by Richard Dee
He looked at her, as if she could not possibly know anyone in Metropol City. “A private call,” she repeated, whilst another note joined the first.
“Ah,” he sucked air in through his teeth, “perhaps madam wishes to use the direct dialling facility, freshly connected from the city. I’ll see what can be done, please wait.” He departed, still washing his hands.
Jackson was mystified, everyone knew that the speakers were powered by sound itself, thus they had a short range. Hence the exchanges along the way to receive, amplify and retransmit the signal.
“What is a direct call?” he asked.
“Oswald told us of it,” she explained, “remember the Wasperton-Byler effect?”
He nodded. “Well, another property of the field produced is that it can amplify a sound wave. He calls it modulation or something. Now the exchanges can be linked in a network, switched without human intervention and the signal amplified over the whole distance.”
The concierge returned. “If you will come with me,” he said, “I will take you to the booth and you may make your call.”
The booth was familiar; the difference was in the instrument.
Instead of a plain box with a speaking tube, and a receiver to hold to your head, the box now featured a set of buttons, with the numbers written upon them. Jackson was instantly reminded of the boxes he had seen on the wall in the Prosthesium, and the one worn by Aldithley.
“Do you understand how to use the instrument?” asked the concierge, when Jessamine nodded he bowed. “I will leave you in privacy,” he said, closing the door behind him.
“This is it,” said Jackson, “it’s been in my head and now I understand.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Jessamine, pushing the buttons in sequence.
“It’s about the scene inside the wall,” he said. “I will tell Langdon, else I will have to explain it twice.”
Jessamine finished entering the numbers. Within no time at all, they heard the sound that told them the instrument in the orphanage was ringing.
“Makewright Orphanage, Mrs Grimble speaking.” It was as clear as if she had been stood with them, so different from the crackle of the old system.
“Mrs Grimble, it’s Jessamine.” Jackson heard the squeal of
pleasure. “Oh Jessamine, you are safe, we have been so worried, and is Jackson with you?”
“I am here,” he shouted into the horn.
“Wait a moment, here is Sir Mortimer.” There was a rustling.
“Hello both,” Sir Mortimer’s deep tones echoed around the booth. “What news?”
Quickly, Jessamine told him of what had transpired in Hammerham. “I never received your letters,” he said. “They must have been intercepted. Fairview had a call from Jackson with some cryptic message that made a little sense. Are we to believe that Nethersole is feeding the homeless people that he takes to his porkers?”
“Only the ones his experiments fail on, sir,” said Jackson, “and apparently, he is getting better at whatever he is doing. He is putting something into the persons he takes from the city. It is activated by some sort of control box; they are as if in a trance and obey his every command.”
“Jackson is right. We have seen what he is doing,” Jessamine broke in. “He appears to have a way of controlling people.”
“So he has progressed past turning machines off, there have been developments in the city, more of the accidents and the government is becoming concerned. I am under pressure to remedy the situation. People are dying; we are no closer to finding a way to stop it.”
The line went dead for a few seconds. “Hello,” said Jessamine. “Are you still there?”
Langdon’s voice returned. “This new system, it seems unreliable. Quickly, give me anything more that I can use to placate the Minister. We still know not how the filament might be activated.”
“I have an idea about that,” Jackson said. “There is a box, not unlike this speaker box. The Professor wore one and spoke into it to control the people. At the Prosthesium I saw a line of these boxes in the Professor’s laboratorium. But there was no connection between the box and the people. It seemed as though the signal went through the very air into their bodies.”
“I will tell Oswald, a box with no connection you say, then how did it control the men?”
“And we know the word that he spoke to—” There was a high-pitched whine on the line, then it went dead.
They waited to see if the connection would be restored. After a few moments, it became apparent that it would not. They returned to the desk. “Your speaker has stopped working,” Jackson told the man.
“Again?” he said in surprise. “That is the third time this week, my apologies; I will ensure that the cost does not go on your bill.”
“We need to find a ship to take us to Queinton, the next part of our journey.”
“Then the Acme agency is your place, Mr Billinghurst the agent.” He looked at the timepiece hanging on the wall. “But it will be closed for the day.”
“Then a bath, a meal and a decent sleep is our best plan, it has been a long day,” Jessamine said. “We bid you good night, sir.”
Chapter 25
They went to their room; Jessamine was more relaxed than she had been. “Langdon has new information,” she said, “now he knows what we have learned he is forewarned.”
After eating, bovine this time, which Jackson found a relief, they went to their room, a news-sheet was laid on the desk. Jackson scanned it. “There is a report on the aerialway accident, yet nothing about any other trouble in the city,” he said.
“I expect Langdon will be keeping it quiet,” Jessamine replied. “The government has suppressed bad news before, you know.” She took the sheet from his hand. “In any event, it’s three days old. I’m first for the bath.”
She ran into the room before Jackson could stop her, the door clicked shut and he heard the sound of running water. Left to himself, he considered the place. Port Lucas was clearly prosperous, the hotel was well appointed and the prices high. The people he had seen looked contented. Yet they knew not what happened in the capital, for three days after the event. Surely the country was ripe for better communication? With nothing else to do, he took the map from his belt and studied their intended route to the capital.
