by Jeffrey Cook
They had not permitted any of the Maori there, and both of the mercenaries on guard there were enraptured with the fight. I managed to come upon them quietly enough that they did not notice me, though with the battle, I may well have been able to run. I struck one down with my pistol butt, finally drawing the other's notice. Conserving my final shot, I caught him in the face with another strike, kicking him once to the throat to be sure he stayed down and could call no warning. Tucking my gun in my belt, I began the long climb, praying I would not draw notice.
I reached the enemy airship and made my way to the area Miss Bowe had described without opposition. I kicked the door open, quite surprising York and his governess, both near Sir James, who was as badly injured as I have ever seen a living man. Battered, bruised, and bloody, his hair and beard grown wild – but when he saw me, recognition and a new fire dawned in his eyes. I shot York at once, though I caught him only in the shoulder. I then managed to turn the pepper-box once and bluff the woman into backing off.
I should certainly have made sure to kill York while I had him, but I was not sure how long I had before he or Miss Gardiner called my bluff. Dissimulation has never been my strongest suit. I kept her back just long enough to draw a knife and cut Sir James free. He tried to stand – and ended up leaning heavily upon my bad shoulder. Still holding back the woman (as well as a mercenary who had come at the noise without drawing his gun) we made our way to the ladder.
The next event I have had described to me enough that I must believe it. The Moroccan, seeing his advantage and giving his dispirited men new fear to push them into us, came forward until he caught sight of Miss Penn. All accounts swear she did nothing but glare at him while shouting in Romany, but something certainly changed, for his composure turned to a terrible fright. He turned and ran from the field at the sight of her.
I saw Ualu fleeing towards the ladder as I had only begun my way down with Sir James, and both the Spaniard and the Irishman were fighting their way backwards to the ladder. They were too coordinated together, with too much reach, for Miss Bowe to finish either one, but she drove both back. Fumbling to climb while holding off fire with an empty gun, with three deadly men coming up, I did the only thing I could think to do. Shielding Sir James with my body, I let go of the rungs and fell backwards to the roof. The wood held, but only barely. My ribs mostly held, but something certainly broke, and my injured shoulder went entirely lifeless.
Sir James still moved and breathed, and though they hesitated, the enemy did not come back for him. Miss Coltrane was clambering onto the roof on one side, and Miss Bowe moved to defend Sir James and me. Ramirez and Reilly took the opportunity to begin climbing the ladder instead of challenging her further. After scaling high enough to come into Eddy's line of sight, Reilly shook violently, and a bloody wound appeared at one side of his back, but he did not fall. Eddy swears he hit him perfectly, but his strength was apparently enough to keep him climbing.
They pulled their same trick as before, releasing their ropes with rifles and black powder, leaving most of their forces in the field. York and his main crew were escaping, with Wyndham's engine suspended beneath it, tied on, but not fully loaded, making the flight that much more awkward. We hadn't captured them, but despite all odds, we had them retreating with their tail tucked between their legs.
Had they kept on, the enemy would certainly have crushed us in time. We had lost too many, were rapidly running out of reloads, and had too few defenders. The remainder of our force was mostly in two knots, one desperately holding Eddy and Matthew's post atop the tower, the other with us retreating into the main building, setting guns at every window and preparing to sell our lives dearly. However, the sight of their demons in full retreat had an immediate and obvious effect on enemy morale.
Miss Bowe, Eddy and our own warchiefs had slain many of their leaders. It is possible they also didn't realize how few of us still stood. Regardless, they began to retreat from the field, scattering at every chance and leaving us the fort. The fighting went on for a time afterward, but enemy numbers thinned further and further as we killed those with something left to prove. Miss Coltrane's leg gave out only minutes after we were no longer fighting at our post. When our post was sufficiently clear, Miss Bowe led most of our remaining men to finish rescuing Eddy and Matthew, pushing the enemy there into final retreat.
For all the hours we fought, it is eerily silent as I write this now. Eddy has refused to rest. He is doing a great deal of the work in aiding Miss Coltrane as she drags herself back to the ship on one leg and whatever support can be made. Miss Bowe and Miss Wright are seeing to the ornithopter. Those warriors of three tribes who lived are going through the bodies, though I do not know if it is for plunder, to claim their kills, to finish off enemy survivors, or to seek signs of family. As mighty as the two warbands were who clashed today, there are frighteningly few survivors. Most seem proud of lasting out this victory, likely ensuring that so long as their alliance holds, they have forged survival for their tribes. I have heard the same words repeated between them over and over, enough that I finally asked Miss Penn what they meant.
I do not know if now I should feel honored or saddened by what these people think, that they would be proud that some divine thing has been wrought. For she says that they have finally decided we are certainly not devils, leading them to a final death. They have acknowledged that we must soon return to the skies, for though they jest in part, having seen us bleed and fall like any man of them, they have taken to calling us the Gods of the Sun.
