Beyond the Starline Page 5

  Harriet was left standing alone by her suitcase. Her clothes had been an excellent disguise in the city. On the Worker’s Quay, they made her stick out like the proverbial sore thumb. More than once she had to dodge behind a stack of barrels and coils of rope to avoid being seen by passing policemen or gangs of pirates.

  “Il ne va pas bien, mademoiselle,” admitted Sibelius, when he came out. “They are keen to have a monkey aboard. They think it would make for good entertainment. I showed them Poliakoff’s card, so they think me nothing more than a well-trained beast on an errand for my master. But, they say it is bad luck to have a girl aboard. They will not take you.”

  “You showed them the money Poliakoff gave us?”

  “Oui, mademoiselle. It seems money is not powerful enough to overcome superstition.”

  “Well I ain’t giving up ‘cos a bunch o’ stinky, drunken skyfarers think a girl is bad luck,” said Harriet.

  “I did not imagine you would,” said Sibelius, smiling.

  “There ain’t no captains what owe you a favor or two, then?”

  The monkey shook his head.

  “We’ll just have to get on board without them knowing, won’t we? What ships are launching today?”

  “That much I was able to gather. The Redoubtable is loading now on Launch 17. The captain’s name is Hardcastle. It is a big ship, mademoiselle. Big enough, if we can get aboard, to find a place to hide.”

  “I’ve had enough of standing about doing nothing. Let’s have a look at this ship!”

  Harriet picked up her suitcase and, with Sibelius at her side, marched off across the quay.

  “I just wish we weren’t so blinking obvious,” she whispered to him. “What with you being a monkey and me dressed up like little lady such-and-such it’s a wonder the police ain’t onto us.”

  Harriet had barely finished speaking before their path was blocked by a man in the midnight blue uniform of the civic constabulary. Speak o’ the blooming devil.

  “Good morning, ma’am,” he said to Harriet, eyeing Sibelius suspiciously. “Lost are we?”

  “No, thank you, sir,” said Harriet trying to sound sweet. She lowered her head to conceal her face beneath the brim of the bonnet. “But I am in a hurry, if you please.” She stepped on but the policeman put his hand on her shoulder.

  “And in a hurry where to, I wonder, young miss?”

  “I got to meet me folks what is waiting to take me to the Moon,” she said. Then, indicating Sibelius, “This is me pet monkey.”

  “Is it indeed!” said the constable. “Let’s have a look at you.”

  He took her chin between thumb and forefinger, lifting her head. She was staring into the face of the same policeman who had collared her in the marketplace. Of all the blinking luck. Recognition dawned in the constable’s eyes.

  Harriet shouted, “Sibelius!” and kicked the copper square on the shin. “Leg it!”

  The policeman swore, grasping his leg. Harriet clutched her suitcase to her chest and ran for all she was worth. The officer was soon after them, blowing his whistle and shouting for them to stop. Sibelius doubled back and pulled him over by the ankle. The policeman crashed to the cobbles with a painful crack! Harriet couldn’t help but grin. Well done, Sibelius! Cheers went up from the tables outside the inn. Seems the police ain’t popular with the skyfarers, neither.

  The quay had come to life and was bustling with activity. Cargoes were being loaded and unloaded from steam-shifters; cranes were hauling spinning crates of goods overhead; skyfarers shouted or sang colorful songs; the smells of machine oil, leather and iron mingled with the smog; the thrum and clatter of engines rattled the air.

  Harriet dodged through the crowded quay and ducked down into a pile of crates at the foot of Launch 17. Sibelius swung in beside her.

  “You smacked that copper all right,” she said. “If he catches us, we’re in serious trouble.”

  “We are in worse trouble already,” breathed Sibelius. His leathery finger pointed along the quay. Pirates – the same villains who had attacked Harriet in the tower and in the market. Harriet looked into the vengeful eyes of their leader. Sibelius’s hand on her arm checked her instinct to run. “C’est trop tard,” he said. “They have surrounded us. They are closing in.”

  There were pirates on all sides, within yards of the crates. Harriet felt for the chart reader. It was still safe in its pouch. If they were attacked they would have no chance. No one would come to the aid of an unlucky girl.

  “What we going to do, Sibelius?”

  “Prepare,” said her friend, standing up and raising his hairy fists, “to die fighting!”

