Fires of Hell: The Alchemystic

by Maureen L. Mills

  Obadiah continued without meeting my gaze. “A few minutes ago, at the burial, you looked like you’d been clobbered by a burst valve. I don’t know what got your knickers in a twist, but I want you to remember Captain Rollins was a man. A kind man and a good captain. But only a man, at the end of the day. He made mistakes in his life. Taking you on wasn’t one of them.”

  He slanted me the hard stare. I’d seen that look before such words of wisdom as “Always allow the boilers to cool down completely before you work on the valves” and “Be sure to clip onto the safety lines when you climb the scaffolding to patch the gasbags.”

  “I gave the captain my promise to help his son get his legs under him if he went before I did,” he said.

  “I fail to see the problem. You’ll just have to put off dandling your grandchildren for another year. That should be long enough for young Mr. Rollins to become accustomed to his position.” I could not help but be pleased that Obadiah’s promise ensured he would stay on, at least for a while. The prospect of losing both of my dearest friends at so close to the same time depressed my spirits.

  Obadiah shook his head, his long face sagging with weariness, even at this early hour. “Nah. I’ve been feeling a bit off lately, so I went to see the doctor yesterday. He said it was my heart. It’s beating too slowly, worn out. He said I could kick off at any time.”

  It took the space of two heartbeats to absorb the meaning of his words. “Obadiah, no!”

  He ignored my instinctual denial. “I’m no good on an airship like this. I can’t shovel the coal or clear the valves. I can’t climb the lines to set the gasbags. Can’t even fill the water chambers without gasping for breath. No, it’s time I retire and get to know my family again while I still can.”

  “Oh, Obadiah!” I grabbed his hand, and he let me, giving my fingers a warm squeeze. The foundations of my world crumbled around me.

  “Now, don’t take on so. I’m an old man, and I’ve lived a goodly long life. Long and satisfying, for the most part. But I still have to fulfill my promise to Captain Rollins.” He gave me another of his sharp looks from under his scraggly eyebrows. “I need you to promise me you’ll stay with the company and help out young Josiah, since I can’t.”

  Why should I help Captain Rollins’ son? I, as close to a daughter as devotion, if not blood, could make me? Who might, I suddenly realized in a revelation that stunned me as much as Obadiah’s heart problem, might possibly be Captain Rollins’ daughter in actual fact?

  Why had I never thought of that in all the years I’d flown with the man? Too occupied with the intricacies of the engines, I supposed. The theory appeared reasonable, on the surface. Maman never spoke of my father, never told me his name, but I’d known Captain Rollins all my life. He’d been my mother’s lover all that time. Logically, the relationship could have existed before my life began—and perhaps brought about that beginning.

  How odd to think I might have a brother; odder still to think he needed someone like me to look after him.

  I doubted Captain Rollins had set someone to look after me at his death.

  But then, I didn’t require any assistance to make my way in the world, did I? He’d put me in a position to learn all I needed. I was a fully qualified airship engineer. I spoke, read and wrote five languages—several more if you counted the more profane vocabulary—could strip and refit an engine in under a week, navigate by chart and stars, fly the whole damn ship, if the need arose.

  He had made me independent, a virtue I prized. Obadiah was right. Whatever else Edmund Rollins had been, he had also been a good man. One who had wanted someone to look after his son.

  I sighed as I abandoned the thought of Fairlane’s offer and the money that went with it. On the bright side, I would not now have to give up my beloved Mercury.

  “For your sake, Obadiah, and for the sake of the man who granted me the opportunity to fly, I shall agree.”

  “You give me your word? You’ll not leave until Captain Josiah can make the business profitable on his own account?”

  “I will stay until any sensible person should be able to manage the company. I will not stay forever if the man proves incapable of learning.”

  Obadiah clapped me on the shoulder. “That’s all a body can ask.”

  He turned to hail a passing hackney to take us to the airfield and the pubs that catered to the men who worked there. “How about we raise a pint to the old man’s memory, then?”

  The sun had barely passed its zenith, but my battered emotions could handle nothing more today.

  “A pint sounds just about right,” I replied. “But can we stop by my house first so I can change out of these blasted skirts?”

