by Rebecca Diem
“Can you cook?”
“Well, I could certainly assist, I’m sure, but I don’t have much practice.”
“Can you climb?”
“Oh, yes. I think so. When I was little I used to climb the fences and trees around our property.”
“Can you fight?”
“Fight?”
Nessa sighed. “Yes, fight. You’re aboard an airship, not a leisure cruise. Can you fly at least?”
“Yes, I can fly. My brother took me on his glider any chance we had. I can definitely fly.”
“Alone or just in pairs?”
“Well, as a pair, but I’m sure I can do it myself, really!”
Clara was becoming desperate as Nessa grew more and more cross. Perhaps this wasn’t such a change in her fortunes after all. Clara took a deep breath. She could do this, she knew it, but how to prove herself when she had never had the opportunity to try? She squared her shoulders and looked Nessa in the eyes.
“I was tutored by the renowned Master Thompson alongside my brother. I learned every text on diplomacy and the British politic in my father’s library by heart. I studied modern justice and the British common laws after Father found me cleaning out his dueling pistols at nine years of age because a boy stole a kiss and offended me. I speak English, German, French, and a little Flemish. I am schooled in both letters and numbers and I can recite passages from Machiavelli as easily as I can recount Spenser or Shakespeare. I climbed the tallest trees on the Island and taught myself to swim in a pond when I was six so that I could chase the ocean waves on our next trip to the seaside. I have never truly fought an opponent, I prefer the use of my wits to violence, but I am practised in the defensive arts. My father did eventually permit me to train with firearms though I have never used them against another person.”
She took another breath and would have continued, but she noticed that Nessa was barely concealing her mirth.
“It’s certainly an impressive resume. Tell me though, what happened to the boy who stole the kiss?”
“Nothing,” Clara grumbled. “They made me begin etiquette lessons with Miss Ellington instead.”
The laughter came rolling from her now.
“I can – aha, I can just imagine a governess trying to manage a child like you. It explains a great deal though.”
“Like what?”
“Well, you’re such a lady when you’re on the defensive. Cold, composed and the like. But there’s some kind of hellcat ready to be unleashed under those braces. The hellcat I can work with. The lady may be of use as well someday. You’ll do fine.”
Clara blushed at the other woman’s praise. They shook hands. Then Nessa clapped an arm around her shoulders and steered her out of the room. They almost ran right over Trick who had just come around the corner.
“I see you two are thick as thieves already.”
“Liberators, dear Trick. The Captain says no thieving aboard his ship.”
“Yes, yes, well he’s instructed me to inform the crew that the most recently liberated bounty is enough to warrant a feast tonight.”
Nessa raised an eyebrow, but Trick only winked in return.
“Well,” said Nessa after a moment. “We had better get you up to speed Clara. Tonight you’ll get a true taste of what it means to be one of our pilots. You’ve got to work for your supper on this airship. I hope you can dance or sing.”
“Oh yes, Miss Ellington insisted.” They shared a grin at Trick’s look of confusion.
Nessa linked her other arm into Trick’s and the three of them set off to the main deck. Clara could feel a sense of elation spreading throughout her. She was ready to begin her adventure.
Hours later, Clara was positive that she had never been so tired or pleased in her life. Her body was unused to the vigour required for life in the air, but the cool winds whipping her face and the sight of the whitest of clouds stretching out over the land to kiss the sea thrilled her to no end. She paused to sweep some loosened strands of hair from her eyes. She would have to learn to braid her hair like Nessa next time. The expert pilot’s long, blonde hair never escaped its fastening.
“How are ye there?” shouted Cat, another of the pilots. She and her brother, Mouse, had joined the crew as practically babes. Their father had been a captain and raised them on his airship after their mother’s passing. When he died, the two of them had sought out the Captain on their own. The bold little Catherine and her timid younger brother, Morris, were two of the best climbers and gliders she had ever met. Not that she had met many, but at 14 and eight years of age their reputations were assured.
“Quite fine, thank you,” Clara called back over the wind. Still, she felt a stab of anxiety as Cat ran nimbly across the rope bridge beneath the balloons.
