“Ah ha! That is indeed a proper name.” He nodded and puffed away on the pipe. “And what, pray tell, has you wandering about this evening? Couldn’t sleep?”
Eddie didn’t need any more prompting to spill over with excited chatter. “Not a bit sleepy, sir. It’s my first time on a ship, and I was hoping to see the engines, or, at the very least, some of the machinery on board. Are you a passenger too, or part of the crew?”
A loud belly laugh rumbled from the man’s middle. “You’ve hit the jackpot, m’boy! Not only am I a part of the ship’s crew, I’m her captain!” He slung his feet over the side of the crate nearest Eddie. “Captain Jasper Kidham, at your service.”
“You’re the captain?” Eddie’s eyes lit up. “So you know everything there is to know about this ship, right?”
The captain slid onto his feet. “I suppose you could say that. Been with this vessel for nigh on ten years now. If I don’t know it, I don’t think there’s another soul on board who would.” He puffed a bit more. “Don’t suppose you’d like a little tour, would you?”
“Would I ever!” Eddie nearly squealed.
Captain Kidham chuckled. “All right then, Master Maclaren, best show you the bridge first, as we’re closest to that bit.” He didn’t so much walk as waddle his way to the small metal staircase leading up the side of the bulkhead to the pilothouse. Eddie wondered how the round man fit through the narrow passages and doorways, but it seemed rude to ask. Clearly he managed all right. When they stepped over the threshold to the bridge, the boy looked around, immediately taken in by all the dials, gauges, switches, and levers that lined the walls. On a big steamer like this, there were hundreds of little things to monitor, but at night they were only minimally watched by two or three men. With one at the helm, the two other men were fully engrossed in their card game and barely looked up when the captain entered.
Eddie cast a sidelong glance at the captain, but he didn’t seem worried by this behavior. Eddie supposed this didn’t matter since it wasn’t a military ship. He’d seen a few Royal Navy sailors at the docks from time to time, and they’d pop to attention and salute the officers in their dark blue uniforms with gold ropes hanging from their shoulders. It was always impressive to him, but he knew things wouldn’t be like that on a civilian ship. Still, these men could have at least spared a greeting.
“So, m’boy.” Captain Kidham slapped him on the back. “This is where we control everything. Have a look about if you like. Ask whatever you want to know.”
Eddie nodded and made his way around the room, going from panel to panel, asking about the different things they monitored. The captain patiently told him about every single one, which thoroughly impressed him. He was even allowed to adjust the ship’s heading once, and then back again. In total, they spent the good part of an hour talking about the functions of nearly every dial and switch in the place.
Putting his arm about Eddie’s shoulder, the captain chortled. “Dear boy, I do believe it’s about time for me to retire for the evening, and you should as well.”
“But what about—”
“The engines, yes, yes, I know,” Kidham interrupted. “There’s still two days of sailing ahead of us. Plenty of time to show you around the rest of the place. Come now, it’s time you went back and got some rest. There’s much to do tomorrow.”
Reluctantly, Eddie agreed. He was dying to see the main engine room, but he knew it could wait. Mr. Jensen would expect him to rise and shine the way he always did in the morning. The way his teacher could fall asleep instantly amazed him. Eddie had no idea how he managed it every night. If Eddie got to do half of what Mr. Jensen did during the day, he’d never be able to shut his mind off. He was always filled with thoughts of gears and generators and other mechanicals.
He thanked the captain and promised he’d come see him as soon as he could in the morning. Eddie half-ran, half-slid down the stairwell and onto the deck, turned the corner, and disappeared inside the ship.
“You really think it’s wise to give the boy so much information?” One of the crewmen playing cards asked, not looking up.
“He’s just a boy, Duggart. Curious is all.” The captain puffed on his pipe.
“Thought you said to keep an eye on those two, not look after ‘em as if they was your kids.”
The captain calmly walked up behind Duggart. He said nothing as he removed a brass baton from underneath the back of his coat. In one swift motion, the billy club extended and struck the man across the back of the head, sending him sprawling across the table. He sputtered a bit of blood onto the cards before blacking out entirely.
