would have liked, but at least we would have some time to get first shots off.

  We can only hope it was the correct decision, for there is no longer hope of our dirigible going anywhere until we have refilled the water tanks, done extensive repairs, and rested the very overworked engineering crew. The latter concern will also keep us longer, for some of the loading and repairs will not be able to go forward until they are recovered from the strain of the past few days. According to both their assessment and the Captain's, we might have lasted another day, but it would have been a near thing.

  Wishing to save her suit's power for a time of need, Miss Coltrane has kept to her bedchambers since our landing. (9) She rests, reads, and lists what supplies we might be able to obtain here in order to best repair the ship as close to fully functional as possible. We can ill afford another trip like this last one. Miss Wright has taken to doing all of the smaller jobs of maintenance, openly going about trying to effect what repairs she can without being in the way. I think the work, with free movement, helps to settle her nerves.

  Miss Bowe is not scouting so far afield as she might like, for Miss Penn has asked to go with her to have a look at the land around us. While this is dangerous, she seems well aware of the risk. Perhaps she is even more worried about Mr. Franzini than the native
s, for ever since our landing, whenever she has been about, he is within easy line of sight unless Miss Bowe's attention falls upon him. I do not know what his argument or concern is, but I can say for certain that I don't like it in the least.

  Eddy has been likewise limited. He has gone on a couple of short trips into the wilderness near us, but the need for his eyes outweighs everything else he might be doing for us just now. At least it keeps him within sight of Matthew. I think in the boy's excitement at reaching Earth at last, he might well wander away and never be seen again, if he were given a chance and did not take helping his personal hero quite so seriously. I may underestimate him, for he has grown considerably, in mind as well as body since I first met him more than a year ago. Even so, I'd rather be cautious when it regards the curiosity and spirit of children. I am certain that at his age, I would long since have been in the wilderness here –either investigating, or about two minutes behind a young Cordelia, who would have been off running the moment we touched down.

  The Fishers, Matthew aside, are showing their experience as ship's people. The Captain has been strained from need for constant vigilance – and frequent need for our most veteran pilot to be behind the wheel, whether he had more than two hours of sleep or no. But we were not down ten minutes before he was up and going over the ship in visual detail, making a list of his own, in case we had previously missed anything.

  Mrs. Fisher began with ensuring we had tea and a hot meal as soon as it could be managed, to at least have some feel of civilization instead of being trapped aboard the craft. When everyone's comfort was assured and people were at their work, she was back aboard, straightening rooms, fixing the very few decorations, and otherwise trying to put the Coltranes' ship back just so. Even if the outside is still damaged, I admit it will be nice to travel aboard a ship which does not appear in all quarters to have been through the endeavors we have survived. It seems somehow easier to weather a new storm when one is not still trying to fix things up from the last one.

  Once again, I feel somewhat useless. I can take my turn at watch and will certainly do so. Likewise, I have been the runner between the Captain and Miss Coltrane and back a dozen times already, one making sure the other is aware of the damages, the other making lists of what will be needed to fix it. I have not yet determined precisely how they intend to see those repairs effected, but I am quickly learning to have faith in this odd crew once they have set their minds to something.

  In the meanwhile, the simmering conflicts which seem to keep cropping up have eased somewhat, not so much for any solution or easing of minds, but because of some mixture of too much else to do and the feeling of space. Whatever grudges they may hold, Mr. Franzini aside, these are the sorts who can focus most times upon the problem at hand. I am sure that, when there are no immediate problems to deal with, some of these will arise again. For the moment, however, a dearth of concerns is the last thing I think we need to worry about.

  (9) Or hammock chambers, as it were. While the engine crew had plain hammocks, the passengers’ quarters had pipe berths. Rope was strung tightly between the wall and a pipe, with crossings here and there, and a thin mattress laid over. This was much lighter weight than any wood or brass bed, an essential fact for airship furniture. -C B-W

  From the journals of Gregory Conan Watts,

  May 8th, 1816

  37º03' S 175º53' E

  We have made our first contact with the natives of New Zealand. We were there only one night when they came upon us. At first it was only a scout or two, moving furtively among the trees. Out of habit and concern, I believe Eddy nearly fired upon them, for we have all heard plenty of stories of these strange and savage peoples, reputed to have killed so many mariners in the exploratory age before our time. Caution and the possibility that they may not be hostile stayed his hand, and now we are glad for that.

  After those first forays, through the next day these sightings became more common. Quick as darting hares, they would appear, take in the sight of us, and disappear again. As quick and quiet as they are, it is possible they watched us through the night. I do not know.

