by J. Hepburn
I could still see no problem with the engine that could not be solved by assembling and tightening it correctly.
Captain Dalton came to check on me while I was adding another shovelful of coal to the firebox and did not say anything to alert me to his presence, so I jumped when I turned around and saw him in the doorway.
"Will it get us back to Brisbane?" The captain had to almost shout above the noise of the engine.
I straightened up and put the shovel back on its hooks on the walls. "It will run for four or five, or even six or seven, years, Captain! It only depends on how much else is loosened. The pistons are just as good as each other, but one is not properly put together. There is nothing wrong here that cannot be explained by sabotage."
"Is that so?"
Captain Dalton seemed strangely unconcerned.
"Captain, who is the engineer on this boat?"
He scratched his head thoughtfully. "This boat? Hard to say. We borrowed it."
I did my best to keep very calm. "I believe you have been testing me, Captain."
There was a gleam in his eye, now. "I believe, Miss Ramsden, I have been giving you an employment examination. You do not have to say yes, but the opportunity is there." While I stared at him open-mouthed, he turned his head. "RALPH!"
When Ralph appeared, he had his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up. For the first time I saw his forearms, covered in small burns and lacking any hair. That made me look at his fingers and then, more carefully, at his face. I cursed my own stupidity and lack of observation.
He grinned at me, lifted a hatch in the floor I had not noticed, and retrieved his own gloves and goggles.
For at least ten minutes, I was moving in a state of shock. Ralph stood by the controls while I got to work doing what I could to repair an engine while it was running, without damaging anything further. An engine left to run in this condition would damage itself, there was no avoiding that. Either Captain Dalton had stolen this boat, or he had paid a considerable amount of money—or indeed called in a very large favour—to, as he said, borrow it.
The shock wore off as I grew more involved with the work, managing to reduce the noise and loss of steam, and coaxing more power, but ultimately we would need to stop the engine, leave it to cool and disassemble a large portion of the piston. That may possibly involve replacing damaged components.
I told as much to Ralph, who was looking on with approval.
He nodded. "Will it get us back to Brisbane?"
"Oh, it will. If we can ease off this side, there may be less damage done. It would, in fact, be nice if we could lock the driving shafts between the two and disengage this piston."
Ralph laughed in disbelief. "I ain't never heard of any engine that could do that!"
"Maybe we need to invent it," I said, my mind racing with old-remembered creativity. "What would happen to this boat if we stopped that one wheel?"
"It would turn in very sharp circles, and most likely damage something. If the wheel could turn freely we could, perhaps, go slowly, but that'd be turning the engine."
I cursed, then realised I had done so and opened my mouth to apologise, my face burning, before realising I was, in my own sense, back home and no longer needed to censor myself. "Can we go slower, ease load on the engine?"
He shook his head. "We don't really have the luxury. It's five hours to Brisbane at normal speed. I'd think someone saw you board us."
I saw his point, and once more felt very foolish indeed. If my absence at home had not already been discovered, my telegram—I pulled out Katharine's watch to check and saw the message would certainly have been sent and received by now—would confirm it. That would also tell them where I had been. That had been my point—returning Hugh's car to him had been my gesture that I was a better person than he was—and so, of course, the police would be informed.
Ralph saw my expression and gave a reassuring smile. "Don't you worry," he said. "They won't be finding you on this boat. If they wait until we dock, can't say as how you'll still be on it, and if they chase us down in the middle of the river—well, can't say as how they'll be able to find you."
I remembered the compartment he had opened—still almost invisible despite knowing where it was—and tried a hopeful smile. It did not come easily.
But one question remained and I was doing what I could not to ask it, fearing the answer would undo me, one way or the other.
I tried to busy myself about the engine, but there was little more I could do save tend it. "Ralph," I said slowly, seeking some way to keep my mind occupied, "how would you lock two shafts together?"
He blinked in surprise. "Don't rightly know, Miss, never been an inventor."
We managed to busy ourselves for another half an hour, as I sketched vigorously on dirty paper found in one of the engine room's storage compartments, until an overly casual voice from the bow said there was a police steamer coming towards us.
Ralph grabbed me without ceremony, pulling me outside and shielding me from view as two more sailors, casually standing up to peer forwards, gave us a brawny screen.
Part of the decking, an aisle between two low rows of lashed-down cargo, cracked and lifted up, exposing a shallow and mostly dry compartment against the hull. In this I laid myself, dreading the confined space but dreading even more the thought of being arrested and returned home in ignominy. My bags were passed to me, and the paper I had been scribbling on.
*~*~*
I lay for what seemed like hours, hearing muffled shouting, a large bump, footsteps and more authoritative voices, Captain Dalton speaking calmly and a police officer speaking aggressively, and then an agony of waiting as officers moved about the boat, demanding access to piles of cargo, prodding at the decking and issuing warnings and threats.
By some miracle, I was not discovered.
I lay for much longer, sweating in growing heat, until some loud thumps and creaks were followed by the section of decking lifting off. I was nearly blinded by the sun, but a group of sailors and the stacked cargo helped minimise the glare a little.
