The Hidden Man: A Phineas Starblower Adventure (Phineas Starblower Adventures) (59 page)

"Very good Mr. McPherson, well done Sir."

"Captain, Paulo told me what happened, are we going after Miss Tash?"

"As soon as I can get the Discretion in the air Sir."

"Thank you Captain. She means the world to us Sir."

Jerard nodded, he did not trust himself to speak. She means the world to me as well, he thought and tried desperately to swallow the lump in his throat. "Can I send Mr. deReuter to you? He re-injured his arm in the fighting."

"I already know about it Sir and I'll take care of him. And uh...Sir?" McPherson hesitated for a second. “Sir, we really need to find Mr. D’Arcey.”

“I don’t have time to deal with the problem of D’Arcey right now. If he’s gone AWOL then it was certainly his choice.”

“But...” McPherson chewed his lip.

“But what Mr. McPherson?” Jerard said, impatience colored his voice. He was ready to get on with this and at the moment he did not care a fig for D’Arcey; it was Tash that needed his help.

“We
have
to find him Sir!”

Jerard took a deep breath and let it out loudly. “Look man, if you can find someone who is not injured, tending to the injured or flying this ship then I give you my permission to tell them to go and find D’Arcey. Will that do?”

“Yes Sir.” McPherson said. He turned and hurriedly left the bridge .

“Report.” Jerard said as he took his seat.

“Ground lines and anchor clear Sir!” Jones rasped out.

“Assuming we are heading due north Captain, we will need to come about 80 degrees. Not much room to maneuver here Sir.” Randal replied.

“Aye, he’s right Captain. We’ll need to take her straight up. It’ll be slow going Sir.” Wallace commented.

“Engines are ready Captain.” Said Nichols. “Fuel is down to 50%, gas pressure normal. Ready to blow ballast Sir.”

“Thank you Mr. Nichols but we are not going to blow the ballast. Please execute a shift to aft tanks. We are going straight up gentlemen. Let’s stand her on her tail.”

“But Sir?”

“If you can’t handle it Mr. Wallace I will be happy to take the helm.”

“No Sir. I have this Sir, like in tha storm yes?”

“Exactly like that Mr. Wallace. Hold engines till we’ve reached a 30 degree angle.”

“Aye, Captain.” Nichols said resignedly.

The nose of the airship began rising toward the sky. Jerard grabbed the pencil on his desk before it could roll to the floor.

“Fifteen degrees.” Wallace called out.

The silence on the bridge was interruped by the squawk of the radio. “Soul - of - Discretion - you - are - not - cleared - to - leave. Please - cut - your - engines - and - prepare - to - receive - Danish - police.”

“Your reply Captain?” Jones asked.

“Ignore it.” Jerard said curtly.

Fred Randal stood up from his station in the front bubble of the bridge. “Here they come Captain. Looks like four bobbies and six ground crewmen.”

“Nose angle Wallace?” Jerard said, his voice nearly cracked with intensity.

“Holdin’ twenty degrees Sir.”

“Nichols, what’s the problem? It should have taken only moments to shift that damned ballast!”

“Not sure, the water’s not flowing, gauges have halted at...12 percent.” Nichols replied. He then pressed his speaking grill switch. “Adams! Collins! Get to the aft ballast tanks! Manually flood the rear tanks! NOW !”

“Yes Sir!” Collins replied through the grill promptly.

“Engines to full! Take us out Mr. Wallace, hard to port over the trees!”

Wallace’s reply was lost in the radio noise as the device came to life again.

“Soul – of – Discretion - stop. You – carry – a – murder - suspect. Cut – your – engines - immediately!”

“Ignore it Mr. Jones. In fact, just turn it off.” Jerard said as the engines revved up to full power and he could finally feel the ship moving forward.

Fred Randal jerked away from the forward window as the muffled sound of a gunshot reached them above the throb of the engines.

“Are they shooting at us Mr. Randal?” Jerard asked calmly.

“Not yet.” Fred said his grin returning. “Looks like they were just putting one across our bow as a warning.”

“Captain?” Mr. Wallace said nervously.

“Just keep going William, you’re doing fine. Looks like we will miss the trees.”

“But nae tha Italian ship! Our tail’s too low w’ tha angle Captain!”

Jerard stood and looked hard out of the glass of the forward portal. The helmsman was right. The tail or worse the auxiliary engine might shear through the flimsy fabric of the Italian vessel’s hull.

