by Jeffrey Cook
Now, as I near completion with this task and have left myself adequate notes to compare with my later observations, I believe I shall attend Sir James in his sitting room. I understand he has invited the gentlemen of the ship to play cards to pass the time, always a welcome pastime with such engaging company, and I look forward to hearing his recounting of his previous trips through the air. Perhaps if my confidence is boosted enough by his recollections, war stories, and assurances about his previous travels with the Captain, I will have my courage reinforced enough to venture to the front of the ship and observe our Captain and first mate at work.
(6) The modern Nike-line Coltrane Dirigibles that most readers would be familiar with have fixed the lurching issue by increasing size and stability. The old war dirigibles rode more akin to the modern fashionable two-seat racing airships, which also prioritize speed over stability. – C B-W.
March 22nd, 1815
The skies of Western England
50°47'N 03°21'W
My Dearest Cordelia,
You cannot begin to imagine the views afforded by travel aboard these military dirigibles. While the first day was quite difficult in many ways, that time has passed, and now I am finding myself quite at home aboard this wondrous vehicle. I spend what time I can spare holding tight to the rails outside and admiring the grounds below, though we are now quite near the coast and can see the choppy waters in the distance. Until one has had this amazing perspective, it is hard to imagine the true meaning of “as far as the eye can see,” for there are times the ground below seems to stretch on forever. Entire villages and even towns seem tiny by comparison to the sheer scope of vision offered by being so high above our beloved home.
We were not able to travel particularly close to London, to my regret, in part because we have only so much in the way of supplies, but I can only imagine it would be particularly breathtaking seen from above and out of the crowded paths and shops. Even writing of the experience seems insufficient, for words cannot accurately capture the splendor of the greatest nation on Earth seen from Heaven's own view of it. Still, I am striving to do it some justice if only to attempt to share this sense of wonder I feel with you, for I can never be certain that this is an experience I shall ever have when this adventure is done.
Looking at the world like this, so many things become possible, and for the first time without needing Sir James's bold assurances, I must wonder if Dr. Bowe could possibly have begun to do the things his books say he has, for at this moment, all things seem possible, though remaining quite far-fetched. The detail of his descriptions and how he describes the wonder of encountering something new so perfectly captures these moments that I now imagine the man must once have been some kind of explorer who went so far from home as to get a feel for such adventures before his mind began to fill in the darker corners of the map. What then, I wonder, might be fact, out of the many volumes certain to be works of fiction?
While I would attempt to go on further about the wonders of flight through the mild skies of this time of year, I am uncertain I could add anything to the wonder you must surely already feel at the thought of it. Even when we were children, you always did have such a vibrant imagination.
Instead, I shall tell you some piece of the more mundane details of the trip. I am afraid I had quite misjudged the Captain in my first estimations. I have visited the front of the ship many times since and found the man I had previously thought of as a disheveled and perhaps senile scarecrow quite ably steering the ship to take best advantage of the weather we have been given. He looks far steadier on the occasionally unsteady and shifting deck of his bridge than he ever did on land, and I see much more of the old veteran of two wars in him now than I do the old man. Indeed, one cannot help but meet the old veteran in the man when anywhere in hearing, for as he travels, he tells tales like no other I have ever heard. Where many soldiers recount war stories, those often involve their fellows, and shared experience. Captaining an airship is a lonely activity, it seems, and requires flawless judgment and a perfect eye and hand, at least if you would believe the Captain.
As it is, he reminds me very much of the older fellows who gather about dockside taverns and spin sailor's tales of the sea and its wonders, dangers and mysteries, and their part in these tales of nigh impossible (and occasionally truly impossible) scope. The difficulty in this case is that it is impossible to tell which these are, for the man has been at this wheel since he was a young man in the 1770s, and no doubt he has seen a great deal of adventure in that time. And, of course, as I have noted, when flying over England and seeing the world so far below, nearly anything seems possible. Despite which, the Captain and his endless tales of navigating the skies stretches the definitions of anything, in this regard. Still, if he has done one tenth of the tasks he claims to have behind the wheel of this craft and the other he piloted since late in the Colonial wars, then surely he must be one of the most accomplished pilots in all of England.
In addition to this, another experience is common to the front of the ship. I have, in previous letters, expressed my sympathies for Harriet Wright, a woman only a couple of years your senior, Miss Coltrane's cousin, the Virginian. She is a regular visitor to the front quarters, in part because she seems quite curious about the workings of the wheel and the ship's navigational systems, staring at them with a childlike wonder. But she also, it seems, attends to receive long and stern lectures on how a young woman should comport herself from the Captain's wife.
Harriet shows up three and four times a day as if to present herself for inspection, and Mrs. Fisher unfailingly provides just this service, going over all of Harriet's long list of faults and shortcomings in great detail. Undaunted by what seems to me to be scolding, Harriet nonetheless adjusts her skirts, goes to change her shoes, makes mental note to fix her hair, shifts her hat and carefully changes her manner, ceases fidgeting nervously, and otherwise tries to politely acknowledge every bit of chiding advice she receives from her elder. She then proceeds to humbly submit herself for further scolding later, for no matter how many times this scenario repeats itself, and no matter how much poor Harriet attempts to follow her cousin's exemplary lead, gesture for gesture, and attempts to cleave to Mrs. Fisher's advice and honor her scolding, she does not seem to develop a habit of it, and the list of faults grows no shorter with her next visit.
