Chasing the Star Garden: The Airship Racing Chronicles (Volume 1) (22 page)

As usual, I was amazed, but then I remembered something: “We did promise the Prof-” I began, but Celeste cut me off.

“We really must act quickly. I can’t bear the thought of the statue alone in that cave,” Celeste said.

“Well, she has been alone in there for hundreds of years. I think she can wait until we finish a pint.”

Celeste frowned.

“My Lily, take the professor his ale and our thanks. Celeste and I will get the ship ready.”

While I wasn’t wild about the plan, I agreed. The
Bacchus
had several stoneware jars of ale in stock. They weren’t exactly cold, but I suspected the Professor would not mind either way.

I wound my way back to the Professor’s tents where I found the Ottoman workers packing a mule cart with the Professor’s boxes.

“Are you leaving?” I asked them, confused.

It was clear something was afoot. After discussing the matter for a few minutes, they led me inside Professor Herzog’s tent. Inside, Professor Herzog was laid out on his cot. His skin had already started to turn ashy. I sat on his bedside. His eyes had been closed. I opened one of the jars, toasted the man, and took a drink. Setting the jar down, I sighed and took his cold hand. There was a shadow of a smile on his lips, and the aura of a fulfilled life emanated from him. I closed my eyes and prayed his Apollo would bless his path. I hoped that I would be lucky enough to die so satisfied.

Chapter 28

W
e sailed from Knidos and travelled the coast until we reached the cove where the Aphrodite lay hidden.

“Are you sure it’s strong enough to hold you?” I asked as Sal pulled on the harness. We had reconfigured the
Bacchus
’ gears to be used as a makeshift pulley.

“It can hold two grown men,” Sal said, pulling on the straps. “It is woven metal and leather. Don’t worry.” He then tied a rope to a hook on the front of the harness, working it until it was tight. He had extra straps, hooks, and clasps in a bag belted around his waist. Nervous, I bent and looked the rope over. I didn’t know where Celeste had found it, but it was very high quality, strong enough to carry marble.

Sal motioned to the galleyman. The man removed the pins that held a hatch door under the gondola closed. The door swung open. A breeze from the sea blew in, making the ship rock.

The galleyman swore.

I agreed. The hatch door was only opened to make repairs or to change parts, not to lower people into caves.

“Sal, this is dangerous.”

Sal grabbed a miner’s pick and motioned to the galleyman who began cranking gears.

“It’s a leap of faith,” Sal said with a grin then dropped out of the bottom of the ship.

I held onto a rod and looked down, afraid I would see Sal smashed to pieces below. Instead, he wagged in the breeze about six feet below the ship.

Sal yelled up to the galleyman who lowered him toward the cliff. Once he reached the rocks, he called “Stop.” I watched from above as Sal peered through the opening into the cave below.

“I can see the statue. Celeste is there too,” Sal called. Celeste had gotten off the
Bacchus
at the beach and had gone back inside through the beachside cave. “The rocks are loose here. I can open a space,” Sal said. Getting into position, he began to pick away at the rocks and sediment. He opened up a gap large enough for him and the sculpture to fit through.

My teeth clenched tightly, I watched as he worked. It seemed to take an eternity, but soon he called: “Good! I’m ready.”

I motioned to the crewman to begin again. Sal crawled into the crevice, disappearing into the cave.

“Sal? Salvatore?” I called.

“I’m okay,” his voice echoed from within the cave. A few minutes later, he called “Stop. I’m down.” I motioned to the crewman to halt. I shook my head. This felt like lunacy.

I went back on deck to see if I could get a better look. I stared down at the crevice into which Sal had been lowered. I felt like I was frozen in place. After what seemed like an eternity, Sal called up to me. His voice echoed from the expanse of the cave.

“We have her. Up and slow,” he called.

I went back down to the galley and nodded to the crewman, motioning for him to go slowly. As the line on the harness grew taught, the
Bacchus
put up a little resistance. The gears groaned a bit. For a moment, I feared we really were trying to lift marble. The crewman applied a little more torque and soon it began to lift.

I leaned back over the open hatch door and waited.

“Stop,” Sal called. His voice sounded like he was just near the opening. I saw the harness shake.