Next morning, after another chaste night spent together in the room’s large bed, they took fast-breaker, then set out to search for the shipping agency that had been suggested to them.
“But first, I need to purchase some new clothes,” said Jessamine. “These are little more than rags.”
“Leave enough money for passage, and the fare to the capital,” said Jackson.
“I have money of my own,” she replied, “saved from other work I have done, and anyway, why should I not look my best. I am supposed to be on my nuptials after all.”
She seemed in some sort of mood, she was short and snappy. Jackson was unused to that, but then, he was unused to most female behaviour. Jessamine was no exception, she might act like an honorary boy, be able to climb and live rough in the woods but she was still a female and as such, a mystery to him.
Jackson wandered around the town while Jessamine was off buying her clothes. He happened upon an inn in the backstreets, with livery attached. Boys were walking the equines and Jackson thought he recognised one such, the ginger and white pattern on its foreleg was all too familiar to him.
Surely it could not be the same as the one searching for them on the road? That would be too much of a chance. He had better find Jessamine and get her opinion. He found her outside the general store, dressed in a new gown, burdened with bags.
“I had to have these,” she said, seemingly more cheerful. “Now let’s find that agent.”
“Jessamine,” he said. “I’ve seen the equine, one of those that was searching for us. I recognise the mark on its leg.”
Immediately her face changed. “I had hoped you had not,” she said. “It has been in eviden
ce twice since that night, once in a yard at the hamlet and again I spied it when we arrived here.”
“Why did you not say? Then all our efforts have been in vain and we have not lost our pursuers.”
“No, so we need to think of another plan. We are not going to Queinton.”
He was surprised. “Are we not?”
“No, we go to Omnipa, it will be the call after Queinton, we can see who awaits us on the wharf.”
Jackson spotted the flaw in her plan. “But surely, if we do not disembark at one, it will be obvious that we are headed for the next? I imagine our foe will have people at all ports by now.”
“True,” she said, “and your point is well made. However, once we are aboard ship we are safe. We will just have to think of another way to disembark without being noticed.”
“Anyhow,” said Jackson, “I have been looking at my map and there is no rail at Omnipa. After Queinton, we must go to Aserol or to the new rail in Ventis.”
Before Jessamine could reply, they entered the Speedwell shipping agency, and sought an interview with the manager, a Mr Billinghurst.
“We are looking for passage to Ventis,” Jackson said to the agent. “My wife and I have been spending our honeymoon on a tour of the country. We have used mobiles, a flying machine, our feet and a hay cart. Now we wish to travel by sea, visiting the towns on the coast, finishing by rail from Ventis to the capital.”
The agent shook his head. Young people today, they had no idea of the hardships his generation had endured to allow their frivolity. A spell in the army, facing hostile tribesman would do them all the world of good. Then he had an idea. He smiled.
“There is a vessel, I think it would suit your purpose, she is loading for Queinton, Omnipa, Aserol and Ventis, sailing with the tide in two days.”
“Is there none sooner?” asked Jessamine. “We have urgent work to attend in the capital.”
The agent shook his head. “Not in Port Lucas, and none so fine as the Esperance. Captain Bludmonger is a character, a fine man to spend time with, you will enjoy his company.”
And let a few days with the Captain be a lesson to you, he thought as he mentally calculated the value of his commission.
“And when may we board?” Jessamine was keen to get through the dock gates, there they would be safe from attack. Everyone knew that once you were on a ship, you were under the protection of the Captain.
“I can take you down to the vessel later today, if the Captain will have you. I have some stores and victuals to arrange. Once they are ready, I will go and ask him. I will be back after luncheon, at which time, if the Captain is in agreement, you can ride with me in the mobile. I will write you a passengers’ pass for the gate.”
“We have the time to return to the hotel, have some luncheon, pay our bill and return then,” Jessamine remarked, relieved to be getting closer to safety, if only in small steps. “We will be back later.”
In haste they returned to the hotel and collected their meagre belongings. Truly, things were progressing as well as they could. They were almost safe. They descended to the dining room and partook of luncheon. Once again the produce was local, again porker featured little on the menu. Apparently the area around Port Lucas was famed for its seafood.
They dined on bivalves, crustaceans and a whole medley of piscine, fried in oil, steamed and grilled. Accompanied with fresh vegetables and followed by a medley of local fruit and thick cream, it was as delicious as anything that they had tasted. After the last few days it was welcomed.
As they walked from the hotel back to the agency, Jackson noticed the equine again, this time it was tied up outside the port office. He was sure from the blaze on its leg that it was the same as the one he had seen from the ditch, and again at the livery yard. The rider must be following them, they had to get away as soon as they could.
“Jess,” he said as they got to the agent’s door, “the equine.”
“I know,” she replied, “let’s get inside.”
Two hours later, Billinghurst returned from what had clearly been a good luncheon. There was soup on his jacket and his eyes revealed that more than a drop of wine had accompanied the meal.
