Beyond the starline, p.7
Beyond the Starline, page 7
The crew suppressed embarrassed laughter.
“Aye aye,” said the captain, nodding. “There’s that. And that’s all, do you understand? Not much, in other words. An accident of biology – and that’s all. For everything else, you’d tell no difference between them. In fact, there’s so little difference we invent differences to support this ridiculous, unscientosophic idea. Hair cut short for boys, girls hair long; boys in trousers, girls in skirts; boys learn to fight, girls learn to sew. Don’t you see, you dullards? It’s all made up. Do you think a boy couldn’t learn to sew, or a girl couldn’t learn to fight?”
The captain paused. “Come to think of it, there’s not much difference between this monkey and us, either. We’re no more distant than cousins, I tell you. I have never heard a monkey speak before and would not have thought it possible. But we must always be prepared to change our views in the light of new evidence. And which is the more reasonable explanation for what we have heard today? That the monkey is bewitched or that he is an intelligent animal deserving of our respect?”
He raised his hands. His voice took on the ecstatic tones of a philosophical orator of old. “We all have heads, eyes, hands and hearts. We’re all blossoms on different branches of a single tree, my friends: the great Tree of Life.” He looked about him, his brow knotted again. He sighed. His shoulders slumped. “So show each other a bit o’ respect, that’s all.”
Turning to Harriet and Sibelius, Captain Hardcastle shook each of them by the hand. “Welcome aboard!” he said. Then, turning to the crew, “Back to work! If there’s any more trouble, I’ll fling the culprits into the ravening maws of the next sky squid that comes near this ship!”
The captain turned on his heels and stomped back down below. “You two, follow me!” he shouted as his head vanished below decks. “Come on!” he bellowed from below. “Don’t keep me waiting!”
Harriet and Sibelius nodded at the skyfarers, turned and hurried after the captain. At the foot of the staircase they discovered a wide corridor of paneled oak. Ornate electrostatic lanterns fizzed and popped in brass fittings. Several doors lined the passage. The one at the end stood open. Harriet led the way and knocked gently on the polished surface of the open door.
“Enter!” boomed the captain’s rich baritone. They went in. Racks of charts lined one wall. On a mahogany table stood a clockwork orrery, its metallic planets spinning. Bookcases burgeoned with volumes of every size and description. Specimen jars, a polished brass microscope and other instruments whose purpose Harriet could only guess at, cluttered the surface of a Scientosophic workbench.
She glanced over the spines of the books. The captain’s library contained books on every possible subject. Open upon his desk was a large, leather-bound volume entitled, A Treatise on the Evolution of Living Organisms from a Common Ancestor by Processes Entirely Natural.
“Please sit down,” said the captain. They sat on plush, upholstered chairs. The captain rested his elbows on the arms of his own chair and pressed the tips of his fingers together. He gave them a solemn look.
“Thanks for rescuing us, Cap’n,” said Harriet. “We’re sorry we stowed away on your ship but we had no choice, see? We’ve got money and we’d meant to pay, but them pirates was after us and in any case no one would have a girl about. We got hauled into the hold before we even knew it. I’ve got to get to the Moon to find me old man and...”
The captain raised his hand and Harriet stopped talking, gently biting her bottom lip.
“Calm yourself, my dear,” said the captain. “It is a long way to the Moon. We have plenty of time. I have many questions I would like to ask both of you. But first, draw breath please and tell me, in full and logical order, how and why you came to be upon my ship?”
Harriet and Sibelius told the story of everything that had happened since their conversation at the window of Harriet’s tower back in Lundoon. They didn’t mention the chart reader. This good captain seems a fair old cove, to be sure, thought Harriet. But I ain’t taking any risks when it comes to the chart reader.
It was late by the time they’d finished their tale and the captain rang for supper. While they waited for the meal to be served, the captain turned to Sibelius. “I am most interested, sir, in the origins of The Monkey Nation. I am curious to know if there is any understanding amongst your race of the evolutionary relationship between the ground monkeys, the sky monkeys and humanity.