Captain Dalton offered me a hand and easily lifted me to my feet. "Thought they were going to follow us all the way to the docks," he growled. "Change of plans. Thomas, radio the Boadicea. We need to offload Miss Ramsden before reaching the docks. In secret, if at all possible." Then, to me, he added, "Miss Ramsden, tell Ralph the engines aren't working well and we'll be making slow progress from now on. Give us some more time."
"Aye, Captain," I said, trying to catch up. Disoriented, I almost forgot how to get to the engine house that was looming just behind us.
Ralph gave me a relieved smile when I rejoined him. "Captain says we're making time," I said, ignoring formalities as I pulled sharply back on the throttle lever for the sabotaged half of the engine. The pilot barely let the boat yaw at all but I cut power on the other side as well and swayed on my feet as we slowed down sharply.
"Apparently I won't be going all the way to the docks with you," I said by way of explanation in reply to his puzzled look. "We may be contacting the Boadicea. You have radio here?" I asked, at a loss because I could see no long wire aerial strung high above the boat. "Small enough to be portable?”
His face split in a wide grin. "New design. First one of its type in these colonies, we think."
"How on earth does that work?"
He shrugged. "Beats me. I barely know how these engines work."
Our journey was agonisingly slow after that, crawling along at half our previous speed. More coffee—which I declined—and water—which I accepted—was passed around.
The inside of the engine house was stiflingly hot, so my under-petticoat was stuck to me with sweat, but the deck was little relief, the breeze of our passage the only movement of air and the sun cruelly hot after the cool of night. Luckily, the engine required little tending, and Ralph was happy to stoke the firebox as needed.
I was wishing fervently for a hat. Two of the sailors who did not have caps had a hand
kerchief on their heads, and I was giving this serious consideration when the water came past once more and I drank enough to surprise me.
The day, in fact this entire adventure, felt dreamlike. It was not twenty-four hours since I had received Katharine's message. It was not even twelve hours since I had climbed down a rope from my bedroom. Now here I was, having driven to Ipswich—a city I had only briefly passed through twice before—and, having found by chance, as I believed, the right man, had taken passage on a steam barge as an engineer, only to discover they had been lying in wait for me.
They had hidden me from a police search, so there was no doubt I had committed myself to them for the immediate future, and I could see no reason to suspect their motives being anything other than honourable towards me.
I finally forced myself to confront the hope Captain Dalton had fired within me when he used my name. My Katharine must have been one of their number. Why she was not at Ipswich I did not know. It was still possible they were only one link in what seemed to be a chain that Katharine, or someone acting for her, had managed to construct.
But although I had left home with every intention of tracking down my Katharine to the ends of the earth if need be, the past day had been so busy, so chaotic, and so emotionally exhausting I needed to find her at the end of this river, or I did not know how I would go on.
It was foolish that I had not raised this with Captain Dalton. I realised that. I was seeking courage to raise the issue when a glad shout from the front of the boat made my ears prick up.
"Miss Ramsden," Captain Dalton said from behind me, a previously unheard grin etching his voice, "your carriage awaits."
The boat coming down-river towards us was the nautical equivalent of Hugh's toy car, or an eight-seater version thereof. It was gleaming in the sun, varnished timbers and brass fittings reflecting light like a mirror. It was not small, being broad across the beam like a whaling boat and, tapering at the bow like a stiletto, nearly half as long as the Manly. On that bow, in gold script, was spelled out the single word "Moray".
A steam engine sat amidships, with a tall fluted chimney rising higher than the tallest man, and there was no wheel behind or to either side, implying a fully immersed screw. Behind the engine stretched a canopy to give shade to the rear half of the boat and in front of the engine stood a steersman, standing before a small ship's wheel affixed to a broad pedestal.
Eight chairs were arranged in facing pairs, four in front of the engine and four behind, with an aisle along the spine of the boat. There were four men and two women aboard including the steersman, all save the steersman and one other man seated, and all dressed in finery as though for a picnic. It was an astonishing sight to see on this river, as we rode a cargo steamer from a coal-mining city through young and still partly wild farmland.
Shock rendered me unable, for a minute, to recognise that the man standing in the bow, one leg on the gunwale, face shaded by a top hat and waving madly, was my Katharine.
The sight undid me and I was crying when I was handed down onto the small boat, which slowed as we did, so we were side by side just long enough for two sailors to swing me down so Katharine could catch me. Unable to hold me, she deposited both of us sprawling in the aisle between the seats.
We landed on the wooden deck with a bruising thump that I barely noticed, clinging desperately to Katharine lest she evaporate like morning dew.
It took me a moment to hear her laughing in my ear, saying, "Get off me, I need to catch my breath!"
With my arms around her, trapped against the deck, it took us a moment to disentangle and we ended up not sitting but sprawled on the deck, facing each other as I dimly heard laughter and clapping around us.
I was crying and laughing with happiness, and Katharine sat up, looked around and said, "Where's my hat?"
A hand dropped it on her head, where it sat unevenly. Then she looked back at me, her eyes big and shining and every detail of her face picked out in sunlight so clear and bright it almost hurt me to look at her.
