HAWTHORNE: Chronicles of the Brass Hand: Mystirio Astronomiki

by Christopher C. Meeker

  The whole contraption was rather lumberous and not as sleek as one would like; nonetheless, in the hands of a proper financier, it is my opinion that the steam carriage, not at all unlike the one I have just described, will be the major form of transportation for most every citizen of our beloved England.

  The matter of reaching my ultimate destination, the observatory of which our friend Sir John Herschel was in charge, was an altogether different challenge.

  With preparations made we departed the following day for London, rather than straight onward to Dover, in order to acquire any remaining items which I might become in need of during my travels.

  Arriving first at a corner shop, we procured a generous portion of some of London’s finest cheese and a tin of crackers in the event that I should find myself in need of nourishment at a time that food was otherwise unavailable. I also purchased a spyglass, making the assumption that at times during the journey I would be privy to an abundance of extraordinary sights and scenes, which later proved to be more accurate than I had imagined. Leaving the corner shop we detoured through a side street to arrive in short order at the front of the apothecary's shop. Upon entering the shop the apothecary noticed us right away, and recognising my father, greeted us with a bright broad smile and a genuine salutation of well-being. We purchased a small amount of quinine, should I find myself infected with malaria, and a few other medical items that I might be in need of in an emergency.

  It was at this point that Father did something he had not done in the past. In a quite uncharacteristic manner, and without precedence, as Father had always included me in all his business dealings whenever possible, he asked that I step outside for a moment while he discussed a simple matter with the apothecary. I hesitated at first, but knowing my Father was a trustworthy gentleman whose intentions could most always be relied upon, turned and exited the shop. I understood quite well that Father had asked me to leave in order to conduct his business in a more private manner; however, it was this very act that puzzled me to no end. Father was always open and forthright with me concerning his business dealings, as it was assumed that I would take over his affairs at some point in the future; thus he had always included me in everything that concerned that aspect of his life.

  I could not help my curiosity; therefore I leaned but just a little, in order to remain inconspicuous, to where I could just see inside the shop through the painted store-front glass. I spied my father for but a moment as he reached into his trouser pocket and presented a small, round metallic object to the apothecary, who looked first at the object and then my father. Giving a slight nod of affirmation, the apothecary disappeared behind a heavy curtain, perhaps to retrieve some item which my father had requested, and returned a moment later, as I had surmised, with a small rectangular box wrapped in paper. My father took the package, returned the object to his pocket, and bid the apothecary good day.

  I did not question my father concerning the matter; it was not my place to do so, and I am quite certain I would have been given no answer were I to ask for one in any case.

  We returned to the steam carriage to find the machine hissing steam and puffing out clouds of billowy smoke from the boiler chimney, indicating that all was operating as it should, a small relief to us, for at times, when it was least desirable, the boiler valves would open unexpectedly, releasing boiling hot water upon the ground. Although this was a common occurrence and normal to the carriage’s operation, as had been designed, it did not make the whole affair any less bothersome. Nonetheless, at present all was running in proper fashion, which we took as a rather good omen. Climbing aboard we engaged the drive mechanism and with a jolt, which startled me nearly every time, we continued on toward our destination, traversing the same street we had taken earlier.

  Travel was somewhat slower than we had anticipated, as the rain from the previous night and morning had created a muddy mess along the roadway, which caused the carriage to slip and, on occasion, become mired in the soft clay.

  As we continued south-east toward Dover, however, the ground became somewhat more firm, having not received as much rain as the more northern territories, and we were able to pick up speed contending with the occasional shallow puddle that appeared along the roadway the remainder of the journey.

  Chugging into Dover atop our steam-powered carriage, all eyes were cast upon us as if we had ridden to town on a two-headed elephant. This did not surprise us as few folk have ever seen a true steam carriage, and I can imagine that, with loud hisses and billowing clouds of steam, it must have appeared to them as some great technological dragon. Nevertheless, this being the age of steam, I often wondered how people could be so amazed at a simple mechanical device. Although upon consideration, was I not myself fascinated with all manner of gadgets, inventions, contraptions, and their construction and design? Technology is beyond doubt a wondrous thing and is far too oft taken for granted.

  As we passed through Dover the clouds parted and gave way to some of the most spectacular weather I had ever seen. Coastal towns always had the most delightful climate, and I always enjoyed the trips I took there.

  The shipyard loomed in the distance, and I could see the look upon Father’s face, a look of nostalgia, perhaps even regret. He had left the navy in good standing of course, though I often wondered over the cause of it. Knowing well that Father loved the sea and his time in the service of His Majesty, I could not imagine what might have lured him away from his career there. It was something Father never spoke of and I never pursued.

