by Karen Garvin
“Professor Meade wants it, and that means we make it,” said Edward. His surly tone intimated that he wasn’t keen on answering questions, but Wilkins persisted and finally managed to coax the whole story from Edward.
“Sixty pounds of Hekatite in three months! Why, we haven’t produced that much in the two years we’ve been making it!”
Edward scowled and stopped suddenly, turning to face Wilkins. “Well, I need you to up production. Get the most you can from this lot, and give me the exact amount that’s in the reserves. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
Leaving the supervisor standing open-mouthed, Edward went back to his office and sent for the Hekate collectors. Palmer stole out the back door a few minutes before the men arrived, leaving Edward alone in the building for a few minutes. He took advantage of the quiet time and pulled out Samuel’s telegram, rereading the two short sentences and checking his calendar. Samuel had said nothing about his travel arrangements, but the date coincided with the date that Meade was scheduled to arrive. Was it just a coincidence?
Edward pushed the thought aside as men started to file into the office. His qualms about sending the men out again so soon vanished when he took in their expectant looks. The bonus money was doing the trick. No matter that they were tired and covered with welts from clearing the dense underbrush; they were more than ready to go out again. As he had done for the first week, Edward assigned the groups to specific areas, but this time he told them to start immediately and not wait until morning.
“What about food?”
“I’ll have it sent out to you,” said Edward. “Get a move on. It’s still early in the day and there’s no time to waste. We need every flower out there, and I do mean every single one! The quota is sixty pounds of Hekatite, and you brought in only enough flowers last time for maybe two pounds of it.”
“Two?” There were some jeers from the group, and the mood turned sullen. Edward regretted telling them about the quota; now they felt as though failure was more likely than success. He scratched an ear, biding for time, and wondered how he would get the men back on track. He couldn’t afford to pay a higher bonus than he’d already offered. That was a mistake, too. Never start too high.
“You can do it,” said Edward. “There are plenty of areas we’ve never explored. Just these few spots on the island are the ones that we’ve harvested.” He walked over to the wall, where he had hung the map, and pointed to a handful of areas that were mostly along the shore line.
“Yeah, but the rest of the island is hills,” complained one of the men. “And I don’t like hills.”
“Well, if you don’t want the job, I’ll get someone else. I’m sure there are other men who would like a bonus.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t work,” grumbled the man. “I just don’t like them hills.”
Edward looked at the men, meeting each one’s glance, and waited until they had quieted. “We need those plants, men, and I know you’re going to get them. So, let’s stop wasting time!”
Edward ushered the men from the office and pushed the door shut behind them.
“They don’t like it much, do they?” Palmer’s nasal voice cut through the sudden silence.
Edward nearly flinched. He controlled his emotions by sheer force of will and made himself turn slowly from the door. Palmer’s hideous face showed a half-smile that Edward wished he could wipe away. Instead, he nodded noncommittally and returned to his desk to catch up on paperwork.
***
For the next month Edward continued to press his “collection men” to gather as many orchids as they could. Each harvesting trip brought in a few more flowers than the one before, and Edward felt his confidence in the men rising. Still, there were only twenty men out harvesting. Edward would need a larger group to collect orchids if he were going to be able to make Meade’s quota. But no amount of cajoling so far had been sufficient to pry any more men away from the other jobs on Seacombe. In short, there were just not enough men here to do the job.
It was time to put more pressure on the scientists. Edward went to the laboratory, where he found Wilkins grinding up some plant material and preparing microscope slides.
“How is the refining process going?”
“Good morning to you, as well, Mr. Gray,” said Wilkins, not bothering to look up from his task.
Edward mumbled a belated greeting and repeated his question. Apparently Wilkins thought that Seacombe should operate like one of his fancy university clubs, but Edward was having none of it. The island was a difficult place and there was no time for observing ridiculous protocol. He knew that his reputation for getting to the point bordered on brusqueness, but Edward had never thought of himself as being rude. What was rude was wasting everyone else’s time with the frivolous trappings of high society.
