Dawn of Steam: Gods of the Sun

by Jeffrey Cook

  After this, Matthew lost track of the both of them. While Miss Bowe speaks very little of the fight, she insists they both left their mark upon the other, with her bearing a shallow cut on one arm. Left to a one-on-one fight, I am uncertain from her account of precisely who escaped from whom, but in any case, she assures me that he yet lives.

  Having seen Miss Bowe with her knives, I can only say that I would have paid good money to have seen that confrontation, and I wonder how dangerous a man he might yet be to have escaped the confrontation with his life. Were it anyone else, I'd wager a brace of guns and a good sword in the hands of an expert over a handful of knives anytime. Here, it seemed that evened the gap enough that I am grateful I have not had to face the man myself.

  Matthew used the distraction provided by this to sneak behind the soldiers, who were still searching for him, and dropped down from the rooftops. Though he made enough noise on hitting the ground to get attention again, he also had enough of a head start to evade the men chasing him. Once within the city, a person can become lost in New Orleans with amazing ease, so I can quite imagine how quickly it might have become impossible for the soldiers to capture a single small boy.

  Matthew had made his way back towards the dirigible. The troops about it had defended his family's right to keep their privacy aboard, and the new soldiers would not be allowed to board. Likewise, he was sure Miss Bowe should be able to find him there and would travel there eventually. He found some few troops prowling about the area beyond, possibly looking for weak points in the patrols or some other chance to breach our ship's defenses and get aboard.

  One of these men passed him, and a few seconds later, he heard a body drop. He is unsure if Miss Bowe knocked him unconscious, or had enough confidence in the prowler's loyalties as to dispatch him, but Miss Bowe found Matthew a few seconds later, even in his hiding spot. He told her all that had transpired and where we were. The pair came after us not long after, not risking giving themselves away by going to the dirigible. Our first sign of them was when Matthew again appeared at the window, waving one hand frantically to beckon to us while the other held on to his precarious perch. When Miss Bowe helped him back towards the roof and appeared herself, it was enough to convince us.

  Using Julietta's knife, we cut ourselves free, though Eddy had to lift the writing desk – no small effort, I assure you – that we could slide the other end of the shackles out from it. This still left me chained, but for the time, there was no help for it. The opening of the window was a tricky thing, for it was determined to make some noise. Thankfully, the guards below had been taken care of. I could not see, again, if they were unconscious or dead when we made our escape, though their presence guarding us assured me enough that they were among our enemy, so either way, I could not feel terribly sorry for them.

  Though we opened the window carefully, it may have still drawn some attention, or else they had chosen just that moment look in on us again. Eddy managed to shove the bed against the door, but that made enough noise to raise an alarm. We hurried out the window as quickly as we could and made it out, though the door was opened soon enough that at least two shots were fired as Eddy made his way out through the window at last. They missed, but it was a near thing, judging by his expression as he dropped to the ground. With the place erupting like a hornet's nest, we were able to disappear into New Orleans.

  As they of course could not let the city know we had been kidnapped, and many of the guards remain loyal to England and our company, their search could not proceed too far or too obviously. At the same time, we could not know who was among York's men and whom we might be able to trust. Miss Penn was able to find an unlocked door, or perhaps had made it so. She has some talent for the unladylike art of picking locks, which she would demonstrate in releasing me from my chains once we had found ourselves a place to rest and consider our options.

  Indeed, she began the efforts to unlock me from my chains even as I began this account. Eddy and Matthew have left to retrieve Eddy's rifle and the remaining guns, that we might have half a chance to rescue Miss Wright and Sir James. It has been agreed that the best opportunity to do so would be while half of them are out searching for us. It is hoped that Col. York will not do anything too harmful to them while we are escaped, with the foundation that he is reasonable enough to know that they are his only bargaining tool should we prove able to get to him. Either way, we are waiting for the weapons, by which we may have some chance in this, and for Matthew's safe return to his guardians if possible, though Eddy may need to sneak aboard and away without chance to go unobserved if he has company. In the meanwhile, I write so that I do not go mad thinking of what Col. York may even now be doing to our companions, though there is no help for it until we have a fighting chance. When Eddy returns, we shall have a short time to plan, but we cannot delay too long.

  From the journals of Gregory Conan Watts,

  January 25th, 1816

  New Orleans

  29º57'N 090º04'W

  Eddy has returned to us, and we have learned some new information. After he returned, he and Miss Bowe scouted out the inn as best they could without taking too many risks. Sir James is being held in an upstairs room, where he is being interrogated quite harshly, and does not look to be in the best of condition. We have guessed he has not broken yet, and thus he remains of use to them.

  Miss Wright is in a room with two other women and guards nearby. She is not tied, but both other women are armed. She showed no signs of any physical harm, so at least that much is fortunate. For all that one of the women appeared to be a woman of some breeding and low character, and the other is a stern and bookish-looking woman, we are keeping in mind that the loose woman is also a manipulator and poisoner, and we can take no one in York's entourage lightly.