  We approached the docks, busy with seamen engaged in their appointed duties, and stopped the steam carriage just outside the Commodore’s office. We climbed down from the carriage and upon reaching the door gave a quick knock before entering. A look of great joy ran across the faces of the two friends as they gave each other a firm handshake. After a few moments, I was reintroduced to the Commodore who, having not seen me for many years, seemed compelled to make a rather large production concerning my age, height, and rather uncanny resemblance to my father. With no further delays we started for the docks proper, or, to be more precise the H.M.A. Stratos, the vessel which was to carry me the remaining distance to the Cape of Good Hope and to Herschel, where with a little good fortune I would be able to gaze upon the very thing that had brought me thus far: the remarkable discoveries upon the moon's surface.

  As it happened the H.M.A. Stratos was docked some distance away; thus it was decided that since the Commodore was so intrigued with our steam carriage, we would ride the remainder of the way. With limited room on the vehicle I sat atop my luggage while the Commodore took my father’s place in the passenger seat, and Father took over the duty of driving the carriage. I sat in silence while the two friends, in frantic effort to exchange years’ worth of histories in but a few moments, talked without ceasing as we rode.

  My thoughts turned to the journey ahead and what I might find, but in truth I feared I would discover that what I had read in the Edinburgh Journal of Science would indeed be nothing more than a simple hoax or misprint, and all I would get for my efforts would be a great disappointment.

  This thought vanished from my mind, however, when once we rounded the corner of one of the larger warehouses, which was as tall as it was wide and long enough to house ten cricket pitches, and my eyes caught glimpse of the most amazing sight I had ever seen in all of my days.

  Chapter II

  IN WHICH EDGAR DEPARTS FOR THE CAPE OF GOOD HOPE ON HIS MAJESTY'S AIRSHIP STRATOS AND IS CALLED UPON BY A MOST PECULIAR VISITOR

  I was struck with such awe at the sight of the H.M.A. Stratos that I could scarce utter a single word, in amazement or otherwise. Replete with all manner of adornment of brass, bronze, and copper fittings and decorations, light from the setting sun caused the great vessel to reflect a brilliant gleam as though it were itself luminous.

  The manufacture of the craft was unlike any other airship I had ever been passenger of or witness to, as the body of the great vessel was not one
but two separate hulls connected by a set of iron supports, atop which was constructed a rather sizeable pilot house. Between the bows of the ship’s hull was located another structure that had the appearance of a rather large guillotine blade positioned on the horizontal. The function of this component I could not guess, though it was a rather imposing thing.

  The Stratos, was of exceptional design, for the “lifting bladders”, as the engineers referred to them, were located fore and aft of the pilot house, and between the two massive hulls. Few lines or lashings were required for the lifting bladders save for those which were required to secure them out of harm’s way, protected against most round shot, within the strong live oak sanctuary of the Stratos’ twin hulls, as I have mentioned before.

  It was apparent that the forward bladder would be sheltered by the natural curvature of the two adjacent hulls, providing as much protection as the live oak planking would allow. Were it not for the generous contribution of timber, construction methods, and designs from our friends across the ocean, the Americans, I dare say a vessel of this nature would be far less resilient to the impacts of a sustained cannonade from any large artillery or even from any deck-mounted gun.

  The aft bladder, being more vulnerable to attack, was protected in a much different manner. Two large steel “fins” at the stern, placed in the central position of each of the two hulls, provided enough shielding as to render the lifting bladder almost indestructible from any possible enemy fire that might come from either quarter of the ship’s weaker tactical locations.

  Four great guns protruded from the pilot house and were designed and constructed in such a manner that their function was but a simple task to discern. Able to aim in quite any direction, fore and aft, up or down, or any angle one could imagine caused the Stratos to become a most fearsome vessel of destructive power.

  It was quite evident that the purpose of the vessel was to move to a position of tactical advantage in a rather rapid manner, release a devastating volley of fire, then retreat to a somewhat safer station in order to frustrate the enemy’s attempt at reprisal. I later learned how effective this tactic would become; however, not all eventualities can be accounted for in every confrontation.

  “Magnificent work of craftsmanship, wouldn’t you say?” the Commodore said.

  A mere nod was my response – magnificent indeed. I could stand the delay no longer, for this was the beginning of my greatest adventure, I was certain of it, and I was quite anxious to get under-way as soon as possible.

  With a look of stern warning upon his face, Father clasped my hand in his own and, placing his other on my shoulder, dispensed to me advice which caused no small amount of wonder for the seriousness with which he spoke was not at all like him as he was, in general, a rather jovial sort of gentleman. I must admit that the ominous lilt in his voice quite put me off my guard.

  “Be vigilant, Edgar, and keep a keen eye to be sure. Adventures have a way of becoming sour in a rather sudden fashion,” he said.

  I understood full well the meaning of Father’s words; however, I found his manner to be somewhat unsettling. This he must have sensed, as hereupon his jovial spirit returned and he, as he was wont to do, spoke a brief prayer then clapped me on the back.

  “Take care, lad,” he said. “See to it you return in one piece, and heed the captain’s orders!”

