From Haven to Hell

by Rebecca Diem

  The Captain Duke jumped as Nessa grabbed his arm.

  “Captain! Which ship is that?”

  He turned to her, “It’s just a merchant ship, the one we stole when we found Clara—”

  The blood drained from their faces as they turned to race back through the trees. The Captain Duke’s heart was pounding, filled with dread, even as his mind turned away in denial. It couldn’t possibly come to this. Robbie could not be capable of such a thing. Still, he tore through the woods to reach the Haven as the airship above closed the distance between them.

  “RUN!” he shouted to his crew as soon as the first pilots came into sight. He sent Nessa around the other side to find Trick as he ran into the house,

  “Run! Warn the others! Get to the water!”

  The Captain Duke ran from room to room, sounding the alarm. Pilots rushed to help the injured escape, friend and traitor alike. He found Anderssen’s body in the dining hall, covered in Clara’s jacket. Clara!

  Nessa called for him from the back, “Captain! Now, come now! You must.”

  “Clara? Clara!” The Captain Duke shouted, racing for the stairs.

  He was grabbed forcefully from behind as Nessa pulled him to the door,

  “Don’t make me knock you senseless, you fool. It’s time to go. She’s outside, I’m sure of it.”

  “Did everyone get out?”

  “There’s no time to check, go, now!”

  They burst from the house and ran for the shore. He didn’t look back at his home. He couldn’t. The airship had been set alight above them. He could hear the pop of bursting portholes and see the orange glow inside the hold. Any second now, the gunpowder within would catch and burn. The blazing vessel was aimed straight at the Haven.

  Chapter 14: In which our heroine reaches the Haven’s end

  Clara found the others fighting in the hall. Half of the traitors were missing, but she spared them little thought as a bullet whizzed past to embed itself in the centre of a painting beside her. She crouched behind a pillar, timing her shots with her fellow pilots. There was no way the traitors could overpower the Captain Duke’s crew; the numbers were against them. Clara figured this must be a delay while Robbie escaped. They needed to get out, but the quickest way out was the door that stood beyond their more immediate foes. She counted the shots in her head and signalled to Peg to follow her lead.

  She heard the click on an empty chamber and jumped out in the interval as the mutineers switched places to reload. The smear of Anderssen’s blood on Clara’s face lent her the ferocity to match her yell as she barrelled down the hall. She launched herself into the air with the help of an overturned chair, spinning as Cat had taught her, landing on both feet with pistols pointed at the two men who looked, frankly, in some degree of shock at the sight of her.

  “Surrender.”

  Renault twitched as though to fire, but Peg kicked the gun from his hand as she joined her.

  “Surrender or die, you cowards. Clara may not be willing, but you know I’ll shoot ye.”

  The two men quickly allowed their hands to be bound at their backs.

  “Where are the others?” Clara asked.

  “Outside,” she responded. “Is that?—” Peg reached out to touch the blood on Clara’s face.

  “Anderssen.”

  Peg’s eyes grew cold. She shouted for Cook to take the men away, then gestured to Clara to follow her as they chased the sound of the skirmish outside.

  Nessa was leading the chase as three pilots ran for the old boat tied up at the shore. Maggie held them off as the other two, Kathy and Luk, fumbled with the knotted ropes.

  “Nessa! Cook is holding two who surrendered, where are the others?”

  “That’s most of them accounted for. I’ve half a mind to let these three go. Robbie isn’t here. The two of you stay here and watch to see if he joins them, I’m going to check the port.”

  Nessa ran into the trees as Clara took up position in the cover of an outcropping of rock. It was a standoff, each side waiting for the other to make a move. Peg and Maggie traded barbs, but long moments passed while she crouched, ready for action. Still, she was not prepared for what happened next.

  She saw Maggie’s mouth drop in shock before she turned and ran for the boat. Clara looked around for any sign of Robbie, but it looked as though the three were abandoning their co-conspirators. Then she heard the shouts and the crackle and pop of fire.

