At night when the sky is scalloped with clouds and the moon does a vanishing act, you fall back on instinct when looking for moving objects. Almost like looking for shadows on shadow.
I was gazing off our port stern when I felt one of those little shifts in the sky. From the corner of my eye, some of the stars seemed to disappear. I looked back, and of course there was nothing. But it spooked me some. My imagination was all riled up from Kate’s story and her grandpa’s journal.
Then more stars were suddenly snuffed out, and a long slash of darkness tilted across the sky. I blinked. At first it was impossible to tell how big it was or how close, and I was squinting, face pressed so close against the glass dome I was starting to fog it up. The moon slid out from behind the clouds, and I fell back in surprise as an enormous pair of dark wings soared over me. I swirled around, nearly braining myself against the glass, but the moon was blotted out once again and all I had to see by were a few listless stars.
Something had landed on the Aurora.
In shadow it hunched there, not fifty feet from my observation post. Its enormous wings were half folded back like some fearsome gargoyle. An eye flashed as its head turned slightly. It took a step toward me. I lost my wits, I’ll admit, and my mind flooded with nightmare thoughts. I should call the bridge, I should call Kate, I should get down that ladder faster than a fireman on a pole! It was one thing to think about mysterious creatures, another to have one a few feet away.
It took another step.
The moon came back, and the creature’s white feathered body gleamed in the light. Right away I noticed its beak, a long hooked thing. It had webbed feet.
It was nothing more than an albatross. It folded its wings against its body and took a few more steps toward my post.
I was mightily relieved I hadn’t called the bridge. I could imagine my half-throttled voice reporting a giant seagull. The jokes would become legendary: Young Matt Cruse gave himself a bit of a fright when a seagull flew by. I heard it was a budgie. But you know how much bigger things look at night! Perhaps we should’ve allowed him to take his teddy bear on watch with him.
I looked at the albatross. An impressive thing it was, the sheer size of its feathered body. Made me realize right then how easy it would be to mistake these birds for something more, for mysterious winged mammals, for flying cats even. It made me sad.
I’m not sure if the albatross even saw me beneath the dome, watching it. It hunkered down atop the Aurora. With its wings folded, it didn’t look nearly so huge; in fact, it was hard to imagine where all that wing came from when they were folded up. I didn’t want to scare it, but I didn’t want it on the ship, putting a nick in our skin with those pointy feet.
I rapped sharply on the glass.
The bird’s neck straightened a bit, and its head turned a smidgen.
I rapped again.
This time the bird just lowered its head into its body, settling down for a nice snooze. Happy to let someone else do the flying for a while. I was sure he must be tuckered out, this far over the ocean. Look at him, comfy as could be. His feathers didn’t even look ruffled, even though there was a stiff wind blowing on him.
“Come on, clear off,” I said, waving my arms and hands.
The bird looked at me, unimpressed.
Being ignored by a bird, even as grand a one as an albatross, is rather hard on the self-esteem. I had to get it off, but carefully. No one liked the idea of maltreating an albatross. Before sailors took to the air, there’d been an abundance of stories about the bad luck that would befall any who harmed an albatross. “The Very Longe Poeme of the Venerable Mariner” was one of them. The lads in that one, they shot an albatross, cooked it up for dinner, and had no end of bad luck.
I took the speaking tube.
“Crow’s nest.”
“Yes, Cruse.”
It was First Officer Rideau on duty. Lucky me.
“Sir, there’s an albatross landed atop the ship. I’ve tried to scare him off, but he’s going nowhere. He’s near the crow’s nest. Permission to open the hatch and shoo him off.”
“Very well. Take all precautions, please. And report back when you’re finished.”
“Very good, sir.”
I put my goggles on and carefully unlatched the hatch. I clipped a safety line to my belt and tipped the domed hatch up and back. The wind met my face at eighty miles an hour. I turned my head slightly so I could breathe. The simple movement of the hatch made the albatross stand up in surprise. And when he saw my head and shoulders rise up out of the crow’s nest, he shuffled back a bit.