“Oui, bien sûr, monsieur le capitaine. However, our traditions tell of our origins in the form of stories rather than Scientosophic statements. But the interpretation is clear. It would seem that … ”
A knock at the door interrupted the discussion. A nervous skyfarer brought in a tray of food. He set things out on a table, asked if that would be all, and hurried away as quickly as he could.
“Let us continue our conversation over some good food and wine. Will you take a glass with me?” Sibelius accepted.
Harriet, who had eaten nothing but bread and cheese for several days, did all she could to remember her manners at the captain’s table. Presented with the fine array of cooked meats, buttered vegetables, fruit salad and warm, crusty bread laid out before her, it was an effort not to pile her plate too high.
“Your father, young lady,” the captain said, “has become something of a legend among skyfaring folk. Alas, I am unable to discern where the facts end and the fancy begins. I sincerely hope you will find him. So doing, not only will you resolve your personal questions but you will clear up another case of gossip and superstition the world could well do without.” He chewed thoughtfully on his meat and washed it down with a healthy swig of ruby wine. “Upon our arrival on the Moon, I will do everything to assist you. But you tell me there are pirates aboard my ship?”
“At least one, sir,” said Harriet. “Whether he was aboard anyway or came aboard because of us I can’t say. But I think he’s paid for passage as he mentioned word of his cabin and none of your crew was shocked to see him.”
“I shall have him arrested and confined below decks as soon as we have finished our supper,” said the captain. “After all, he can do no harm while you are with me. But now, listen: I had thought you should work your passage aboard this ship. However, I have had a change of heart. I should like to invite you aboard as my honored guests. I shall find decent accommodation for you and...”
Harriet interrupted him.
“Mr Hardcastle, that’s very kind of you an’ all that but I don’t think - no offence intended – that would be wise. Even if it was wise, I don’t think I’d want it.”
The captain’s bushy eyebrows closed in a frown.
“I know them fellows done a bad thing,” Harriet continued, “meaning to chuck me and Sibelius overboard, but we’ve to understand they only done it out of fear and superstition, see?”
“Go on,” said the captain, stroking his beard.
“Well, so long as we’re kept apart, they’ll go on thinking of us as different to them. Before Sibelius turned up at my window one day – the wind was blowing funny and he practically crashed his balloon against it - I’d have been scared of a sky monkey. Me mum always told me sky monkeys are dirty and tricksy an’ only out for themselves, never to be trusted. Well, I had no reason to believe otherwise, did I? But then I got to know Sibelius and now I know he’s the kindest, most courageous friend a girl could have. Me mum was just going on superstition, prejudice and hearsay. And I done the same until I had chance to know better.”
“So,” said the captain, “you want to work with the crew? You want to live with those men, too, I suppose, bunking down where they bunk down and taking your meals with them?”
Harriet smiled at the captain, who was clearly a little disappointed. “’zactly,” she said. “Spot on, Cap’n.”
“I see. And thereby you hope to show them that their prejudices and superstitions are false and engender in them a respect for females and talking monkeys?”
Harriet beamed.
The captain shook his head. He rose slowly from his seat and went to look out the large circular window behind his desk, whether lost in thought or gazing back at the glowing orb of the Earth, Harriet could not tell. As he still didn’t speak, she said, “An’ I’ve always wanted to learn how to crew, how to fly and sail a sky ship or a balloon. I’d love it, to learn the ropes proper!”
Captain Hardcastle turned round at last. He looked first at Harriet, then at Sibelius, and then back to Harriet.
“You, Miss Howland, are a most remarkable girl,” he said. “A most remarkable person. It is an honor to know you and an honor to welcome you as the newest member of my crew aboard this ship, The Redoubtable.”
“So we can join the crew? Me and Sibelius, both?”
“You may, indeed,” said the captain. “I ask only that Sibelius will concede to come to my cabin for an hour each evening after dinner in order to engage me in Scientosophical discourse – a matter in which I perceive he is eminently capable. The intellectual life can be a lonely one and some company on that journey would be most welcome.”