He had to make a decision. Airships weren’t known for their swift maneuverability so the choices were limited. He could either continue as they were and risk a hull perforation but maintain a measure of climb. Or, he could blow ballast and level up, they’d probably miss the other ship but remain in gunshot range for a potentially vital few more moments.

Trusting the Danes didn’t really want them dead just yet, he roared in Nichol’s direction. “Engineering belay the ballast shift blow aft tanks, now!”

The ship lurched and everything and everyone was thrown forward. Freds nose impacting on the forward viewport with a heavy crack.

“Hold her Wallace!” Jerard shouted as the great ship skimmed over the top of the tethered Italian giant. There was a hideous scream of canvas from the rear of the ship as the idling boost engine’s prop scythed off the very tip of the other airships dorsal fin. Then the Discretion was clear. Down below, their would be pursuers scattered, unnerved at the noise.

“Up angle at ten degrees. Rebalancing the ballast!” Nichols called.

Into the sudden silence Jerard blew out a breath. “Well done gentlemen.” He stated and turned to help Randal to his feet.

“Level us at five hundred feet Mr. Wallace and take us due north, we need to find Gopal and the HLC.”

“Aye Captain.” Wallace replied, obviously still shaken up.

“Mr. Nichols, find out what just happened there.”

“On my way Captain.” Nichols said frowning.

Nichols entered the aft access well and looked up towards the open maintenance hatch. “Collins! Report! That lag in the system nearly made us collide with...” Nichols trailed off looking hard at the wet and dripping thing on the catwalk. “Holy Mother!” he exclaimed as he grabbed the handrail and leaped up the remaining steps.

Collins was trying to wrap his jacket around D’Arcey’s near naked form.

“Is he...” Nichols was afraid to finish his question.

“Barely alive Sir.”

Lance stripped off his own jacket and helped Mr. Collins wrap up D’Arcey. Nichols had never seen a live body look that blue nor feel this cold. “Get the whiskey out of my desk.” He ordered Collins. “Where's Adams?”

“Here sir!” Came Adam’s reply, echoing up from inside the tank’s crawlspace. Mr. Adam’s head popped up through the hatch door. He too resembled a drowned rat. “I think I got them all.” He said as he dumped a pile of cloth through the hatch door. “I didn’t think I would get his shoes loose but there they are, both of them.” Mr. Adams climbed all the way out of the hatch and shivered. “It’s bloody cold down there, I don’t know how D’Arcey survived. Clever chap though, stuffed his clothing in the intake pipe.”

Nichols nodded so that's why they couldn’t flood the aft tank immediately. He wondered if he would have had the foresight to do what D’Arcey had done? The man was a born engineer. If the tank had filled he would have drowned. “Go get dry Sir.” Nichols directed Adams. “And on your way out call Mac and tell him it is an emergency and to meet us in D’Arcey’s quarters.”

Mr. Adams trotted down the steps passing Collins on the way back up from the Auxilary bridge. “Here you are Sir.” Collins said and handed the bottle to Nichols.

“Good, now Collins please help me roll him on his side, we need to be sure his lungs are clear before we try to move him.”

They rolled D’Arcey over and Nichols pounded him on the back. Seconds later the man began coughing and sputtering. Nichols continued to pound until he vomited up quite a bit of water. When Nichols was satisfied at D’Arcey’s progress he rolled him back over and cradled his head in his lap. The chief engineer slowly dribbled a bit of the whiskey into D’Arcey’s mouth. This caused a new spate of coughing but at least his color was better and his breathing more even.

Nichols and Collins managed to carry the unconscious man to his quarters. McPherson was already there with his black bag when they arrived. Without a word the ship’s doctor began examining D’Arcey.

“Extreme hypothermia, lung congestion and...oh.” McPherson muttered.

“What do you mean by ‘oh’ Mac?” Nichols asked quietly.

Without looking up the doctor replied, “He’s taken a nasty blow to the back of the head. I will need extra blankets and every hot water bottle on the ship filled and brought here immediately.” Without bothering to remove the coats D’Arcey was wrapped in Mac pulled up the blankets on D’Arcey’s bunk and covered him. He stood up and pulled the blanket off of Wallace’s bunk and wrapped that around D’Arcey as well. Nichols and Collins left the room hurriedly to fulfill Mac’s request.

“Mr. Nichols?” Edward Collins asked. “How do you suppose Mr. D’Arcey got in that tank Sir? It latches on the outside.”

“I know. It was foul play, I’m sure of it.” Lance sighed. “Get Tanner to help you with the water bottles and blankets. I’ve got to report this to the Captain.”

“Aye Sir.”

