Wasting no time I searched out McNeil and recounted all that had been spoken with the commander, leaving out no detail, for if he were to agree to assist me in my plan I felt it proper that he be informed of all that had transpired in order to aid him in the forming of his decision. I was reassured by McNeil that my fears were unfounded, for he would with certainty lend his aid, as he was quite able to see the reason within my proposition. In addition I suggested that Coleman be asked to join us us for I felt with him in our company victory would almost be certain, as never before had I the good fortune of fighting alongside two of the finest and truest men that ever I had met. McNeil agreed to my request, and thus it was determined I would meet him before first light, where we would board the Stratos, I disguised in the uniform of a bosun's mate, and then depart, while the watch was in exchange, unnoticed.
I returned to my quarters in order that I might make preparation for the rescue, and upon entry espied my bag, which I had left with Herschel but a few days prior, with a note affixed by a pin upon the flap.
Edgar,
I have taken the liberty to replenish your pack with items for which you may find yourself in need during your venture. Please accept these gifts in gratuity for all you have done for me. I am to depart for London several days hence, as my term at the observatory has reached its conclusion and although I wished to see you off in person, I am afraid this note will have to stand in my place. Best wishes and blessings upon the many journeys I am sure you will yet undertake. God bless and travel well.
Sincerest Regards,
John F.W. Herschel
Opening my bag I was greeted by the sweet aroma of fresh figs; how Herschel could have known figs were a delight of mine I could not say, but I was glad to have them. Prospecting the sack further, I discovered a fresh tin of Congreves and a small package of dried jerky wrapped in simple brown paper, as well as a small flask of “Good Irish Whiskey,” as stated on its label, an item for which I was quite grateful. As for the remainder of the pack's contents all was as expected. I replaced each item in the order that I had removed it, shut up the sack, and placed it at the foot of my bunk. I then made preparation for our departure the following morning, which consisted of nothing more than undressing to my shirt and putting head to pillow.
At first light I joined McNeil and Coleman just outside the barracks, and from there we made our way to the docks, berth thirteen to be exact, where we would find the airship we were to employ in the perilous voyage, for it was certain that Moreton would expect our pursuit and in all likelihood would have signalled, by means of the wireless aboard his vessel, for assistance either before or moments after his departure, of this we were certain; however, where or when we would meet the resistance of his reinforcements, none could say.
Imagine my elation then as we approached the docks and there before us, restored to all its splendour and fitted out in full fashion, tied fast in its berth, ready to soar into the aether once again, rested the very vessel that had carried me through skies rife with danger and settled me safely upon the southern shores of Africa, the vessel of which I had become so fond: the H.M.A. Stratos.
If the Stratos was an object of amazement when first I set my gaze upon her, she now had without question become a spectacle for, with repairs made and her fitting out complete, she now displayed the full splendour of her majesty and purpose for which she was wrought. To most the Stratos would appear as nothing more than a vessel of war; to my eyes she was the transport by which I would save Ophelia and make even the debt of the ones which by their own hand had levied godless actions against those who would see that which is right be done.
Upon boarding the Stratos it became quite impossible to not take note of the many upgrades and additions to the great craft, for the topsides alone was now arrayed in all manner of weaponry, some two dozen odd armaments adorned the uppermost deck, which comprised one dozen carronade installed anew and an equal number of manned swivel guns of rather unique design, one with which I was unfamiliar, as these particular guns fired not one but rather a number of munitions held in a sort of upper magazine. I could but entertain in my imagination alone the efficacy of such a device, and that familiar pang within the depth of my gut that I had now become most accustomed brought me to the belief that I would in all probability, and in rather short order, become witness to a true display of that which I envisioned.
Without any great amount of fanfare, we were soon under way, sailing some distance into the Atlantic before rising aloft in near silence save for the quiet strumming of the Stratos’ great engines as they, with some reluctance, began to come to life several decks below. In a matter of moments we were at a comfortable altitude and speeding our way inland toward the destination I was certain that Moreton was taking Ophelia, the temple where the Egyptian awaited to receive her in his vile grasp, the thought of which quite caused my blood to boil.
We travelled throughout the day, the ship performing without flaw, racing ever onward toward our goal. We would, at this velocity I was certain, intercept Moreton and the small reconnaissance craft just preceding dawn the following day, or perhaps even sooner. Whether this would be sufficient to rescue Ophelia I could not say, but we were all, in our attempt to do just that, quite resolute.
Venturing below decks I stowed my gear in the cabin which I occupied at very beginning of this adventure and found it to be as I had first encountered, for the restoration of the vessel was so complete that not one item of its furnishings was out of place, nor was there one fleck of dust anywhere about the room. The same could be said concerning the entire ship, including the pilot house, which had endured so much of the battle of the previous fortnight, save for the ornate paintings which once decorated the walls. The furnishings, that which had been restored and that which had been added anew, left me quite awed at the rapidness with which the Stratos had been made ready; nevertheless, I should not have been surprised, for that is the way of the British Navy.
