by Alex English
‘I’ll stay here and keep them busy,’ said Mrs Milkweed, a grim look on her face.
‘But you won’t be safe!’ said Echo.
‘I’ll be fine. I’ve seen off worse than the Queen’s Guard in my time, believe you me,’ she replied, tapping her diamond nose stud. ‘Plus, someone has to stay and look after the cats.’
Echo started as they heard the front door slam and the sound of pounding feet.
‘Go,’ said Mrs Milkweed, launching herself down the slideway. ‘I’ll distract them.’
Echo, Gilbert and Horace stared at one another for a moment, then Echo grabbed Gilbert and they pelted up the stairs after the professor, Horace only pausing long enough to grab his caterpillar jar.
When they reached the landing, Professor Daggerwing had already opened the hatch to the roof. He hauled down the telescopic ladder and they scrambled up the shining brass rungs. The professor came last, passing up their bags and pulling the ladder up behind him.
‘Get her inflated, Echo! That’s the ticket!’ he shouted.
Far below them, there were muffled bangs, followed by shouts and the shrill blast of a whistle.
Echo clambered into the airship, ran to the cockpit and hit the inflate button. There was a whoosh and the old balloon envelope, complete with petticoat patch, billowed into the air. Echo fired up the engines as the professor had shown her and felt the Hummerbird rumble beneath them.
Horace scrambled inside, clutching his caterpillar jar. Then the professor and an assortment of packages fell through the hatch, landing in a heap at the bottom of the ladder.
‘Go!’ yelled the professor, grimacing in pain.
Echo shoved a lever forward and heard a hiss and a clank as the anchor was released from the mooring dock. She pulled back hard on the throttle and felt the engines shudder as they soared into the air, Port Tourbillon’s rainbow rooftops spreading out before them. Gilbert scuttled down her sleeve and positioned himself by the window. Echo glanced at the spinning discs of the gyrocompass, then turned back.
‘Which way?’
‘Aim for the southern boundary,’ said the professor, hauling himself to his feet and clutching his right arm.
Echo turned the wheel until the gyrocompass needle settled on the letter S. She cast a worried glance at the professor. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Fine, fine. Don’t worry about me, just fly.’
‘Are they following?’ she asked, not daring to take her eyes from the flight-deck window.
‘The roof hatch is well disguised,’ said the professor. ‘They won’t find it from the inside. Just keep going, full steam ahead. Get some height.’
‘I can’t see anyone tailing us,’ said Horace from the rear porthole.
‘Are you sure?’ said Echo, casting a nervous glance at the back of the ship.
The professor pointed to a pair of brass handlebars hanging from the ceiling above her seat. ‘Pull down the periscope and see for yourself.’
Echo stretched up and grabbed the handles, pulling them down to reveal a smooth brass cylinder. She pressed her eye to the lens and used the handles to slowly turn the contraption. The skies were clear, just the odd merchant ship or pleasure cruiser in the sky over Clearwater Park.
‘There’s no time for complacency though,’ the professor said, rubbing his injured arm. ‘If the Queen’s Guard are after you, they may well try to stop us at the city boundary. We need to have our wits about us.’
Echo turned back to the flight-deck window. The city stretched out in a carpet of colourful rooftops and snaking chimneys. Far in the distance she could glimpse hazy greenery, and beyond that she imagined the Violet Isles with their strange fog. And somewhere in that fog her mother. She held her hands steady on the wheel and willed the little ship onwards.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
‘Well, that wasn’t quite the departure I had hoped for!’ said the professor, sitting down heavily in the co-pilot’s seat, a dazed look on his face. They had cleared the maze of Port Tourbillon’s streets and were out of the city, humming through the sky over wild green moors below.
Echo leaned back in the pilot’s seat and flexed her stiff fingers. ‘I’m sorry, Professor,’ she said. ‘I should have told you before.’
‘Anyone following?’ she asked Horace, who was still looking quite shaken. He peered with his binoculars through the rear porthole.
‘No,’ he replied. ‘I can’t see anyone. Where are we anyway?’ He put down the binoculars and joined the other two in the cockpit.
