A Children's Tale (2 page)

"What's she on about?" William asked in surprise.
Hunter and O'Fallon exchanged a look. Captain Hunter shrugged.

“Moira's hearing is quite good.”

O'Fallon started to reply with some story as an example when Moira's voice piped up from below.

"Cap'n! We got a couple here!"

O'Fallon stopped his story before it started and shrugged.

Hunter grinned at the two crewmen with him. "Never fails, somehow she hears them. Well you lads heard the lady, let's lend her a hand."

With William and O'Fallon helping, a moment later two children, a boy and girl no more than six and nine years of age respectfully, emerged into the light.

“
T
hat's all Cap'n. The rest down here didn't hold out.” Moira called from below deck.

Hunter sighed and turned to the two children who were bundled in a blanket William had carried.

"Well met young sirrah and lady, we've got warm food and clothes ... "

His welcome faded on his lips as the sound of a hiss and whine of steam powered propellers echoed in the air.

O'Fallon, hearing it too, stopped partway out of the hatch, "Steambats? What be they doin' here?"

Just then the pair of steam-powered biplanes, named 'Steambats' for the bat shape to the quartet of wings attached to each aircraft, arced gracefully to the right in a turn above the wreck. The cloth and wooden fuselage with its brass fittings had been painted a deep blue, long since faded from exposure to the sun and weather. Before anyone could become comfortable with their new airborne visitors, both of the nimble aircraft turned sharply and dove. Their angle of attack was directly towards where Hunter, O'Fallon, Moira, William and the children were at that moment.

"Down!" Moira shouted before ducking below deck.
A moment later the whine of steambat engines turned to an angry buzz. From two long nozzles attached to hoses on the wings erupted blue white bolts of lighting, guided by streams of high pressure water jets. The electrified stream scoured the deck and snow, tearing a pair of lines into whatever they touched. Nearly singed in the process, Captain Hunter threw himself across the children to protect them. Bits of wood and brass exploded from the wreck and rained down in all directions. Snow vaporized in whitish clouds of fog before it condensed back to snow. Finally the biplanes tore by overhead, passed beyond the wreck and climbed above the trees towards the clouds again.

Hunter eased up slowly, taking deep breaths to steady his voice. He had been shot at countless times when he served in the Royal Navy, but one never grew used to such an experience. Adrenaline tempered his nerves, and after a second breath he looked down at the terrified children.

"Both ok?"

He was rewarded by a pair of nodding, grimy faces drawn with lines of hunger and fear. From the hatch, William's panic-white face peered over the edge and looked skyward. Behind him, O'Fallon had already drawn a pistol and true to his nature, looked for a chance to soothe his anger. Moira however, was not within sight.

"Good, now a brief introduction. I'm Captain Anthony Hunter of the
Brass Griffin
and this is my crew. We're here to help."

Immediately, the children screamed again. Quickly sitting up, Hunter turned to see a the steambats complete a turn for another attack run, guns crackling with lightning held in check. Instinctively he scanned the sky but saw no sight of the
Griffin
. Without a word, mouth set in a hard frown, Hunter scooped up the children in his arms and raced for the rock outcrop that had helped with the demise of the
Marie Celeste.

Bits of wood and other debris from the wreck exploded behind the Captain. Throwing himself forward, he skid across the mud and snow until he came to a rest beneath the protection of the rock shelter with his two charges. The buzz of propellers surged by overhead then grew dim as the two aircraft returned to the thick clouds.
"Hush crying now, it'll be fine. Just fine now. Now who are you two, eh?"

Dressed in a modest blue-gray dress, black vest with white lace trim that was now stained with black smudges of soot, she still looked very much a young lady from a family of means. The younger boy with her was dressed similarly, in brown knee-length trousers, brown jacket and a cream colored shirt, all stained similarly like the girl. The young lady rubbed her nose with the back of her hand and found her voice first.

"I'm Angela Von Patterson, he's my brother Miles."
Hunter smiled, "Well good to meet you both. I know your Uncle, he hired myself and my crew to come looking for you."

Angela looked at Hunter with large eyes, "He did?"

"Yes young miss, he did."

"Captain! Ye breathin'?" Came a woman's shout from the wreck.

"Hale and whole, Moira, by the outcropping."