  Ropes whipped up round them like so many giant serpents springing to life. The crates jolted and bucked. Sibelius toppled back next to Harriet. The crates were lashed together and the ropes, taut under the weight of the load, were tied to an iron hook hanging from a crane.

  “Hold on,” shouted Harriet over the squeal of metal and the twang of wires, “We’re going up!”

  With a violent jolt and the creaking of iron chain links, they were swung up into the air. The pirates spiraled away until they were nothing more than angry specks on the quayside far below. Harriet and Sibelius held on, keeping their heads down, as the load spun ever higher. It swung violently sideways onto the receiving platform of a vast sky ship. The vessel’s name was emblazoned across the bulwarks in bright red and gold paint: The Redoubtable.

  The hook released. The ropes fell heavily to all sides. They were moving again, rattling over steam-powered rollers conveying the load deep into the dark hold of the ship.

  They sat dead still, not daring to speak, as the rest of the cargo loaded. Orders were shouted. Chains clanked. Harriet held her breath. Then everything went quiet but for the wind whistling across the launch.

  She poked her head above the crates. The huge door, made of steel plates a foot thick, squealed upwards on vast iron hinges. Harriet caught one last glimpse of the city stretched out below and briefly, the windows of her own tower reflecting morning sunlight. The door sealed shut and they were plunged into darkness.

  “We’re in,” she whispered to Sibelius.

  Chapter Nine

  “I can’t see me hand in front of me face, it’s that dark,” said Harriet.

  “C’est comme une nuit sans les étoiles. But we are bound for the Moon and we have escaped both police and pirates.”

  “It’s a start, ain’t it?”

  Sibelius laughed. “Oui, mademoiselle. It is a start.”

  “But now what? We can’t just sit here ‘til we get there.”

  “The situation does present certain challenges.”

  “You ain’t half got a funny way o’ putting things! It’s like life is just a game to you, Sibelius.”

  “Life is important, mademoiselle. But if we are to avoid despair, it is wise not to take it too seriously, n’est-ce pas?”

  “I reckon you must be one o’ them Three Wise Monkeys. But what are we going to do?”

  “When the ship is in flight it will be safer to see if we can find more salubrious accommodation.”

  “Makes sense to me,” said Harriet, turning around in the dark and sitting on her suitcase.

  “In the meantime we can have a little light,” said her friend. Harriet listened to Sibelius moving, rustling; then she caught the strong scent of unlit tobacco.

  “You ain’t going to light your pipe in here?”

  A match flared in the darkness. For a moment Harriet saw Sibelius’s grinning face. He drew the flame into the bowl of his pipe. Swathes of smoke curled upward and streamed from his nostrils. “We are,” he said, between rapid little puffs, “a long way down from the inflatable. If caution is exercised, I do not think we run too great a risk.”

  Harriet couldn’t argue with his logic and besides, the dull red glow of his pipe c
omforted her. Resting her back against a crate, she settled down to wait.

  “Sibelius?” she said.

  “Oui, mademoiselle.”

  “How long will it take to get to the Moon?”

  “If you had asked me how long it would take to get from one part of Lundoon to another, I would tell you to within a shrew’s heartbeat. But how far is it to the Moon?” he puffed thoughtfully on his pipe. “Je ne sais pas, mademoiselle. I cannot say.”

  “But it’s a long way, ain’t it?”

  “It is a long way. I think the journey will take many days, weeks... longer, perhaps.”

  “I thought we’d buy passage with bed and board, see? I didn’t know we’d end up stowaways.”

  They sat silently awhile, lost in their thoughts.

  “Sibelius?” said Harriet again.

  “Oui mademoiselle?”

  “I’m glad you come along. I don’t like to think what it would be like sitting here on me own. But won’t your people miss you?”

  “They will understand. And when I return I will have a store of stories to tell them, to say nothing of valuable secrets and information acquired on the Moon, n’est-ce pas?”

  Deep, juddering vibrations rumbled through the hold. Crates creaked. A surge of upward movement accompanied the booming of the ship’s horn and the rapid chop-chop-chop of propellers.

  “We’re off,” said Harriet, her stomach in knots. “This is it, Sibelius. We’re leaving the city, leaving the Earth. We’re going to the Moon.”

  “Courage, mademoiselle!” said Sibelius above the noise. “It is the beginning of a great adventure!”

  As the ship gained height and swung about to align to its course, the glow of Sibelius’s pipe extinguished and they held tight in the dark.

  “Alors, mademoiselle,” said her friend as the ship slowed, the engines settling to a steady thrum, “let us see if we are not trapped.”