“We need to push the production,” said Edward. “How can I help?”
“You? What do you know about science, or the refining process?”
“There’s no need to get yourself in a snit,” said Edward. “It doesn’t matter if I’m not a scientist. You need more hands to do the work, and I’m volunteering to help. Tell me what needs to be done to move this process along faster.”
Wilkins put down his slides and gave Edward a long, cold stare. “Well, I suppose you can help them sort the flowers. That doesn’t require any equipment other than gloves and I’m sure we can find you a pair.”
Edward waved his hand. “I don’t need gloves. I’m not some dandy.”
“You’ll regret that, Mr. Gray. The orchid sap is a mild irritant and it can cause a nasty rash. I would advise you to wear gloves when handling it.”
“Bah! Just show me what to do.”
Wilkins led Edward to the back room and called over an assistant. “Daniel, Mr. Gray is going to help us sort the flowers. Show him what needs to be done, please.”
“Yes, sir.” Daniel led Edward over to a desk where there was a large screen covered with dried orchids. The assistant showed Edward how to pull the flowers apart and dispose of the petals to reveal the small, swollen pod at the base of each orchid. “This is what we’re keeping, Mr. Gray. You can toss the flower petals into this rubbish bin because we don’t need them. Separate the pods and put them into this container.”
“That’s all you’re doing?”
“Yes, that’s all. For now, anyway.” The man ventured a smile, but when Edward didn’t acknowledge him, he turned serious. “I’m working just over here, so if you need anything, just ask.”
“I’m sure I can do this,” grumbled Edward. He wasn’t sure if he ought to be insulted by the demeaning work that Wilkins had assigned him to, or whether he should be glad that the task was no more demanding than pulling off a few flower petals and throwing them away.
In any case, Edward got methodically to work and within a few minutes had cleared half of the bottom row of his tray. By the middle of the afternoon he had cleared the screen and was ready for something else to do.
Wilkins came into the back room to check on the progress and saw Edward standing idle.
“All done?”
“Yes. What else is there to do?”
“Well, the next stage is where we extract the sap from the pods.” He stared at Edward’s hands.
Edward looked down, too. His hands looked chapped, and he rubbed them self-consciously. “What’s wrong, Mr. Wilkins?”
“You didn’t use the gloves I gave you?”
“No, I’m fine. Let’s get on with this, shall we? We’re wasting time.”
Wilkins took a deep breath and led Edward into another room. He hadn’t been this far into the laboratory so far, and the area was all new to him. Edward looked around with interest, taking in the exotic-looking equipment lined up on the tables. Several black boxes were connected to steam pipes that ran up into the ceiling. At some point he’d have to ask Wilkins to explain what all the machines did.
They stopped at a table laden with neat rows of glass jars in a black metal sta
nd. To the left of the jars was a wooden tray holding piles of the orchid pods.
“These pods are where the sap is produced, as you know,” said Wilkins. “What we do here is cut them open and scrape out the sap into these glass containers. It’s pretty messy. Are you sure you don’t want the gloves?”
“I tell you, I don’t like gloves. They never fit properly and I can’t feel anything when I’m wearing them. If you want me to handle glass containers then I think I’d be better off if I can tell when I’m holding something, don’t you?”
Wilkins took a step back, stung by the force of Edward’s words. “Well, if you feel that strongly about it, then I won’t pressure you to wear them. But I can’t caution you too much that you should avoid touching the sap directly.”
“Show me what to do.”
Wilkins made a show of putting on a pair of thick suede gloves with wide cuffs. He picked up a knife and sliced one of the green pods in half, holding it up so Edward could see the dark maroon flesh inside.
“You said it was sap,” said Edward. “I expected something that flowed like honey.”
