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Episode 8: The Mysterious Airship
Everett studied the moored airship through the field glasses he’d salvaged from the wreck. She was a trim vessel, her sleek lines seeming at odds with the dark German cross on her prow. Below this, he could just barely make out a number and a name. "LZ-505, Wolkenflieger," he said aloud. "Wolkenflieger?" asked Abercrombie. "What does that mean?" "It translates to something like ‘Cloud Flier’," replied Iverson, when he was able to take his eyes off Sarah. "What a dreadful name," said the girl. "What were they thinking?" "I’m more interested in learning where she came from," said Everett. "Fleming was right. Those lines don’t look like anything from Jane’s, except for the Junior Vickers class, and that’s an English design." The young Australian airman brightened at this sign of his captain's confidence. He’d only had time for the briefest of glances from the cockpit, such as it was, of his tiny Lilienthal glider. Under such conditions, it would have been easy to make a mistake. "Could Howden have sold one to the Huns?" asked Davies. "I can’t imagine why they would," said Everett. "They only made two, those were still undergoing trials when we left, and from what I understand, the trials were not going well. Something about static weight and trouble with the engineering plant. Also, it seems unlikely the Admiralty would allow the yard to sell a warship to the Germans." "Whatever is a German vessel doing here?" asked Jenkins. "It seems somewhat irregular." Everett nodded, for his signalman was right. The nameless island on which they stood was part of the New Caledonia chain, and this archipelago belonged to France. "Perhaps they’re looking for a place to ship prisoners," suggested MacKiernan. "The French have used this place as a penal colony." "I understand that they ceased this practice in 1922," said Fleming. "Don’t you believe it!" said Sarah, incensed. "The Governor brought a new batch of convicts here to serve as workers after he shipped my father and his tribe off to France, and that was only last year. The nerve of that man! I should have hit him harder with Father’s warclub when he tried to seduce me." "I’m sure you’ll have another chance, mademoiselle," said Pierre. "I’d much rather find a way to rescue Father," sniffed the girl. "Do you think there’s any way we can get to France?" "I imagine so," said Pierre, reaching out to put his arm around her, then recoiling when she shouldered her spear. "Heaven help the French if she does," whispered Davies to Fleming. "This complicates our plans," said Everett. "I’d planned to contact the governor and claim assistance as distressed airmen, but the young lady’s story and the presence of this airship suggest that the man is up to no good. We need more information. And for that, we’ll have to take a closer look." They crept toward the Governor’s house, lead by Rashid, who seemed to be developing a talent for leading the way through the jungle. From time to time, the airmen stopped to pick leeches or other unsavory creatures from their clothing. Everett noticed that neither the Frenchman nor the girl seemed to suffer any inconvenience from their surroundings. Indeed, the man’s suit and the woman’s dress both looked as spotless and clean as the day they’d been made. The girl’s coiffure was flawless -- a cascade of dark tresses that would have put any society lady to shame. From time to time, she brushed back her hair to reveal a pair of fine bone earrings, carved in the shape of fish. By now, she’d attracted several admirers. "Those are beautiful earrings," said Iverson. "Why, thank you," Sarah replied, with a heart-stopping smile. "From the way Fleming talked about this place, I expected the natives to wear human finger bones." "Hardly," giggled the girl. "These are toe bones. They belonged to my grandmother." "What did she mean by that?" whispered Fleming to Davies. "Did they belong to her grandmother or did they... uh... belong to her grandmother?" "Gentlemen," hissed Jenkins. "Speculation of this sort is inappropriate." While his men paid court to the girl, Everett found his attention returning to the mysterious airship whenever she came into view between the trees. She was indeed a thing of beauty -- a small version of the famous R-100 that had put the Howden yard on the map back in 1924. Like her bigger sister, she had a streamlined control car that promised speed, and her three engine cars -- with a single pusher propeller each rather than the twin-engined tractor-pusher arrangement of Banes Wallis’s two-year-old masterpiece -- seemed larger than was necessary on a vessel of this size. Beyond her lay the harbor and a wharf, where a small tramp steamer had been tied up. Through his binoculars, Everett could just make out the name Duck. The mooring mast itself was in stark contrast to the airship. It was a primitive wooden structure, lashed together with vines, that might have served as an illustration for a book on safety hazards. A flimsy-looking rope ladder hung from the platform at the top. As Everett watched, a party of men, clad in German naval uniforms, began the perilous descent. From their numbers, it seemed that most of the crew were involved. He wondered what they were about. At last, after several hours, they found a position from which they could watch the Governor’s house undisturbed. It was a substantial mansion that must have taken significant labor to construct, and Everett’s opinion of the fellow fell even farther when he learned the man had stolen the place from Sarah’s father. "He has a terrible reputation," said the girl. "None of the other Governors is willing to visit him anymore." "Rather convenient if he’s hiding some secrets," observed Jenkins. "Perhaps," said Sarah dubiously. "But it doesn’t do much for his social life. His dinner companions are pretty much limited to his chief of police, the maid, and whatever woman he’s hired to share his... table. He must be starved for company these days." "I imagine you’re right," said Fleming. "Here comes some now." Everett looked where the young Australian was pointing to see the airmen from the ship filing up the path to the mansion. They seemed in high spirits, and even from this distance, he could see the gleam of a bottle. "Abercrombie," he said. "How many crew do you expect would be required for a vessel of that size." "I’d ken aboot a score, Captain." "That would be my guess too," said Everett, "and I count fourteen in that party." "Surely you’re not contemplating a cutting-out expedition!" said Jenkins. "Why not?" said Everett. "It’s not something one gets a chance to do every day!" To be continued... |
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