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Episode 9: A Cutting-Out Expedition
Everett called a halt at the edge of the trees. Before them, the village lay quiet and still in the dark tropical night. The moon had not yet risen, but the stars were bright, and the Magellanic Clouds gleamed to the south with a clear ghostly light. To their right, the men could see the lights of the governor’s house, but the only other sign of life was the riding lights of the airship moored to the mast on the other side of the settlement. "No dogs?" Everett whispered to their guides. "I had wondered that myself," said Pierre. "Though it does make things easier for a businessman such as myself." "Mummy couldn’t stand their barking," said Sarah, "so she ordered the cook to serve them as the first course of a feast to celebrate our annual truce with the Migo tribe." "What was the main course?" asked Iverson. "That was the last time the Migos ever came to visit," the girl reminisced. "But I didn’t miss them. They had terrible taste." "Let’s go," said Everett, before his lieutenant could ask more questions. "We need to reach that ship before anyone notices us." Silently, they crept through the village. Around them, the strange conical-roofed huts towered into the night. From the distant governor’s house, they could hear faint sounds of music and revelry. Closer at hand, some young mother was singing her children to sleep with a soft French nursery rhyme.
"Ubbo-Sathla, Ubbo-Sathla At last they reached the mooring mast. It was a primitive structure, fashioned from lengths of wood lashed together with vines, but surprisingly substantial even so. A single guard leaned against one of the uprights, cupping his hands around a cigarette. Everett frowned at the man’s lack of discipline in the presence of several million cubic feet of hydrogen. "I could take him," whispered Rashid, raising his sling. "No bloodshed if we can avoid it," replied Everett. "Wallace, do you think you could subdue the fellow without raising the alarm? "I’ll subdue him all right," muttered the scruffy East Ender, and he slipped away, to melt into the shadows. A few minutes later, there was the sound of a blow, a grunt, and the light of the cigarette went out. Peering ahead, Everett could make out a short figure beckoning to them from the place the guard had been standing. Rising, he gestured for his men to follow. "What next?" asked Iverson, when they’d reached the base of the mast. The guard lay near their feet, insensate after a blow to the skull, but they were still no closer to their goal, for the ladder up to the ship had been withdrawn. "Abercrombie," Everett said to his rigger, "do you think you could climb that tower?" Beside him, the Scottsman stared up into the night, a dubious expression on his face. "Leave that to us," said Pierre. Doffing his jacket and hat, he handed these to Jenkins for safe-keeping while Sarah shrugged off her dress to reveal a tight-fitting leotard, such as a circus performer or ballet dancer might wear. Fleming managed the beginning of a whistle before MacKiernan clapped his hand over the youth’s mouth. "Are ye daft, lad? You’ll give us away." "Was war das?" came a cry from the control car, followed by a light. Forewarned, the Everett and his men dove for the shadow of the mast. "Ist 'ne nachtfogel," came a muffled reply and the light went out. The Frenchman and his companion waited for a moment to make sure it was clear, then grabbed hold of the uprights and begun to clamber up the mast, sure and agile as monkeys. Everett and his men watched in amazement as they vanished into the darkness. "He suggested he was a businessman," said Iverson. "I cannot help but wonder about the precise nature of his business?" "I rather imagine it involved jewelry," said Everett. "And perhaps other small valuable objects such as might be found in the upper floors of fine manors and townhomes." Seconds later, a rope ladder rattled down from the platform atop the mast. One of the climbers -- Everett imagined it was Sarah -- had found time to pin a flower to the lower rung. "That’s our signal," he whispered. One by one, they started up the ladder, with Everett in the lead and Iverson bringing up the rear. Everett noticed the young officer pause to remove the flower and stuff it in his lapel before he began the ascent. He shook his head, foreseeing interesting times. At the top, Pierre and Sarah were crouching at one end of the gangway that lead across to the ship. "What happens next?" whispered the Frenchman. "Now it’s our turn," Everett replied, turning to his men. "We’ll do this just like the drills. Jenkins and I will handle the bridge. Iverson, you take Fleming and Wallace to secure the crew section while MacKiernan and Davies secure the engine cars. Abercrombie, you stay here at the bow station. As soon as you hear us drop ballast, you drop the mooring." "What about us?" asked Pierre. "You and the girl stay here with Abercrombie. If we fail, or get captured, you can claim you were our prisoners." Everett led his men down the keel passage. In the dark, on an unfamiliar ship, the way was treacherous. "I wish we had a light," whispered Fleming." "Be grateful it’s dark," said Wallace. "Light would give the game away. I remember one time me and me mates was creeping into a warehouse and... bloody hell," he exclaimed as he tripped over a plank and went rolling down the catwalk, flailing wildly to keep from going over the edge. "After him!" hissed Everett. Ahead of them, they heard the clump of boots, followed by the glimmer of a flashlight as someone poked his head above the companionway that lead down to the control car. "Was ist... oof!" cried the German as Wallace slammed into him. The flashlight went flying and the two men tumbled down the companionway. "Ist ein verrücktrollendesmann!" "Was ist ein verrücktrollendesmann?" "Das... oof!" came a cry from below as Everett and Jenkins reached the companionway. "The rest of you! Go!" ordered Everett as he slid down the banister, followed by his signalman. At the bottom, he saw Wallace, holding a sap, standing above the body of an unconscious German airshipman while two more crewmen advanced on him, fists at ready. "Get them!" cried Everett, slamming into his man with a rugby tackle. Beside him, Jenkins took down his man with a blow to the jaw. "Are there any more?" asked the signalman. "It seems this was the lot," said Everett. "Wallace, would you be so kind as to bind these fellows while we look for the ballast toggles?" "Aye, Captain." "This control panel here looks promising," said Jenkins. Everett studied the unfamiliar board. The layout and controls looked fairly standard, and whoever maintained the chalkboard had been considerate enough to mark down release times as well as ballast weights. "It looks like 5 seconds on 150 should do it," he said, reaching for the toggles. I hope Abercrombie is paying attention." He gave the toggles a pull. Somewhere aft, a shower of water cascaded into the darkness. From the bow, they heard a distant clank and the altimeter began to climb. Moments later, Iverson poked his head down the companionway. "We’ve checked," he said, "and there’s no one else aboard." "Then the ship is ours!" said Everett. "That all seemed comparatively straightforward," said Jenkins. He sounded disappointed. To be continued... |
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