“Go on, clear off, mate!” I shouted. The wind hurled my words back over my shoulder. I doubt the bird could hear me. So I waved my arms around over my head.
This was one stubborn bird.
I knew I’d have to let him see who was the boss. Standing up, the bird was no midget. His head came to my waist, and I didn’t fancy getting snapped at with that beak.
I stepped over the rim and onto the Aurora’s broad back. The wind met me full on. There was a guide line along the ship’s spine, and I took it with one hand, crouching, keeping my head low so the wind shot over my neck and shoulders rather than catching me full in the chest.
I took a few steps toward the bird. It took a few steps back, wings arched threateningly. I had to admire his nerve. Was he was planning to walk me all the way along the ship to the bow and see who could fly better? I wasn’t afraid of falling. Heights didn’t mean a thing to me, never had. But I did start to wonder if this bird and I were in for a long game of follow the leader. This wouldn’t do.
In the end, I made my meanest face and lunged at him. Those amazing eight-foot wings swelled open, and the albatross lifted off the Aurora. I watched him for a moment. He banked sharply to the east, and as he turned he unblocked a view of something else in the night.
An airship, still distant, but headed right for us.
I stared for a moment, to make sure. Then, hunched over, I ran back to the crow’s nest and jumped in, pulling the hatch closed after me. I yanked the speaking tube to my mouth.
“Crow’s nest,” I panted.
“Are we bird-free, Mr. Cruse?”
“Sir, there’s a ship headed toward us!”
The airship was small, and I could now see why I’d not picked her out earlier. Her skin was painted black, and she carried no running beacons anywhere on her. No light emanated from the control car either. Her side bore no markings, no name or number. It was only her dark sheen from the moon’s light that made her visible at all.
“She’s at ten o’clock and sailing straight for us, half a mile.”
“Bear away,” I heard the first officer tell his rudder man. “Elevator up six degrees. Summon the captain.”
That meant we were going into a climb. The Aurora was responsive as a falcon. Stars streamed to my left as the ship began her turn, angling heavenward. I swiveled in my chair so I could watch the smaller vessel. As we turned and climbed, she turned and climbed with us, keeping herself on a collision course. This was no mistake. She was chasing us. She was smaller and faster than the Aurora, and I could feel the vibration of our engines at full capacity. We would not be able to outrun her.
“Where is she, Mr. Cruse?”
“She’s changed course, but still coming right at us. Closing, at eight o’clock.”
“Raise her on the radio!” I heard the first officer shouting out to the wireless officer.
“She’s not responding.”
A collision seemed sure now, but for what purpose?
“Distance, Cruse!”
“Some two hundred yards, sir.”
“Send out a distress call,” I heard Mr. Rideau instruct the wireless operator.
“We’re too far out, sir,” Mr. Bayard replied.
It was clear there was no shaking her, this sleek black raptor shadowing us through the night sky.
“She’s angling up, sir,” I said into the speaking tube, “as though she
means to overshoot us.”
“Take us down, Mr. Riddihoff, take us down five degrees, with haste!”
I felt the Aurora pivot and her bow dip. My ears popped and heaviness rose through me. I swirled in my seat, peering up and almost over the ship’s stern now as the airship pulled closer, altering course as seamlessly as if she’d anticipated our moves.
“Fifty yards off our stern!” I shouted into the speaking tube. “Forty, thirty…she’s pulling up over our tail.”
And so she was, this predatory airship, skimming over our tail fins and gradually overtaking us, only a few dozen feet overhead.
“She’s directly overhead now, sir, matching us.”
We were leveling out now, and so was the other airship. Less than half our size, she was like some agile black shark hounding a whale.
“Hard about, please.”
It was the captain’s voice I heard now through the speaking tube, and I felt a surge of confidence to know he was on the bridge. He would see us through this. Again the Aurora swiveled, trying to throw off her predator, but once more the smaller ship matched our movements, slinking over the top of us like a shadow. A spotlight flared from its underside, and I saw ropes springing from open bay doors and unfurling toward the Aurora.