“Ah, it’s you,” he said, his voice slurred. “Captain Bludmonger bids you to come aboard. He will accept your cash on safe delivery to Ventis. As for the agency, we will require our commission now.” He mentioned an amount that Jackson thought excessive, the agency had only made an introduction, but Jessamine agreed immediately.
“Pay the man, husband,” she said and Jackson took a moment to realise she meant him. That surprise was replaced by a warm feeling. He could get used to being her husband. He handed the notes over and Billinghurst put them not in his desk but in his pocket.
“I will take you now,” he said. “Where is your luggage?”
“We have only this,” Jessamine replied, indicating their packs and her purchases. “We are ready.”
They sat in the mobile of the agency, with its name written on the side and Billinghurst started the engine. As they drove through the town, three riders were approaching the agency building. Jessamine leaned over and whispered to Jackson, “We are in the very nick of time.” If Billinghurst heard, he said nothing.
At the gate he showed his pass and produced one for them. “They are taking passage on the Esperance,” he explained to the official.
The man rolled his eyes. “And the best of Norlandian luck to them, sailing on that,” he said.
“What do you mean?” asked Jackson, suddenly concerned.
The customs man never answered but waved them through the barrier. Billinghurst accelerated away. “Well? Mr Billinghurst, what does he mean? Answer me,” said Jackson.
“Oh, nothing much, Captain Bludmonger has a reputation as a scoundrel, but then, with the three riders who appear to be after you, he is your only option for a quick departure.”
Jackson and Jessamine exchanged nervous glances, were they merely replacing one peril with another? Billinghurst had them in a trap, he might even be acquainted with their pursuers. They had already paid him; change their minds and they may well be in deeper trouble. They had to continue. Jessamine took Jackson’s hand, “Do not react, there is little we can do. All will be well,” she whispered in his ear.
The mobile was parked beside the warehouses and they walked around the corner, catching their first sight of the Esperance.
Chapter 26
The term rusty scarce did it justice. The hull was encrusted with great scabs of decay, the hull might originally have been painted in a light green colour, but what remained of that was chipped and hidden under red and brown rivulets of decay. The bow showed evidence of contact with many a harbour wall, on the main and after decks, cargo operations were in full swing. Pairs of derricks lifted goods from the hatch and swung them over-side on singing rigging, where they were seized by waiting stevedores and taken into the warehouses by clockwork trucks.
The band wove between the workers until they came to a gangway. Standing at the top was a sailor, dressed in faded green overalls and a cap that matched the original colour of the hull. He brandished a wooden stick, then when he saw Billinghurst he relaxed it. “Mr B,” he said, “back for another glass of luncheon are we? Who might these two be then?”
“Hello again, Meriwether, I have your passengers here. Captain’s expecting them.”
“Better go on up then,” he said. “Pleased to meet you, sir, madam.” He touched his cap. Jackson was at the tail of the group and he noticed Meriwether’s gaze linger on Jessamine’s rear as she climbed the stair. It angered him, but only a little, it was a nice view and he knew she could take care of herself if needs be.
“Captain Bludmonger,” said Billinghurst, as they entered the sanctum of the vessel’s master. “I have the last of your stores in my mobile, and I also have the two passengers I told you of; a bit of new conversation and entertainment for your voyage.”
Bludmonger rose from behind his desk and came to g
reet them. He was enormous, heavily bearded and walked as if his ship were storm tossed whilst still alongside.
“Hail, fellow,” he said, slapping Jackson between the shoulders. “Do you drink ale, lad? Your wife is very pretty.” He made a grab for Jessamine, but she evaded him. “Spirited as well, never mind, we have time at sea and a small ship with few hiding places.” He roared with laughter.
Jackson had a sinking feeling. They were stuck with this man, on the ship he was the law and his crew would do his bidding without hesitation. Yet they must go with him, their lives and those of many others depended upon it.
“You are welcome; my Bosun will show you to your cabin, we eat at sundown.” He waddled to the door, in a way that suggested the vessel was rolling heavily. “Bosun!” he bellowed down the alleyway. Almost instantly, a small wizened man appeared and touched his forelock.
“Cap’n,” he muttered.
“Take these passengers to the guest suite,” Bludmonger said. “Settle them in.”
“Yes, Cap’n.” The man scuttled away.
“There you are, follow him,” Bludmonger said. “I will see you again when we eat.”
In a daze they complied. Jessamine kept well away from the Captain as she left the cabin. The Bosun led them up a deck and outside. Behind the wheelhouse was a door, the words ‘Certified for two Passengers’ was inscribed over it.
Inside was a finely furnished bedroom, with seating and a desk. To one side was a washroom. Jackson tried the hot tap, the water was almost boiling. The Bosun had disappeared. Jackson sat on the bed, or should it be bunk? At least it wasn’t a hammock.
“Will this do?” he asked Jessamine, who was arranging the contents of her pack on the desk.
“It will be only for a few days,” she said. “The Captain’s a strange one; it’s as if everyone but us knows that we shouldn’t be here. And the agent knows more than he says. He took our cash quickly enough; I think he has sold us a bad deal here.”
“It feels like we must be on guard,” he agreed. “What did you want to tell me?”