Steamy Cogs

by Jessica Ripley

  “She’s a fine lass—hardworking—just so terribly young.” James apologized.

  “Young? She’s nearly twenty if she’s a day.”

  “Twenty?” James sounded amused. “Mi’lady, that girl celebrated her fifteenth birthday last trip.”

  “Fifteen!” Lenora almost yelled. “If that man wasn’t dead already, I’d….” She waved her blade threateningly.

  “You mean he was…? James growled. He looked back the way Sarah had run, his eyes dark.

  By the time Sarah returned with a small battery-operated lantern, Lenora had found what she was looking for. Several rows of the large crates, none marked. They filled the center of the hold floor halfway to ceiling and were too heavy for even James to lift. They also were quite warm to the touch and had an odd, sharp smell that tickled the back of Lenora’s nose and memory.

  Lenora couldn’t quite place the smell, but a sneezing fit drove her away from the boxes. So they headed to the end of the hold, looking for the ice tubs.

  They found them, dry and empty, as if they hadn’t been filled for this trip at all.

  “I don’t understand! They should at least have water from the ice melting,” exclaimed James.

  “This doesn’t make sense. This heat could set off the coal dust and mixed with the oil for those reburners, I hate to even think about the risks.”

  “We need ice, mi’lady, and we need it now.”

  “I can check the kitchens.” Sarah offered, frowning as the danger they were in came home to her.

  “Excellent suggestion. Tell them that the owner is demanding all of the ice brought down instantly. And if any argue, say I’ll fire them.” Lenora was grim. The nagging memory of a sharp scented powder was getting closer.

  “I recall seeing an icebox at the far wall.” James muttered and ran off, the sound of his footsteps overlapping Sarah’s flight up the stairs—and masking footsteps from the stairs at the opposite side of the illegal hold.

  4

  Lenora stood, fists on her hips, staring at the roaring coal burner. Sweat dripped from the ends of the curls at her temples. There was plenty of water in large brass canisters for the steam kettle above the burners. Was there a way to siphon some off and fill the cooling tanks with it?

  That would help some with the heat problem, but would we then run out of steam before we could reach Quebec?

  “Hah! Run out of steam. That’s a good one.” She muttered to herself.

  An odd thump and the shuffle of footsteps sounded behind her.

  “Oh good, James, you’re back.” She gestured at the huge water tanks. “Do you know if there’s a way to bleed some water, oh that’s a poor turn of phrase, don’t you think?”

  When her only answer was breathing. She started to turn, but the back of her head exploded in pain and everything went dark. The last thing she heard was Pepe growling low in her chest.

  She awoke with a blinding headache. Keeping her eyes closed, she listened intently. What had happened? Where was she? But she heard nothing, not even Pepe. Sudden worry for her poor doggie made her open her eyes. The light from her cabin room’s windows seemed to scratch at her brain with razor claws forcing her eyes to water.

  A face suddenly popped into view, too close to her, and she jumped, pain throbbing at the movement.

  “Good, you’re awake.” The doctor’s dry tones were oddly comforting, until she remembered the hold.

  “Where is Pepe? And how did I get here?”

  “That horrible little mutt you take everywhere? I have no idea, but good riddance.”

  “Mutt?” She struggled to sit, but the room swirled around her and she fell back.

  “Careful, or you’ll have another fainting spell.”

  “Fainting? I never faint.” She grimaced as she remembered the radio room yesterday morning.

  The doctor nodded absently as he packed up his tools.

  “Of course you do. You were found just down the hall and it’s clear that you fainted and hit your head on the railing. Fortunately, aside from a little swelling and a bit of a headache, you are unhurt.”

  “A bit of a headache?” That was taking the habit of understatements a bit far. Her head was splitting.

  “Wait! Where is James?”

  The doctor looked surprised. “James who, madam?”

  “James Patrick, the engineer. Where is he?”

  “How should I know, and what would an engineer have to do with your fainting spell?”

