by G. P. Taylor
Mariah slipped out into a scullery with steel walls and a tiled floor. The pot-washer filled one wall. It was a monstrous silver machine, the size of a large grizzly bear. It rattled and shook as steam shot from around its doorway. In the centre of its door was a red dial to indicate the temperature of the water. Mariah read the dial:127 degrees Fahrenheit.
Hanging on a neat row of brass hooks were several waiter’s jackets. Each was of bright white cloth with gold braid collars and cuffs. Mariah slipped on the nearest jacket, which covered his coat and was a size too big. He knew he would have to walk through the kitchen. He picked up a tray from the side of the pot-washer and held it just how he had seen it done by the waiters at the Prince Regent. He flicked back his hair and stood as tall as he could, then he stepped from the room and into the vast kitchen. It shone and gleamed. A hundred white-clad chefs dashed this way and that. Fat sizzled, water boiled, and to his right several large swans hissed on the oven-spit.
Mariah took a deep breath and walked on. He nimbly made his way, head down, towards the far end of the kitchen. He strode past several sous-chefs without catching their eye. Mariah was ever nearer to the double doors that led to the restaurant, but it was hard to avoid the phalanx of croutoniers who chopped and fried the bread. At the end of the row was the chef de battalion, a tall, thin man with a lined face who barked orders and snarled as he flashed a long-bladed knife back and forth.
‘You!’ he screamed at Mariah. ‘How dare you come into the kitchen?’
‘I was asked for,’ Mariah said quickly, trying to think of something that a waiter would risk his life for by entering a kitchen uninvited.
‘Then you will leave now and not come back. Your domain begins on the other side of the door. This is a place of creation, not fit for the likes of you,’ scoffed the chef de battalion as the soupers and croutoniers laughed at Mariah.
Mariah coughed apologetically, bowed his head and rushed to the door. He took hold of the handle just as the door was pushed briskly towards him. He fell back, dropping the empty tray, and the chef applauded and laughed.
A man with a thin beard and greased hair leered down at him.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked as he held out a white, gloved hand. ‘I do not recall seeing you before.’
Mariah got to his feet. ‘I –’
‘Are you from the saloon café?’ the man asked with a raised brow.
Mariah nodded and tried to smile. He could feel a shiver run through his spine, as if he were to be found out and captured.
‘He is a penguin without ice,’ said the chef de battalion. ‘Another dumb waiter …’
Both men laughed as Mariah got to his feet.
‘He is just what I need,’ said the head waiter. ‘Captain Ellerby has asked for food. It is plated and ready. Take it at once.’
The man pointed to a small hatch in the wall. Mariah looked across and saw a tray with a large silver tureen. He took it with both hands, turned and left the kitchen.
The chef de battalion shouted, ‘The captain is the man at the top of the ship.’
Mariah walked quickly through the restaurant and out on to the deck. Above, the Bicameralist hovered menacingly. Far to the west the sun was touching the ocean. Again the northern sky was tinged with a green glow. The Triton was hardly moving in the calm sea, the engines were still and silent. The only sound was that of a gentle breeze sighing through the rigging above him and the droning of the engines of the skyship. He wasn’t sure, but far on the horizon it looked as if there was a ship coming towards them.
As he climbed the steps he clutched the tray tightly. It was a good excuse to be there, he thought, but Mariah knew he would be recognised immediately by Captain Ellerby. He walked by the guard who had been placed on the stairway to the bridge. He wasn’t challenged. It was as if he had been expected – the guard stopped him briefly and looked under the cover of the tureen and then let him go on. Mariah slipped quickly up the steps and then, when he was out of sight, hid in the dark shadows of the gantry.
The bridge door opened. Ellerby and Zane stepped out on to the landing.
‘We shall get the Bicameralist now. My wife and son are already aboard,’ said Zane as he took hold of the ladder that would lead him to Deck 13.
‘Vikash has asked if he and Biba can go with us,’ Ellerby said as Zane climbed higher.
‘How did he know? Are we to invite the whole ship?’ Zane replied sarcastically.