“I concede wholeheartedly, monsieur,” said Sibelius.
“Splendid,” said the captain. “Then before you go back above decks to commence your apprenticeship, it only remains for me to give you your first order as your captain.”
Harriet looked at him expectantly. The captain lifted the lid on a silver dish. “Eat a slice or two of this splendid chocolate cake before you go!”
Harriet laughed and took up her fork.
“Aye-aye, Cap’n!” she said.
Chapter Thirteen
Harriet pulled hard on the crank and locked it back into place. She checked it was secure and stepped back, mopping her brow and wiping her oily hands on a rag.
“Perfect,” said the tall, swarthy young man next to her. “Couldn’t have done it better myself. I swear you’ve learned more in the last two months than I have in all my years. You certainly know how to set the tension on the wire rig, Harry!”
“Thanks Davy,” said Harriet. Over the last few months she’d become used to the crew calling her ‘Harry.’ At first she’d been annoyed they had chosen a boy’s name, but Sibelius pointed out it was just a short version of her real name and intended as a sign of respect. She liked it now. She even used it to refer to herself. She’d also cropped her hair short and exchanged her dress for the breeches, shirt and jerkin worn by all skyfarers. “It’s just more practical,” she’d said to Sibelius, when he’d asked her why.
A bell clanged. “Time to knock off,” said Davy. “Sam and Barney reckoned on a game of Switch after supper. You fancy a hand?”
“If Sam’ll deal me in,” said Harriet, grinning. “I mean, if you lot don’t mind losing … again.”
“Get away!” laughed Davy, roughing up her hair. “Beginner’s luck, that was! Come on then.”
After supper, when lots had been drawn for the evening’s watch and the galley set to rights, Harriet and Davy headed off to join the game.
As they entered the bunk room, Sam was already flicking cards out onto the table. “Five’s up, ace’s down, and you can’t switch under twenty,” he said in his excited, nasal voice, tossing blond locks out of his face. “And keep an eye on Barney,” he added, nudging the short, chubby lad with hair like an exploding bird’s nest who slouched next to him, his eyes fixed on Harriet. “Reckons his luck’s in.” Barney’s cheeks flushed and he lowered his eyes, gathering his cards close to his chest.
Harriet sat down next to Davy and swiped up her own pack. “Sibelius joining us?” she said, frowning over the cards.
“Aye,” said Sam. “He’s just jawing with the Cap’n about some crazy Scientosophic theory or other. Said we should play the first round without ‘im and deal ‘im in when ‘e gets ‘ere.”
“Alors, deal me in!” said an accented voice behind them and they all looked up, smiling.
“Sibelius!” said Harriet. The sky monkey stepped into the room and rested his hand on Harriet’s shoulder before pulling up a chair and springing into it. He pulled out his pipe and began to tap tobacco into it.
“It was not so crazy, the theory of the captain. I could tell you about it, si vous voulez?”
“Spare us, Mr. Sibelius,” said Davy. “I’m traumatized for life, me, after him teaching us our letters.”
“Tryin’ to teach us our letters,” said Sam.
“I learned mine,” said Barney quietly. “Thought it was better than working.”
“Anything’s better than workin’ in your book. But we forgive you, ‘cos if you did pull your weight, you’d be pulling twice what the rest of us do.”
Barney blushed, a fierce color, dark as a bruise.
“Hey, enough o’ that,” said Harriet. “That’s cruel, teasing him that way. He’s a good lad, is Barney.” She smiled at him and the others stifled laughter as he opened his mouth to thank her but managed only a squeak of gratitude before turning his attention back to his cards.
“Harry’s right,” said Davy and they stopped smirking. “A bit of fun is one thing, but being mean is another thing.” Then he turned to Sibelius. “In any case, you save your skills to tell us a tale tonight before we turn in.”
“A tail?” said Sibelius, lifting his and flicking it in the air. “I always have one of those!”