A hurried crunch of footsteps in snow, then Moira, William and O'Fallon dove behind the rocks as well. William tossed a half-filled, grimy bag into the snow.

"Grabbed a few trinkets from below decks. Never know when somethin' might come in handy. If they come back," William gestured towards the cloudy, gray sky overhead. “What were they wantin' anyways, Cap'n?”

Hunter cast an apprehensive glance overhead. "I daresay have no idea. It could have been a band of raiders who happened upon the wreck and thought searching it would be simpler with no survivors. Perhaps smugglers who frequent the area. If luck is with us, they won't be a concern either way. O'Falllon, wind that opti-telegraphic of yours and see if the
Griffin
is paying attention."

"Aye, Cap'n."

From his belt pouch, O'Fallon removed a rectangular brass box slightly longer than eight inches on the long side by four inches. Pushing a brass rivet, a small wood and brass 'S' shaped handle extended from the side with a pop sound. O'Fallon cranked the handle with a few quick turns until a pair of lights glowed dimly on the faceplate. Below the lights, O'Fallon opened a small panel. Using the few undersized typewriter keys there he tapped out a hailing message.

"If they be sailin' within range, Cap'n, they'll answer."

"
Griffin
here. Anyone found?"

"Be findin' two an' then some. There be a pair o' steambats takin' bites at us, can ye be takin' a swat at 'em?"

"Been in a scrape also, as soon as we patch a few holes we'll be underway to your location."

The four of them exchanged a look, O'Fallon keyed the device again. "Say again
Griffin
?"

Suddenly a bullet ripped the opti-telegraphic from O'Fallon's hand. The device showered a bright flash of sparks and electricity before it pitched into the snow. Miles and Angela screamed and huddled close while the crew drew weapons with an eye to the rocks above.

"Where?" Hunter growled while William eased himself over to the children and spoke quietly to try and ease their terror.

In answer, a hail of bullets hammered the rocks around them. Chips and splinters of gravel rained down and flew past their faces. Through the chaos, Moira spotted figures just over seventy yards off and upwards among the rocks. With no time to speak, she aimed her long-barreled Army Colt and fired, sending a .44 caliber round towards the rocks. Quickly, the others followed her lead with the sharp explosions of gunfire. In seconds the firefight stopped with acrid gun smoke filling the air.

William looked up and around carefully, "Them 'bats still there?"

Moira waved him quiet then nodded over the faint sounds of stumbling in the packed snow. "They be off findin' a place ta lick their wounds. So, they're gone for now. The thing that makes me itch be that they found us here. How'd they be knowin'? Them fliers haven't had the time to set down anywhere."
Hunter opened the cylinder to reload his revolver, "I was pondering that also. They had to have been waiting, which means we were set up for some reason." He dropped the last bullet in and clicked the cylinder shut. "We'll find out who that was soon enough, once we're back aboard the
Griffin
."

William voice shook slightly and the two children sobbing caught the captain's ears. "Cap'n ..." was all he managed.
A few feet from William, lay O'Fallon face down. A stain of red slowly pooled beneath him in the snow.

Hunter swore softly under his breath. "William, get your medical bag, we need to bandage him before we can get him to shelter and us away from here."

William nodded grimly, yet still speechless, and withdrew a small leather wrapped parcel from his shoulder bag before he got to work.

K
rumer Whitehorse, first mate of the
Brass Griffin
, slammed a calloused fist against the rough-hewn table below deck. The opti-telegraphic on the table shuddered from the vibration, rattling its mainspring and battery connection. As if in protest, the brass plated device sparked and shuddered before its faceplate lights grew dim.
"O'Fallon? O'Fallon!"

Tonks Wilkerson, the broad-shouldered pilot of the
Brass Griffin
with his distinctive thin face and hawk-like nose, put a firm hand on the first mate's shoulder. "Don't care a whit if ya are an orc or that Cap'n Hunter left ya in charge with him groundside. Yellin' and beatin' it won't do ya much good. It's got a short in the thing and ya know it."

"Something's wrong, I can feel it, Tonks."
Tonks hefted the brass box and experimentally turned the 'S' shaped crank on the side. "Mainspring's still good. Looks like it and a battery wire's gone and got loose. I'll pry it open and see if I can get it tightened down." Tonks glanced at Krumer's deepening frown. "Ya know the four o' 'em been around more'n once."