“Shefford,” Kidham said calmly as he put away the weapon.
“A-aye, Captain?” The other sailor squeaked.
“Send for the messenger of the watch and have him bring up Mr. Duggart’s relief a bit early tonight. Also, make sure he sees this one.” He kicked at a limp leg. “To the infirmary.”
“Aye, sir. Right away.” He scampered over to the communication tube to send a message to the watch station.
“Oh, and Shefford…”
“Captain?”
He puffed at his pipe again before continuing. “Next time your captain enters the bridge, do make sure to show a bit of respect. It’s embarrassing to watch you sit on your arse when a guest is being shown around.”
“Aye, Captain. Consider it done.”
Without another word, Captain Kidham left the bridge, clouds of white smoke trailing behind him.
Chapter Four
The Cheval Rouge
Rachel woke that morning considerably more rested than the night before. She was pleasantly free of Mr. Mustache’s presence and slept soundly the rest of the night, perhaps thanks to the bundle from Mrs. Tweed. As a precaution, she kept the bouquet of dried flowers in her pocket the entire next day, and under her pillow that night as well. Perhaps it was silly superstition, but she couldn’t help feeling there was more at work than her imagination. The more she thought on it, the more she was sure of it. She could almost smell him he had been that close. It felt silly to her, so she didn’t mention it to Iris or Danton.
Danton gave her a little more information about the Brotherhood since their initial conversation. Theirs was a spiritual association, or so they claimed. They believed the fusing of magic and machine together created the ultimate power in the universe, though how they could achieve this was beyond Rachel’s understanding.
She found herself looking forward to docking in La Rochelle. The quiet of the ship gave her entirely too much time to reflect on things she’d rather not. She wanted to forget all about the ring; it felt heavier than an anchor as it hung on the chain around her neck. She wished she could block out the battered face of Mrs. Tweed or the malicious grin of Mr. Mustache, but she could do neither. All of this business with the Brotherhood she especially did not care for. Having the Air Transport Authority and Royal Navy out to get her was one thing. They were relatively passive unless she blatantly disobeyed the law. The Brotherhood, she was certain, would be considerably more aggressive in their pursuit. Also, unlike the government entities, it would be hard to see them coming, unless they all dressed in black suits and bowler hats and had handlebar mustaches, which she doubted. Anyone could be a part of the Brotherhood, so long as they were a man.
She removed the spyglass from its holster at the helm and peered out into the fog of La Rochelle’s harbor. There were no authorities visible, but she would keep this visit as low key as possible in order to avoid attention. There was no sense in stirring up trouble after the last row in Grimsby. La Rochelle was a large city. There were plenty of quiet taverns to visit and innkeepers with lips as tight as their purse strings. She thought of Philippe then, the hulking Frenchman she met on one of her past visits here, and smiled. His white blond hair and muscular frame would be a welcome sight to her this night. He ran a pub far from the dock area. It was more frequented by travelers and locals than by the sailors and gearheads that permeated the public h
ouses nearest the piers, and she preferred the former to the latter for company. It was good to have a few contacts within the city itself, as a source of rumors and the occasional hiding place. It took a local to know where the police did and did not go, and Philippe was the most trustworthy informant she had in all of France. It didn’t hurt that he was devilishly handsome either, and had entertained her on several occasions.
The Antigone’s Wrath slid into the port without incident, and the crew disembarked for regular liberty. One or two of the men had family here, though she couldn’t remember which of them it was. She was distant and moody as she prepared to leave for the evening. This was very new to her. Brightening her own disposition or that of others was usually an easy feat.
Danton leaned in the doorway of her cabin. “I suppose you are off to Le Cheval Rouge this evening?”
Rachel sighed. “Yes, I think the day calls for a bit of respite. Will you be joining me, or have you other business to attend to?”
“Alas, I have other things in mind for tonight. Perhaps a bit of… hunting,” he said slowly, and she caught his meaning.