As the others chuckled, Sam said, somewhat shame-faced, “C’mon. We’re here to play cards and I need to win twenty ducats and me self-respect back since I lost both to these stowaway scoundrels the other day!” He dealt a hand to Sibelius and dropped the remainder of the deck in the center of the table. Then, after a second’s thought, he said, “Barney? You want to call the first switch, mate?”
Barney opened his mouth to answer but no words ever came. Something slapped against the porthole window with a squelching thud. They all looked round. Harriet saw something slide from view, smearing the window glass with slime. She jumped up to look out but she couldn’t see anything.
“What was it?” she said.
Davy stood next to her, one hand on her shoulder and the other resting on the brass window frame. “Judging by the look of that slime, I’d say it was a squid.”
Barney piped up, “A sky squid?”
“That’s never good,” said Sam. “Nasty creatures them is, and they don’t even taste good, neither.”
“Could just be a young one,” said Davy. “Best tell the captain in any case.”
Harriet was at the door, turning the handle, when Davy said, “Hey, where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m going to have a look, ain’t I?” she said. “I ain’t never seen one of them before.”
She ignored Davy’s warning shout. She jogged around the side of the bunkhouse. Everything was still and quiet. The huge disc of the Moon, now much larger than the distant Earth, poured its milky light over the deck. Can’t see nothing, thought Harriet. It must be here somewhere.
“Harry!” It was Davy. He’d followed her out.
Harriet turned to him. “Where is it, then?”
“Can’t you smell it?”
As soon as he’d said it, she caught a pungent whiff of something distinctly fishy. She turned her eyes in the direction of the breeze. And she saw it.
“Careful!”
“It’s all right; it’s only a baby like you said.” She skipped towards it and crouched down, stretching out her hand.
The creature before her was very much like the sort of squid that she had seen for sale in the market back in Lundoon when she had been chased by the pirates. But this one was much larger than the little white things wriggling in buckets back home. Its pink skin was thick, rubbery, and covered in a sticky, transparent slime. Its tentacles twitched. For a mouth it had a tiny beak which opened and closed silently. From the sides of its bulbous head, huge aqueous eyes blinked at her.
Harriet withdrew her hand when she saw how slimy the creature was. It was flopped on the deck, twitching. Davy came and stood behind her. “It don’t look well,” she said, keeping her eyes on the squid. “Can’t we do something to help it?”
“Best thing to do would be to kill it,” said Davy. “I know they look cute at this stage, but when they’re older…”
“We can’t just kill it! It’s a baby!”
“It’s a baby sky squid,” Davy corrected. “When it’s an adult it’s potentially the most dangerous thing you’ll encounter between Earth and Moon. The captain’s orders are always to dispatch these things as quickly as you can.”
“Is that slime dangerous?”
“No, just sticky as heck.”
Before Davy could do anything to stop her, Harriet reached out and grabbed the sky squid by two of its tentacles and, running a few steps, flung it back out into the Dark Sea. It rolled and wriggled until it was caught in a cosmic wind and shot away, arcing into the distance beyond the fore of the ship.
“Saved it,” said Harriet, looking for something to wipe her hands on. Then she looked suddenly sheepish. “You won’t tell the captain, will you, Davy?”
“That was not wise, Harry,” said Davy looking after the beast. Harriet felt foolish now under his disapproving gaze. “I won’t tell the captain,” he said. “Let’s just hope nothing comes of it. But next time…”
Sam’s head appeared round the corner of the bunkhouse. “Are you two finished petting monsters? We got a round o’ Switch to play before bed, remember?”
After the game of Switch, which Harriet didn’t win this time, they listened to one of Sibelius’s wild and unlikely stories. They were, by turns, gripped to the edges of their seats and left in fits of laughter. By the time they’d done it was late. They were all tired and shuffled off to bed.
Harriet slept badly and woke up sweating and thirsty. She slipped down from her bunk and crept out towards the door carefully, so as not to disturb Sibelius or the others in her bunk room.