“We’ll teach you to glide tomorrow when we’re over water. You seem to take to the heights well.”
They were standing on a small platform suspended from the ropes above and connected to the deck by a tightly woven ladder.
“Would it concern you if I was actually quite terrified by the prospect of falling?”
Cat answered with a grin.
“You’d be a fool if you weren’t, and we can’t have fools up here. Right, Mouse?”
Her brother swung down from his post checking the ropes that secured the balloon. He landed perfectly with a wide grin, and Clara laughed at their antics.
“You’ll feel better once you know how to fly. You’ll never take to solid ground again,” he answered. “The weather looks good for tomorrow. We’ll teach you.”
“Well with such expert instructors I can hardly refuse the opportunity.”
Mouse blushed, as only a young boy can, and puffed out his chest with pride. Cat punched his arm.
“Aw, you’re blushing at the lady now!”
“Am not! She just said we’re expert!”
“Are too!”
“Am not!”
Clara recalled the secondary explanation for the siblings’ nicknames. Just as quickly as their squabble had started, it switched to a challenge to see who could reach the main deck first. Clara carefully made her way down as she watched the two of them race to another ladder, each scrambling down a side of it like a rope. By the time she reached the bottom, they were squabbling again over who had won and who had cheated. She was breathless with laughter, but quickly composed herself when the Captain Duke brushed past her to separate the two of them.
“She cheated, she jumped at the end!”
“He could have too! He was only ahead by a smidge ‘cause he got to the ladder first, that’s all.”
“I was watching and I declare it a tie. Any questions?” he asked, crossing his arms.
“No sir,” they replied together.
“Wash up without fighting and there’s an extra serving of duck for each of you.”
They scrambled off below deck, shouting their thanks behind them.
“Quite the pair, aren’t they?” Clara spoke aloud, addressing the Captain. She had hardly seen him since receiving her commission that morning. He chuckled in reply,
“They’ve each grown a foot this week, I’d swear on it. And you’ve never seen anyone tuck away food the way they do. They’ve got hollow bones like the gulls.”
He laughed, then checked his composure, smoothing out his long blue coat.
“How are you taking to the pilot’s life?”
“Quite well. Nessa taught me the knots today, Trick said I may assist him with the ledgers, and those two have just shown me how to climb. I’m to fly soon as well.”
“Good. Please excuse me, I need to speak with Trick.”
He left, and Clara stood there, bemused by the sudden change in his attitude and his hasty exit. Nessa called her over to the foredeck and she hurried to meet her.
“What did you say to the Captain?”
“Just what I learned today.”
Nessa’s frown turned into a sly grin and a look of mischief crossed her face.
“Hmm, per
haps we’ll find out more at dinner. You did well today, Clara. Our crew works hard for their ship and for each other. We’re a family. You’ll have to decide whether you’re one of us soon.” She stopped Clara’s protest, “Not now. Right now you love the adventure, and I know it. The skies are freedom to you and I, and there’s a world of possibility up here. But, I need to know that you’ll still be with us in the hard times as well. I won’t ask what you’re running from. Just prove to us that you’re not still running.”
Nessa steered her down to the cabin to wash, silencing all of Clara’s questions with another rambling stream of stories and instructions about life aboard the airship.
Chapter 5: In which our heroine sups aboard an airship
Below deck, Cat was already in the room along with some of the other female crew. Clara was suddenly shy at the prospect of meeting all of her new roommates. Never before had she lived with so many women of such varied occupations. Three were regular pilots, one worked in the kitchens, and the final two were nurses. They all welcomed her warmly, passing her a bottle of rum and laughing at her expression as she tasted it. Cat took the bottle next, to Clara’s shock. She moved to take a swig but was stopped by a stern look from Nessa.
“Oh come now. I’m nearly 15, practically an old maid!”
“Your birthday was only in June, child, and the summer is not yet over. Besides, moderation is a virtue. Captain’s rules. You get a pint at dinner and not a sip more until you’re older.”