"I do."

"Alright. We only took some glancing shots broadsides from that pirate or whoever they were. The starboard lightning net can't be deployed until we get back ta a port for serious repairs and one boiler's leaking more than normal. Fortunately, we didn't go an' lose anybody ta the broadside we took and we're still mostly maneuverable. It's just we're not gonna be fast about it." The young man scratched the brownish stubble on his chin and walked up the the ladder to the deck above. The sounds of cutting, sawing and other signs of repair were thick in the air along with fumes of tar, hemp rope and sawdust. Tonks emerged mid deck and shouted among the scurry of activity. "Come about and watch her trim, those bow lines are still frayin'."

Tonks stepped aside then glanced back over his shoulder when Krumer emerged from below. "Setting course, Mr Whitehorse. Hope there's no rough reception waitin'."

Krumer sighed and glanced out across the billowing clouds, white and fluffy like so much mist on a cold winter's day. The
Griffin
was higher up than before. She rode the top of the clouds that partially obscured the mountainside below, not to mention any usual flight path of other airships. In the distance he saw the tan, double bat shaped wings and box girders of two steambat aircraft dart up and through the gray and white clouds of a low cloud bank. When the aircraft vanished, his frowned returned.

"As do I, Mr. Wilkerson. Spirit's willing."

A
small fire fueled by a pyramid of cut branches burned bright in the shallow fire. Heat warmed a small tin pot of water held precariously above it by a crude stand. Outward from the pit, a few blankets were laid out just in the glow of the fire. Shadows from those danced against the dried remains of an ancient, overturned maple tree. Near the fire, Captain Hunter dropped a small pile of branches just outside the fire's reach. He then watched in silence while William checked the bandages on O'Fallon's head and right thigh. The quartermaster opened his eyes and managed a weak smile.

"Nae worry Cap'n, be takin' more'n this tae lay me low."
A thin smile played across Hunter's face while he reached for a tin cup and a small bag of dried, brown leaves. "Get some rest my friend. Drink that tea William's made, it'll help you sleep."

Carefully pouring the scalding water from the pot, Hunter mixed it with leaves for his own tea. Returning the pot to the fire, he rose and walked to the edge of the camp. He watched the evening moonlight play across the snow-draped pines. Gently, the wind picked up and a light snow drifted again from the scattered clouds. The forest was moderately thick here and the shadows cast by the moonlight moved ever so slightly. In the distance, a sharp howl from a wolf hunting in the distance echoed in the night air. From behind, a crunch of snow heralded Moira's approach. She paused next to Hunter and tugged her long coat around her a bit tighter.

"Bugger me, it be cold. How long do ya think we 'ave Cap'n?"

"A few hours at the least. A day at most. This snow and the whipping we gave them at the crash should slow any pursuit down a touch."

"It be all disturbin' if ya ask me. Comin' outta nowhere like that, they had ta been layin' in wait. Think they were usin' the wee ones as bait?"

Hunter turned that over in his mind, sparing a glance at the two children. William had bundled them up in spare blankets. Angela and Miles huddled together for warmth and reassurance, occupying the space between the overturned tree and the small campfire. It provided the warmest place, for heat from the fire reflected back from the overturned roots.

"Bait? I couldn't imagine why they'd be bait for us. No, I suspect we led them to the children unknowingly." Hunter took a sip of the tea and offered the cup to Moira without a word.

"Thankee, I could use a cuppa.” Moira took a sip of the hot drink and handed it back. “Followin' or waitin', shame on it either way. It brings ta mind dark reasons why.”

"I wish I could think otherwise, but it was too convenient. They arrived the moment we brought those two children out of that wreck, something like that isn't happenstance, my dear."

She nodded slightly in agreement. After a moment's consideration she added, "Or we be in a bad bargain."

"Spot on point. I had not thought of that. However, if that's so, I can't figure what their Uncle Ian would get from it since he hired us to find them." Light flakes of snow drifted in the wind to brush his face while he looked up to the cloudy sky. He sighed, exasperation and fatigue taking its toll. "Either way it's something to sleep on. For tonight we'll need watches."