At some length, becoming rather restless, I ventured to the engine room, for it seemed I was quite incapable of becoming disinterested in the workings of the craft’s mechanism of propulsion, or for that matter, the mechanisms of any such vehicle or device. I found such things both a marvel of engineering and, at times, a complete mystery to me though I understood a good portion of their inner workings. Machines have always amazed and captivated me, and I very well could have made this particular vocation, the design, engineering, and operation of devices of locomotion, my life’s calling had fate not directed me elsewhere.
The engines, now running at their utmost, created such a din as to all but drown out the voices of the engineers as they bellowed for the crew to stoke the furnaces with as much haste as they were able. Though not cruel taskmasters, it was clear that it would be the devil to pay for any man who slacked off, even for a moment, for it was well understood that if the commission of the vessel and her officers were to succeed, it would be due in no small part to the strength of the crew’s backs and the sweat upon their brows. Thus it would continue throughout the day and well into the night, shifts of men feeding the furnaces to the end that the Stratos could carry on at full steam.
Having spent as much time as I ought in the engine room, I soon found myself with Captain McNeil in the pilot house, the evening sun at our backs, casting its warm orange glow upon the decks of the Stratos, and the billowing clouds floating all about us. A finer picture I could not imagine nor could be found in all the museums of the world, and were it within my strength to do so I would have fixed the moment in time for all eternity - such was the natural beauty of it all.
While admiring the African skies, the bell sounded for the evening meal, and being relieved by the new first mate, McNeil and I removed to the mess deck to take our supper. The mess was quite still, and very few words were exchanged between the crew, whether by dread of coming events or sheer exhaustion from keeping the ship at her top speed I could not say; nevertheless, the near silence brought with it an air o
f foreboding that was rather palpable and served to set most of the men ill at ease.
I retired to my quarters straight off upon dining and, after the briefest of preparations, settled myself in for the night, but sleep came with some reluctance, and once upon me remained in but fitful interludes, my mind ever returning to thoughts of Ophelia and what horrors must await her should I fail in my endeavour. At the last my mind and spirit settled, and that system of warning in the foundation of my body, developed during these past days, receded into a small, almost unnoticeable twinge. I was able to fall into a deep sleep the likes of which are reserved for those who have overspent themselves and are given, by that measure, no choosing in the matter.
In short order, or so it seemed, I was awoken at first light by the sounding of a clarion and the boatswain’s voice shouting for all hands on deck, a call which I answered in great haste knowing, for I was informed afore by that nagging messenger within me, that the thing which caused the alarm could be none but the appearance of Moreton’s stolen vessel. Nary had I reached the upper deck when I spied in the distance a small dot upon the horizon, and in that instant knew that what I had surmised was indeed accurate.
McNeil gave the order to increase speed, and having pressed the Stratos full on through the night and the previous day, there was nothing more but to employ the steam jets to gain whatever additional speed we could. Though we gained on Moreton at a steady rate, there was yet sufficient time to allow me to acquire fresh arms: a revolver from the weapons store and my Bowie knife from my cabin. Having thus equipped myself, I returned to the pilot house, where I now found Coleman stationed alongside McNeil, spyglass in hand and calling out distances, for this spyglass had been fitted with a particular device that, with proper adjustment, allowed its operator to calculate with accuracy the distance of any object on which it was trained.
It was our intent that upon closing with Moreton to a sufficient distance, the Stratos would cast several hook-lines and draw the craft in close by means of capstan, wherein several of the crew and myself would board her and make good the rescue of Ophelia. Though our scheme was sound, we were faced with a somewhat troublesome turn of events: Before we were able to cast the first line, Moreton’s ship dipped below a thick fog which had settled about the jungle canopy, and disappeared from sight.
Not wishing our mark to escape, McNeil gave the order for all stop, and we soon found ourselves floating above the Congo in near silence, the engines and the steam jets having been disengaged. We hung in the air, drifting for some moments as we waited for the Arkeo to emerge once again, for it was almost certain that it would be unable to manoeuvre since the jungle that rested just beneath us was abundant with the high-reaching trees, as is common to that part of the continent. We ourselves dared not dip below the morning haze, for likewise it was sure that our navigation would be just as hindered by the dense growth below.
We remained aloft for some time and, being quite convinced we had lost the small craft in the fog below, prepared to rise to a greater elevation; however, before McNeil was able to give the order, Moreton’s craft burst upward in most dramatic fashion to port. In an instant, without the slightest hesitation, sights were laid upon the vessel and hook-line discharged, which, by way of its design, caught fast the vessel and, pulling the line taut with great force, caused the Stratos to yaw in a most fierce manner. In response to the action we were forced to make an adjustment to our course so as not to lose Moreton, who was now held captive at the end of our line.
The whole affair was very much like the harpooning of some great beast of the sea, scuffling from pillar to post in some great contention in order that our prey should not escape us; however, escape was not Moreton’s intent, for even as the capstan turned there rose all about us, from the shrouded jungle canopy below, some two dozen or so airships, their guns trained upon us. We had fallen into the trap Moreton had set for us, but not without gain, for we had to our great relief seized the Arkeo, Moreton, and his most precious passenger, Ophelia.
