The Stowaway Debutante

by Rebecca Diem

  She braced herself against the wind as she waited for the Captain and Trick to finish crossing. The Captain acknowledged her with a nod and the barest tease of a grin, then immediately set about shouting orders to the crew. Trick clapped her on the back and handed her the boots.

  “Thank you Mr. Kilarney, I wasn’t sure I could spare a hand for them while I crossed.”

  “It was no problem at all. These are lovely boots for the land to be sure, but we’ll fit you with some good deck slippers soon enough. You did well, Miss Clara.”

  “Just Clara, please.”

  “Very well, Clara, if you’ll do me the honour of addressing me as Trick.” He folded himself into an elaborate bow. She reciprocated with a formal curtsy, sweeping her skirts back and bending so gracefully that her etiquette instructor would certainly have cried with joy.

  “The honour is mine, Trick.”

  He blushed. And blushed further still, upon discovering the Captain with arms crossed beside him.

  “If the introductions are complete, Clara, Nessa, you will join me in my cabin. Trick, the ship is yours.”

  He turned and stalked toward a door at the rear of the ship. She received an unnerving smile from Nessa that did nothing to set her at ease, and the two of them followed behind.

  The cabin held both work and living quarters. The half presently occupied by the trio was dominated by a table covered with maps. A correspondence desk took over the far corner. The morning light streamed into the room from a wall of large windows, slanting over the papers on the table. A number of shelves were lined with books and rolls of what Clara presumed to be more maps, all held secure by intricate wooden lattice. To her right was a wall dividing the cabin, with curtains pulled back from an arch leading into a bedroom. She could just catch a sliver of rumpled sheets through the opening, but quickly turned her attention back to the man clearing papers from the table. He pulled up a chair and gestured for her to do the same. Nessa leaned against the wall, observing them. Clara sat straight and met the Captain’s gaze with what she hoped was a calm expression. Her composure was admittedly a bit rattled from the morning’s events, and she had not had much opportunity for sleep. However, she was determined to find some logical solution to her troubles once she discovered the intentions of this Captain Duke. The standoff was finally broken by the Captain leaning forward and brushing his hair back from his eyes.

  “Well, Clara, you have certainly made this venture more… surprising.”

  She was unsure how to respond so she waited in silence for him to continue.

  “First, I must thank you. Your interference likely saved the lives of my crew, our cargo and myself as well.”

  “It was a happy accident, sir. Your good fortune coincided with my own.”

  “Your meaning?”

  Clara decided honesty was her best advantage. She sensed no ill from this Captain… yet.

  “Well, you see, the gunpowder was interfering with my plan of escape.”

  “Were you a captive then?”

  “No, a stowaway, as Trick said. I boarded the airship with the assistance of my– a friend, and his glider. I thought I might hide in one of the crates, but the prohibited nature of the cargo was an unexpected obstacle.”

  “I see. And what circumstances brought about your fortuitous presence?”

  Now she hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal.

  “Reluctance is understandable,” he continued. “Not many would turn stowaway without good reason. I only ask because your appearance would suggest a more unusual story than most.”

  Clara refused to blush, but smoothed her skirts self-consciously.

  “I was hoping to find more reasonable attire in London,” she offered.

  “I have an extra pair of trousers that might fit her. They will do for now,” Nessa spoke up, still leaning against the wall. Clara turned to her with gratitude, breaking her composure. It was the first sign of the possibility for a good rapport with the piratess.

  “Oh would you? Excellent! I can pay of course, but really it would be such a favour…” she trailed off. “That is – thank you. It would be greatly appreciated.”

  Nessa smiled and with a nod from the Captain she went in search of the apparel. Clara’s feelings were mixed between her relief at the prospect of changing out of her vexatious gown and her acute awareness of being left alone with the Captain Duke. A patch of sunlight illuminated his shoulder. His hair was bright against his shirt, and Clara cursed herself for noticing. She stilled herself into calm silence once more. The Captain continued to observe her.

  “Correct me please, but I assume that to be a dress of some quality.”

  “Once, perhaps, but as you can see my adventures have spoiled it somewhat.”

  He raised an eyebrow, waiting.

  “I had to leave in a bit of a hurry, you see…”

  He waited still. Clara sighed.

  “Fine, what is it you wish to know.”

  “Did you steal that jacket?”

  “What? No, Archie gave it to me. I could hardly run away in naught but a ball gown.”

  “Archie?” he asked.

  She went silent, cursing herself for the slip.

  “I can assure you that anything you reveal will be kept in the strictest confidence. I am only trying to ensure the safety of my crew from reprisal over your presence on my ship. Do you fear imminent discovery of your escape?”

  “I… I left with the consent of my family. My brother, Archie, had the idea for the airship. I did not have much time to prepare. There is a possibility that someone may be searching, but they will look to Europe first.”

  He considered this new information, leaning back in his chair.

  “I realize my presence may be inconvenient, but my identity would perhaps be most secure aboard your vessel. I lack experience, but I could be of assistance to you and your crew.”

  The Captain Duke raised his brows, “You want to be a piratess?”

  “A liberator, I believe you said.”