She straightened, crossed her arms, and focused a square look at him. “You think that’s wise for our first night in port? Especially given the circumstances under which we left Grimsby?”
Danton graced her with one of his suave smiles. “Pardon, Madame le Capitaine, but I have been doing this much longer than you think. Your recent involvement in the situation does nothing to alter my own agenda.”
She considered for a moment, still not convinced it was the wise thing to do, but could see he wouldn’t be swayed. “Then I suggest you take this with you.” She picked up the dagger from her nightstand, and in one fluid motion, she flung it at Danton. It lodged itself in the wooden frame next to his head, but he didn’t flinch. “Drive it through the heart of the first one you find, for me.”
“That isn’t quite my style.” He reached up and yanked the knife free. “I prefer a bit more subtlety, but I will dispose of this for you. It was unwise to take it in the first place. They can trace them, you know.”
This caused her such a shock she nearly had to sit down. “T-trace them? However do you mean?”
Danton gave her a curious look. “Each one has its own unique qualities. They can look at it and know exactly where it came from. Why? How did you think they did it?”
Fully aware that she nearly let slip about her troubled dreams night before last, she adjusted her posture back to its normal confident stance. “Well, who knows what sort of tricks they have. It was only a question.”
“I see,” he said softly as he twirled the dagger between his fingers. “Oui, well, I shall be off then. If you’ll be at Philippe’s, perhaps I might stop by later if there’s no quarry to be had.”
Anyone else would think he referred to chasing women. Rachel, slightly discomfited by his hobby, wished she didn’t know better. She nodded at him and threw a few things in her satchel as he left. She didn’t bother inviting Iris to come along. The first mate always had something or other to attend to when they arrived at a port. It struck Rachel what bizarre company she kept: a man methodically hunting and slaughtering other men from a secret organization, and a woman constantly chasing after magical objects and supernatural occurrences. Strange indeed. She wondered if her extracurricular activities were as odd. She supposed they were, but then again, how many women commanded their own ship and crew? Rachel was proud of being the exception to the rule, rather than subjugated to it. Let the genteel have their delicate domestic lives. Such an existence would bore her to tears.
As an afterthought, she removed the chain from her neck. The ring would be better off in the safe beneath the floorboards than on her person for now. After securing it, she donned her cloak and tucked her tresses under her leather cap. She left word for Iris to handle the offloading and exchange of cargo, then made her way topside and disembarked.
The evening streets of La Rochelle bustled with people on their way home from the day’s work, or crewmen already stumbling from pub to pub. Rachel relaxed, not wanting to appear as anxious as she felt. Reaching the Cheval Rouge and knowing she was in Philippe’s safe harbor would set her at ease. A suspicion struck her and she came to an immediate halt in the middle of the avenue. What if Philippe was part of the Brotherhood? How could she tell? Surely there was some way to test it.
This thought plagued her the entire journey, and by the time Rachel arrived at the front door, she wasn’t sure if she could bring herself to go in. She chewed her bottom lip and peered in the window. There was Philippe, drying a stein and laughing at a patron’s joke as he tended the bar. His easy smile and sparkling eyes decided for her. Perhaps it was a weakness, or a purely superficial judgment, but she trusted him. He demonstrated loyalty in the past by misguiding a customs official or police officer or two regarding her whereabouts. She had no reason to doubt him.
This paranoia irritated her. She detested being suspicious and on edge. Perhaps she could throw the blasted ring into a smelter and be done with it. Somehow, she doubted that would work. Given its infusion of power, it would most certainly have been made impervious to destruction by normal physical means. She hated Aether Manipulation now more than ever.
“Damn the Brotherhood,” she muttered as she threw open the door and stalked inside the Cheval Rouge. She wouldn’t let their meddling interfere with her own enjoyments. As a show of defiance, even if she was the only one who knew it, she whipped off her hat and cloak and shook out her mane of dark brown hair. At this, she was greeted with a shout from across the room.