Cat drew herself to her full height but the older woman towered over her. Nessa was almost the height of the Captain, and taller than many of the male pilots as well. The young girl rolled her eyes before returning the bottle with a flourish. Nessa grabbed her up in a hug that left her feet dangling a foot off the floor.
“Where did my little Cat get to?”
Clara basked in the warm glow of such informal female companionship. She had a similar sort of familiarity with her own brother, but had little experience with other women. At home, gentler activities and distractions had ruled their social calendar. She quickly chased away her ruminations with a second drink, not better than the first but she was prepared for the burning taste this time.
“You’ll be a true pilot after tonight, Clara!” one of the cooks shouted. Maggie, perhaps? Or was that one Peg and the nurse Maggie? No, that one was definitely Charlotte, she thought, trying to keep the introductions straight as the warmth spread through her. The women shared their stories and advice and boasted of their feats on board the airship. All seemed to agree that the Captain flew the best ship and Clara was fortunate to have fallen in with them. None appeared to have any reservations about living their lives as pirates. One, a nurse named Susan, began a tale of medicines delivered to an Irish village but the others stopped her at the graphic description of the disease. Finally, a bell rang from above and the women made their way to the mess hall, Cat running full-tilt ahead of them.
They entered the warm, brightly-lit room to the smell of roasted duck, fresh bread, and a steamy summer vegetable stew. Clara’s stomach growled audibly. She had only had a light lunch before setting about her lessons that day, and between the demanding labour and the intoxicants she was more than ready for a warm meal. The men of the crew shouted greetings across the room and the pilots quickly mingled. Everyone came over to welcome Clara, and Cat was beaming with excitement as she took charge of the introductions.
“This is Sully, Mouse says he snores but he’s the best at navigatin’ over the water ‘cause he was a sailor before he came up as a pilot. This is Darion, he’s a fighter, but he’s ticklish too so don’t let him bother ye. This is Cook. His name is something else but we call him Cook. Peg helps him in the galley.”
Clara stifled her laughter at the colourful introductions, and greeted each of them in turn. It soon became apparent that Nessa spoke true: They were a family, teasing and joking and sharing stories of each other’s feats and foibles. They were a happy, boisterous group.
A few thumps on the table silenced the crowded room as they turned their attention to the front of the room. The Captain Duke stood tall in a long blue dress coat, with an empty mug turned gavel in one fist. Mouse ran over with a jug of foamy beer to fill it. His serious expression curled into a brief smile of thanks.
“Tonight we celebrate another successful raid on the Tradists. None were lost and much was gained.” The Captain gestured towards the galley door, where Beatrice and the other kitchen staff entered bearing platters and dishes piled high with food. He paused for the cheers, and then raised a hand for silence as he continued,
“We have more work to do before joining Robbie and the others, but tonight we celebrate a job well done.”
He raised his glass and all joined in the toast that followed:
To the winds, to the clouds, to a life lived well,
Take me up to the sky!
To the heavens above and the land far below,
Pilot, keep to the sky!
To the sun on your face and the stars in your eyes,
Captain! Give me the sky!
They drank deeply to the toast, then chaos resumed as the meal began in earnest. The food was heavenly. Clara was surprised to learn of the facilities on board. It was a first-class airship. They were able to restock their larder more frequently than boats, and so fresh food was readily available. The bread was even made on board, thanks to the expert labours of Cook and his staff. Nessa explained that the Captain didn’t believe in keeping his pilots half-starved while he and the officers ate their fill. They regularly ate with the crew themselves. Nessa took a seat on the bench beside Clara, with Cat supplanting a heavily mustachioed pilot to claim her other side. She was enjoying her meal and the conversations around her, but her eyes strayed to observe the Captain as he strolled about the room. Nessa noticed her inattention, and leaned over to whisper,
“He’ll get his plate last, there’s more than enough.”
“Oh, I wasn’t–,” Clara blushed. “It’s a lovely coat,” she finished, picking at her food. Nessa was blessedly merciful, pretending it was a perfectly legitimate excuse for her fixation. In truth, it was a fine blue coat that perfectly set off his hair, now tied back with a dark ribbon. The candlelight made it look like a seam of fire down his back.