‘These are the Verdigris Plains,’ said the professor, pointing up ahead. ‘Known for their wild asparagus and citrus groves.’ He gestured at a glade of trees below. ‘I’ve spent many a night camping in these parts. The fruits are delicious, although rather pungent. I smelled of lemons for weeks after my last visit. The cats were most put out.’
Gilbert flicked out his tongue.
‘And what’s that up ahead?’ asked Echo, squinting in the distance as a terracotta-roofed town came into view.
‘Ah, that is the town of Anisett, famous for its confectionery and the annual horse race. It’s a shame we can’t stop off, but it’s such an old city, the streets are too narrow for aircraft. Let’s get closer though, so we can take a look.’ He took the wheel from Echo, pulled a lever and reduced their altitude.
‘Here it is,’ said the professor, as they approached. He pointed at a wide square that opened up in the midst of the tightly packed pink-stone buildings. ‘That’s where the race is held every spring. A most invigorating—’
‘Er, Professor, Echo,’ said Horace, who was now at the rear of the ship, his voice wobbling. ‘Come and look at—’
BANG! The whole ship shuddered and Horace toppled backwards on to the floor.
Gilbert jumped and his scales turned danger red.
‘What was that?’ Echo yelped.
‘A ship,’ panted Horace, pushing himself upright. ‘I saw a ship!’
Echo grabbed on to the pipework as something whizzed past the porthole.
Gilbert’s scales paled to white and he scuttled up Echo’s sleeve, gripping her shoulder tightly through her shirt.
‘Let me see.’ Professor Daggerwing looked into the periscope eyepiece. ‘Yes, you’re right, young Horace. A Matasan fighter with the royal crest. It must be the Queen’s Guard.’
‘A fighter?’ whimpered Horace.
BANG! Something heavy clattered against the
Hummerbird ’s hull.
‘They’re shooting at us!’ Horace’s face crumpled. ‘We’re all going to die!’
‘It’s not bullets they’re shooting, it’s harpoons,’ said the professor grimly. ‘And they’re not trying to kill us. They want to reel us in. You take over, Echo. Full power to the engines. It’s a fast ship they’ve got, but let’s try to outrun them. Time for the secondary engines. Hold tight, everyone!’
Echo nodded and kept her hands firmly gripped to the wheel while the professor pulled open a trapdoor in the floor. Echo glanced back and caught a glimpse of pumping pistons in the cavity beneath their feet.
‘The main engine’s gas-powered!’ shouted the professor over the engine noise. ‘But when I need a little extra oomph I crack out the old coal burner. She’s elderly but effective. Here, Horace, take a shovel, that’s a good man.’
Horace grabbed a shovel and, after a brief pause and a deep breath, slipped down into the engine hold to throw scoops of coal into the burner. Echo felt the little ship surge forward as the pistons thrummed beneath her. She stole a glance back at the professor, who was scanning the air with the binoculars.
‘Is it working?’ she said.
‘For the moment,’ he said. ‘But I’m not sure how long we can keep this speed up.’
Echo held grimly to the wheel with one hand and pulled down the periscope with the other. She looked through the eyepiece and swallowed down a cry as she saw a huge armoured airship surging along in their wake. There was no way they could outrun it. Even after
the boost from the coal burner, the ship was gaining on them. They had to think of something else.
She scanned the horizon, but there was nothing there to help her. They’d never shake this ship off. She leaned forward and glanced down at the terracotta-hued city, searching desperately for somewhere to hide. But there was nowhere, just building after building after building. Horse-drawn coaches crawled along the narrow streets like ants.
Horace gave a squawk of fear and Echo turned back to see a huge grey shape looming up at them through the rear portholes. The ship had almost drawn level.
A tinny voice came through a loudhailer. ‘Allow us to board in the name of Queen Valberta the Third of Port Tourbillon!’
The ship had to be at least three times as big as the Hummerbird. Echo glanced back down again at the grid of narrow streets below them and was hit by a thought. Narrow streets.
‘Professor!’ she yelled. ‘Bigger ships, do they take longer to slow down?’