“She’s dropping lines on us!” I shouted into the speaking tube.
Pirates. That was all they could be.
“They’re trying to board,” the captain said. “Dive and roll to starboard, please.”
The lines were weighted, for they hit the ship and didn’t slide off. I saw six men already dropping down toward me. But then the Aurora banked sharply, dipped, and the lines slewed off the Aurora’s back, leaving the men dangling in midair.
“Ha! You’ll not have us!” I shouted, shaking my fist.
But the pirate airship was already adjusting its course, keeping pace, and as it forced us closer to the waves, we would have less space to maneuver. There was a great flash from the pirate ship’s underbelly, and a thunderous volley of cannon fire scorched the night sky across our bow.
A voice carried by bullhorn shuddered the air: “Put your nose to the wind and cut speed.”
There was no need for me to repeat this into the speaking tube. I knew they had heard it in the control car. There was a moment of silence, and I could imagine them all down there, standing very straight and still, the elevator men and rudder men watching the captain, awaiting his command. He had no choice. That cannon could sink us in an instant.
“Level off and put her into the wind, please,” said Captain Walken. “Throttle back the engines to one quarter. Thank you.”
The pirate ship glided over us. Once more the boarding lines hit the Aurora’s back and down slid six men, clothed in black, with more already on the way. The first set touched down and made fast their lines to mooring cleats. Spotlights swept the ship, giving the pirates light. We were connected now, the Aurora and this diabolical little ship. She had us like a harpooned whale, and there was nothing we could do to throw her off. At four hundred feet over the waves we cruised along in tandem.
“They’re on us, sir,” I said into the speaking tube. “Six of them and six more coming. Maybe more, I can’t tell.”
Half were heading toward the aft hatch, the other half toward mine, single file, hunched over, hands barely grasping the guide wire. They were quick. In the spotlight’s glare, the man in the lead was a terrible sight to behold, his hair tied back, his face hollowed out by shadow, eyes narrowed against the wind. He must’ve seen me, for he gave a most unpleasant smile that made my stomach roll over. I caught the dull sheen of metal in his belt: a pry bar and, beside it, a pistol.
“Mr. Cruse,” came the captain’s voice. “Did you hear me? Lock the hatch and leave your post, please. Assemble in the keel catwalk outside the passenger quarters.”
“Yes, Captain.”
It felt cowardly to abandon my post, but my heart was clattering and the urge to fly beat in every muscle of my body. The men would be here soon. I locked the hatch, though I knew it would only slow them for a moment. My last glimpse was of yet more men sliding down the boarding lines and landing on the Aurora’s back. I started down the ladder as quickly as I could.
From below came the slow whoop of the alarm claxon. Overhead I heard the hatch being wrenched, then a crack. Heavy footfalls rang through the ladder. I took my feet off the rungs and slid with both hands the rest of the way. I hit the axial catwalk running.
“We’re boarded!” I gasped to two of the sailmakers. “They’re coming through the fore and aft hatches.”
“How many?”
“Too many. They’ve got guns.”
The ship’s alarm filled my head. I saw one of the sailmakers look at the long wrench in his fist. He grimaced. We were no match for armed men.
And then the pirates were all around us.
“You! All of you! Don’t move. Let the wrench go. Hands where we can see them. That’s the way.”
More and more pirates sprang down onto the axial catwalk, their pistols cocked. Dressed in black trousers and shirts, the pirates brought with them a malodorous breeze of gunpowder and oil and sweat, as though they’d just burst out through the gates of Hades. Their belts swung with tools and knives and gunnysacks. They rounded up whatever crew were unfortunate enough to be up here and forced us down the ladders with them, wedged in by pirates above and below so there was no chance of escape. Where would we escape to?
All along the keel catwalk, the pirates surged, corralling more of the crew and marching us forward at gunpoint, our hands in the air. At the end of the catwalk, Captain Walken stood with his first officers before the locked door to the passenger quarters. Across his chest he held the ship’s rifle. Last time I’d seen it, it was nestled behind glass in the captain’s cabin. There were no other arms aboard.