"So you decided to come, then," she said. "I was hoping you would."
I was crying too hard to reply, with happiness and relief and two years of separation, and then I remembered where I was, surrounded by strangers, and felt the sharp, awful terror of discovery.
I suddenly, desperately, wanted a handkerchief to wipe my eyes and nose, but Katharine saw my change of expression and her laughter died instantly.
"Oh, Franc," she said, grabbed my face between her hands and kissed me full on the mouth.
I nearly died from happiness.
"We're among friends," she said when she released me. "We don't have to hide anymore!"
Blinking back tears, I looked—truly looked—at the people around us.
One lady grinned at me from a tanned face with a scar twisting one cheek and sat with a casual slouch more suited to a sailor. One man had five rings through one ear and wore his top hat at a rakish angle. Another of the gentlemen, sitting with possessive pride across from his lady, was, like Katharine, a woman in male dress, and the steersman himself was another woman, dressed as a marine officer. None of them looked, at more than a passing inspection, like ladies or gentlemen. I found myself laughing helplessly despite myself, then clapped them, and then Katharine seized me about the waist and hugged me with a grip I felt compressing my steel-boned corset.
"They're crew, Franc," she said in my ear. "Our fellow sailors."
I pulled away and looked at her in confusion. "Our?"
"I was trying to recruit you," she said with the impishness that had always been part of her. "Remember what we always used to say? Let us—"
"Make mischief together," I finished, feeling the future unroll before me full of wild adventure. But still, could this really be true? "Katharine, are you—?"
She put one finger against my lips to shush me. "We are emphatically not pirates."
"Or corsairs!" one of the men—the actual men—added.
"And we draw the line at privateer," one of the women said.
"No bastard will pay us!" said the woman dressed as a gentleman.
"However," Katharine finished, "we may admit, but only to friends, to engaging in a little smuggling."
I laughed, and the laughing turned into happy tears and then I kissed Katharine, hard, feeling free for the first time in my life to admit that I loved her not in secret, but proudly.
It was some moments later before I was truly aware of our surroundings again. We were sitting on a bench behind the engine, facing aft, under the cool of the awning, Katharine sitting with legs crossed like a man and holding me in her arms as I leaned back against her. The Moray, despite its length, had turned around in what was here quite a broad river. It was now steaming smoothly and with impressive speed back down the river and had easily overtaken the Manly, from which the sailors halloed, waved and cheered, even Captain Dalton grinning and saluting with his cap.
I waved wildly, not caring if I looked like a lady or an engineer.
"My dearest Kat," I said, looking at her with a sudden question in my mind—but the question evaporated and was replaced by one more pertinent. "What are you wearing?"
She had on tall black boots with low heels, black gentleman's pants, a white shirt that looked somewhere between a blouse and a gentleman's shirt, and what at first looked like a gentleman's waistcoat but was, I could see, boned like a corset and narrowing at the waist, not by a great deal but enough to accentuate her womanliness to differentiate her from a foppish man.
She laughed again. "You know I never could be comfortable dressing as a lady, Franc. I wore men's clothes as soon as I could, and then when I found that some of my woman comrades wore corsets by choice I started to change my mind, then, well, they remind me of you, Franc. I had this made, to remind me of you."
I nearly burst into tears all over again, but I felt too urgent a need to know more, and to catch up on two years apart, so I did not let myself be distracted.
I started
laughing again as I remembered what had been said. "You admit to a little smuggling, Kat? I could not possibly guess that the Manly is ever used for smuggling!"
Katharine's smile grew a little frightening then, with a dangerous anger hidden behind it. "They hid you from the police, didn't they? I knew we were right to plan it like this."
"And they—?"
She nodded. "Captain Dalton is our captain, and they are members of our crew. We are a diverse lot. We even have two Aboriginal men who cannot be seen by other vessels."
I well knew the prohibition against consorting with, or giving paid work to, the native people. I barely knew they could learn to speak our tongue. Hearing that two were aboard their ship gave me an extra thrill of the unknown discovered.
"Did you really borrow the Manly?"
"Oh yes, we have colleagues in many ports and places."
"Colleagues who may need to buy a new engine!"
She smiled wickedly at me. "They can afford it, and what better test to give a genius like you?"
I felt myself colour but pressed on.
"The man in Ipswich?"
"One of our most trusted."
I looked around the boat again, once more lost for words, but the other sailors had left us our privacy—what little we could claim on such a small vessel—and there was little to distract me.
Finally, I remembered my original question. "Katharine!" I exclaimed. "If Ralph is on the Manly, and you are here, who is tending the engine?"
"Oh," she said with exaggerated carelessness and a shrug of her slender but undeniably, and deliciously, masculine shoulders, "I never did become much of an engineer."
"Katharine!" I exclaimed. "You take that back!"
She shushed me again. "Not an engineer. You know you were always better at that than I was. I... I discovered other skills," she said airily and with a casual insouciance I would be holding her to account for later. "We have Ralph, who is talented but not, I wager, as much as you, even if you have not touched a spanner in two years—"
I did my best not to let bitterness show on my face.
"And we have Lillian, who is behind us at this moment."