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Authors: Jeffrey Cook,Sarah Symonds

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BOOK: Dawn of Steam: Gods of the Sun
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Twice more, we came upon York's mercenaries, and each time, the small group was dispatched before they were able to raise an alarm. We came at last to where they had tethered their airship, though the ladder had been taken up. There were two guards out in this open area, so we had to be most careful. After brief and quiet discussion, Eddy found himself a covered spot where he might open fire should anyone take notice of the efforts, and I moved to at least be prepared to hand him his second rifle, or help with covering fire should he need it.

Miss Bowe moved to one of the thick ropes, waiting until the patrolling men were not looking her way, then made a short dash before beginning to climb the unknotted rope. She used only her arms, for trying to get a foothold might have taken too long. She was above their line of sight in a second, continuing to climb rapidly towards their airship, that she might search it for Sir James, while we covered her.
I regretted that we could not have more backup, but by this point we had distinctly determined from the terrain that Miss Coltrane indeed would face only disaster as the ground collapsed beneath her. Sending for the others would have been a detriment. It had taken Eddy a little while to realize that for certain. He'd cursed a little that James would have known.

A long and nervous time followed, Eddy's finger resting on the trigger, the both of us staying as still as we could, lest we draw some attention to ourselves. Were it not for the occasional blink, Eddy may as well have been a rock. I am certain I was not nearly so disciplined, though I tried not to shift about, nervous as I was.

A shot came from the dirigible above us, followed by cursing. Miss Bowe raced from one of the doorways and leaped free from the body of the dirigible. At first I thought for sure she would fall short and fall to Earth, but she caught one of the securing ropes and immediately began to ascend up to the balloon. People quickly gathered, and guns were aimed upward, but someone was observant and had wits enough about him to insist that they not shoot, lest they damage their own craft and strand them all there, or drop the aircraft. The Spaniard followed next from the craft and leaped with only the slightest hesitation, using his whip to extend his reach, curling it about one of the ropes and swinging to it. Then the weapon was returned to his belt, and he climbed after her.

With none of their troops able to shoot, and the pair of us unwilling to do so, we were all treated to a most impressive display of the pair of acrobats leaping, climbing and swinging among the rigging and securing ropes. He almost caught up with her a time or two, and she would cut a rope and swing to a new place. At last, she reached the top, or close enough to race along the edge towards the rope he was still climbing. She cut it through, but it was thick enough that it took time enough that her opponent was able to once again catch another hold, swinging over to another rope and finishing his climb.

Urged on by their leaders, more men finally began trying to climb up the ropes towards the pair. By comparison, they looked slow and clumsy. Indeed, one did not make it at all, losing his grip and going sliding back down the rope until reflex made him let go to free his burning hands. I do not know if he survived the fall, but his failure – and his screams on the way down – discouraged many others from trying to follow.

At the edge of the balloon, barely within our sight, the Spaniard reached the top and drew his sword. Miss Bowe engaged him with her knife, and the pair dashed back and forth along the unsteady surface, trying to make each other take a fatal misstep. More men gathered, including York at last. Eddy almost fired, but held his shot, knowing that it would have been a suicidal move at that point.

After some bit of time watching the display above, I noticed the pair seemed to be talking while they fought, though I could not hear them. This would be odd enough, considering Sam Bowe's usual focus at these times. Stranger still, the Spaniard suddenly switched from holding his blade in a left-handed grip to his right, then readied to continue. Miss Bowe replied and drew a second knife, wielding one blade in each hand.

York shouted, and a ladder was dropped from the dirigible. He began to climb first, and again, Eddy tensed, but did not fire. Too many guns were still upon us. Pushing
away other men, the Irishman followed York. We did not see any other of his command staff. Others began to ascend as well. As soon as he reached the top, York shouted a command, and riflemen put their heads out the windows, aimed, and fired. I believe one of them hit their own men below, but most of them hit their targets, weights on the securing ropes. Somewhere along the line, they had been filled with black powder or some such substance, and the ropes were suddenly released, much to the surprise of the people still below.

As the ship began to rise with far fewer mercenaries, York looked below and pointed to our location. Eddy cursed and took his shot at last. York ducked back just in time, and Eddy says his bullet impacted the doorway instead. My own eyes were not sufficient to the task of seeing what he had or had not hit. The Irishman pulled himself up and began pulling the ladder up, even with men still on it. Much as he would have doubtless preferred to have shot York's commanders, Eddy was forced to take his second shot upon the first of the mercenaries to rush our position.

I had time enough, still having been mostly aware of the rapid-paced fight above, to see Miss Bowe launch herself backwards off of the top of the craft, now aware that if she continued her fight to its conclusion, she would be too far away to escape the flying craft at all. She caught a trailing rope between her feet and with her knives so she would not injure her hands. Though it did not slow her much, it was enough to control her descent until she dropped off the end of the rope some six meters above the ground, at my best guess, using one of the mercenaries to cushion her fall.

I lost track of her then, having to defend myself, firing upon the men coming our way as they divided their numbers, seeming as surprised as we were. Shots rang all around us, as Eddy, calm as I have ever seen him, shot down one man, turned the hand crank, aimed, and shot down another. I emptied my barrels and, out of ammunition, unslung Eddy's second rifle, which was on my back for just this reason. When he emptied his last shot, I quickly handed it over that there would be as little delay in firing as possible. I borrowed the second pepper-box pistol off of his belt, having only these shots, and a single flintlock pistol besides, between me and the mob.

I never got a chance to draw my emergency weapon before they were upon us. I was shot in the left shoulder and fell backwards. Eddy was forced to use his beloved rifle as a club, splintering the butt of the rifle on a man's head before firing his final rifle shot standing and with no time to aim.