  And he was out the door without ever answering her question about James. Or Pepe.

  Lenora remained in bed only until the room ceased its rocking with every movement. Then she tried to stand up, but slipped to the floor as her knees gave out. She was so dizzy!

  But Pepe and James needed her and she must get ice or water to the hold instantly. So she crawled to the bathroom to splash some water on her face.

  “Buck up, girlie. You’ve been through worse.” If only her stomach would listen to her. The dizziness was causing the worst case of nausea she ever had.

  She was still trying to get her rebellious stomach under control when she heard the door open in the next room. Glancing around, she had nothing that would work as a weapon in the tiny bathroom. Finally, she grabbed a large towel and shook it out. Maybe she could wrap it around the killer’s head and then crush him beneath her as she fell into the room.

  Okay, she was desperate and nearly out of ideas.

  James woke up with his head splitting and with freezing cold numbing his hands and face. It was pitch black. He blew on his fingers trying to bring back some feeling and then reached out to see what he was lying on.

  Ice! But that meant that he was in the icebox. He sat up to push the lid open and immediately wished he hadn’t. Even in total darkness, the world spun around him. He moved one shaky hand to prod the back of his head. There was a lump the size of his fist.

  But the ice was helping both to clear his head and to ease the pain. Slowly, he reached up and pushed on the lid of the icebox. It didn’t move.

  I will not be locked in a bloody icebox like a pound of sausages. He shifted onto his knees, ignored the renewed pain in his head, and pushed harder against the lid. It was no use, it was locked. And me poor wee Lenora needs me. Not to mention the burners needing this ice.

  He sat back, momentarily defeated, and his hand hit something cold and stiff. Feeling around, he felt the stiff fabric of a uniform jacket. It was Timothy.

  He jumped away from the headless corpse and banged his head on the wall. Through the renewed ringing in his ears he heard…scratching. Rats? Did the rats suspect how helpless he was in here?

  But if they have a way in, I can have a way out. And he stayed still, waiting to see if any ventured into what he was beginning to suspect was his coffin.

  As she was picked up and tossed ungently onto the bed again, Lenora thought Well, I tried. Poor James and Sarah. Poor Pepe. I will never see them again.

  But as the masked man grabbed her arms and began to tie her wrists, she had another thought. Two actually.

  He’s not ready to kill me yet. I am not lying down and letting this happen. Sir John A. is counting on me.

  Suddenly, she threw her head forward, catching the man as he bent down to check the knot in the rope, and broke his nose. She was rewarded with a rather rude word and a gush of blood.

  As he fell back clutching his face and cursing, Lenora leaped to her feet, stumbled to the door and flung it open, yelling as loud as she could. She could hear him stumbling after her, so she doubled her efforts and was rewarded with a large number of passengers opening their doors to stare at her.

  The man ran the opposite way and disappeared into the small crew door.

  “Well don’t just stand there gawking like a bunch of children, untie me!”

  “My word, you’re covered in blood!”

  “I am?” She peered down at her dirtied, torn, and bloodied blouse. “Drat, that’s the third time today.”

  One of
the ladies fainted.

  5

  Nothing happened.

  James sagged, deciding that the rats hadn’t breeched the integrity of the steel box after all.

  But while it was so quiet, he noticed a whining sound. Rats don’t whine, do they?

  Pepe! It was Pepe scratching and whining trying to help him.

  “Go get Lenora! Pepe, get your mistress!” He heard nothing back. But the scratching had ceased, so he could only hope that Lenora was looking for him and the dog could bring her here before he froze to death. His hands and feet were numb and he felt cold to the core. How long before he did freeze solid? How long before the air ran out in this sealed, steel box?

  He could only pray that his beautiful Lenora had escaped the wrongdoer’s clutches.

  It seemed a very long time before he heard more noise. He was starting to fall asleep, despite his best efforts, and his first thought was, They’ve come for the ice. Too bad boys, it’s all been melted.