  He smiled then, showing a glimmer of white teeth.

  “Yes, I did. What would compel a lady of your status to become a pilot?”

  “What would compel a Duke to pilot a pirate ship?”

  He laughed at that, and her stomach flipped at the boldness of her inquiry. This was a dangerous man, though it was difficult to remember that fact when he seemed so young and full of amusement. Her heart was pounding, but it was excitement, not fear, that drove her. This was an adventure she was compelled to chase. She was certain this airship was where she was meant to be. The moment was broken as Nessa returned with the promised clothing.

  “Touché,” he answered. “What are you prepared to offer in exchange to join my crew?”

  Clara stood, taking courage from Nessa’s renewed presence. She drew back her brother’s coat and fiddled with the ties that bound the satchels beneath her skirts. The fullness of the gown concealed them well, and now it served to adequately preserve her modesty as she undid a second set of ties. She placed the satchels on the table with a heavy thud and removed the contents, relishing the open astonishment of Nessa and the Captain Duke. Two large coin purses, four slender books, and a matched set of dueling pistols were added to the table, along with the small packet of food. She added an extra apple from her pocket and a slim knife from her sleeve. She smiled sweetly at the Captain, his amusement quite apparent.

  “Welcome aboard, Clara.”

  Chapter 3: In which our hero acquires a new pilot

  The girl stood smiling over her stash of goods. The Captain Duke could not help but admire her, bold as brass, coming armed onto his ship. Nessa went pale as smoke at her failure to check the girl for weapons, and now her fingers twitched at the handle of her sword. He waved her off. The girl was no threat. Instead, he leaned forward and looked over the books on the table. One in particular caught his eye.

  “The Press and the Public Service, by Grenville-Murray? That’s an interesting text for a lady to be c
arrying on her… person.”

  “Really? I find questions on the modernization of diplomacy to be entirely relevant to one’s education. This is most certainly a definitive work of Grenville-Murray’s, I find it to be much more concise in outlining his politics than the assorted articles in Household Words or The Morning Post,” Clara replied. He raised a brow.

  “I was under the impression that Embassies and Foreign Courts was more relative to his career in diplomacy.”

  “Yes, but in this text, written later in his career, he expands upon his views of filling the diplomatic ranks by merit and skill rather than patronage. It is quite compelling,” she added.

  The Captain Duke did his best to maintain a neutral expression. Reaching over, he slid the small book and one of the coin purses towards his side of the table.

  “This will be payment for your commission as a pilot on my ship. Are these terms acceptable to you?”

  “Oh, yes!” she said. Nessa cleared her throat in disapproval. Clara corrected herself, “Yes, Captain.”

  “Nessa will show you to your new duties. You are dismissed.”

  He managed to keep a straight face while Clara attempted to replicate Nessa’s smart salute. She quickly stuffed the remainder of her things into the satchels, including the shirt and breeches procured by Nessa. The two women left, with Clara following eagerly behind. Nessa glared at him, but spoke not a word as she shut the cabin door.

  Alone now, he sighed deeply and reflected on the morning’s strange turn of events. A new pilot. A rare text. A stowaway debutante. He hoped that he wouldn’t regret his decision, but he trusted his gut and his instincts told him that Clara could be a valuable asset to his crew. She was a queerly clever girl, and dauntless despite her apparent inexperience in the world. If she was as she seemed, he was certain she would prove to be quite capable. If she was false, however… he refused to complete the thought. He picked up the book and perused the first few pages. This was certainly a day of surprises.

  A knock at the door interrupted his study. Trick walked into the cabin.

  “Captain? I have the inventory.” He cleared the table, pulling a ledger from the shelves above the desk.

  “We can add a text, a purse and a pilot to that list of the goods cleared today.”

  “Which text, sir? I already have the pilot noted down,” Trick smiled. The Captain gave him a hard look.

  “Pardon me for being eager. Miss Clara did save our lives today. I saw her tailing Nessa and figured she’d found herself a commission.”

  “Well I had to find something for her and I doubt she would have taken to being left at the next port. Strange girl, that one.”

  “Indeed,” Trick’s eyes glittered for a moment before resuming their seriousness. “Now, if you’ll observe here, their inventory lists don’t match up at all. Only four crates of grain in total, with about 20 extra sacks scattered about to keep up the illusion. The other 56 are filled with barrels of smuggled gunpowder, as far as we were able to ascertain.”

  “Did the captain name his client? The reasons for the covert transportation?”

  “No, sir, we checked the records and the names are a dead end. All are listed under a John Smith at a false address. He claimed a clerical error at first, and then admitted that he took the cargo for twice the normal rate for transportation with no questions asked.”

  “It’s not one of ours, but what would the Tradists need with smuggled powder? They control the imports already.”

  “Not for me to say, Captain. I’d recommend sending out a few subtle inquiries, see if it was any other’s business we weren’t informed of. The Widow might know.”

  “The Black Widow? If you think it worthwhile then I’ll write to her, but I trust that she would have sent word already if she’d heard anything. Meanwhile, what do you recommend for the Tradist ship? I don’t enjoy the idea of traveling with explosives. We needed that grain. We’ll be targeting another shipment before we dock.”