‘I knew that is what you would say,’ Ellerby said as he followed on. ‘I took the liberty of locking the doors to Deck 13 so that they cannot get out. They will go down with the ship.’
‘And Markesan?’ asked Zane.
‘He will not be coming – just as you instructed,’ replied Ellerby.
‘Soldiers of fortune have their uses, but make abominable flying companions,’ Zane said, not realising Mariah was hiding just feet away. ‘Just think, Ellerby. Tomorrow we will be in New York. The only survivors of this awesome tragedy.’
‘Are you sure no one will survive?’ he asked.
‘I have reason to believe that will be the case,’ Zane replied. ‘At least, not after dinner.’
[24]
Ruinis Inminentibus Musculi Praemigrant
IT was not long before the Bicameralist whirred its engines and began to move away from the ship. It passed over Mariah’s head like a sky-whale and then turned to the west before making towards the horizon. He watched as it glided on. Then when it was some miles from the ship and travelling at great speed, it turned to the south as if to avoid the lights of the vessel that was now closer than before.
Mariah tapped on the door to the bridge. The door opened. An officer of the watch looked him up and down.
‘Ellerby has left the bridge,’ he snarled. ‘He won’t want feeding until later.’
‘I know,’ Mariah said calmly as his stomach churned and his knees trembled. ‘He told me to bring this to the man in Captain Tharakan’s cabin. Lorenzo Zane said I had to take it myself.’
‘Are you sure he told you to come here?’ asked the man.
‘Just now when I brought the food – they came out. Said it was too good to waste the food so give it to the man in Tharakan’s cabin.’
‘Didn’t mention that to me,’ the man snapped as he looked over his shoulder. ‘What did he say to you?’ he asked the man at the wheel of the ship.
‘Who cares,’ said the man. ‘How else would the lad know we had someone locked in there if Ellerby hadn’t told him? We have no power and Zane said he was going to fix it. Let the lad in and get him out of the way.’
The man on the door nodded to Mariah and let him in. He pointed to a door at the rear of the bridge.
‘You’ll find him in there. Down the corridor at the end. Don’t let him out.’
Mariah smiled at the man and kept his head down as he walked through the bridge, opened the door and once inside breathed a sigh. Ahead of him was a short corridor with a doorway at the end. He quickly pulled the handle of the door and went inside. The lights of the Triton were fading and the room was dimly lit. He could see the back of a man’s head. The man was tied roughly to a chair with thick rope.
‘Captain Jack,’ Mariah whispered.
‘Mariah?’ he answered. ‘How did you get in here?’
‘I’m an agent of the Bureau of Antiquities,’ he said as he began to undo the thick cords that held Charity fast. ‘Zane and Ellerby have left the ship. They have escaped in the Bicameralist. The ship is to be sunk – scuppered. I heard Zane tell Ellerby.’
‘I thought that would be the case,’ Charity replied. ‘Did they say anything else?’
‘They talked of Markesan. Ellerby said he wouldn’t be joining them. Zane said he was a soldier of fortune.’
‘Just what we needed. Ruinis inminentibus musculi praemigrant – the small rodent deserts the falling building … It looks as though Markesan will have the same fate as ourselves.’
‘How can we stop the ship from s
inking?’ asked Mariah.
‘We can’t – there isn’t time. To make sure the Triton goes to the bottom of the ocean it will be blown from the water.’
‘But there aren’t enough lifeboats for the passengers and Biba is locked on Deck 13. Zane said there would be no survivors,’ Mariah replied.
‘Then Zane was wrong. I will not see a single soul lost. Not one shall perish. We must act quickly,’ Charity said in a whisper. ‘I want you to scream and scream loudly, now!’
Mariah screamed as if he was being murdered. Charity threw the chair to the floor and tipped over Tharakan’s desk. He hid behind the door as the officer of the watch rushed in. Mariah stood against the far wall with his arms folded.
‘What’s happening here?’ asked the man.
Mariah pointed behind him. The man turned, just as Charity punched him. He slumped backwards, falling onto the overturned chair.