  And a fair amount of it had melted from his body heat. He was wet and so cold that he couldn’t even talk. His jaws were clenched, chattering.

  He heard a female voice call his name and tried to yell back. Tried to let her know where he was, but he couldn’t make a sound.

  He felt himself dozing again and jerked awake. He forced the sole of one boot to hit the icebox wall with a thud. He heard the voice calling his name again.

  He kicked the wall harder. Thud! He knew that it was a bad sign that he could hear his foot connecting with the steel, but couldn’t feel it. But now was no time to worry about injuring himself.

  I’d save my life at the cost of my toes, right enough.

  He kicked again, setting up a rhythm, which would tire him quickly. Thud, thud, thud.

  Soon the voice was right above him.

  “Mr. Patrick? How did you get in there? How do I open it, it’s got a lock on the handle. Is the Contessa in there with you?”

  His heart stuttered. Lenora was missing? Taken by the foul brigand who had tossed him in here? Memories and habits from his early life on the streets of Glasgow resurfaced.

  He tried to talk to her, but he still could only make soft grunting noises.

  “Mr. Patrick? I’m off to find a tool or a large rock. They should have some in the hull for ballast, shouldn't they? Don’t worry, I'll see you out of that box.”

  A long time passed, but he was scared now, far more scared for Lenora than he had been about himself. The fear kept him awake.

  Finally, he heard a weak strike on the lock. She hit again, harder. But the lock didn’t budge. He could hear her crying, great gulping sobs.

  He stood as much as he could, pushing on the lid until his legs quivered and sweat rolled into his eyes. Damnation, I’ll be melting the only ice on board soon.

  But the next strike made a different, thunking clank.

  And with the next strike, the lid flew open, and James sagged against the edge. He was free.

  Sarah grabbed his arms and pulling and dragging, helped him lurch out of the box.

  The heat of the burners made his frozen hands and feet ache, burning like fire. But he breathed deeply, the warmth was rapidly calming his chattering and shuddering. He might just live, he told himself.

  He was so relieved that he reached to hug Sarah, but she backed away.

  “Sir, you’re soaked through! I can see your underthings!” She sounded horrified, so James looked down. It was his undershirt showing through the wet work-shirt.

  “Blast and bedamned, girl. I thought me manhood was hanging out.” He gasped out, glad to find his jaws no longer locked up with the cold.

  Sarah turned bright red and stared at her feet. The hammer was still hanging from her hand, so James took it.

  “Sorry, lass. I’ll change after we find her ladyship.”

  “Yes, I suppose that’s wise.”

  He looked at her demure expression, was she teasing him? But he could smell something scorching and knew he had no time to look for the Contessa.

  “Find a pail or a bin, lass. We’ve got to get ice to the burners quick.”

  She nodded, staring about in the dim hold. There were no buckets.

  After debating whether she should stop to change her clothing, the danger that James and Pepe might be in forced Lenora on. She decided that women who faint at the sight of blood were not her concern. She marched back to the crew door and threw it open. Peering down the dark staircase, she decided that she was going to make it an order that stairs be well lit from here on. How did men work in the dark?

  Her frustration changed to a cold anger and heaven help anyone who stood in her way. If only she knew where her parasol knife was. But she would do just as well with the rope she kept once one of the passengers had nervously untied for her.

  She wasn’t careful going down the stairs this time. Heaven help the crewman who got in her way. So, of course, as she turned the tight corner to head to the lower deck, she ran full into someone coming the other way. It was the doctor and he cursed under his breath as he recognized her.

  “Language, please.”

  “What are you doing back here? And what is all over your dress? Is that blood?” And just like that his voice went from fury to concern.

  “What an odd cove you are, doctor. Don’t worry, it’s not mine.” She started at his nose. It seemed fine. “Have you treated anyone for a broken nose in the past few minutes?”

  “No, but I have been called to the captain’s office. He seems to have had a bit of an accident.”