  I put aside the remainder of the day to honor the dead. Tomorrow… Well, tomorrow I supposed I would embark on my own personal search for Captain Rollins’ killer since it appeared no one else, including his own son, cared enough to try. One more example of how I fit more comfortably in the role of Captain Rollins’ offspring than young Josiah.

  However, I intended to fulfill my promise to help the lad. No one had to know I also intended to avenge his father.

  Chapter Five

  But my investigation into Captain Rollins’ death had to be delayed. Allred tapped at my door well before dawn with a note telling me to report to the Mercury by eight o’clock that very morning.

  I blinked at the paper, eyes still bleary from too much drink and not enough sleep. What economic or governmental crisis had come up to send us off so soon after losing not just the captain of our ship, but the head of the firm? Could the transition from father to son have been accomplished so soon?

  To be honest, I was not as put out as I might have been, since the haste of our departure meant Josiah Rollins wouldn’t have had the time to find a replacement chief engineer in Obadiah’s stead, thus ensuring I would enjoy at least one more flight with my old friend before having to adjust to a new face and personality in my engine room.

  Mrs. Allred had cleaned and repacked my travel kit, ready for me to grab and go at a moment’s notice. I washed in cold water to rid myself of the worst effects of my night out with Obadiah, dressed in a pale-blue, striped-muslin day dress, ate the bite of breakfast Mrs. Allred brought on a tray to my room, and stepped into the hansom waiting to take me to the airfield. The summons had been urgent, and I did not wish to waste time with train schedules and exchanges.

  The air hung heavy with coal smoke, obscuring the first rays of the sun and lowering the ceiling of the sky to scrape the tops of the warehouses, tenements, and run-down workshops lining the road west. Figures scurried through the streets on their way to manufacturing shifts or home from less legitimate labors, dark as silhouettes but with less definition. The stench of night soil dumped from chamber pots into the fetid gutters eased as we reached the fringes of the city where the train yards and airfields lay. The chuffing and rumble of steam engines from both sources drowned out the clatter of the cab horse’s hooves as we drove through the gate.

  The Mercury’s silver gasbags rose up beyond the control tower, blending with the gray morning light, flanked by her sister-ships’ bags of blue and green. The sight never failed to raise my spirits. The hard knot inside me seemed to loosen for the first time since I had seen Captain Rollins lying in the Turkish dust.

  My engines and the open sky awaited.

  I stopped to gather my skirts at the bottom of the gangway so they wouldn’t tangle in the rope guide rails, and heard Obadiah’s gruff voice hail me from across the field by the tower.

  “Melly, hold up!” He waved a work-roughened hand and walked toward me across the scrub-covered ground.

  “Checking our route in the office?” I asked as I stepped to one side, allowing Reuben Dodd to move past me up the gangway to the ship. “‘Morning, Reuben.”

  Reuben—quick, clever, and cheerful as ever—threw me a sloppy salute and a grin, and jogged, whistling, onto the ship.

  Obadiah shook his head, a hint of impatienc
e on his craggy face. “Nay, lass. The new Captain Rollins will take care of our route. I picked this up for you inside.” He held out a silver half-crown.

  “What’s that for?”

  “They read the will last night. All Winged Goods employees received half a crown to drink to Captain Rollins’ memory.” He took my hand and pressed the coin into my palm.

  I stared blankly down at the tiny scrap of metal. Captain Rollins hadn’t put me in his will. Not in any personal way. Not that I’d expected much, but a mention would have been nice. I suppose I had misinterpreted our relationship all these years. I had all but worshipped the man, but it now appeared I’d been nothing more than another employee to him. He’d left me nothing. He’d given it all to his son.

  I felt as if I’d been kicked in the chest, as if my heart stuttered before resuming its steady rhythm. I glanced up at the Mercury, aware of an odd sense of disorientation. Suddenly, the Mercury felt foreign.

  “Why is he taking over the Mercury, Obadiah?” I asked, refusing to even use Josiah Rollins’ name. “Why not Whitcomb? Or a captain from one of the other airships?” I’d prefer to be under the command of the odious Lieutenant Whitcomb rather than have to endure Josiah Rollins’ company, knowing that Captain Rollins had valued him so much more than me.