The pirates came to an abrupt halt, and for a hopeful moment I wondered if they were cowed by the sight of the captain and Mr. Torbay and Mr. Rideau and Mr. Levy and the ship’s rifle at the ready. The pirates looked back down the catwalk to the nearest companion ladder. Tall gleaming black boots stepped nimbly down the rungs. Dark riding pants and coat followed. The man jumped to the catwalk, and the pirates parted, shoving me and the other crew to one side as he passed, walking toward the captain. He looked as if he could have just dismounted a horse at a nobleman’s manor. He was smiling, as though about to be reacquainted with an old friend.
I recognized him at once, for I had seen his likeness sketched in newspapers the world over. He was a handsome man, with a high, intelligent forehead, tightly curled hair, large eyes and pale skin. His name was Vikram Szpirglas, and he was as much legend as man. No one in my acquaintance had actually encountered him, but everyone knew someone who had. The stories were many, and all terrible. He sailed over the globe, he had no fixed home, and had never been caught. He boarded freighters and passenger ships and looted them, killing if he needed to.
“Sir,” said Captain Walken, and I marveled that his voice betrayed not even a tremor. “This is the most scandalous a breech of aeronautical law I’ve ever encountered. Explain this behavior.”
“It needs no explanation, surely,” said Szpirglas to the chuckles of his pirate crew. “We’ve boarded your ship. We mean to pillage it. And then we will depart.”
“You’ll not enter the passenger quarters.”
“Sadly, we must. We want to get at all the jewels and pretty trinkets your rich passengers carry aboard.”
The captain raised his rifle.
“Sir,” said Szpirglas. “Please. Let us not playact. Firing that gun would wound your ship. My men are fine aims, sir, finer than you, and once we all start firing, there would be too many holes in her belly to stay aloft. She’s a fine ship, and we have no wish to harm her or any aboard. You have my word.”
He was a suave gentleman, to be sure. To hear him speak, you’d think he was the ambassador of Angleterre.
“We’ll also be wanting access to the cargo h
olds, to have a look about.”
His men were everywhere now—dozens of them ranged along the catwalk, crouched atop ballast tanks and ladders and in the rigging—all with their pistols drawn and pointed at the crew and our captain. Cowardly it was. To come aboard an unarmed passenger vessel with such might and hold her crew at gunpoint. It was almost more than I could bear to watch the captain. He had no easy decision to make—truly he had no choice. What he did not give to these pirates they would take by violent force.
“You will allow my crew to assemble the passengers in the lounges,” Captain Walken said severely. “We will instruct them to leave their valuables in their rooms. They will not be harassed in any way.”
“Agreed,” said Szpirglas. “As long as they all behave and don’t try to ferret away some of their favorite baubles in their silk pajamas. We have a deal, my good captain—ah, and one last thing, of course. No heroics from your men, if you please. No daring counterattacks or attempts to send distress signals.”
“Very well,” said the captain. He lowered his rifle, and one of the pirates stepped forward and snatched it from his hands. Captain Walken turned and unlocked the door to the passenger quarters, and the pirates pressed forward, driving us with them. At the base of the grand staircase, the captain summoned the other stewards. I caught Baz’s eye as he stared, bewildered, at the sight of all the pirates fanning out through the entrance lobby.
“You will escort these gentlemen through the ship,” the captain told the cabin crew. “Please take pains to reassure the passengers.”
The pirates shadowed us as we dispersed through A- and B-Decks. I was coupled with a tall rangy fellow with only one hand, but it looked big enough to strangle a rhino with. Right now it was closed around a pistol, his meaty fingers making it look like a child’s toy. A gunnysack was tucked into his belt.
“We will be collecting bracelets, timepieces, necklaces, broaches, rings,” Szpirglas sang as we proceeded up the grand staircase to the A-Deck. “In particular we are fond of anything with precious stones and gold and silver. Though rest assured we will not be asking for gold fillings tonight!”
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