“And Ed, until we know for certain who did this, watch your back man.”

“Probably not necessary Sir. I think it was Wright that done it. Or maybe old Dortsman but I doubt that. Either way it looks like I’ve got me a personal score to settle when we catch the bastards.”

Lance clapped Collins on the shoulder. “As do I lad, as do I.”

Jerard paced the bridge. The logical part of his brain kept telling him that he had almost all of the pieces to this puzzle except one...the
why
. He badly needed to talk to Carstares or Tash. “Damn.” He swore softly.

“Jones to bridge, Jones to bridge.” The speaking grill spat into the silence.

Jerard leaped to Jones’ desk and pressed the toggle switch. “Bridge here.”

“I'm in the dorsal observatory sir, I’ve spotted the HLC through the telescope Captain. If we adjust course five degrees north by northwest we’ll be right over her in about five minutes.”

“Thank you Mr. Jones. You may return to your station.”

“Yes Sir, Jones out.”

“Course correction Mr. Wallace.”

“Aye Captain. I’m already shifting ‘er.”

“Let’s also begin bringing her down Sir. We need to get low enough to get the vehicle cradle to the HLC.”

After a few minutes Fred called out from the forward bubble. “I’ve now got them too Captain! And Gopal has seen us Sir, he seems to be making his way back to the HLC.”

“Captain?” Nichols said as he entered the bridge just after Mr. Jones.

“Yes Mr. Nichols?” Jerard replied absently, he had moved to the front of the gondola and was trying to spot the HLC without a telescope.

Lance sat down heavily in the engineer’s chair. “We’ve found D'Arcey Sir. He’s in a bad way, I believe he has been attacked.”

“What?” Jerard said tearing his attention away from the ground to stare at Nichols.

“He’s unconscious Sir. Mac is with him at the moment. He was apparently knocked over the head and stuffed in the ballast tank.
He
was the reason we couldn’t shift the water.”

“Good god!”

“My sentiments exactly Sir. Mac is going to call us the minute he wakes up”

“Did this happen in the attack this morning? No, wait, D'Arcey was already missing this morning...” Jerard trailed off frowning, he was remembering a much earlier conversation between himself and Carstares. The conversation where they theorized that someone on board must be reporting their whereabouts. “Wright and Dortsman, the newest crew members.” He said out loud as a few more puzzle pieces clicked into place.

Nichols nodded. “That’s what I think as well. But...Dortsman? I can’t imagine such a simple fellow could be involved in this kind of thing.”

“Me either but I have now have even more suspicions about that pair.”

“How’s that Sir?” Nichols replied.

Jerard went on to recount his visit from Von Ulric the previous night. He left nothing out and even told of the tragedy of Rüerburg. Nichols, Wallace and Jones were silent while Fred offered a comment or two having been present at the time.

When he had finished the tale Nichols said, “You think it was Wright that set both bombs.”

Wallace said, “It weren’t no accident that killed Captain Mather, was it?”

“No lad,” Nichols said gently. “I’ve suspected all along it was something like this but I did not have the knowledge of these things. I am now thanking God that Miss Tash had the foresight to show the bits to the Captain here.”

“An now tha bastard that did this has Miss Tash.” The young Scotsman said. The anger flowed from his voice and posture and became a living thing. It seem to swirl around the room and touch each man, feeding their own sense of anger and frustration.

The silent spell was broken by a soft chime. Wallace turned back to his console and announced, “We’re at height Sir.” His voice had returned to a neutral tone that was somehow more frightening that the previous one of anger.

“Wind speed and direction Mr. Wallace?” Jerard inquired, his tone too devoid of emotion.

“Wind speed four n’ a half knots, direction from south west.”

“Target vehicle acquired Captain.” Fred said, the normal jaunty lilt was missing from his voice also. “270 degrees, direction North by northwest.”

“Mr. Wallace?”

“Adjusting position, Captain. Engines to station keeping,.”

“Please have your crew lower the vehicle cradle Mr. Nichols.”

Time has a funny way of distorting itself Jerard thought as he looked at his pocket watch yet again. Only two minutes had passed since the confirmation that the vehicle was secure in the cradle, and was being winched up once more. Patience man, he told himself. Gopal will be here to report when he gets here and not before. Still, the ability to wait calmly upon anything had never been a strong talent in Jerard’s book. And it was never so apparent as it was at this moment. He forced himself to stay seated at his station and to project the calm confidence that he knew a Captain should. He thought it might be working, a little at least, as the crew seemed calmer and more focused on the task at hand.