  Obadiah shrugged, adjusting his cap, which had gone askew in his rush to speak to me. “I suppose he intends to show he is as capable of running the business as his father.”

  I flicked away the explanation with a gesture that would have done Maman proud. “But he has no experience captaining an airship. The Mercury is much faster and nimbler than the Eros; and he was merely her lieutenant. To put him at the helm of the Mercury is like putting a farmer, accustomed merely to driving his wagon to market once a week, at the reins of a high-perch phaeton and expecting him to safely beat the top speed from London to Brighton!”

  “He is a likely lad,” Obadiah said, but I saw the doubt in his eyes. “Give him a chance to prove himself.”

  He drew me farther from the ground crewmen who hurried up the gangway with sacks and crates on their shoulders, lading the ship with the supplies we’d need on our journey. Shadows from the sleek aether gasbags cut off what little sunlight filtered through the murky atmosphere. “You promised you would help the lad find his feet. I need you to hold to that promise.”

  “You know I will, Obadiah, but I still doubt the wisdom of the decision.” Frowning, I turned to examine the wickerwork of the hull beside us. “At least you’ll be along for his first flight.”

  Obadiah shifted in his big, coal-stained boots. “Melly, I wasn’t entirely forthright with you yesterday. I told you I was planning to retire, but in truth…”

  He looked away, continuing in a rush. “Captain Rollins accepted my resignation two days ago. I’ll not be coming on this voyage. My train to Haslemere leaves this afternoon. I might even make it there before my new grandchild arrives.”

  Dismay robbed me of the ability to come up with the proper congratulations. “But who will act as chief engineer? How can we be sure the new chief will accept me as an assistant? We’ll need a few days to warm the man up to the idea. I won’t be able to help young Mr. Rollins if I’m left dockside without a position.” I could pass off any discrepancies between fuel consumption and energy output caused by my latent phlogistological skills as idiosyncrasies of our new venting system. I could not hide the fact I was a female; not in the close confines of the engine room.

  “My recommendation for your promotion was also accepted two days ago. Congratulations, Chief Engineer Everley.” Obadiah thrust out a gnarled hand, grasped my limp one, and gave it a brisk shake.

  My jaw dropped.

  I’d worked for the position of chief engineer all these years. Why, then, should I be surprised my skills had been recognized and rewarded?

  Because the timing seemed exceedingly odd, perhaps? I suspected Josiah Rollins had no idea the young lady he’d rescued from being trampled the day we’d arrived in London was the “man” who’d be running his engines.

  “You didn’t tell young Captain Rollins I was a woman, did you?” I said, suspicion narrowing my eyes. “I’m on the roster as A. G. Everley. No indication there of my sex.”

  “No, I didn’t.” Obadiah smiled smugly. “And, if you keep to the engine room until you’re well under way, he’ll have no choice but to keep you on. The Mercury’s current mission is from the Foreign Office. Extremely time-sensitive. Rollins can’t afford to lose their custom. No, he’ll keep you on for this mission, anyway. Prove yourself to him, girl. Maybe he’ll prove himself to you.”

  He grabbed my shoulders, hauling me into a rough embrace. “And come visit your old friend Obadiah when you get a chance, eh?”

  I felt tears sting my eyes like the bitter wind over the North Sea. I dashed them away, impatient with my own weakness. I had wept more in these last few days than I had since getting over my initial homesickness after joining the Mercury’s crew at the age of twelve. “Let me know how the grandchild situation turns out.” I hoped Obadiah would ignore the huskiness of my voice.

  With a final thump on my back that shook my entire body, he released me. His smile seemed to waver a bit at the edges. “You can count on it.”

  He strode off toward the airfield’s gate, leaving me to board the Mercury alone.

  * * *

  The instant my low-heeled walking boots hit the Mercury’s polished deck, I understood the flaw in Obadiah’s plan. How could I miss it? It stood at stiff attention right in front of me.

  “Miss Everley,” Lieutenant Whitcomb said, hoarfrost dripping from every syllable. “Or should I say, Chief Engineer Everley?”