Professor Daggerwing popped his head out of the engine hatch. ‘Well, yes, dear girl. It’s a case of basic physics—’
But Echo didn’t wait for the rest of his answer. She leaned on a brass lever and the altimeter spun as the little ship seemed to drop out of the sky and dive towards the street.
‘Are we hit?’ Horace yelped, still shovelling frantically.
‘No.’ Echo shook her head, keeping her eyes on the streets below. ‘Change of plan,’ she said. ‘We’re going down.’
The Hummerbird shuddered as it nosedived towards the rooftops. The teacups rattled in their cupboards, jars of pickles and the copper kettle rolled to and fro across the floor.
‘Take the periscope, Horace!’ yelled Echo. ‘Are they following?’
‘Hang on,’ said Horace, who had climbed out of the engine hatch and was staggering to the cockpit. Echo grabbed his braces and pulled him into the co-pilot’s seat. Horace buckled the straps round his middle and yanked the periscope down.
‘They’re right on our tail,’ he said.
‘Good,’ said Echo.
‘Good?’ he squawked.
Echo pushed the altitude lever forward even further and the Hummerbird dived down between the towering buildings of Anisett’s streets, its gondola skimming the street lamps. She caught a glimpse of shocked faces staring from windows, treetops flashing past in a blur and figures below them stopping and pointing as their hats were blown off by the little ship’s downdraught.
Horace pressed his face to the periscope. ‘They’re still following! They’re going to—’ He broke off with a triumphant squeal as there was an enormous, rubbery, groaning squeak from behind them. ‘They’re stuck!’ he shouted, punching the air with his fist.
‘Let me see.’ Echo grabbed the periscope and, despite the fear running through her, couldn’t help breaking into a huge grin. Unable to stop in time, the Matasan airship balloon had become well and truly wedged between the top storeys of two townhouses, its gondola dangling feebly below. A crowd gathered in its shadow on the street beneath.
Echo steered the Hummerbird swiftly away down a side street, guiding it carefully between the dusty-pink buildings, until finally, when she was sure they weren’t being followed, she drew back on the throttle and took them back up above the rooftops, slipping quietly away from the city, out of Anisett, and beyond.
Echo held the little ship on a steady course as they left the town behind. Gilbert had recovered his usual yellow shade and sat on the dashboard, peering out at the landscape below. Soon they were flying over golden fields with dark patches of woodland, and then further still over dense green pine forests. Echo gazed out in wonder. There was so much world out there!
‘Anyone behind us?’ she asked Horace.
Horace peered through the periscope and shook his head. ‘There are some ships way out to the east, but they look like ordinary merchant vehicles. There’s no sign of the Matasan.’
‘Glad to hear it,’ said Professor Daggerwing, who was still looking dazed. ‘In all my exploring days, I have to say I have never been fired at by the Queen’s Guard. Echo, perhaps now you could explain why it was you needed to leave Port Tourbillon so urgently.’
Echo sighed. She couldn’t put it off any longer. ‘It’s all because of this,’ she said, taking her mother’s hairpin out of her pocket. She explained to him all about the pin, how she’d traced it to Port Tourbillon and discovered it had been stolen, along with its twin. Then she bit her lip. What was it that Martha had always said? A problem shared was a problem halved. But, as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t tell the professor or Horace about her plan to track down the Black Sky Wolves. Not yet. They might have agreed to stop in the Violet Isles to see the butterflies, but they would never agree to rescuing her mother from pirates. No, that part of her plan would have to wait.
‘There’s a reward for it, you see,’ she finally said. ‘And now all sorts of people are after me, not just the Queen’s Guard.’ She thought back to the black-haired man and the fiftythousand-guinea reward for the return of the jewels. ‘So I couldn’t stay in Port Tourbillon.’
‘Well,’ said the professor, raising his bushy eyebrows as he examined the pin, ‘it’s certainly a striking piece. I do wish you’d told me sooner though.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Echo.
‘Never mind, can’t be helped. No point crying over burnt bananas. But the sooner we get to the Violet Isles and Doctor Beetlestone’s laboratory the better. Can you help me patch up this arm, please, Horace?’
Echo fixed her eyes on the horizon while Horace followed the professor’s instructions to put together a makeshift sling for his arm.
