The Hidden Man: A Phineas Starblower Adventure (Phineas Starblower Adventures) (23 page)

“If I had had my way Madam that is precisely what I would have done.” Carstares stated without rancor. “Politics however got in the way of that most rational proposal. It was felt that having members of Her Majesty’s armed forces land upon foreign soil and make what amounted to an illegal arrest would be more damaging to the Empires interests than the abduction of Dr. Nordstrom himself.”

“Seems to me you’re as much a victim of these circumstances as we are Colonel.” Phillips observed with a ghost of a smile to the harried looking man.

“Perhaps Sir, but the true victim here is Dr. Nordstrom. I will do whatever it takes to see him returned safely to his country, his family and…” Carstares looked Tash squarely in the eye “...his friends.”

“Lord Mansfield told you about that then?”

“Indeed Madam. He also told me that you were a headstrong young lady and that you were insisting on getting in our way. He indicated that your presence on this mission could well jeopardize our chances of success.”

“Oh?” Tash said, her eyes narrowed down to slits. “How so Sir?”

Jerard found himself gripping the arms of his chair. He had only known this lady for a few short days but he knew what that look meant and it was not good.

Carstares looked awkward. “I belive m'lord Mansfield was of the opinion that Ladies tend to affect a high emotional state, one that is not conducive to rational thinking. As you declined to leave this business to me alone, would it be better if you would remain in your cabin? That way you would not be distressed if a certain degree of force was required when we apprehend these fellows?” The man tried to put on a gentle smile and even reached out as if to pat Miss Smythe-Harris’ hand.

“Sandwiches?” Gopal suddenly intervened placing a plate of neatly sliced cucumber sandwiches down on the tea tray between Miss Smythe-Harris and the Colonel. Gopal had effectively cut off the Colonel’s gesture and any line of site between the lady and the Colonel.

Not for the first time Jerard thought the man had a gift for timing and admirably his innocuous action had somewhat defused the escalating mood of the discussion. Now the manservant’s eyes were on Jerard, he looked to be saying that it was now Jerard’s turn at diffusion. Jerard reached forward and accepted one of the sandwiches, as he did so he replied to Gopal’s look with a discrete nod. “I for one, welcome Miss Smythe-Harris’ presence and comments Colonel. I would like to point out that the lady is actually thinking a bit clearer than either one of us at the moment. This is evidenced in the way she opened up large holes in all of our plans with thoughtful questions and accurate observations.” Jerard paused, wishing Gopal would move so he could get a look at Smythe-Harris’ face to see if his words were helping. But it seemed the manservant was going to stay put until everyone was completely calm. “Besides Colonel, I think you may have already experienced Miss Smythe-Harris’ fine mind at work, as I recall she was beating you quite soundly at chess. A game you are aware is played in military circles to keep one’s mind sharp and to aid in tactical practice.”

Gopal moved out of the center of the group as quickly as he had entered. Jerard was gratified to see the thoughtful expression on the Colonel’s face and Miss Smythe-Harris’ warm appreciative smile. Jerard found himself enjoying that smile.

Tash daintily reached out to retrieve one of the sandwiches and as she sat back to eat it she caught Jerard’s eye. “Perhaps when I have finished with the Colonel here I can offer you a game Captain Phillips?” She inquired benevolently indicating the chessboard at the other end of the table. “I would welcome such a chance to match wits again with you Sir...”

Jerard took a bite of his sandwich, wondering what else the young woman was thinking. Jerard had done nothing but speak the truth in defending her from Carstares’ assumptions. Apparently that had been the correct action to take although it meant that her attention was back on him. Swallowing a bit he mutely nodded his assent, not sure how he really felt at the moment. The blasted woman continued to confuse him, one moment he wanted her attentions and in the very next he desired to run and hide.

Miss Smythe-Harris finished her sandwich and stood abruptly, forcing both of the ‘gentlemen’ to also rise. “I am going to have a quiet word with one or two stout fellows on the crew Colonel. Clearly there is no simple solution to this problem, once I have some idea of whom we can count upon I shall get back to you.”

Jerard and Carstares both gave small nodding bows of acknowledgment as Miss Smythe-Harris swept out of the room. Gopal quietly followed in her wake.

Carstares sipped his tea and looked at Phillips. “You seem to have quite a high regard for your employer Captain Phillips.”