“Sal?”

“I’m all right. Just adjusting,” he called. A moment later he yelled, “Begin again. Easy.”

I nodded and signaled once more.

A moment later, Sal and Aphrodite emerged into the sunlight. The statue glimmered blindingly bright.

“Ave Maria!” the galleyman exclaimed in surprise.

It was an amazing sight. Sal had lashed her tightly against him, gripping the statue under the arms and around the waist. He guided her carefully out of the crevice, protecting her head as best he could as she neared the sides of the opening. The two of them slipped through.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I headed to the deck and leaned over the rail so I could see when Sal made landfall. He used his legs to guide them around the rocks, clutching the statue as he moved toward the flat, grassy landing above the cliff.

Once his feet were flat on the ground, I called stop. The gears on the
Bacchus
ground to a halt. Sal unharnessed himself and the statue.

“Lily, bring the
Bacchus
down as low as you can. Let’s crate the statue and get her stowed in the galley,” Sal called.

Airships do not like to be low. It risks damage to the rudder and propeller. I frowned and signaled to the balloonman. He frowned in agreement but opened the balloon value a crack. The ship began to lower.

“Watch the rudder, Sal,” I called.

When we came within ten feet of land, Sal called “Stop!”

I dropped the ladder overboard and went down. We had traded Professor Herzog’s workers a spyglass and a case of Italian wine for a long, wooden crate in which we could transport the statue. There was just enough room in the galley to stow her there, out of sight.

“Let me talk to the crew. I’ll need more muscle to get her loaded without damage,” Sal said as he positioned the statue on the grassy cliff-top.

In the bright light of day, the statue was truly stunning. It was not made of marble, at least not any kind of marble I had ever seen. I didn’t know what it was made of, but it was beautiful. I reached out and touched her cheek. I could see why she had scandalized the ancient world. It was not so much that she was nude that was so shocking, it was the way she stood that made her so provocative. While they might have called the statue “Modest Venus,” her pose was anything but modest. The Aphrodite was not shyly covering her feminine parts with her hand. Instead, her hand was tipped forward; she was offering her body to the viewer.

Sal and the galleyman returned with the crate. Carefully, we lowered the Aphrodite of Knidos into the box. She lay in a bed of golden straw. Her eyes were blank, but the playful smile on her lips made me think that she was enjoying all this intrigue.

Once she was secure in the crate, the box was lashed with rope, and the pulley system lifted the statue into a small space in the gear galley. The galleyman and I reboarded the ship and guided the crate to rest between the rods. She barely fit, but we had her.

I could not help but smile. “Let’s pick up Celeste then head out,” I said.

“To where?” Sal asked.

Indeed, where could you hide the Goddess of Love?

Chapter 29

“
L
esvos,” Celeste said.

We were standing on the deck of the
Bacchus
debating—more disagreeing-our next move.

“Celeste, the isle of Lesvos is situated right in the middle of the Ottoman-Greek conflict,” Sal said.

“Perhaps we should take her back to Venice,” I suggested.

Celeste shook her head. “We have a sanctuary on Lesvos that is secret. She will be safe there. In Venice, our moves are watched.”

Sal looked at me. “Lesvos is not a hotly contested piece of land. It’s what may lie between us and Lesvos that is a problem.”

“We’ve come all this way, Lily. We must take her somewhere safe. Cyprus is compromised. In Venice we are watched. Athens is a disaster. I must move her, at least for now, somewhere secret. She must be taken somewhere secluded until our order decides what is best. Please!”

“And if the
Bacchus
is blasted out of the sky?”

“Fly an Italian ensign. With Bacchus on the balloon, people will know we are not about war,” Celeste said.

This was exactly the kind of mess Jessup and Angus had worried about. “I don’t know.”

“Please, Lily. Please!” she said, taking my hand. Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Please help us.”

I sighed. “Let me see a map.”

I looked over Celeste’s proposed flight path. She was asking us to fly into a war zone.

“Is there no other option? I could fly the
Bacchus
to London or Paris. You could transport her elsewhere by land or sea.”

Celeste shook her head. “We can move in and out quickly. No one will ever know. I just need to get her to Lesvos.”