I
at last managed to draw my flintlock pistol and shoot down the man who had hit me just as he was finishing reloading his musket, which clattered down near me. Desperately, I grabbed for it and fired, hoping for the best. It shot down a man before he could fire at Eddy, as he engaged a final two figures with a bare hand and a damaged rifle. These two were all that was left by the time we were forced to such desperate circumstances – or Eddy was, for I was quite useless by this point. Their remaining companions had fled. Between Eddy's accuracy and my luck, they most likely had decided we must have greater numbers than we did.

Though he gained a burn across one shoulder from a pistol going off too near him, and he still has some trouble hearing from his right ear, Eddy successfully put down these last, as Miss Bowe emerged from her own knot of downed mercenaries. She told us the bad news – Sir James had been aboard, but it had always been a trap, and they had been entirely prepared for our rescue attempt. We could not be certain how long those who had fled would stay away before courage returned to them, so Eddy picked me up, and we fled as quickly as possible under the circumstances, with nothing more to be gained there, and rejoined Miss Penn.

Climbing back down the rope turned out to be quite the affair, and at last they had to tie it securely around me and lower me to the ground, but we were out of the camp and into some kind of cover once more. At Miss Bowe's urging, we went to the nearest village then, and she talked them into giving Miss Penn and myself shelter before she and Eddy, as they put it, “went hunting.”

While they were out, the village's doctor was summoned, and I was given both very strong drink and a belt to bite down upon while he set to removing the musket ball from my shoulder. Four villagers came to assist, mostly in keeping me still while he worked. I have been shot at many times, but never before shot. The removal was the most excruciating moment of my life, worse by a wide margin over being shot in the first place. He at last retrieved the ball and then patched me up as best he could. Thankfully, the wound was not so serious as it easily could have been, but my arm will be in recovery for some time.

Eddy and Miss Bowe returned sometime after I had slept for a while, and then we got an accounting of what had happened. Sir James was in a small room, tied still, and looked the worse for wear. There was some gathering around him, including the Spaniard, the bookish woman with her cat, and the Moroccan.

Though she swears
that she made no noise, the Moroccan looked up at her, as if expecting her then, and raised the alarm. Before fleeing, she ducked into their charting room, fighting the Spaniard and killing one of the mercenaries on guard as she went. Then she left their ship, as we saw. She believes they are next headed for the strange island of New Zealand, which the French have some charts of, but England's contact has been limited. It is said the land is full of strange and violent savages, and Miss Bowe has not yet denied this.

If they had expected us, however, worry rose that our companions might then be in serious trouble. The two of us still fit to fight went back to check on our company, while Miss Penn has stayed here with me and the villagers in the shadow of what the locals call the sacred city of Machu Picchu.

March 14th, 1816

Peru

13º09' S 72º32'18 W

 

To the Esteemed Gentlemen of the Royal Explorers’ Society

Dear Sirs,

 

We have now stayed a few days with the natives of this
place. In that time, we learned that York killed the Spanish officials in charge of this valley. The locals have no quarrel with us as their masters might have, and so far they have largely welcomed Miss Bowe. Their elders even seem quite pleased to speak with her. She must have been quite small when last she was here, but they certainly know the Bowe name.

They have been reasonably hospitable, though I must warn anyone who would come after us that they are quite protective of the city above us. It is most assuredly not any sort of City of Gold. They are not hoarding treasure, as outsiders might think, but the relics of their history. The people's vigilance and the remote and inacce
ssible location have kept some artifacts of their past relatively intact for such an ancient place. York and his men have plundered it of some valuables, but our quick arrival seems to have prevented much of the looting and damage they might have done.

The Moroccan among York's number concerns me greatly, for the men we have captured and questioned have affirmed that he had predicted when we would be arriving and roughly where we would be most likely to set down. This was insightful enough that they caught those of our company who were not on the rescue mission unawares.

We had enough alert guards that our companions were able to raise a warning and get people to stations. The occasion forced people who were not typically combatants to take up muskets and defend the ship, but in the end, no one reached them, though in the process, the dirigible received extensive damage, which was likely the plan all along. We are now forced to remain here for a time to conduct repairs while York eludes us and moves on. Yesterday's preliminary test flight barely got the Dame Fortuna to this village. Much more work will be needed, and even then we must pray.

Based on her look in the kidnapper's charting room, Miss Bowe believes they are traveling next to New Zealand.
She and Miss Penn have supplied us some information on that place. The native people call themselves Maori and are very much accustomed to warring among themselves. English ships have visited that land before, and Captain James Cook mapped a great deal of it, but the nature and aggression of the people led most to deem it impractical to try to settle, especially once we were recalling all possible young men to defend our nation. The French seem to have extended their own colonial aims there, however, and Miss Bowe tells us that at least some of the Maori tribes can be expected to have old French and Dutch muskets.

It is anticipated that York may believe he has some inroad with one of these tribes and can fortify himself in a place where we are put at a severe disadvantage. He also certainly needs armed men to serve him again, for in laying believable ambush for us, he left behind many of his troops. At the very least, it guarantees he will not have to pay them, and it certainly inspired some of them to fight with desperation, realizing their escape was leaving them behind.

We will be leaving these men for the natives to deal with as they see fit, for it seems fitting someone should answer for the plunder of the ruins so valued by the locals, and we have little else to offer to them in trade. So far, they seem content with this. We also have trouble enough with the prisoner we still hold, who has agreed that New Zealand is a likely next stop for York and his men. We will give pursuit as soon as we are able, especially driven now that we are certain they are keeping Sir James alive, but we will be trapped here a time until we can make the needed repairs.

BOOK: Dawn of Steam: Gods of the Sun
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