  It is hard to say how long it took before their courage increased again, for the sun is constantly clouded here, the skies everywhere a uniform ashen gray, and the sunrise comes slowly, the sunset early in the day. Sometime, I suspect, around the noon hour, when we were cautiously lunching, under guard, the first of them emerged out onto the beach. Four of them in all – and such a sight to see! Dark-skinned, with painting and tattoos of some sort of deathly white pigment, dressed in furs and dark dyed cloths in the most primitive fashion imaginable, teeth bared, eyes intent.

  Miss Bowe bade us lower our guns and wait. She called to them in weird syllables, though even she admits that her grasp of their tongue is poor and slow. Still, it had their attention. The lot of them gibbered among themselves a few moments, then returned to staring. She called once more; they responded – and then disappeared again. When asked what had been said, all she would tell us is that they were trying to determine if we were devils or not. She did not explain how literally we should take that statement.

  Some hours later, Eddy gave warning again of movement, and after observing for a while, Miss Bowe instructed everyone to gather, armed, take positions, and keep their guns down, but to be ready. How long we waited like that, again, I cannot be certain and would doubtless guess much longer than it actually was. We had to steady ourselves, for some people were assuredly all nerves by that point, but per instructions, we kept our guns lowered.

  Just as we had settled ourselves, they emerged, slowly, uncertainly, but showing themselves even so. It had grown dark enough to help conceal their presence, doubtless part of the point, but right now, with the darkness being so common, that does not mean very much. When they first emerged, they had spears leveled at their front ranks, and we could see a few muskets among them, as well as less identifiable weapons. Only the glint of light off the muskets gave away any idea as to the depth of their ranks, but that was enough to tell us that this could quickly become a difficult stand, and our unready posture would give us a slow start.

  An apparent leader stepped forward, lifting one hand. At that signal, a few others broke ranks and moved forward with him, while most of the others raised their spears and pointed their muskets towards the ground.

  A few guns were still upon us, but at too great a range to worry us overly, and it was then that I got some idea that these guns were new to them. Certainly they had the idea down, knowing how to point them, how to operate them, how to make a threat of them, but they were still intimidated enough by the idea of these weapons that they had not figured out how far a musket can or cannot fire with any real danger to the target. It was also quite possible that they had muskets, but no way to readily obtain new musket balls or powder, so every bit of ammunition needed to be spent wisely. While there were still too many by far for any comfort, I was slightly less worried than before.

  The one who had raised his hand gestured to others, and soon four men came forward. These few were somewhat more tattooed and painted than the rest, adorned with bones and other ornamentations not common to the rest. I took these to be some sign of status, but the leader, or warleader, or whoever he was, intelligently remained back from the rest and waited. He called then, in that weird tongue of theirs, and the four who came forward placed their weapons down in the dirt, taking another ten steps towards us from where they'd set the weapons. Near enough that they might have been able to at least die armed if we turned out to be hostile.

  Though they greatly outnumbered us, I got the idea that they were as nervous about our presence here as we were about theirs, and that Miss Bowe, again, had some idea what she was talking about. The show of arms was needed to demonstrate we could be dangerous enough to demand respect, but we did not intend to harm them.

  Miss Bowe called out to them as well, then stepped forward cautiously. For the first time since the royal ball, she willingly disarmed herse
lf, carefully placing all of her knives in the dirt, one after another. That she had no gun upon her seemed to alarm some of the strange Maori warriors, especially those with guns and the odd throwing weapons. Those armed with spears and other weapons of close combat nodded amongst themselves, and several grinned – a most discomforting sight on their strange and decorated visages, to be sure. She walked ten steps from her knives and showed open hands.

  It followed in a slow process. They would slowly creep further from their arms while she did the same, before she finally was only a meter, perhaps, from them. Then she sat down, cross-legged, in the dirt, and waited. They did the same. Her words were halting, even in their rapid gibberish. I could tell that this was not a tongue that came easily to her, the way the Apsáalooke and the South Americans' Spanish had. At least she spoke it still, and yet again, I wondered what sort of man this Dr. Bowe was. How had they traveled so far without a dirigible, and who would commit a small child to that kind of journey? Still, there could be no doubt of it, for there is no way their words could be put to writing. I am sure there is no way to learn the tongue but to be surrounded by it, even for a brief time.

  They spoke rapidly among themselves at first, and she grew angry, insisting they slow down. I believe I could at least understand that much. Though somewhat uncomfortable, they waved off the people who had suddenly lifted their weapons then – these are a jumpy and nervous people indeed – and with the gesture, they settled in once again.