  Clara turned to look back at the Haven, bathed now in an odd glow, though the sun had already sunk beyond the distant hills. Curious, she began to walk towards the clearing.

  It was surreal. The woods seemed to still around her as she stood frozen at the sight. She swore she could see the very porthole on which she had rested her cheek just weeks ago, lit by flames within as the airship, magnificent in its horror, steered towards the Haven. The flames danced along the decks and the ropes to the balloon that held it aloft, reflected in the grand windows of the manor. The ropes snapped and the vessel sank, hitting one of the northern gables with a crunch that echoed through the trees. And then, all hell broke loose.

  Clara could not remember the explosion. When she opened her eyes, the world was on fire and her ears rang with a piercing whistle. There was metal embedded in the trees around her. She had fallen amid rocks that must have shielded her. But in her confusion, she could smell the forest burning around her, and scrambled to get to the water. She found Peg, collapsed on the shore. Her face was bloodied, but her breath was steady. Clara arranged her as comfortably as she could before standing to find help. She shook uncontrollably from head to toe as she ran along the shore.

  In the sky, another strange sight. A burning glider sweeping erratically through the air as the pilot made a futile effort to snuff out the flames. Clara paused to watch its dizzying descent as it narrowly missed the treeline and crashed into the shallow beach. As the pilot extricated himself from the wreckage and stood, backing away from the flames, something clicked in her mind to clear the fog.

  Hand trembling, she raised her pistol. He was no more than a dozen steps away when Robbie turned and saw her.

  “Clara. Clara, wait.”

  Clara could not say a word. Her hand was shaking badly; she tried to steady it with both. This man had killed people she cared for. He had destroyed the Haven, torn apart the crew she had grown to know and adore. And still she could not bring herself to pull the trigger. Clara knew how to aim and how to shoot, but there was no training that could prepare her to take someone’s life. Slowly, Clara lowered her arms.

  It may have only been seconds that passed, but it felt like an eternity as she watched his fear fade, replaced with relief, and then…contempt.

  Robbie turned and ran into the waves without looking back, swimming out to the call of his fellow traitors in their waiting boat, disappearing into the gathering darkness. Clara fell to her knees and screamed, tossing her pistol aside.

  “Clara!”

  She turned to see the Captain Duke at the treeline. He ran to her, kneeling down to touch her face, her hands.

  “You’re bleeding.”

  “Not mine, I think.”

  Clara looked into his eyes and realized what she needed. She leaned forward and kissed him. Once she started, she could not stop. The Captain Duke pulled her to him, clutching her as though he held to life itself. She ran her fingers through his fiery hair, pulling him closer. Clara wanted this, needed this. He wrapped her in his arms and pressed his body against her own as he deepened the kiss. He made her feel alive, he made her feel powerful. Kissing him made the world feel right again, and she never wanted to stop. But just as soon as the feelings washed over her, the reality of their situation struck. She pulled away.

  “I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t.”

  “What—couldn’t what? Clara—” the Captain Duke tucked her hair behind her ear, still holding her close.

  “I saw him. Robbie. He was here, but I couldn’t shoot.” The tears began to roll down her cheeks
. Tears for Anderssen. Tears for Peg. Tears for the Haven and the way things were before. Nothing would be the same now; the world had shifted in some immutable way.

  The Captain Duke moved to sit on the rocky shore so he could wrap his arms around her. They faced the water, backs solidly to the wreckage behind them. He stroked her hair, whispering that all would be well as she sobbed into his shoulder. They sat like that for a long moment before she finally dried her eyes. She clasped his hands between hers as she sat, rather indecently, between his knees, leaning back against his chest. She stared a thousand yards into the darkness, seeing nothing as her mind tumbled in all directions. But then…

  “Captain, look!”