(11) As a medical doctor, I must state that the thought of an 11-year-old boy and a barely recovered stabbing victim loading and firing a cannon is terrifying. There are so many strains and breakages possible to permanently hurt the human body. War is horrible, certainly, and should be avoided. It most certainly should be avoided by those who are not able bodied. It is a sign of both their desperation and skill that these two not only attempted the feat, but succeeded. -C B-W
(12) Fear not. Bubsy the ornithopter would be fully fixed in time to play with its new ball at Christmas. It did learn to fear fire, though, and sat a little further back from fireplaces after this battle. -C B-W
June 19th, 1816
37º03' S 175º53' E
To the Esteemed Gentlemen of the Royal Explorers’ Society
Dear Sirs,
With our victory two days past, we are at last preparing to leave New Zealand. After the contacts we have made, fighting alongside these three tribes against York's forces, other men of England might be able to make further contact and do some trade here. They may seem poor savages, but even against Europeans, they fight well and have some grasp of tactics and ranks. The land is fertile, diverse, and warm. Though I cannot recommend a venture here for the faint of heart – and shall hope and pray to the end of my days, after all I have seen, that I shall never return to these shores – it is yet a place where a brave man might make his fortune in trade among the peoples.
I do not know from what shore this letter might reach you, for we cannot travel far. Even with the supplies taken from what remained of the former Col. York's stronghold here, we were not able to restore the dirigible to full operating condition. We will need to find a place with some amount of supplies, beyond those available to the Maori people, and time in which to conduct repairs and refuel. Likewise, the conditions aboard an airship are entirely unfit for the degree of healing which we need, in particular Sir James.
How he lasted so long under such treatment as he received at York's hands, I do not know. Once their poisoner was gone, they resorted to more time-honored and certainly more brutal means of trying to gain information from him. As of yet, he has not been in reasonable enough condition to inform us what they may have learned from him in the time since they captured him from New Orleans.
Though this is obviously important information, especially in the hands of a criminal like York and any contacts to whom he may try to flee now, we are certainly also aware that the
best wishes of England are with Sir James and his health, and the first concern is for the safety of one of England's brightest sons. We are giving him the best care we are able and surveying our options among the colonies of England where we might find him a doctor and seek supplies for ourselves.
I am certain you will also be sad to note the passing of Mrs. Ruth Fisher, wife of Captain William Fisher, a hero of two wars now. Her name may not be so well known as that of Sir James, but she has been a reliable eye upon all of us, keeping us to our manners during this trip, and she shall be missed. We will seek to bury her when we find more settled and civilized soil.
I will report to you when I am able and when we have found safe dock at which to rest, should anything of note happen. After so long away from even the barest hints of civilization, we long to hear news of England and its colonies and allies in this troubled time.
For the moment, we are leaving aside our mission while we rest and recover. While certainly important to the pride of England, there is simply no choice in the matter, and I know your noble selves will understand, given the hardships and injuries we have suffered. We will certainly be up and about again in plenty of time to rendezvous with the Dutch traders that we might embark upon our most difficult mission of diplomacy on behalf of England, should Sir James's admirable constitution win out over his current ill health. Should tragedy occur, and he passes, I will certainly let you know as soon as we are able.
In the meantime, I certainly wish you all the best of health and times, and I shall pass on more news as it is available.
Sincerely,
Gregory Conan Watts
Australia and Recovery
From the journals of Gregory Conan Watts,
June 29th, 1816
39º01' S 162º21' E
Because we have no other choice in the matter, we have turned our ship towards the only land which we can reliably reach from here. Though it is a land of criminals and exiles, Australia is still a colony of England and supplied, from time to time, from the home country. Certainly we can find a doctor there, though not of the skill which we would hope for perhaps, but at the moment, we have no choice. Much as Sir James's poor health and our own nerves need to see some sign of home, Australia shall have to be close enough.
They will not have a mooring dock, but we are used enough now to doing without that we can manage, even with the battle suit so badly damaged, and our supplies for further repairs of anything on that technological scale almost entirely exhausted. I fear that our time in Australia shall be an extended one, but we have all agreed that it is the best course.
The Maori seemed most disappointed to see us go, but made no moves to stop us, and indeed, had treated some of our number with a great deal of respect. By then they called all of us by the words we had come to understand meant 'Gods of the Sun', and there seems to be little doubt that we should be welcome there should we ever return. Some few of us attended a feast to honor our victory and mourn their dead, in hopes that the brave dead might bless the living, from what I gathered as a mere observer.
It did help my final impressions somewhat to see the Maori in their homes, living their lives, farming, and tending to their families, while many of those warriors who survived our great conflict still serve as guardians. There is worry for raids by bands of the broken tribe, but most believe they, too, will worry first about their land and harvest. There has, for a brief time, been enough death even for the Maori, and what is left is plenty of land for everyone. I still shed no tears for it when we left, upon finally finishing resupplying ourselves for the trip away
Given the revelations, injuries, exhaustion, and contributions of recent times, we have made the most recent decisions as a company. Upon studying the maps, we found an early colony on the shores of Australia where we might settle in for a time, and Miss Bowe has assured us that there we should not have any real difficulty with any natives of the land. Indeed, she has been insistent that the local peoples of Australia are not nearly so hostile as the Maori. Even knowing some piece of their tongue, she was entirely uncertain of the Maori, but she is quite looking forward to some meeting with the locals in what shall become our new home away from home while we rest, recover, and conduct repairs.