  “I’ve set Robbie to it; he can take the powder back to the Haven to be kept safe until we decide what to do with it.”

  “And the captain?”

  “That coward? He knew what it was, sir, he led us straight down there. He would have blown the whole ship and us with it. A few surrendered, they ought to be spared, but in my opinion sir, he’s unfit to call himself pilot.”

  “Tell Robbie to take them by way of the cliffs. The crew may take their gliders. The captain can swim for his.”

  “I’ll pass the order along. Anything else, Captain?”

  He considered the rest of the inventory list.

  “The larder of the ship was especially well-stocked. It looks like our coward might have spent some of his ill-gotten profits a little early. Leave some of the goose for Robbie and his boys, bring the rest over. We’ll have a feast tonight, officers and crew.”

  “Excellent idea, sir. A perfect way to welcome our new pilot.”

  “That is not— we already—” he sighed. “That is not my intention. We need to keep up morale for the next raid. None were lost today but that could change.”

  “Yes, Captain, of course. I’ll spread the word. ‘Morale’ dinner tonight.” He turned to leave.

  “And Trick?”

  “Captain?”

  “Perhaps some entertainment might contribute to morale.”

  His smile grew even wider, “I’ll warm up the squeezebox, sir!”

  The Captain returned to updating the ledgers, noting down the name and year of the new book for his collection. After a moment, he added the source.

  Clara —, Pilot, July 25th 1886.

  Chapter 4: In which our heroine finally gets to wear trousers

  Clara could hardly believe her good fortune as she followed Nessa from the cabin. She could not have foreseen such luck in her plans for escaping the island. A commissioned pilot on a renowned airship! Admittedly, the esteemed Captain Duke and his crew had a reputation as pirates, but she was certain there was more to that tale than was commonly known. He seemed to show more concern for the missing grain than the gunpowder gained in the raid. In any case, she already felt a rapport growing with Trick; a good sign of things to come. As for the Captain, it remained to be seen. He was a harder man to read. She was not yet sure whether he was humouring her for his own amusement, or if he was impressed by her capabilities. Nessa was another mystery. She could sense the other woman’s unease. Clara was determined to prove herself. She had bought her way onto this airship, and now she would earn her place on it.

  She followed Nessa across the decks and down a set of stairs into the crew’s quarters below. The room they entered was a comfortable size, but nowhere near large enough to fit all of the pilots she had seen working above.

  “These are the women’s quarters,” Nessa replied, seeing Clara’s questioning look. “The Captain Duke was kind enough to let us have our own space. Easier to avoid problems among the crew.”

  “I see. Are there often… problems?”

  “No, our crew knows its business. We’re professionals. Colleagues. If any decide to take a lover they know it has to be done right by both parties.”

  Clara blushed, trying to control her reaction to Nessa’s blunt speech.

  “No, I didn’t mean – ,” she took a breath and caught the teasing glance Nessa cast her way as she struggled to compose her words. “I’m unfamiliar with airships. I was unsure whether it was standard for female pilots to have their own quarters.”

  “Some do. Our crew is pretty respectful. We’re more like a family than most. The Captain Duke sets the tone and any who don’t like it can leave. There’s more lady pilots out there today than when I started, but there’s still crews who hold to old seafaring superstitions about women on board.”

  Clara walked around the room. A small dresser and mirror were bolted securely in the corner. Of the twelve bunks, only four were bare. Nessa crossed to a closet and pulled out extra bedding.

  “Well? Pick one and get dressed, we’ve
got a lot to cover today if you’re going to be one of my pilots.”

  Clara quickly stored her belongings in the cubby hole next to one of the few remaining top bunks and hurried to remove her dress. In her haste she knotted the laces and had to ask for Nessa’s assistance. After a few moments of struggle, she happily agreed to Nessa’s offer of a knife instead. It was rather satisfying to cut through the ribbons and lace. The pale blue fabric fell gracefully to the floor and she kicked it aside as she slipped into breeches and a loose tunic. She paused and took a deep breath. Her chest expanded fully and she breathed out a sigh of pleasure, sharing a small grin with the piratess. A loose leather girdle and supple boots completed her ensemble. She quickly rebraided her hair to keep it from her face. While looking around for a fastener, Nessa grinned and cut a swathe from the ruined gown. Clara appreciated the symbolism as she bound the end of her dark plait with the blue fabric. They hung her brother’s coat in a second closet that was filled with various costumes and street clothes. Nessa explained that the dresses were for days when they docked in towns that were less receptive to women in breeches. Clara hardly recognized the woman she glimpsed in the mirror. It was odd to wear breeches, but she enjoyed the transformation they evoked.

  “Alright, we’ll take you on a tour now before you start your duties. I’m not entirely sure what the Captain wants you to be doing but I’m sure Trick will find something. What are you skilled at anyhow?”

  “Well, I have been educated, if that’s what you mean. I’m sure I can learn quickly.”

  Nessa pursed her lips.

  “Do you know ropes? How to tie knots?”

  “N-no, not really.”