  The Captain’s ship was returning, and it wasn’t alone. An entire fleet followed: every able vessel of Keswick. Clara and the Captain Duke watched in silence as the airships sailed over them towards the Haven, dumping water onto the blaze. Clara stood and pulled her captain to his feet. He only stared at the vision before them, overcome. Clara squeezed his hand in response. It was her turn to comfort him as they watched those who he had shielded from harm for all these years return the favour. Slowly, hand-in-hand, they made their way back towards the clearing to join the cheering pilots.

  Stay tuned for Book 3!

  Tales of the Captain Duke:

  A Gentleman and a Scholar

  rebeccadiem.com

  Preview: A Gentleman and a Scholar

  The Captain Duke was overwhelmed by the flurry of activity around him. The firefighters were working to douse the last of the flames. The Haven was half destroyed by the explosion and fire, but there was some hope for its eventual restoration. The town barber had set up an impromptu surgery by the airdocks and was treating the injured crewmembers with the help of Nurse Susan. Four were lost, but he could not think on such things yet. Mrs. Cottingham had taken charge of the recovery area, directing her staff in handing out blankets and bowls of warm stew. Cat and Mouse had flown to Keswick for aid after the explosion, and by the looks of it, nearly every able-bodied soul had responded. There would be time to reflect on the choices made tonight, but for now, his chest grew tight at the sight of the community their cause had engendered.

  He shook his head as Master Tims came to join him.

  “I cannot thank you enough,” he said, shaking the man’s hand.

  Tims shook his head, “We take care of our own.”

  They watched together as the crew and villagers worked together as a single unit. He knew that the town tolerated their illicit activities, but had never expected that they would embrace them so wholly in their time of need. It gave him cause to hope that the future held a different path forward. He was tired of fighting alone.

  The Captain Duke walked over to join the seated pilots, accepting the bowl of stew and bread he was offered, but not before wrapping Mrs. Cottingham in a great bear hug that lifted her off her feet. His mood was much improved as he listened to Mouse tell the tale of how he had managed to fly a full airship with only his sister’s assistance, reaching Keswick in record time.

  “The heroes of the day,” the Captain declared, promising each of the siblings a new set of pistols. It was incredible what a good bowl of stew could do for one’s outlook on the world. Hard times invoked an appreciation for the simple things; life itself, and the people closest to you. His eyes drifted to Clara, seated on a stump with Cat across the way. He could not help the foolish grin that crossed his face, and was pleased to see it matched on her own as she blushed. Things would be very different now; he would make sure of it.

  In his distracted state, he didn’t notice Nessa until she stood at his elbow.

  “Captain?”

  Her expression made him snap to attention, “What is it?”

  “It’s Trick. His arm…”

  A lump lodged in his throat as he followed her to the tent at the docks where a loud argument was underway. He was greeted by what might be a humorous scene under other circumstances. Trick was standing in the corner brandishing a small hammer, facing off against the butcher, who held a saw.

  “I tell you, it is not happening. Find a different way. Captain, tell him.”

  He held his right arm close to his body.

  “Trick, let me see it.”

  Reluctantly, breathing heavily through the pain, Trick uncovered his forearm and extended it for him to see the wound. The Captain came nearer to investigate, and was dismayed at what he saw.

  “The bone is shattered, Trick. You know what that means as well as I do. Even if we set it, infection is certain.”

  “No.”

  “Trick, please,” said Nessa, moving into the tent. It was rare to witness the piratess shed a tear, and the Captain Duke could see them rolling down her cheeks. He wished he was permitted such a display of the emotion he felt knowing that Trick would never again string the bow of his violin.

  After a few long moments, Trick sat and accepted the bottle of whiskey passed to him.

  “Will you stay?”

  “Of course we will,” said Nessa. The Captain Duke nodded in affirmation. He checked to ensure that the clothes were boiled and the instruments cleaned by fire. Trick refused to be made insensible for the operation, but gripped a strap of leather in his teeth while the Captain and Nessa held him still. The Captain Duke stayed for the entire gruesome procedure.

  Some time later he stood silent in the trees, watching the silent shell of the manor. He felt empty, drained of all emotion. Everything would change indeed.

