The Hidden Man: A Phineas Starblower Adventure (Phineas Starblower Adventures) (21 page)

Sending this via Serpentine in London, he shall remain our relay given our new situations..

Be patient.

Marquise

The coded words were deeply buried but even if “Jade” missed them “Alabaster” would not. Until such time as they were all together again Marquise disciplined himself to think of his subordinates only by their assigned code names. A slip at the wrong moment in the spoken or written word could lead to his audacious scheme unraveling. He would not allow such a slip.

Folding the message in half Marquise handed the note to the waiting courier. “Send it at the soonest opportunity!” he commanded.

With a simple nod the Scotsman took the proffered note and let his half bow hide his grimace of contempt for the foreign devil ordering him about like a serf.

Dismissing the man, Marquise strode off to the waiting docks. It was ignominious to be ousted from his comfortable retreat in Edinburgh. But Jades note had left him little choice. The Amerie was already on its way with his missive to “Gold”. With just a trifle of luck this unexpected hastening of his plans might work to his further advantage.

Stroking his mustache he smiled cruelly. To
such advantage
if he could but capitalize upon it! He would give them their desire and in such a way that left no option but to exalt him further in the ranks - or be shamed by subsequent events. Yes the Marshal would be most pleased, right up until he also realized that he was exactly where Marquise wanted him to be as well.

He and his companions would race ahead to the rendezvous, provided the Amerie did her part. And then, he would play the British like a fish on a line.

Jerard was studying the airship logs in his cabin. He had just reached up to switch off the lamp, realizing that the dawn light streaming through the port window was enough to read by when Mr. Jones’ voice crackled over the speaking grill.

“Ground crew reports fueling complete Captain.”

Jerard fumbled for the “acknowledge button” by the grill. He was still not confidant enough to use the contraption in its talking mode. This was all that they had been waiting for he thought as he reviewed his mental check-list. All of the repairs had been completed last evening along with the loading of stores and extra parts. He and Nichols had reviewed the duty rosters an hour ago when he had also been informed that Miss Smythe-Harris and Colonel Carstares were tucked safely in their beds. Time to go he thought.

Jerard dropped the red cloth bookmark into the ship’s log to mark his place then carefully replaced the volume in the cabinet of his small writing desk. Getting up he retrieved his new hat from the back of the door and strode out into the central corridor and headed for the bridge.

The new cap fit perfectly and not for the first time he wondered at Smythe-Harris’ efficiency. To his great surprise and delight an entourage of tailors and seamstresses had arrived at his cabin last night as he was dressing for dinner. They brought with them five ship’s uniforms, complete with shirts and ties, hats and shoes in various sizes. Well no, that’s not right he thought, only the shoes were in different sizes. The tailors began taking their measurements, making little notes and smiling all the wile. When Jerard had asked them what was so amusing they had told him that Miss Smythe-Harris had guessed as to his measurements. She had been correct down to a quarter of an inch and the tailors were pleased that the adjustments to the uniforms would take less than half an hour. She had been less sure about the shoes. Therefore she had the group bring one pair smaller and one pair larger than her estimate. Of course her original estimation had been spot on. Even the bracers were perfect and needed no adjustment. As Jerard pulled back the separating curtain to enter the bridge another though occurred to him. She must have spent a great deal of time looking at him in order to estimate his measurements that closely. Jerard was not even aware of the happy smile that lit his face as this thought occurred.

The crew were already there standing by as he strode into the control gondola. Seeing Fred hunched over the chart desk made him smile for a second as he took his place in the captain’s chair. “All right gentlemen this is it, let’s take her up by the numbers!” He declared. “Mr. D'Arcey?”

“Oui Captain, ballast reads level, fuel at 100%, gas pressure green on all cells. Starting engines now Sir,” the Frenchman rapped out as he toggled a control on his board. For a single second nothing happened, then a low throbbing began to gently vibrate the ship as the main Wolsey engines sprang to life.

“Signal the ground crews to stand clear.” Phillips said.

Jones engaged a switch on his panel and a series of amber lights began to pulse around the ship’s lateral line. Glancing out of the windows Phillips could see Beardmore’s ground crews releasing the guy ropes from the concrete bollards set around the docking tower. When the last rope was hanging limp Jerard added, “Signal the tower we are good to cast off.”