Nevertheless, the flotilla of enemy vessels had commenced to fire upon us, making any attempt to draw in Moreton’s vessel a rather futile endeavour. Chief among those whose barrage of shot was now falling upon us was the Chaos, calamity of the aether. I had no doubt that the Stratos and her crew were in good hands with McNeil and that, with the vessel’s new armaments, would fare quite well.
With the Arkeo held fast and little chance of escaping, I felt it safe to delay for the moment the plan of boarding Moreton's vessel and lend aid in the defence of the Stratos and her brave crew; thus, leaping to the deck and taking swivel gun in hand, I laid upon the nearest vessel of our enemy such a barrage of shot that before it was able to return fire, the craft disappeared into the jungle below, trailing smoke and steam, where it ended its descent in a thunderous explosion.
Likewise, as if in response to my own actions, every member who had been without station prior took a swivel gun of his own and, as I had done, filled the air with hurtling spheres of iron the likes of which no man had ever bore witness to. So too did the carronades fill the sky with fiery destruction, laying low any of the lighter vessels that chanced to come under their sights. While not as accurate as the twelve-pound guns, the carronades compensated for the deficit with potency, although their reach was somewhat abridged in comparison to the longer guns of comparable weight and calibre.
It was, however, the terrible long guns of the Stratos which wrought the greater part of the destruction, for wherever the great guns’ rounds fell upon our adversary’s ships, they were holed through with a single shot and, to the astonishment of all, a fair amount of the time, would rend the lesser vessels altogether in two, allowing each portion, stem and stern, to dangle without control, spilling her crew from the decks and, in many cases, tearing away the seams of their balloons, causing them to drop from the sky like a number of pheasant before the muzzle of a seasoned hunter’s rifle.
The smaller craft were of little concern to us as their shot, aside from creating a small amount of racket and disorder among the crew, deflected without harm against our hardened hulls. Our greatest cause for worry, coming upon us at great speed, was the Chaos, its heavy guns fixed upon us and firing without pause. The Stratos, quite more than a match for the Chaos, was rendered all but ineffective as the hook-line now attached to the Arkeo prevented McNeil from any substantial amount of manoeuvring and thus we were held just as fast by the Arkeo as it was by us. Unable to rise any higher or turn more than a few degrees fore or aft, the Stratos had become nothing more than a simple target barge. Perhaps part of Moreton’s plan and if so, we had, like fools, marched straight into it.
The Stratos and her crew were now in the gravest of danger, and lest something were to be done about the matter, would suffer defeat and great loss, so too would any chance of rescuing Ophelia vanish. It was therefore of paramount urgency that immediate action be taken, thus I abandoned my post at the swivel gun and made for the capstan, and although a steam powered device it had, for some unknown reason, ceased to function. Calling to the crew for assistance, it was my intention to complete the task we had begun, that of rescuing Ophelia and capturing Moreton - by means of strength alone. Once I was assured of Ophelia's safety, we would cut the Arkeo loose and free the Stratos to defend itself unhindered.
Whether by the din of battle ‘round about us or some other reason of which I was not aware, my call for aid went unheeded, and there I found myself at the capstan alone, straining in herculean effort, making but little progress, for though Moreton’s craft was less than one quarter of the length of our own mighty vessel, I was but a single man. My efforts were of no avail, and time had run out, for the crew of several of the larger airships now began boarding us. Still I continued on in my efforts, mindful only of the task in which I was at present engaged. So given to my duty was I that I jumped with a start at the report of a single rifle and upon turning espied McNeil not more than twenty feet distant, his rifle in hand, and a black-coat ly
ing prostrate at my feet.
McNeil himself was then set upon by a single black-coat as well, and I in reciprocation drew the revolver tucked within my belt and fired a single round at the scoundrel. The bullet struck the fellow in the shoulder, sending him staggering back toward the rail, unable to prevent himself from plunging to the earth below. A most horrible event befell us all, however, for as the black-coat tumbled over the side he took hold of McNeil as he went, perhaps in effort to save his own life or to take McNeil’s as well, whichever the motive I cannot say nor do I regard, for nonetheless, together they disappeared into the mists beneath us.
Upon the instant I was at the rail and, peering over, saw McNeil dangling from the side of the Stratos, clasping by the fingertips of his right hand a small ledge which jutted out from the hull of the craft in the tiniest amount. Lying upon the deck I outstretched my arm and, though I could not grasp his hand, took hold of his wrist about the sleeve and began to haul him up. My efforts were in vain for as I pulled, the seam of his sleeve began to split, and though I clung to the material in frantic desperation, at the last, it came away and McNeil slipped from my grasp and disappeared into the noiseless jungle far below.
Never before but once had I felt such grief at the loss of life, and were it not for the tumult which continued on about me, I feel I should still be found lying there upon the deck of the Stratos deep in mourning. Nonetheless, the ship was still in peril, and collecting myself, I rose from the deck and cast my gaze upon the pilot house where I found Coleman, having witnessed the events which had just transpired, his eyes transfixed upon me in what I took to be utter disbelief mingled, I imagined, with the same emotions which I was struggling to quell myself at that very moment.
HAWTHORNE: Chronicles of the Brass Hand: Mystirio Astronomiki Page 15