  “Captain?”

  “Not now, Clara.”

  “Captain, I think I can help.”

  He turned, and she reached out a hand to him.

  “There’s nothing to be done now but wait,” he said, but he took the offered hand. She tucked his hair behind his ear.

  “Really, though. I know someone who may be able to help Trick.”

  “Who?”

  After a half-second’s hesitation, she answered, “My brother.”

  “The scholar?”

  “Yes.”

  The Captain Duke sighed, “Well, I don’t know where we’ll house him, but of course you may invite your brother if you think it may help.”

  “Well, he’s a bit of a tinkerer. At the moment he’s actually on a study exchange at Lovelace.”

  “The women’s college?”

  “The women’s university,” Clara corrected, smiling. “He wanted to study under Professor Sewell and she accepted him as her student.”

  “Sewell? The war profiteer?”

  “You mean the country’s foremost expert in biomechanical manipulations.”

  He took a deep breath, “Do you think he would come?”

  “I think we should try.”

  Staring into the night, the Captain Duke gave a curt nod. Clara squeezed his shoulder before disappearing in the direction of the airship.

  Archibald Whittington

  c/o Lovelace University

  Reading

  My dearest brother,

  I hope my letter finds you well. How is the weather in Reading? I hear it’s delightful this time of year.

  Dear Archie,

  Apologies for the delay in writing you, I have joined a band of airship pirates.

  Archie,

  I don’t know where to begin. I was found by pirates in a shipment of gunpowder, caught up in a traitor’s plot, and now the Haven is destroyed and there was a battle and I can fight now but I could not shoot and –

  Dear brother,

  I need your help. Please come.

  – Clara

  Author’s Note

  I could spend days discussing all the historical quirks of our world. Names that were almost lost to dusty old books, stories of times gone by that escaped the accepted narrative. For every story we know it seems a thousand or more are lost, likely more.

  One of the reasons that the steampunk genre fascinates me is the way it allows for stories to be reinserted into an epoch to create these days of future past. �
��The greatest era that never was,’ as described by some.

  I do enjoy messing with the history books. How can one resist the delightful opportunity to envision a world that spun sideways from our own?

  In the steampunk history of the Captain Duke, a royal declaration by Queen Victoria in 1866 that was intended to secure her hold on the throne after the death of her husband had the unintended consequence of legitimizing gender equality years before it actually happened in ours. The subsequent advancements in steam-powered and mechanized technology helped to put Britain at the forefront of global development, thanks to the doubling of its national brainpower as young women joined the ranks of engineers, scientists and inventors.

  In our world, Queen Victoria did retreat from public life to mourn her husband, Albert, for many years. At one point a protestor even posted a sign on Buckingham Palace declaring it available for rent in her prolonged absence. She eventually returned to her duties and attended the opening of Parliament for the first time since Albert’s death in 1866.

  Queen Victoria did not need to issue a proclamation securing her throne. She did, however, support the passing of the Reform Act in 1867 that extended voting rights to many urban, working-class men. And yet, she was not a supporter of women’s suffrage.

  History can be disappointing.

  Sometimes, one must look around the dusty edges of historical tomes to find the stories. You must search the empty margins of shiny textbooks. The stories are there; they want to be told. Stories that are real, and other fictions wrapped around a kernel of truth.

  The Press and the Public Service by Eustace Clare Grenville Murray is a real book. A prolific writer with a scandalous career in diplomacy, he was also the natural son of a duke.

  A favourite story of mine is that of Ada Lovelace (1815-1852). She is considered to be the first person in history to make the conceptual leap regarding the potential applications for Charles Babbage’s analytical engine, and her work is the progenitor of our modern day computer coding. She was also, famously, the estranged daughter of Lord Byron. But Ada only lived to 36 years of age. Just imagine what our world might look like if she had a few more years and fewer constraints. She saw poetry in mathematics, and her brilliance shines through the ages.