  We have also learned in our conversations, through hesitant admission, that Miss Coltrane is capable, though clumsily and haltingly, of piloting her brother's machine. Apparently on a lark at one point, with her companion already working for her brother as a mechanic, Miss Coltrane was able to convince Sir James to allow her to learn the controls for the machine. She has a fine memory and education for a young woman, and her mind was sharp enough to master the controls to some degree. From time to time, in quiet, she has been permitted to work on her control over the machine, such that while normally she would consider doing no such thing as entering it in combat, these dire circumstances may merit thought of things we would not normally consider.

  She thought it might come in useful, even though we eventually discarded such an option in favor of stealth, at least at first, but agreed it may be necessary should we need backup. When we have begun the attack, she, Miss Penn, and Matthew will make haste back to the ship to ready whatever resources can be mustered and to prepare the machine. Though this is all shocking in its way, theirs is not a conventional family, and it does not surprise me that the sister should continue to prove her merits and mind. She is also very clearly worried about both of her relations.

  We are now awaiting only two last details. Miss Bowe is sneaking back aboard the airship to fetch her ornithopter, that she might come in from above more easily and have a means to quickly escape, or possibly bring someone else down off the rooftops. As she proved with Matthew, while the device does not have the power in its wings to fly while bearing two, it can slow a descent. With the Spaniard about, and so outnumbered, she does not wish to take any chances.

  Secondly, Eddy is gathering reinforcements. While normally he could not be certain who might be mercenaries in York's employ and who might be on our side, his socializing might have had some use to it, for he previously met some men who seemed particularly eager to meet Sir James. They had served with him in combat operations but never met the man outside of backing up his assault. That they are from Virginia, as was Miss Wright before she moved to England, only encourages him. He knows where they linger at this time of day and believes he can recruit them. They are only a few additional guns, but anyone w
e can trust is a boon, and they might know more.

  When we have all the allies of whom we can be certain, Miss Bowe will see to rescuing Miss Wright, while Eddy and I, with what troops we have convinced to our side, will attempt to penetrate as deeply into the inn as we might and try to rescue Sir James. The dirigible will move above the inn so that we might have backup if we need it. We can only hope that with only one hostage left to him, and one he needs if he is ever to profit from his actions, he will not simply kill Sir James.

  Even with the speed and resources we have on our side, there seems to simply be no way we might effect a rescue without getting him shot in surprise and putting our people amidst too many guns. If there is no hope for his situation, however, it is hoped that York will see reason and surrender. Despite his treacherous ways so far, he seems to be an intelligent man and certainly will understand the value of negotiation out of a difficult situation.

  We will know soon enough. In the meanwhile, along with the other notes gathered in this collection, should anyone find these notes, we are probably now dead. Know that Col. York is a traitor to England, a kidnapper, and associated with the worst kind of company. He has taken control of leadership of English and colonial forces out of New Orleans and must be removed as quickly as possible.

  January 25th, 1816

  New Orleans

  29º57'N 090º04'W

  Dear Sir,

  I will be leaving this to go out with the communications going overseas before our endeavor, along with a rough copy of those notes I have made in the past day regarding the treachery of Col. York and his men. I do not know if your opponent is attached to this terrible conspiracy, or if he is unaware of what sort of desperate men he has employed. If we are able to take York or his men prisoner, we shall endeavor to find out for certain. Without their admission and testimony, we certainly have no proof against such a noted gentleman as Lord Montague, but I felt you should certainly be aware and have him watched closely.

  Likewise, I must again entreat you to ensure that the colonists are sent reinforcements as soon as possible. Without York, the Americans still have advantage of position, but will lack for numbers and leadership in unfamiliar fortresses. York seemed certain that there would be no English forces arriving so soon as to interfere with his plans. I implore you to help ensure this is not so, and to give the colonists the support they need soon.

  While we would like very much to continue in your service, I am certain you understand that stopping a traitor is of the highest concern, and we may need to delay further exploration in order to bring York to trial. Should we perish, please see that we are avenged and York served as a traitor to the homeland and a murderer.

  Yours,

  Gregory Conan Watts

  From the journals of Gregory Conan Watts,

  January 25th or 26th, 1816

  New Orleans

  29º57'N 090º04'W

  We find ourselves between a rock and a hard place now with the near disaster our rescue effort turned into. It started well enough, with Miss Bowe managing to make it away from the dirigible and Miss Coltrane, Miss Penn, and Matthew arriving safely. Eddy managed to recruit a significant number of Virginians, for it seems those men are thick as thieves with one another. It is small wonder now with such loyalty that Washington had so much success in fighting our troops to a standstill before the invention and arrival of the first dirigibles. Though the gathering could not have gone unnoticed, by then, we needed armed men more than we needed absolute surprise, so long as York got no report of precisely what we were about.