“Yes, I know. It’s a bit of a misnomer, but the term has stuck.” Wilkins put down the knife and picked up a small spatula that looked like half a spoon. He dug into the flesh of the pod and expertly scooped out the pulp. “This is similar to the pulp of a squash plant. It’s sticky like honey, but it’s much thicker, as you can see. It’s actually rather like wet cement in texture.”
“Hmm. Show me again how to do that.”
Wilkins cut and cored another pod, showing Edward how to flick the pulp into the glass jars. Edward was keen to take over, so Wilkins relinquished the gloves and went back to the front laboratory. As soon as he was gone, Edward pushed the gloves aside and started cutting up the little globes. He thought that cutting them all first and then scooping out the insides would be a time-saving task, so he sliced them up and then picked up the spatula. Halfway through the tray full of pods, he dropped one of them on the floor. As he reached down to pick it up his hand came down on the cut side, his fingers digging into the pulp.
It felt squishy, and oddly warm to his touch. Edward pulled his hand back in surprise and the sudden movement made the green globe roll under the table. Cursing to himself, Edward knelt down and groped for it. This time he was prepared for the odd sensation and didn’t let it bother him. He continued working until the tray was empty, then went in search of Wilkins.
“Done so soon?” Wilkins seemed genuinely surprised when Edward came out of the back laboratory.
“Yes, I’m done. What now?” Edward clasped his hands behind his back and stood at ease. But his hands were aching, and a burning sensation in his fingertips made it very difficult not to fidget.
Wilkins narrowed his eyes, apparently sensing his discomfort. “Any problems?”
“No.”
“Very well, Mr. Gray. I think that will be all for today. One of my assistants will take over. The next step is cooking the sap and that is best left to my men. No offense intended, sir.”
Edward pursed his lips. If he thought that Wilkins was being insulting he’d rightfully be angry enough to complain to Meade. But Wilkins was probably right. Helping out with odd tasks was one thing, but he’d heard that the cooking part of the refining process was very tricky. He didn’t want to risk ruining an entire batch of Hekatite because of his ego. Besides, he could afford to be understanding.
Taking his leave of the laboratory, Edward went home and scrubbed his hands. They were red and chapped where he’d come into contact with the Hekate sap. Well, he could endure a rash, but the burning was unlike anything he’d encountered before. No matter; he’d work through the pain the same way that he worked through everything, with grit and determination and a little bit of good luck.
Checking to make that sure the door was locked, Edward pulled a hidden flask from behind his dresser. His hands ached with pain and he could barely flex his fingers to unstop the flask, but he managed to pry it loose and pour himself a draft. With a sigh, Edward settled into the chair next to his bed.
It was going to be a long night.
* * *
Two weeks later the ship arrived from London. Edward was in the back of the laboratory helping to sort the dried Hekate orchids from the freshly picked ones. His head ached abominably but he couldn’t stop work. Not now. They were close to meeting the quota and now that Meade’s ship was docking he couldn’t spare a minute in getting the last batch of flowers into the refinery.
Edward hunched over the table, biting his lip to avoid groaning as the pounding in his head worsened. It was a good thing that the rest of the men were in the other room. He couldn’t let them see him like this. Swearing softly, Edward grasped the edge of the table and forced himself to stand straight. Shooting pain radiated from his hands and up his arms and he broke out into a sweat. But he knew the attack would not last long.
Taking a handkerchief out of his pocket, Edward mopped his brow. At the sound of the door opening he turned.
“Uncle!” Samuel Gray strode confidently into the room.
“Samuel! It’s good to see you!” Edward held up his gloved hands as if to push Samuel away. “Sorry, I can’t shake your hand. I have the Hekatite sap all over me.”
But that didn’t stop Samuel. He looked at the brown streaks on Edward’s gloves and clasped the surly old man in a bear hug, careful to avoid Edward’s outstretched arms.
“Let me go,” grumbled Edward, wriggling out of the embrace.
Samuel laughed and clapped him on the back instead. “Still the same old Uncle Edward, I see.” He stepped aside as another man entered the room.