‘Do you think it’s broken?’ he asked.
‘No, just sprained. I’ll be as right as rain in a couple of days,’ said the professor. ‘In the meantime, Echo makes a fine pilot.’
Gilbert bobbed his head in agreement and Echo grinned, sitting up a little taller in the pilot’s seat. ‘Which way now?’ she asked.
Professor Daggerwing studied his charts. ‘If we head southwest to Sea Lark Bay, we’ll be on our way to the Violet Isles,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you put the old girl on autopilot and take a break, Echo? I’m afraid my arm’s not up to making tea though.’
Echo glanced back at the hatch where previously she and Horace had held on to the professor’s legs, and jumped down from the pilot’s seat. ‘Let me have a try,’ she said.
‘Well, I really don’t know about that,’ said the professor. ‘It’s very dangerous.’
‘You said it wasn’t!’ exclaimed Echo. ‘Anyway, you and Horace can hold on to my boots.’ She flipped the hatch open, grabbed the kettle of water and wriggled out.
As the little ship glided onwards, they settled down in their hammocks, chatting lazily and drinking tea while the professor consulted his map. There was no cake today. In fact, their hurried exit had meant the only food onboard was a large jar of pickled sweetroots, which both Echo and Horace graciously declined.
‘Gosh, what time is it?’ asked the professor a while later, searching awkwardly for his pocket watch with his good hand. ‘We must be nearly at the ocean by now.’
Echo raced back to the cockpit, where Gilbert lay snoozing on the dashboard, and peered out to see the pine forests give way to a wide, rocky beach that curved before them. Beyond that the ocean, pale blue and sparkling, stretched out to the horizon. The Stony Sea! She gazed in wonder at the white crests of waves breaking below. She’d never seen such a huge blue expanse. Yet again, she marvelled at the vastness of the world. And somewhere out there in it was her mother. Echo leaned forward on the dashboard and squinted into the distance. ‘Where are the islands?’
‘Oh, they’re miles away yet,’ said the professor, with a chuckle. ‘Could you two clear these things away? I’m going to have a catnap. We’ll have to do the washing-up when we drop anchor.’
He retired to his hammock and Echo skipped over to stack up the teacups. It was a while before she looked over at Horace, who still had
a pained look on his face.
‘What are you worrying about now?’ she said.
‘I don’t know,’ he said miserably. ‘Something’s not right.’
‘What’s not right? We escaped the guards! I got us out of trouble and we’re heading in the right direction.’
‘It was you that got us into trouble in the first place!’
Echo scowled. ‘Well, everything’s fine now, so you can stop worrying.’
Horace shook his head. ‘Something’s off.’
‘Oh, Horace.’ Echo threw down her tea towel in frustration. ‘Don’t be such a pudding heart. We’re going to the Violet Isles! Think of the butterflies.’
Horace huffed and cleared away the tea things in silence.
‘Maybe you should have just stayed in Lockfort.’ As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Echo regretted them.
Horace flushed scarlet. He shoved the teacups into a cupboard and went back to examining his chrysalises without another word.
I didn’t mean it like that, thought Echo. But why couldn’t he enjoy the adventure? She opened her mouth to apologize, but Horace had already turned away, so she pretended to study the professor’s sea charts instead as the uncomfortable silence between them grew.
They still weren’t speaking several minutes later when Echo noticed Horace peering out of the starboard porthole.
‘What’s the matter now?’ she said.
Horace sniffed and glared at her. ‘You’ll only make fun of me if I tell you.’
‘No I won’t!’
‘It’s just I’m sure we’re going rather slower than before,’ he said eventually.
‘No, of course we . . .’ Echo rushed to the cockpit and felt her heart lurch as she gazed out. They did seem to be losing speed. The little ship gave a jerk as the engine sputtered. She glanced at the speedometer. ‘Oh no!’
Horace was right: they were slowing down. She stared at the quivering needle. Fraction by fraction, they were losing power, and they were nowhere near land. She frantically pulled the thrust lever, but it was no good. Suddenly the smooth hum of the engine stopped altogether, before faltering back to life.