  “An accident to his nose?” Her voice was sharp.

  “The crewman who came to fetch me was not specific, but he did mention a great deal of blood.”

  They both looked at her shirt.

  But should she go see if her attacker was the captain, or should she continue on her earlier mission, to find James and Pepe? And Sarah, now that she thought about it, she was also missing.

  “Doctor, can you do me a favor?”

  “Not right now, ma’am. I must assist the captain.” He shuffled to his left in an attempt to get by her, but Lenora shuffled to her right at the same time, blocking him.

  “It wouldn’t be until after you see that dreadful man.” She smiled, hoping to melt his heart a bit. She didn’t have time for this. “I need to know if his nose is the one I broke.”

  “You, madam, are a terror of mankind. So frail looking and so….”

  “Self-sufficient? Yes, I would certainly hope so. Now, if you would move aside, I am in a hurry.”

  “I haven’t agreed to your favor.” He moved to one side allowing her to squeeze past him.

  She paused as their faces were level.

  “But you’ll do it. Whoever attacked me is likely Timothy’s killer, as well.”

  James had taken off his work shirt and struggled to use it to carry ice to the burners before it melted away. Sarah had found a single water pail and was carrying the icy water to fill the second burner’s ice bin. She imagined that it was already cooler in here.

  Pepe skipped behind one or the other barking constantly. They ignored her, but were surprised when the dog suddenly veered off toward the stairs.

  James set his shirt silently into the bin and waved Sarah to hide. Cautiously, he raised the hammer and slipped into the shadow of a large stack of crates.

  Footsteps moved uncertainly into the hold, moving closer to his hiding place. He clenched his hands, loosening them up. Just as he leapt out, a familiar voice came from the shadowed figure.

  “Pepe, enough. Calm down, mama’s in a hurry.”

  But it was too late to stop his dive. James pulled back the hammer and fell against Lenora, throwing them both to the floor.

  She shrieked, batting at his face.

  “Lenora, my wee lass!” He grabbed her face in both hands and kissed her thoroughly, stopping only when she pushed him away.

  “James, do you smell that? Scorched wood and sulfur?”

  “The ice!” He jumped to his fee
t and raced back to the bins and Sarah, not even pausing to help Lenora to her feet.

  But she was more concerned by the thin tendril of steam she could see rising from the box in front of her.

  “Oh, James, get some water over here, now!”

  He raced past her with the bucket, not questioning her or his instant reflex to obey. A moment later he was back with a full bucket of icy water. He started to ask her where to pour it, but then saw the steam or smoke and began to pry the box open one handed.

  Lenora grabbed the hammer from him and used it to lift one corner of the wooden boxtop. He carefully poured some of the water over the black powder inside, motioning her to open the rest of the crates.

  Several nerve wracking minutes later, they sat on the floor, panting in the heat. Pepe cuddled up on Lenora’s lap, having tuckered herself out racing around barking.

  “I think we saved the ship. The tanks have a bit of ice, the crates are no longer smoking.” He turned to peer at the nearest crate. “What was in’em, smoking like that, you s’pose?”

  “Unless I am much mistaken, and I don’t believe that I am, it’s enough gun powder to blow us out of the sky.”

  Sarah whimpered. “We have to get it off the ship right away.”

  Lenora shrugged, “They’re too heavy to move without a dozen men.”

  “Then order the men to move them. Did you not say that you owned the entire airship line?”

  Lenora stared at James a moment then kissed his cheek. “I am an idiot. Sarah, you go get the cooks to bring down more ice. Fill the burner bins, we’ll restock at Quebec. James, let’s go find the captain.”

  6

  The bridge of the airship was busy but quiet, a well-timed machine with a competent crew. Lenora looked around, pleased to see that no one was panicking or derelict of their duty. Of course, it was also possible that none of them had any idea what was going on.

  She and James moved toward the captain’s office. The first mate stood up to stop them, but joined them instead when James gestured at him to follow them.