The first matter of business, of course, is to find an Anglican clergyman ministering to the people of that barren land and put Mrs. Fisher to rest. We are all agreed to attend, of course, for though not everyone got on as well with the woman as others, her presence shall be missed, and she was one of us throughout all these difficult endeavors. In addition to the Captain and her nephew, of course, Miss Coltrane and Miss Wright are particularly deep in mourning, for they knew her long before they knew any of the rest of our number, serving with the Fishers during the Napoleonic War.
The courageous Captain Fisher has already assured us that should we continue in our mission, he will continue to serve as our pilot, once he has had time to mourn. There is no question of his loyalty to the Coltrane family, and, in addition, I believe he is very much hoping that time and circumstance will bring us against York again, that he might see the murderess brought to justice. I cannot begrudge him any wish for revenge. That we survived the most brutal circumstances I have ever seen, while losing one of our fellowship to a murderess, leaves the memory of New Zealand that much more bitter.
Sir James's health remains poor, with no single severe injury that can be identified as being the source of the woes. Months of rough use, torment, and deprivation have simply taken their toll. When he is awake, one can still see determination in the man's eyes, but he cannot or has not tried to speak yet. We will have to wait for some time yet to find out how much York might know of us now – and our path going forward.
In turn, we have not let Sir James know how much we have learned of what he is not. While some have come through to wish him well, particularly his family, most of the others have kept their distance. That he has deceived all of England is without a doubt, and though this knowledge is old to us, his presence now makes some feel that betrayal all over again. Certainly Eddy has not seemed to forgive his old friend yet, and I do not know if the damage can ever be repaired.
Our company is at a crossroads now. Certainly Sir James, Miss Coltrane, Captain Fisher, Miss Wright, and Matthew will continue on, eventually, out of duty to England. This assumes the suit can be repaired and Sir James is ever the man he once was. The others may well choose to go their own ways now, with no particular loyalties, the pay not being nearly what it was, and our mission so drastically changed.
We will be in Australia for quite some time, long enough for Mr. Franzini to find new contacts, though should he cheat them as he has others in the past, there is very little place for him to run save for the vast unexplored reaches of the country. I do not think he will find it particularly hospitable, so we can hope he has changed his ways in his year of service, or at least has some sense of when he is in purgatory. Any judgment he brings upon himself there is likely quite final.
Miss Bowe, it seems, is determined to wander into that wilderness when she has the first opportunity, and right now, no one will say otherwise. There can be little doubt that if she knew New Zealand, as she has proven, then there is no reason to doubt her claims of traveling Australia at some time as well. Her memories of that place are as limited as those of New Zealand, so it seems likely it was when she was very young. Still, she hopes she knows enough of the local natives' tongue to get by.
Miss Penn, in turn, seems to wish to join her. After the feat she performed among the Maori, there is no question that her interest in these cultures is sincere, and she hopes to find a better welcome in this new land. Miss Bowe has not objected to her company, though Mr. Franzini seemed very insistent that she not be permitted to leave.
Because all of us, it seems, have something they need to find in Australia, be it rest or just a time of peace, no one is being denied the ability to follow their own wishes when we arrive, though it has been asked that people chec
k back with the rest of us at least one time in a month. Miss Bowe raised an eyebrow at this request and agreed to 'when possible.' Before anyone leaves, we shall find accommodations where people can check in, and then shall try not to leave it until we are certain that we are all together again, or that some of our number are not coming back.
Even now, the dirigible is far more quiet than I can ever recall. I remain with Sir James, monitoring his condition in turns with his family members and the Captain, and tending to what of his injuries that I can. Most have settled quietly into their quarters. From the hallways I can occasionally hear Miss Penn and Miss Bowe planning their trip, for apparently, even well supplied, it is not an easy one. Mostly it sounds like the harshness of the land itself is the greatest enemy.
After seeing the wilds of New Zealand for so long, my greatest wish right now is for a roof, some tea, and something to read that is not my own words or the chronicles of Dr. Bowe's journeys, of which we have some store for obvious cause. None of the rest of us, it seems, will be leaving the confines of the first township we come to once we have arrived. Even though it is certain to fall well short of England, after so long in these confines, and all we have seen and done, I am having some difficulty imagining anything finer.
From the journals of Gregory Conan Watts,
July 5th, 1816
33º51' S 151º12' E
We have landed without further incident in Australia. There will be no ships coming from or going to England for some time, so my letters will have to wait. I have not written further of where we have settled, for the small details of our adventures and condition will suffice, and I am having difficulty growing excited about noting the mundane details of daily life.