“You could have mentioned your plan to fly into the middle of a war before we left Venice,” I chided.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”

“You were right.”

I handed Celeste the map. “In and out. After the drop, no more side trips. I have a race to worry about.”

“Yes, I understand. Oh Lily, thank you so much!”

“Yeah, okay,” I said with a sigh and then turned to Sal. “You all right with that?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “It is for you to decide.”

“Then let’s get the crew ready,” I said.

Sal nodded and went to exchange words with the crew.

I was feeling irritable, and it was not just because Celeste had me potentially dodging canon fire. I had already started to stretch out my laudanum intake. As delighted as I was that we had found the sculpture, I was already headed back to London in my mind and was in no mood for a detour. That, and I wanted to smoke opium. I really wanted to smoke opium.

Fly fast. Move quick. Get it over with. That was my mantra as I took the wheelstand and guided the ship northbound into the belly of the Aegean. If we caught a good wind, and the
Bacchus
showed me what it was made of, I could have us in port by midnight.

It was late afternoon when we flew between Kos and Knidos. I took the
Bacchus
up. I wanted to get well out of eyeshot from anything on land or in the water. The cloud bank promised some cover. When it got dark, I would keep the lanterns off. The stars had guided me this far, maybe they could shed a little light on the rest of the journey.

I asked Sal to have the galleyman run the
Bacchus
at full speed. Something inside me made me feel like I was on the run.

Gliding along the coast of the Ottoman Empire, I kept my eyes peeled for any sign of trouble. Sal and Celeste watched over the side of the ship looking for action in the water below. Thankfully, the waters were clear. There was no Greek incursion on Trojan shores that night.

A couple of hours into the trip, I found myself rooting through my satchel for my laudanum. I was feeling frustrated with the world for no good reason other than I had not indulged my habit for hours. It was a horrible feeling. I tried to keep my cravings at bay, tried to focus on Sal, on the Aphrodite, on the race, on getting to Lesvos, but nothing was working. The longer I waited, the more agitated I became. Once I finally dug out my bottle, I took three healthy drops of the opiate. It would be enough to make the trip tolerable. I closed my eyes and drifted. The feel of the drug made my body tingle, and suddenly I felt lighter. I felt less irritable. My head was swimming in a foggy haze. I rocked with the ship, feeling the
Bacchus
shift in the wind. It was so peaceful.

It was not until Sal was standing before me in a fit of panic that I realized I had missed something, something important. Sal moved my hands from the wheel and cranked it hard.

“Starboard! Starboard!” Celeste was shouting.

I tried to focus. On our starboard side, a small ship was flying in very fast. Someone aboard the deck of the opposing ship was loading a harpoon. It was aimed at the
Bacchus
.

“Oh my god!” I exclaimed and reached for the wheel. “I’ve got it!” I told Sal. “We need to drop elevation!”

Sal yelled up to the balloonman then pulled out his sidearm.

If we got the ship low, they would not be able to harpoon the gondola. If they wanted us alive, they would not take out the balloon. The
Bacchus
did its best, but in the end, the ship was bulky and slow.

The harpoon hit the prow of the
Bacchus
with a jolt. I gasped to see the metal claw puncture through the prow. Wood shrapnel sprayed everywhere. By luck, they had missed the propeller assembly. Since we’d already begun dropping altitude, when the harpoon caught the ship by the nose, it heaved us up. I clutched the wheelstand as the ship began to tip from the prow. The small ship that attacked us used counter maneuvers to avoid being dragged down. They increased their altitude. Soon, they were pulling us upward.

With no better recourse, Roni’s balloonman heated the
Bacchus
’s balloon to keep pace before we all got dumped into the ocean or the balloon buckled into the burners.

I looked at the opposing ship. This was no pirate vessel. Nor was it a Greek or Ottoman warship. The ship was a sleek, expensive, and well-equipped private ship. It was the kind of ship an aged antiquity dealer could afford. On the ship’s side, I noted the vessels’ name:
Hephaestus
. No, this was no coincidence; on the deck of the ship was the man I had outrun in Venice. The Dilettanti had us.

Celeste headed below.

Sal, weapon drawn, came to my side.

I let go of the wheel. There was nothing more I could do.