Despite this, each time she shows up, she wears the same simplistically optimistic expression as if she thinks this time she may have gotten it right, even though I am well able to find three or four shortcomings with just cursory glances, and while I have a fair eye for detail, I do not pretend to be any expert in the proper behaviors and dress of young women beyond knowing what well appeals. Mrs. Fisher, on the other hand, has clearly spent much time and practice becoming an expert in just that, and carries herself as such.
More than once, Miss Coltrane has come to the front seeking her companion. She does not share any curiosity for the workings of the ship, barely glancing about. Perhaps she truly has no curiosity as to the science of it all, or has simply been airborne enough times in this very vessel that it has become common and forgettable experience for her, hard as I find it to imagine this could ever become commonplace for anyone. Each time, Mrs. Fisher looks her over in much the same discerning manner I have seen Mr. Toomes study everyone, as if looking for some fault. Identical to the results of Miss Coltrane's meeting with Mr. Toomes, each time Mrs. Fisher finds herself lacking for anything to say to Miss Coltrane beyond polite exchange, and thus is Harriet Wright usually rescued from the fashionable torment to which she keeps subjecting herself.
For what it is worth, lest you should imagine Mrs. Fisher an exceptionally well tailored ogress of some sort, her manners are also perfect, and she treats the gentlemen of the ship cordially, as if she were the hostess and they her guests. Her fault-finding is quite restricted to the young women of the ship, as if she had taken it upon herself to serve as governess, and to absolutely assure that no untoward beh
avior occurs aboard Dame Fortuna just because it was once a rough military conveyance. I am certain her attitude towards the gentlemen would quite change if she were to suspect any improper behavior might occur because of them.
As it is, while she has been unfailingly polite to him, I am quite certain she does not think a great deal of Eddy and his constant rugged look and insistence upon wearing his kilt at all times to all occasions. Though she treats him with the same smiles and courtesy she gives to all of the other men of the voyage, when she thinks his back is turned and none are looking, she can muster quite the withering, narrow-eyed scowl in his direction. Eddy, you see, is very much used to the company of soldiers, and he sometimes slips into language Mrs. Fisher does not approve of, noticeably, any insult worse then 'dog.' Eddy is now used to freezing at the sound of a snapping fan, and we have only been keeping company for a short time.
The one additional benefit to Mrs. Fisher's disapproval is that she keeps Matthew quite some distance from Eddy whenever her ward is within her sight, and warns him repeatedly not to bother the guests, though none other have seemed to mind his curiosity so much, and for at least the first ten or fifteen questions, I usually find his youthful exuberance refreshing.
I have also at last met the first mate. Mr. Taylor is a strong and strapping lad of England, of excellent manner, and obvious recent naval experience. In many ways, he very much reminds me of a younger version of your honorable father in physical resemblance and comportment. He has a crisp accent and clear voice, common to many of those who have become accustomed to giving orders over battlefields or to carry over the wind aboard a sailing vessel. It serves well here as well. Though not quite so tall as I am, he outweighs me by at least two stone, and even off duty holds himself almost as rigid as does Mr. Toomes. Despite this military bearing, he has been one of the only men of the ship who has so far politely refused to attend Sir James's card games, though he has been invited repeatedly.
The card games continue to be something of a marvel to me, and have given me a good deal more insight into Sir James's character. Though there was no need, he selectively invites the crewers of the ship, of whom there are eight, to attend his games, usually two at a time. He is firm about the manners of those who attend, and has asked more than one man to leave when he grew too upset, usually after a few drinks, and one to leave simply because he'd imbibed perhaps a bit too much and was speaking of subjects unbecoming a gentleman of England. These events are rare, and though of lower classes, it seems the men value this time with their betters enough that they make effort to comport themselves well. Eddy, of course, is always in attendance, and even he watches his tongue to a greater than normal degree when in Sir James's presence, though Sir James's old friend is given considerably more room to speak freely than, I think, anyone else would be. Mr. Toomes occasionally attends, and occasionally politely turns the invitations down. I try to attend whenever I am not about some other business, for the company remains very informative.
More interestingly, while Sir James only plays cards with no coin or wager involved when playing only with myself and Eddy, when the crewers are about, he seems more willing to gamble, as is their expectation and habit when cards are involved. Though he gives no sign of it, and I have yet to determine precisely how, I suspect that Sir James is not entirely honest in his playing, for he loses to the men of poorer station much more often than when he is playing purely for the pastime of it, and those who show manner enough to last out the game until they are called to their next shift or to sleep have always left with more in their pocket than when they arrived. He seems quite well humored about this fact, and the men love him all the more for it. While he is legend for the mechanical creation he invented and piloted during the war, the longer I spend with him, the more I realize that even without such genius and fortune, he would be a leader among men. He establishes such friendship and loyalty among men of many stations, and even manages to slowly educate the manual laborers who serve to feed the engines and do the heavy lifting, as it were, in manners and the pursuits of a gentleman of England. Whatever woman he does finally agree to marry from among his many prospects will surely end up the envy of England.