“Professor Meade,” said Edward.
Meade returned his greeting, but kept the courtesies to a minimum. His attention was riveted on the tray of orchids. “How much do we have?”
Edward chewed at his lip. “Not enough. The last count was forty-seven pounds. I have a few trays here to be refined.”
“And this lot will produce how much?”
“A pound, if we’re lucky,” said Edward. He knew it wasn’t what Meade wanted to hear, but it was the truth. And Meade was a stickler for accuracy.
Meade nodded and clasped his hands behind his back, wandering around the laboratory and looking at the equipment. Edward noticed that he made no move to touch anything. Samuel stood awkwardly to the side, looking between his uncle and the professor.
“Very well,” said Meade. “How long until we can produce the other thirteen pounds of fuel?”
“Three or four weeks,” said Edward, licking his lips.
“That long?”
“I’m afraid so, Professor. I have a team of men out scouring the island for orchids, but it’s taken longer to find flowers than I thought it would. Almost as if the damn things have stopped blooming now that we want them.”
Samuel grinned at his uncle’s joke, but one glance at Meade’s sour expression made his face fall. The professor was not amused by the lack of progress.
“Well, I can’t wait here for the rest of the fuel,” said Meade. “I need to get back to England and get the airship ready for the race. I’m going to have to take what you’ve gotten refined and pick up the rest once the race is underway.” He frowned. “I didn’t want to have to make a stopover during the race, but it looks as though I don’t have much choice.”
“The men are working as hard as they can,” said Edward. He didn’t want Meade to think they’d been slacking.
“I believe you. But it’s not enough.” Meade coughed quietly. “Very well, Mr. Gray, get your things packed and aboard ship by the end of the day. We’ll be sailing for London early tomorrow morning.”
“Me?” asked Edward. “Or are you talking to Samuel?”
“You, Edward. I need your expertise aboard the airship. The men here on Seacombe can refine the Hekatite without your help, can’t they?”
“Of course,” said Edward. “I’ve only been helping to expedite the schedule.”
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“Very well, then, it’s settled. Samuel, with me, please.”
Meade nodded curtly to Edward and exited the laboratory, Samuel trailing behind. Edward watched them go. As soon as the door shut he doubled over in pain. The Hekatite poisoning was getting worse. Perhaps the ocean voyage would clear his head and allow the blisters to heal. He wondered how he was going to hide the scars from Samuel, let alone the professor.
* * *
Edward left instructions with the laboratory aide and went to his office to clear out his desk. He’d known that his time working on Seacombe was not permanent, but he hadn’t expected Meade to offer him a berth aboard the airship during the race. Edward didn’t know if the flying would be something he could handle, but he’d made a bargain and now he had to uphold his end of it.
Palmer was at his desk when Edward arrived at the office. “Palmer, you’ll be glad to know that I’m leaving,” said Edward to the thin man’s back.
“What’s this, then?”
“I’m leaving,” said Edward. “Today.”
“They fired you because you didn’t produce enough fuel, is that it?”
Edward forced a chuckle. “No, I’m going back to London to oversee fueling the airship, and then I will be accompanying the professor on the race. He needs my expertise.” He hoped that the last bit would get under Palmer’s skin, and wasn’t disappointed when Palmer clenched his jaw. Edward pretended not to notice as he gathered up his papers and packed them in a wooden box and locked it shut.
“Well, goodbye, Mr. Palmer.” Edward smiled and backed out the door, cradling the box against his chest. He deliberately allowed the door to slam, and set out for the dock in a good mood. He found a small boat and one sailor waiting at the dock and handed him the lockbox.
“See that this gets put aboard ship in Professor Meade’s office,” said Edward. He patted his vest pocket to make sure that the key was safe and turned back to the village, heading for his quarters. Once there he packed up his clothing and the few personal items that he had brought. There really wasn’t very much, but the pain in his hands hampered him and made the chore take longer than it should have.