  With that Father was off, returning to our estate in Willesden, or so I supposed. I think I should have missed leaving home far more than I did at that moment, but the lure of adventure has always been great with me, and this I attributed to my lack of pensiveness upon departure. I was on my way to the south of Africa, crossing seas, countries, continents, and the Good Lord knows what else, on perhaps the finest expedition a young man of twenty could ever hope to embark. Who could question then the absence of lachrymosity in exchange for this wild and grand experience?

  Upon boarding the vessel I was greeted by the ship’s captain, Lazarus Bowman, one of His Majesty’s finest men, I was assured. A rigid looking gentleman, pressed and starched, and more than a little wind-worn, welcomed me aboard with a firm handshake and a warm smile that betrayed the weather-beaten appearance of the ship’s master and commander.

  “Welcome aboard!” the Captain said. “It’s a fine day to make sail, as we so say in the navy.”

  The Air Brigade, an adjunct of the English Royal Navy, operated in many ways quite like that of its seagoing branch of the service and shared a good many of its terms and traditions in that a number of the current airships in production could also operate, although in a somewhat more clumsy manner than their ocean traversing counterparts, in the high seas as well.

  It made perfect sense, therefore, that the two divisions would share such similarities, and a good portion of the terminologies, traditions, and operating processes carried from one over to the other. There were some exceptions of course, the most notable being the manner in which airships are powered and navigate their way through the skies far above land and water, a feat which I, to this day, find most fascinating regardless of the simple sciences involved to make such a thing possible. Perhaps that is because I am an adventurous man and choose to see the wonderment in most things not considered to be commonplace, regardless of the ease at which such sciences are explained. The ability of man, even modern man, to race through the clouds as the terns, gulls, or any other manner of flighted fowl, in ships which by appearance seem far too ponderous to be lifted into the heavens as light as a dandelion seed, is a rather miraculous achievement, and I am in reverence of it all.

  I was shown below to my quarters soon after boarding by the ship’s first officer, Lieutenant Angus McNeil, a gentleman near as weather-worn as his captain, a bit shorter yet somewhat more muscled, a trait that is most common and a frequent requirement of one who possesses that position.

  The Lieutenant wore the common uniform of the Royal Air Brigade: dark blue topcoat and trousers to match with a well-pressed white shirt beneath. The topcoat was of common issue and worn year round regardless of weather or temperature as, being made of wool, it was rather cumbersome to remove and store in repeated fashion, an occurrence which could become quite frequent on an airship as higher altitudes subjected its wearer to temperatures that were quite frigid while the climate below deck would remain moderate.

  “You’ll find everything you need in your quarters,” McNeil said, pointing to a closed, narrow door opposite us.

  Although I think myself a rather amiable fellow, it was no great challenge to discern McNeil shared no such feelings of friendliness toward me. Despite the Lieutenant’s gruff disposition, I found him to be a likeable chap.

  I entered the cabin and found a small bunk affixed between two bulkheads as well as an empty wooden trunk resting at the foot of the bunk beneath a series of copper pipes that ran the length of the craft, suggesting a means of transport for water and steam to other sections of the ship.

  “If there is anything else you require,” McNeil said, “you can find me on deck or in my cabin at most times.” Turning to leave the first officer added, “And mind your noggin’, it’s easy to give it a fair rap in these tight quarters.”

  I decided to stow much of what I had brought aboard in the small locker and, once all was in its place, examined the remainder of the tiny cabin, which smelled of fresh paint and ocean air. There was a small sink for washing up and a privy off to one side for the less spoken of personal tasks.

  A tiny closet on the opposite side of the room held a pair of shoes suitable for traversing the deck of the Stratos in, if I were to assume, most any type of weather condition or circumstance. The soles were manufactured from, it seemed to me, a raw form of rubber, which when touched had a feel not unlike that of a spot of dried honey or a portion of cured tree gum.

  Also in the closet could be found a warm wool topcoat, identical to the topcoat which McNeil wore and was typical issue to members of the Royal Air Brigade, as I have described earlier, save for the lack of insignia that s
eemed to adorn most every other jacket I had spied to this point.

  I tried the coat, which fit rather well to my surprise, and felt the immediate effects of the heavy wool garment as tiny beads of sweat formed upon my brow and began a slow crawl down my temples. I was unable to imagine the fortitude that it would require to sport such attire on a day warmer than most, such as the one we enjoyed at present.

  I returned the coat to the closet, hanging it upon one of the brass hooks with the intent of wearing it when the temperatures and conditions made it requisite alone. As I closed the narrow door I was given a start by the sound of the ship’s whistle above decks, which echoed throughout the passageways, no doubt the signal indicating we were about to get under-way. Not wishing to remain below as we left the docks, I hurried out of my quarters and made my way down the short corridor and up the ladder to the pilot house above.

  The sun was beginning to set at that rather quick rate common to all summer days, foremost those summer days that occur in Dover as the sea breaks upon its alabaster white cliffs and the coolness of night is ushered in.

  As Captain Bowman ordered on the ship’s running lights, I spied the faint silhouette of the town a short distance away. Lights from each small house came on as those of the local shops went out, and as the chill air of the night descended I could see and smell the smoke rising from their chimneys.