“He stole it off of one of the first Tradist ships he raided, you know? It was a gnarly old captain in charge, one of those used to the days of the East India Company. He kept Orientals as indentured servants and charged double to the Irish towns. A meaner soul you never saw. So, the Captain Duke, he takes his share of the cargo and leaves the airship to the Orient pilots, right? And before he flies off, the other captain – tied up on his own ship, you see, and expecting to be taken for ransom – he calls out, ‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ The Captain Duke turns about and tells him he’s right. And he calls for the pilots to toss over that fine blue jacket that he’s wearing now. It was far too big for him back then, but he’s grown into it well don’t you think?”
“How long has he been a… a liberator then?” Clara asked.
“Since he was about Cat’s age I think. Maybe younger. Don’t let his age fool you though; he’s one of the cleverest Captains I ever served. I have nothing but respect for the man.”
“Have you known him long?”
“I’ve been here seven years, just a touch longer than Cat and Mouse. Trick’s known him the longest, been his first mate from the start. He says he took one look and knew he was a ‘lad to be followed,’ even though he has more than a few years on the Captain. They named me their bosun within my first year.”
“Were you always a pilot?”
“No, I was apprenticed to a dressmaker once. I ran off with a pilot who caught my eye, and decided I liked his stories of life in the clouds better than I liked the man who told them. So I joined up. Or I tried to. It took a while to find a ship with the right fit,” she said with a wink.
“And a pirate ship was your choice?” Clara asked, lau
ghing.
“Hey, you’re a piratess yourself now. Or you will be as of the next raid. But yes, I find that the Tradists are rather old-fashioned when it comes to respecting a woman’s abilities. You should ask the Captain about his philosophy of liberation sometime. Or you’ll figure it out soon enough. ‘Pirate’ is in the eye of the beholder.”
“I suspected as much.”
“We know. It’s probably why he allowed you to join our crew. We’re not the most exemplar of her Majesty’s subjects, but we have our own code and we stick to it.”
Clara chewed as she considered Nessa’s words. She was right, she wouldn’t have joined them, gunpowder or not, if she hadn’t sensed the friendship here. Pirates or liberators, or whatever they called themselves, these were good people, even if they had a rather liberal attitude toward the necessity of violence.
Her reverie was interrupted by a loud squawk of an accordion being warmed up. Trick was perched on a tall stool at the front of the room.
“Oh good! You’re in for a treat tonight,” Nessa said, as she quickly mopped up the rest of her stew with a slice of bread. Cat was already out of her seat and racing to the front to sit with her brother at the first mate’s feet. Clara hurried to finish her own supper as the entertainment began.
“Well what shall we have tonight?” Trick called. “A waltz? A libretto?”
“Tammany’s jig!” shouted Cat and Mouse together.
“Tammany’s jig? Are you sure?”
“Yes, sir!” replied Mouse. The boy was leaning forward, enraptured by the instrument.
“And what will you give for it?”
“A brass ring!” yelled Cat, as she fished it from her pocket and presented it to the first mate with a curtsy.
Trick put on the ring with a flourish, pausing to stroke the dark stubble on his face before assuming a gallant pose with one knee cocked. He launched into a rollicking tune, singing loudly in a beautiful tenor about a man named Tammany who danced for the Faerie Queen.
Tables and benches were soon cleared to make room for dancing. Trick managed to both play and dance, while others helped to carry the tune. It seemed many of the pilots had favourites they were more than eager to share. Clara held back at first, unused to the wildness of the dancing, but she was soon pulled in by Cat and the steps were not too difficult to learn. It became apparent to her that any skill at courtly dancing paled in comparison to the talents of the crew. Trick and Nessa danced a jig together in the Irish style, leaping and spinning about the room. One of the dark-skinned pilots jumped upon a table for a dance of his own people. Clara was fascinated, and wished she could be as bold one day. She was out of breath and glowing from the dancing when Trick called out to her.