‘To the bridge,’ Charity said as they left the officer of the watch groaning in the room.
Just as they set foot on the bridge there was a sudden and powerful explosion. It ripped through the front of the ship and sent waves shuddering around it. The Triton moaned as metal beams twisted. The officer at the helm was thrown to the floor.
‘You’re being scuppered by your own captain,’ Charity said as the man got to his feet about to attack. ‘Sound the alarm.’
The officer reached out to a red lever on the control panel and pushed it back as far as it would go. The sound of a whirring siren came from below their feet. From above them, flares shot from the roof one after the other like lightning in the night sky.
There was another sudden explosion from the port side amidships. It was like a Trafalgar cannon. The roar billowed far across the calm sea to the distant icebergs that haunted them like ghostly cliffs of steel.
‘I must find the captain,’ the officer said as he made for the door.
‘He’s gone – took the Skyship and left you to your fate,’ Mariah said.
‘You must seal all watertight doors,’ Charity demanded as the man tried to leave the bridge.
‘They don’t work,’ the man said as he dashed by. ‘Nothing works any more – the ship is dead and has been all day. It will sink within three hours and there’s nothing I or anyone can do.’
‘But what of the passengers?’ asked Mariah.
‘What of them?’ replied the man as he pushed open the door and ran outside. ‘They will die. The sea is so cold it will kill them.’
‘Is there nothing you can do?’ Mariah shouted after him.
There was no reply. He heard the officer running down the metal steps to the deck below. Mariah looked about the bridge. Lights flashed. An alarm sounded. From the rear of the ship came another explosion. It ripped through the steel plates, cutting a hole in the side of the ship and spilling the cargo of travelling trunks and cases into the sea. Even on the bridge they could hear the passengers screaming below. Charity looked down. The decks were empty but for the crew who were lowering the lifeboats into the water and leaving the passengers behind.
‘The passengers are trapped,’ Charity said as he suddenly realised what Zane had meant by no one surviving. ‘They are locked below in the dining rooms, unable to escape.’
Together they rushed from the bridge and down the steps to the lower deck. The outer doorways were all locked. Charity shouted at the crew to help but they ignored his pleas and continued to lower the lifeboats.
Mariah stared into the large dining room through the window of toughened glass. He could see a stampede of people pushing towards the doors not caring who would be trampled. Mariah screamed for them to be calm, but he could see their eyes watching the lifeboats being lowered to the sea and with it their hopes fading. Gone were their cares for each other as the instinct for self-preservation took its place and thrilled each man with the need to survive. In the corner of the dining room Mariah could see a small boy. He was alone, abandoned by his guardian who now beat at the door with her fists to be set free.
‘How do we get in?’ Mariah asked.
‘Shoot out the locks and then stand back,’ Charity said.
Mariah drew his pistol and aimed it at the lock. He pulled the trigger. The lock exploded and a sea of people pushed out-wards from their confinement.
‘Don’t panic!’ screamed Charity above the melee, his words falling on deaf ears and screaming mouths.
The crowd surged forward, spilling onto the deck. Like lemmings they leapt over the side of the ship and into the cold sea. Men dived for the lifeboats before they had even taken to the water. Crewmen were thrown to the deep below. The Triton slowly tilted to one side as the flood engulfed the engine room. Mariah was pushed back, further and further from Charity, separated by a sea of people. They clung to the railings for dear life. The water bubbled all around them as the ship settled in the calm sea. Gushes of black soot shot from the funnels into the star-filled sky as the Zane Generator was submerged. A complete silence descended. Not a word was spoken. It was as if everyone was listening for the hope of rescue.
Then they came – first in ones and twos, then a handful and then a mob. They scurried along the walkways, some dripping with water, others fresh-faced and preened. People began to scream as the rats clung to long coats to escape the sea. In a swarm they ran across the decks and climbed the gantries. A black army of long-tails was invading the ship, biting and snatching at everyone who came near as they climbed higher to escape the rising tide.
From far below the sound of roaring tigers echoed through the cavernous and now empty rooms of the stricken vessel. The passengers now began to scream, as if a madness had taken hold of them all. Mariah watched as one man stood before him crying like a small child before throwing himself to the water below.