“Who is that at the door? Mon dieu, do my eyes deceive me?” Philippe’s booming voice encouraged her own smile, and he strode across the room to meet her. “Ah, it has been too long since I saw you last!” he said as he raised her hand to his lips. “It is good to know you still remember me!”
Rachel laughed effortlessly, as all Philippe’s friends and patrons did when he was around. “Forget you? Honestly. A girl could sooner forget her own name than she could your…” She paused, coyly insinuating something scandalously intimate. “Fine ales.”
Philippe gave a hearty laugh and wrapped his arm about Rachel’s shoulders as they walked to the bar. “If it’s an ale you’re in need of, there’s plenty to be had. If it’s… other entertainment…” He winked. “We might have some of that too.”
What remaining doubts she had about Philippe’s sincerity melted away. He was far too kind, warm, and fully smitten with her to pose any danger. Damn the Brotherhood indeed. Tonight was hers.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have a look about town?” Silas crossed his arms and studied the boy as they stood on the top deck of the ship. “I can’t say we’ll be back this way any time soon, or ever, really.”
Eddie shook his head. “No, you go. Captain Kidham says I’m welcome to stay aboard and watch the enginemen do their maintenance if I like. They’ll be in port for two days, so I can always go tomorrow. Besides, it will give you plenty of time to secure further passage.”
Silas was amazed at the boy’s level of obsession with machinery, which sometimes exceeded his own. Still, the lad seemed safe enough here and probably couldn’t get into too much trouble. He gave the captain a questioning look as the man puffed at his ever-present pipe. Kidham nodded his round head and smiled amicably. He’d taken a shine to Eddie in their short journey to La Rochelle. Silas shrugged and decided it was a lost cause. “All right, if that’s what you wish, but stay put. Do not leave this vessel for any reason until I come for you. Do you understand?” Eddie nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll fetch you at midday tomorrow, so be ready to leave by then.”
“Yes, sir!” Eddie snapped a salute and ran off to enjoy his bit of restricted freedom.
Silas gave a tired sigh and turned to go when the captain called to him. “I say, good man, sure you won’t stay over yourself a night and start off in the morning? Not much in the way of passenger fares to be had at this hour. Most of that
sort will be hunched over a pint by now.”
He bowed slightly. “You’ll forgive me, Captain, but I don’t share young Eddie’s love of ships and travel. I prefer my feet on solid ground and a bed I don’t have to strap myself into at night. Please don’t take it personally. It’s been a fine journey, and I thank you for your hospitality.”
“No offense taken, Mr. Jensen, and you’re quite welcome. Might I suggest an inn for you this evening, at least?”
Silas smiled politely. “I’d welcome any advice you have, most certainly.”
He puffed a bit more on his pipe. “The Bois de Fer has comfortable accommodations for a reasonable price, and would suit you well, I dare say. Tell the owner, chap by the name of Alain, that I sent you his way and he’ll be sure to be especially welcoming.”
Silas listened to the directions to the Bois de Fer and walked down the gangway to the dock below. Truthfully, it wasn’t only sleeping on a moving transport that bothered Silas about traveling. He had a horrible sense of direction. He came to the conclusion that north and south were, in fact, much more troublesome than right and left. After hours of meandering through bustling city streets teeming with Hansom cabs and carts alike, he was unforgivingly lost and decided to give up on ever finding the Bois de Fer. It was getting very late, and he would have to find a place for the night soon or risk sleeping on a bench somewhere, or worse, having to take another night on the ship he sailed in on. Of course, he would have to find his way back first.
As he wandered the streets, he decided to stop at the next place he came to that didn’t look to be infested with rats or seedy clientele. He turned the corner and was greeted by the warm glow from the open doorway to a place called the Cheval Rouge. Looking in the window, he was pleasantly surprised to see a sizable crowd gathered within, but they didn’t appear to be overly raucous or suspect. There were smiles everywhere.
Master of Myth (The Antigone's Wrath Series Book 1) Page 4