“As I understand it she is but my employers’ secretary.” Jerard corrected gently, “but yes she is a phenomenon I had not thought to encounter.”

The twinkle in the older mans eye, made Jerard feel less at ease. He hadn’t meant to appear as slighting Miss Smythe-Harris it had just come out wrongly. He also hadn’t meant to call her a phenomenon either but it seems such an apt description.

“As we are alone Captain Phillips” Carstares began, “Perhaps I might inform you that the preponderance of ex-servicemen and merchant marine officers and crew serving on the Soul Of Discretion was a factor in Lord Mansfield’s desire to…ah…ahem…charter her services.”

Jerard considered this. “So Colonel you always realized it might come down to force in the worst case scenario?”

“Yes Captain I did. I didn’t wish to alarm Miss Smythe-Harris but kidnappers are by definition a callous lot. I take it I can count on you Sir as an officer and a gentleman to stand beside me if the worst happens?”

“I am no longer an officer of the crown Sir.” Jerard replied sadly, pained to be reminded of his former status.

Carstares looked at him calmly. “You are captain here Sir that makes you an officer, and from what I know of your family and your record I have no doubt that you are a gentleman as well, Sir.” Phillips saw the Colonel smile very slightly and Jerard felt his mood lighten at the man’s civil, nay honorable, tone of voice.

“I will do what needs to be done Colonel. Have no fear of that Sir,” Jerard sighed.

“Good man! Then take this and pray you don’t need to use it Sir” Carstares said as he slid a small pistol case across the edge of the chessboard towards Phillips.

Jerard took the weapon gravely. “Let us hope we are as lucky as you first hoped Colonel and find them on the high seas after all.” He commented downing the last of his tea. “I should get back to the bridge, Sir.”

Carstares nodded, and glanced at the chessboard. “And I will need to study this most carefully if I am to survive what Miss Smythe-Harris probably has in mind for me now Captain. Good day to you.”

The Soul of Discretion had been over the sea for about forty minutes. Phillips had finally managed to return to his cabin to finish his long delayed reading of the ships logs, when a polite knock on the door broke his concentration.

“Yes? Who is it?”

“McPherson Sir, I brought you a snack as it’s going to be a long day.”

Jerard sighed. He wasn’t hungry, but neither could he refuse a kind gesture; that’s just bad for morale. So with a little reluctance he replied. “Come in Mr. McPherson and thank you. Just leave it on the chest there would you?”

The under chef, slipped into the room with a tray and quietly deposited it on the chest at the foot of the captains bed. Then instead of conveniently going out again he paused, evidently waiting for the Captain’s acknowledgment.

Looking up from his logbook Phillips forced a smile at the weather-beaten Scot and mumbled. “Thank you, Donald wasn’t it? You’re very kind. Thinking he’d done his duty by the man Jerard again attempted to go back to his reading. But it was not yet to be.

“Your welcome Captain, and Sir, I’d eat it up quick mind; you’ll not have much chance to grab a bite later on.”

“Oh really? And why is that Donald?” Phillips replied still determinedly not looking up from his book.

“Storms comin’ up Sir, I feel it in my bones.” Replied McPherson and without a further word of explanation the man was gone.

“What?” Jerard said as he looked up in time to see the cabin door already closing. With a shake of his head he cast his eye out the portal, the sky was grey certainly but nothing looked threatening weather wise that he could see. With a shrug he went back to the late Captain Mather’s log entries, striving to get a feel for the man and his impressions of both crew and airship.

He struggled on for perhaps another quarter hour, doggedly scanning both Mather's lines of script and spooning mouthfuls of rather good thick soup between entries. But his concentration was now officially shot through. Whatever his motives McPherson had disturbed him with his cryptic weather warning. Oh well, time for a trip back to the bridge old boy he thought ruefully as the last of the Scotch Broth was consumed. Leaving the empty bowl on the utility shelf just outside his cabin door Jerard made his way back up the corridor and onto the bridge.

“Morning Gentlemen. What's our status?” He announced to the crew in general.

Only Wallace and D'Arcey were present at the time as the ship was well settled into her cruise. “All’s well Sir.” Wallace replied as he gazed ahead at the sea of gray-white cloud ahead of them.

“Mr. Jones is up in the observation bubble Sir,” D'Arcey added. “Keeping an eye on the weather through the long range telescope.”