“Inchinnan tower we are ready to release.” Jones pronounced slowly and clearly into the speaking grill as he moved the signal switches to green. Up on the steel docking tower a ground crewman responded by unclasping the Discretion's primary mooring hawser. As the rope fell limp the ship stirred slightly, once again she was free of mother earth.

“Engage rotors Mr. D’Arcey. Mr. Wallace you have control, bring us about 15 degrees then take us up at your discretion.” Phillips ordered, feeling the great ship come alive under him.

Little jets of steam vented into the Scottish air as the as the winching motors wound the guy lines home. The sight fascinated Jerard; so much aboard this wonderful craft was automated. Truly she was a miracle of the air he mused. Jerard sat back as Mr. Wallace angled the bow of the graceful ship upwards and rang for one quarter power. Slowly the props took the ascending ship up to about 12 knots against the gentle headwind.

“Take us up to a thousand feet if you please, Mr. Wallace.” Phillips said as he vacated the comfortable chair and moved down into the forward bubble. “Well Fred, have you a course for us?” He questioned his new “old” navigator.

“Yessir, ‘bout 400 miles that-a-way.” Frederick Randal drawled pointing straight ahead but not looking up from his plotting board.

“Excellent Fred, precise as ever. Remind me again why you’re here?”

“I’m not certain on that one myself Captain, must be my natural charm. Here’s your course Sir.” The newly commissioned navigator held up a slip of paper, with coordinates and distances upon it. Jerard realized that Mr. Randal was also wearing a uniform, my, my, those tailors were busy last night! Jerard wondered if they had to start from scratch for Fred’s uniforms.

“Thank you so very much Mr. Randal.” Phillips replied feeling any remaining nerves vanish under Fred’s impudent humor. “46 degrees northeast please Mr. Wallace, bring us to cruise speed as soon as we hit a thousand feet.”

“Aye Sir,” the pilot called from behind him.

“Excellent. Maintain that heading for an hour then we’ll go up a bit higher I think. I’ve never seen the Cairngorm Mountains before and frankly I can’t think of a better way to do it than from above, eh Gentlemen?” He offered to the bridge in general.

“Why not go all out Captain Phillips?” Carstares’ voice rang out from the back “This isn’t a sightseeing trip, Sir.” The man declaimed dourly.

Looking around Jerard saw that Miss Smythe-Harris had also joined them on the bridge. The crisp retort he had in mind was suddenly checked by his good manners at the lady’s presence. Jerard was not used to having his orders queried any more than he was used to seeing a woman on the bridge. Such were the perils of a private aircraft it seemed.

“If you mean why not travel at full speed all time Sir. Then I can think of several reasons.” He replied only a little curtly as Carstares joined him forward. “Fuel, for an example; I consider it more efficient to travel in one single trip than refueling at Aberdeen. I further consider it imprudent to cross the North Sea without sizable reserves, which would be eaten into should we take the engines up to their threshold for extended periods, Sir. Sometimes the race is not to the swift nor the battle to the strong, but wisdom is known in her children,” he finished only slightly misquoting the Scriptures.

“I’d feel more comfortable if we were
also
the swift Mr. Phillips.”

“Perhaps we can oblige you a little Colonel Carstares. How's the height Mr. Wallace?”

“One thousand feet and steady Sir”

“Good level off and brace for acceleration. Mr. D’Arcey engage the auxiliary engine at your discretion.”

“Oui, Captain” The Engineer said and bent over his controls. From the belly of the ship a slight hiss and shuddering vibration began to increase as the secondary Armstrong Klein engine spun up to boost speed. “Fifty knots... fifty five... sixty....”

“Hold at sixty Mr. D'Arcey and cut back when boost reserves are at 20%.” Jerard turned to Carstares, “There Sir we shall be cruising at that speed for twenty minutes or so to satisfy your sense of urgency, but for the record, while you may command the mission overall. May I remind you that the command and disposition of this ship has been given to
me
. Tell me what you need and my crew and I will accomplish it for you but in the most safe and efficient way
I deem practical
.”