‘Don’t do this!’ he shouted. ‘Just be calm and we will be safe.’
No one listened. On the wall near to him Mariah saw an emergency cupboard. He smashed the glass with his elbow, took out the key and opened the small door. Inside was a bullhorn and flare gun. Mariah loaded the gun and fired the bright red flare high into the sky. Taking the bullhorn he shouted to the passengers.
The shock of the exploding flare had silenced them again. The rats ran about their feet as they listened to Mariah speak.
‘Keep calm!’ he shouted. ‘We will get you from the ship. A rescue vessel is on its way.’
Mariah pointed to the far horizon. There in the distance were the lights of a ship. Since he’d first seen them from the bridge, Mariah realised they were coming closer, coming towards the Triton. ‘If you can stay calm we will all be rescued. The ship is only two hours away. Everyone get to a higher deck and from there we will load the lifeboats.’
‘But the crew have gone,’ shouted a man angrily.
‘Then we shall rescue ourselves,’ shouted Charity from the other side of the crowd. ‘The lad is right. We can all be saved – we just need faith.’
‘There are enough lifeboats and jackets if we just take our time,’ Mariah hollered through the bullhorn. ‘We must all go to the upper decks.’
Mariah led on. The ship was now tilted in the water. A line of frightened passengers climbed the slanting stairs to the front of the ship. They gathered below the bridge, high enough to see the lights of the far off ship.
‘Will it get here before we sink?’ asked a woman carrying a small child.
‘It will. I am sure of it,’ replied Mariah as he prayed it would be so.
‘Then we will play for you all,’ said an Austrian musician clutching a violin. ‘An hour will pass quickly with the music of Vienna.’
Charity pushed his way through the crowds to Mariah. People looking out to sea and the faraway lights surrounded them.
‘Is it what I think it is?’ Mariah asked quietly so as not to be overheard.
‘The Ketos?’ he asked. ‘I think so – but whether it will get here in time I don’t know. The ship has been badly damaged. Whoever planted the explosives knew how to destroy a sh
ip. The only thing keeping us afloat is a calm sea and the air trapped below. I want you to go and find Biba and then get off the ship.’
‘I can’t,’ replied Mariah. ‘What about the passengers?’
‘I will stay until the last. You must go, Mariah,’ Charity said.
Mariah looked about him. Gatherings of passengers clustered about the deck wrapped in blankets. The crew had gone. They had abandoned ship and saved themselves, and now drifted far away in the lifeboats. A small orchestra gathered under the eaves of the bridge played sonatas in the moonlight. A woman danced as a man by the railings drank whisky from a jar. All seemed well. It was as if a calm had descended upon the passengers as they awaited their fate.
The Triton had sunk no further. It was lurched in the water, listing to one side. Mariah looked up to Deck 13. It was in darkness, and looked like the front of a large impregnable castle.
‘Promise me you will leave the ship?’ he asked Charity.
‘I promise,’ Charity replied as Mariah turned to walk away. ‘Mariah,’ he said. ‘There is something I need to tell you about your father.’
Mariah stopped and turned as the ship creaked and groaned. ‘What is it?’ he asked.
Charity thought for a moment. It was as if he had changed his mind about what he had intended to say. He looked embarrassed, uncomfortable, out of place.
‘I am …’ He stopped what he was saying. ‘He …will always love you. I know that to be true,’ Charity said. ‘Now go – find Biba – do what you have to do – all will be well …’ Mariah looked at him for a moment, and it was as if he stared at his companion for the first time. He had never heard Charity speak like that before. His heart raced. Mariah was fearful that Charity was saying goodbye and they would never see each other again. Charity turned and walked away. ‘I will see to the lifeboats. Go, find Biba – quickly.’
The ship groaned as it settled deeper in the water. What peace there had been was now broken as screams of fear came from all around him. Mariah looked up at the high metal walls that rose up from where he stood to Deck 13. He tried the door to the stairs, but like every other it had been automatically locked when the explosion happened.