Phillips squinted ahead over Wallace’s shoulder. “Yes its getting a little thick out there isn’t it gentlemen? Mr. Wallace, take us up another 500 feet but ever so gently so as not to disturb Miss Smythe-Harris’s tea.

“Aye, Sir.” The Scottish pilot acknowledged shifting the control yoke backwards ever so slightly.

Jerard moved to Jones’ station and stared at the orderly chaos of lights, wires, and other devices until he espied something he was familiar with: a speaking tube. Grasping the rubber pipe he spoke loudly into the flared mouth piece. “Mr Jones to the bridge, please. Thank you.” He was about to return to his own station when a light blinked on the communication board next to a brass plaque marked ‘D.O.B.’ Making a guess he toggled the switch next to the light and Jones’ voice choked its way out of the central speaker grill.

“Hello Bridge, Hello Bridge, Jones here how may I be of service?”

“Mr. D'Arcey how do you work this contraption?” Phillips asked perturbed.

“Switch the toggle all the way over when you reply Captain, then back to where you have it now to listen to his response,” the second engineer replied trying not to grin.

“What's it look like up there, Mr. Jones?”

“I’m not liking it Captain, usual sort of clouds and stuff for the most part, but there’s one big patch of cumulonimbus a few miles off our port side, that’ll be trouble Sir.”

“How high does it reach Sir? Best guess that is.”

“Oooh, has to be sixteen thousand feet Sir, no going over it if that's what you’re thinking Sir.”

“Would have made things easier yes,” Phillips agreed, “very well Sir finish up there and then round up the crew for me. Looks like we’re in for a bit of a blow. I’ll inform the passengers.”

Jerard toggled the switch to what he understood was the off position and turned back to Wallace. “Keep us going up gently William, if Jones is correct we can’t go over this one but hopefully nearer to the top there will be less rain. Mr. D'Arcey, keep a close eye on the gas pressure please. I want to bring her up as high as we can comfortably go, but I don’t want any of the lift bags stressed if we need to go high suddenly.”

Both men chorused “Aye Captain.” as Jerard left the bridge and headed for the stairwell to ‘B’ Deck. He arrived at the passenger lounge to discover that Miss Smythe-Harris and Colonel Carstares had resumed their game of chess.

Neither took any particular alarm at the news of foul weather ahead. Miss Smythe-Harris sighed over the chess board as if to say, ‘another delay to this game?’ while the Colonel fretted aloud about the possible delay of his mission. Jerard had no answers about either delay so he just shrugged and cautioned them to stay seated as much as possible. And if the weather really did get rough he asked them to retire to their cabins. Then he left. He had no desire to get caught up in general discussion when he would need all his attention at the helm.

Back in the bridge the whole command staff had reassembled. Jerard took his own seat as he got a good look at the ominous dark clouds to their port side. Not bothering to hide his grimace he questioned his pilot. “How's our height, Mr. Wallace?”

“10,000 feet Sir, our maximum cruise height.”

“I thought it was getting a bit chilly. Good enough Sir. Gas reserves Mr D'Arcey?”

“Eighty-nine percent, Captain. Lift bags are at one-hundred and five percent nominal pressure. We have another fifteen percent in tolerance, Captain.”

“Eighty-nine percent? Mr. D'Arcey, don’t you think….” Jerard stopped himself in time, he was about to criticize the man in front of his peers and that just would not do. Jerard felt that D'Arcey had been entirely too aggressive with venting the gas, while it was not a mistake per-se it could slow them down getting to Stavanger. Jerard changed tact and asked a question instead. “I guess I should ask if you agree with Mr. Jones, Sir. He is of the opinion that we will not be able to climb out of that cloud to get above the storm. I would hear your thoughts.”

“Oui, Captain, I do agree with Mr. Jones. That storm Sir, she is very ugly.” D'Arcey’s words were punctuated with a gust of wind that caused the ship to rock slightly.

“It seems that we all agree. So, at this point I would know all of our options, what's our gas reserve going to be if we take the Discretion all the way to her ceiling, Mr. D’Arcey”

For a split second the French engineer looked worried before turning away to consult his technical specifications. Jerard caught the look and was glad he had not continued with his criticism. The man just needs to relax just a bit, Jerard thought.