As the ship vibrated with the boosted power Carstares nodded appreciatively. “As you say Captain. Forgive me I did not mean to imply you and your fine officers did not know their tasks. It’s just that this whole business has been one unmitigated string of frustrations thus far.”

As the man hadn’t pressed his point Jerard was inclined to feel generous “I can imagine that Sir, well this is the last time we shall be chasing our quarry’s tail I can assure you.” Looking over Randal’s navigational notes he added. “We should hit Stavanger in about six hours.” And that’s without straining either man or machine he added inwardly.

Carstares closed his eyes in thought for a second. “That should put us ahead of their sailing vessel by three to five hours. Assuming Mansfield's figures were accurate.”

The Colonel still looked worried at that estimate but Phillips wasn’t about to promise him more speed just yet. Fortunately Miss Smythe-Harris caught the Colonel’s look as well and prevented further debate amidst the bridge crew. “Perhaps we should discuss what happens upon our arrival in the passenger lounge gentlemen?”

“Miss Smythe-Harris is correct Captain, we will need to sit down and discuss our options.” Carstares admitted as he looked out the window at the Scottish countryside drifting by below them. “Oh by the way Captain, the nearer mountain range to us is the Grampians, the Cairngorms are somewhat further north.”

“I see. Thank you for that Colonel. As for our discussion, you go on ahead Sir, Ma’am.” Phillips demurred. “I need to be here, for a while at least.”

“Of course Captain, you have a ship to run after all.” Miss Smythe-Harris added obviously in support of Jerard.

Jerard wanted to cheer, the woman clearly didn’t care for the Colonel’s attitude either. Tipping his hat to Miss Smythe-Harris he sat back on his stool and began to make notes in the flight log.

An hour or so later Jerard made his way to the lounge on ‘B’ deck. The mountains were swathed in mist and while picturesque not quite the sight he had hoped for. Before leaving the bridge he had taken the Discretion up to two and a half thousand feet and stayed while the gas pressure equalized from the reduced air pressure. Mr. D’Arcey had reported that the Discretion had vented about 4% hydrogen and was flying sweet and stable.

The door to the lounge was open when he arrived. Miss Smythe-Harris and Colonel Carstares were sitting by the window both heads bent over a large chess board. The Indian manservant, Gopal, rose and made a slight bow to Jerard.

“May I offer you tea Captain Phillips?”

“You’re very kind Gopal, yes, yes thank you.” Neither Carstares or Miss Smythe-Harris had so much as glanced up at his arrival, so he added sotto vocce to Gopal: “So, who’s winning over there?”

“Alas Sir, I have not been paying enough attention to the game to be certain. I believe Miss Smythe-Harris may have the upper hand and I suspect the good Colonel may be discovering that as well Captain.” Gopal handed him a china teacup with some exquisitely made Assam swirling gently within it.

With a nod of thanks and a grin of appreciation for the Indian’s understated candor Jerard strolled to the site of the battle and pulled up a chair. He was near enough to watch the game yet not so near as to be considered a rude interruption. Sipping his tea he studied the board first and, then the people playing at it. The good Colonel was a study in intense concentration, a slight furrow upon his brow marked a man taking things quite seriously. Miss Smythe-Harris on the other hand was as unreadable as an alabaster statuette. Finally Carstares glanced in his direction and moved his bishop.

“Are you sure about that Colonel?” Miss Smythe-Harris said gently as the piece came to rest in its new station. Phillips hunched forward to observe the new configuration on the board, while the Colonel’s fingers froze just shy of releasing the chess piece.

“I think she’s got you old boy.” Jerard commented, mentally plotting the next few likely moves out in his head. “Mate in four I think.” he concluded.

“Three.” Miss Smythe-Harris corrected with deceptive sweetness.

Reluctantly Carstares dragged the Bishop back to its starting position and sat back staring at his dainty looking opponent, then at the sanguine Phillips. “Hrummph, perhaps we could adjourn this game Miss Smythe-Harris till later as the good Captain is now with us.”

“Certainly,” Tash replied sitting back and flashing Carstares a charming smile. “So how are we doing Captain?” She asked addressing Phillips directly for the first time.

“We’re well under way Ma’am. We’ve just passed over Perth now and in less than two hours we’ll leave Scotland at Stonehaven and be over the Sea.”