  “Chief will do, sir.” I snapped a sharp salute, ignoring the fact I wore my blue and white walking dress, not a uniform. I hoped—rather forlornly—my perfectly correct response would soften Lieutenant Whitcomb’s reaction to my new status. I imagined the lieutenant would jump at the chance to expose me as a woman to the new Captain Rollins. I’d be back in Maman’s townhouse with no job and no way to investigate my Captain Rollins’ murder before the clock struck ten.

  Taking my elbow, Lieutenant Whitcomb ushered me with more force than strictly necessary across the deck, awash with ground crewmen, to the passage leading to the officer’s quarters. The commotion here was greatly lessened, as most of the supplies went to the galley or the coal stores, both at the stern.

  Whitcomb leaned close in the cramped passage and lowered his voice. “I do not approve of you, Everley. I never have.”

  Insufferable twit. He would have no problem with me or my work if I were a man. I had heard rumblings of late of a women’s suffrage movement. Perhaps I would gather some pamphlets and shove them under the lieutenant’s cabin door in the hopes it would broaden his mind. Although, I imagined the only reliable way to broaden the lieutenant’s mind would be to open up his skull and shove the pamphlets in there. “I am sorry you feel that way, Lieutenant. If you have any objections to the way I do my job—”

  “Your skills are unimpeachable, or so Chief Butterfield maintains.” His sneer gave me to believe he doubted that conclusion. “I have been assured you are the best choice currently available to man—” he paused and regarded with a sour expression my not-so-manly form, “—the engine room. As such, I shall attempt to keep your unfortunate secret to myself for the length of this voyage.”

  The mixture of fury and relief I felt at his statement served to temporarily rob me of speech.

  “See that I have no cause to regret my decision,” he said. Without waiting for a response from me—a lucky circumstance, as I wasn’t sure I could make one yet—he indicated the door of the cabin across the passage from his with a jerk of his chin. “The chief engineer’s quarters are cleared for your use on the return trip. On the way out, our passenger will occupy the cabin. You may move your personal effects in when our passenger disembarks.”

  “I… I see,” I stuttered. The thought had not yet occurred that
with my change in status came a change in accommodations. A cabin all to myself, at least part of the time, albeit one in which I could barely turn around. A real door, enclosing a real bunk, not a flimsy curtain screening a sleeping shelf.

  Lieutenant Whitcomb’s grating voice broke into my reverie. “Captain Rollins is due on board within the hour, Chief Everley. You are dismissed to see to the engines. Stay out of sight and out of mind by keeping them running smoothly. We cast off as soon as the captain and our passenger arrive.”

  “Yes, sir.” I saluted again as best I could in the tight quarters. I was turning to leave when another thought struck me. “Oh, by the way, Lieutenant, what is our course?” Important information for the chief engineer to possess. I needed to calculate the fuel consumption rates in view of the prevailing winds along our route and give the captain recommendations as to where we should stop to resupply.

  I suppose I should give my recommendations to the lieutenant, instead, for the duration of this voyage. The less contact with young Captain Rollins, the better.

  I also wanted to know if I would have the opportunity to pursue my investigation at its source—in Constantinople.

  “Constantinople,” he said, in an eerie echo of my last thought. “With stops in Paris, Trieste, and Rome on the way.”

  Fierce satisfaction filled my breast. Now the hunt for Captain Rollins’ murderer could begin in truth.

  * * *

  I left, edging sideways around Benjamin Tibbett, who was retrieving an armload of fresh linen from the storage locker opposite the galley to make up the passenger’s cabin. The engine room lay beyond, in the stern.

  My engine room. Entering it felt like coming home. Soon it would be an exceedingly warm home, with the firebox ablaze and steam hissing from over-pressure valves and leather hoses, but now, with her fires unlit, it was a cool and dim cave. It smelled of coal smoke, damp leather, creosote, grease, and the combined sweat of both Obadiah and myself. It should have stunk to high heaven, but somehow, the scents blended in a not-unpleasant aroma. The steam engine herself spanned the entire back of the ship, all shiny brass dials, polished black cast-iron, copper tubing and tanks, gears and crankshafts.