I fear I must end this letter now, my dearest, for it is nearly mealtime, and Sir James wishes to discuss some piece of our plans for recruiting the next members of our traveling group, though we are quite some time away from America as yet. Still, I can understand his desire to be overprepared rather than under.
However far away I get from you, my darling, my heart remains with you, and I go into this bold undertaking that we may have a future together.
With love,
Gregory Conan Watts
From the journals of Gregory Conan Watts,
March 28th, 1815
Skies over the Atlantic Ocean
47º02'N 24º38'W
Editor's Note:
Gregory kept detailed journals, with an entry for almost every day of his travels, however, for the sake of brevity, the majority of those entries have not been included here. Most of the ocean crossings and long boring travel has been cut, as is the main benefit to armchair exploration. This section is included to help introduce his traveling companions and give some idea as to their routines aboard ship, as well as reminding you that these heroes are, in fact, human, and thus can get bored.
– Dr. Cordelia Bentham-Watts
Today saw something of a change in the routine we have been following for the past week. Though the card games and conversation have been a continuing source of entertainment for the gentlemen aboard, apparently it was insufficient for Miss Coltrane's tastes, as she announced that she had made all arrangements to host an afternoon tea party in the sitting area. While we have had our breaks for tea each day, I quickly learned this was to be a much more formal occasion, as well as a chance for some of us who have not spent extensive time with the whole of the crew to better acquaint ourselves with each other. Mrs. Fisher was particularly excited by this turn of events, and quickly set herself to helping with the final preparations as soon as the announcement was passed among the various members of the crew.
The afternoon was to be full of surprises. The first among them was from Eddy, arriving clean shaven and as well scrubbed as I had yet seen him, though his wardrobe had not much changed. Sir James likewise took the occasion quite seriously and dressed in full military finery to set the best of examples for the rest of us at his sister's function. I did my best to put myself suitably together for the occasion, but in truth felt quite plain by comparison. At the very least I was able to take some strange comfort in the presence of Mr. Toomes, who could not find a polite cause to fail to attend. While he dressed up perfectly well, though nothing out of the ordinary, since he is always quite formal, Elliot Toomes and parties go together something like oil and water; they can coexist in the same rough location without ever actually blending. Even in my tendencies towards being a social wallflower, I was still far more social than my longest-term traveling companion. (7)
Miss Jillian, perhaps with a bit of help from Mrs. Fisher, had everything prepared by the time the rest of us arrived. It was made abundantly clear by Mrs. Fisher that the event was all planned out, and all would happen on schedule. There was an opportunity for formal exchanges of pleasantries, and plenty of refreshments. Despite our rough surroundings and limited space, when traveling with the Coltranes, apparently, there is always room for a bit of civilization and comfort.
That civilization also included the ladies of our group. While they often go about in attractive, but somewhat casual garb for ease of movement about the confines of the ship (Miss Coltrane's usually in heathered grays, to hide the lurking coal dust), today they were entirely formally dressed for a social occasion. I might even have to venture to guess that Miss Wright had gotten some aid with her wardrobe, or had already had four or five sessions with Mrs. Fisher in order to make corrections, for she looked almost entirely together, even if in manner she still was fairly clearly ma
king efforts to emulate her cousin.
For some time, all went according to the carefully laid plan. Despite a bit of the ship's occasional slight rolling motions and adjustments, I got the impression that this was not nearly the first time they had done such an event on board this ship, both Miss Jillian and Mrs. Fisher looking quite practiced, while Miss Wright appeared to be practicing, at least. We had opportunity to exchange some of the crew's impressions on the voyage so far, and what expectations and plans people had upon visiting New York.
Throughout the pleasant conversation, however, I could not help but watch the siblings. Having realized how they communicated, following a second, silent conversation even in the midst of casual talk, I began to realize how complex and nuanced their ability to speak to one another is. Small gestures of her fan, posture, expressions – all things one could easily miss were one not actively looking.
Following their gazes as subtly as I might, I quickly got the impression they were taking advantage of this gathering to exchange thoughts about the rest of us. I do not know if it was a matter of professional exchange, or more likely, given the setting, some thought on how each of us were conducting ourselves in such a formal setting, perhaps the two of them assessing how we might do as diplomats, or at least at not embarrassing them in finer surrounds. Under the lens, as it were, I paid extra attention to my manners and responses, trying not to be too distracted by being aware I was being observed.
Any tension I might have felt – or any worry that I might end up the embarrassment of the party – subsided when Miss Wright, after doing so well for a significant time, had the misfortune of mishandling one of the biscuits. In the process of trying to take a delicate bite in the manner of her cousin, it crumbled entirely, and both the biscuit and a fair helping of fruit jam ended up falling down the front of her dress. Had she been a slighter woman, perhaps, it might have been a lesser accident, or simply another stain, which she has an abundance of on some of her other dresses.