  We took our positions as Miss Bowe landed upon the rooftops after dropping from Mitchell's flying machine, which followed closely after. (1) As she lowered herself down from the roof, there was so terrible a screech that we could hear it even approaching from across the street. Apparently the women had a cat with them, and while they had not been aware of the intrusion, it raised quite the stir, according to Miss Wright's account. They both armed themselves, and the building was once again abuzz with activity. Wasting no more time, Miss Bowe gave up on stealth and kicked through the window and entered the room. Two shots followed, then quite a lot of screaming and screeching.

  The cat, a large white monstrosity of a feline, came bolting out the broken window and found purchase for its claws, climbing to the roof, where it caught the attention of the ornithopter. It went racing away, closely pursued by the flying machine, and we would see no more of either for some time.

  Other than the screaming, we had no news of Miss Bowe, and with the place warned, unless we provided distraction, she would soon be outnumbered for certain. Eddy shot down one of their sentries, and with that I led the charge toward the building while Eddy sought a better post with which to prevent them from holding the roof or any other position of higher ground from which they might be able to pick us off.

  In the most technical of senses, I have led men before this, but that was simply as the closest to a gentleman present while a small group followed established orders. Here, someone had to be in command. Miss Bowe is no part of any command structure, and Eddy is best served pursuing his reputation as a ghost. At any rate, the Virginians seemed enthused to follow me.

  We quickly took the lower floor and set men in defensible positions about the place so we could not be easily overwhelmed from the outside. It turned out to be a fortuitous decision, for there were two attempts by mercenaries not yet returned to their base of operations, but they found themselves thoroughly trapped between our sentries inside and Eddy's position outside. Though a couple of men were wounded in our charge, we had not yet lost any significant momentum until we reached the stairways. The first men to try to ascend came tumbling down again, shot by York's gunmen holding the post.

  After a few moments of indecision, Matthew's efforts gave me an idea. I set men to guard the stairwell, preventing York's sentries from descending, and sent others outside to gather crates and other means of climbing, ordering them to try and stack them in front of any darkened windows where we might manage to reach the upper floors without opposition. While we lost one man and had a few injuries, we also found a few unguarded windows and began getting people to the upper floors via the stacks of crates. Once we found points of entry, I ordered the men to hold those rooms at all costs.

  Eventually, I reached the window Miss Bowe had entered through. She had rescued Miss Wright from the two women and pair of mercenaries who'd been attending her. She'd also captured York's poisoner. The mercenaries were dead, but the other woman had escaped, with Sam choosing to help secure the room instead of pursuing. They'd locked themselves inside and shoved a dresser in front of the door, which strained under pounding from the other side.

  A few moments after Miss Bowe and Miss Wright had caught me up on the situation, the door exploded inward, and the dresser crashed away from the doorway. Where a number of York's mercenaries had failed to force their way in, the bald and massive Irishman had managed with only a couple of kicks to the door.

  York's mercenaries flooded into the room, to be quickly engaged by the men with me, as more worked their way up an unsteady stacking of crates and wriggled in through the broken window. The Irishman fired his shot into a man near me, then was engaged in close quarters by Miss Bowe. Her assault with the knives forced him back into the hallway, where, undaunted, she proceeded after him, his retreat forcing some of his men aside. Normally, fighting at too close of quarters would have seemed to be to the large man's advantage, but Miss Bowe's skill and speed kept him moving backwards without being able to get in a good attack edgewise. She pressed her attack constantly, because so long as she stayed in close quarters, the mercenaries seemed too afraid they might hit him to risk firing. One even attempted to help hand-to-hand, but she cut him down before he could get hold of her.

  The opening created by this charge opened a way for the rest of us, and despite inferior numbers, greater organization and opportunity won the moment. We made our way over the first wave of men
in front of us and fought into the hallway.

  From there it was an odd sort of chaos. The Irishman had torn up some section of the railing near the stairway and dropped his empty musket in favor of the makeshift club. Miss Bowe was weaving and dodging under and just beyond its swipes, darting in to score minor wounds, but unable to get close enough fast enough to make any mark that showed on the big man. All around them, the fighting raged with occasional shots, but no one dared fire upon either of the combatants weaving among us, lest they hit their own. A few times, someone tried to engage one or the other, to be stabbed by a knife, or knocked away with the club, though she held slight advantage here, as her knives found only mercenaries, while his wide swings did not discriminate.

  Meanwhile, around the margins, we battled the mercenaries, odd as it looked and felt to occasionally see those men among them that York had dressed in red coats for aiding him in taking the forts. Meanwhile, Miss Wright and two men were set to securing the poisoner. At last, a large enough group to count for something took a second one of the rooms and emerged into the hallway, trapping the mercenaries, who had become quite concentrated trying to repel us, in a crossfire. The match in our midst finished with Miss Bowe ducking a swing of the club before landing a telling swipe to one of the tree-trunk-thick legs. She used this injury's effect on his balance to kick his legs from under him, sending him over the banister and onto the floor on the level below. Miss Bowe backed into our ranks, and with nothing like cover, the mercenaries retreated all into a single room, or surrendered.