  Leaving the suitcase behind, Harriet clambered over the crates after Sibelius. He was agile and moved swiftly, even in the dark. It was not long before Harriet lost him.

  “Sibelius?” she hissed into the blackness.

  “Je suis ici.” His voice came from somewhere ahead of her. Harriet had the impression that they were in a vast space. Their voices seemed very small. “I have found something interessant.” A match flared into life. “Come and see!”

  Harriet shuffled up to him, her dress snagging on the corner of a crate. She peered forward but the match burned out before she could see. Another flame sprang into life.

  A small hatch with a metallic grill embedded in it materialized in the arc of light. Cold, fresh air blew through the grill. Sibelius smiled.

  “I think it is worth exploring, n’est-ce pas?”

  “Is it open?”

  They reached out together and pushed at the grill. It opened easily on silent hinges. Sibelius poked his head inside. “It is not meant for humans, mademoiselle. It is for the circulation of air, je crois.”

  “Will I fit?” asked Harriet.

  “I think so. With your permission, I will go first and see where it leads. It would be disastrous for both of us to get stuck.”

  “If you’re sure, Sibelius,” Harriet said. The memory of the trasher chute was still etched into her mind. She crouched in the dark as Sibelius padded into the tunnel. The scent of his pelt blew back down the shaft as his fur brushed over the tunnel’s sides. The sound got quieter and quieter. A second later the smell of him was gone, too.

  Harriet shivered in the cold, rocking on her haunches, hugging her knees. I ‘spose it’s always cold in the Dark Sea. I wonder how far we’ve gone. How fast are we going? Could I still see Lundoon or just the Earth like a big, floating ball? I wish I could see...

  She sat alone with her thoughts; in the cold and the dark; waiting, listening. But Sibelius didn’t come back.

  Her knees were stiff. Her back ached from squatting in the current of cold air. She leaned forward, pushing her head into the tunnel. The shaft echoed with the dull, metallic thrum of the engines.

  Then she smelled the unmistakable odor of monkey fur and heard the sound of softly padding feet. A warm light danced down the tunnel towards her.

  “Sibelius?” she said. “Oh, Sibelius! What did you find out there, a blinking market?”

  The sky monkey climbed grinning into the hold, carrying an oil lantern in one hand, and a basket loaded with bread, fruit, cheese, a bottle of wine and a flask of water, over his arm.

  “Tu as faim, mademoiselle?” he said. “I have food to eat and information you will be interested to hear.”

  Sibelius set the lantern down and they laid out the meal on the lid of a crate.

  “It feels like home already,” said Harriet. “You even got drinking glasses!” She poured her companion a measure of wine, mixed a little with water in her own glass, and sat down to eat.

  Sibelius took a chunk of the bread and a swig of wine. “The tunnel is long. It twists up and down and ends in a grill like the one here. It comes out on the main deck. It is a very grand ship, mademoiselle, but I will not describe it to you in detail. There are more important things to relate.”

  “Go on, then!”

  “First I found the galley – which is well-stocked, as you can see. I took a tour of the ship and listened to the crew. I also overheard a conversation in the captain’s cabin.”

  “You been in the captain’s cabin?”

  “I listened through the windows. Not so interesting; some skyfaring talk, navigation co-ordinates, that sort of thing. It did not mean much to me. But the crew speak well of him, which is a good sign. Although they say he is a little mad.”

  “Mad?”

  “He has uncommon interests for a skyfarer – he reads books, mademoiselle. He is interested in the Scientosophic Theory. He even tried to educate his crew. They did not take kindly to learning from books. In the end he abandoned the project.”

  “He sounds all right to me,” said Harriet. “What’s it like on deck? What can you see?”

  “C’est magnifique. C’est très beau! The Moon is still a long way off, but Lundoon is little more than a smudge of dark cloud on the surface of the Earth. And the Earth! Mademoiselle, it is blue and green and bright as a lantern! Beyond the city, there is another world. I believe it is the Fabled Forest of the storytellers. Trees, rivers … ”

  “Like a big garden, is it?”

  Sibelius laughed. “Oui. Like a very big garden. My mind is full of wonder. I could never have imagined it.”

  “I want to see it, too, Sibelius! You said I’d fit down the tunnel, didn’t you?”

  “C’est possible. But I do not think you should go on deck, mon amie.”

  “Why not?”

  “It is easier for me – I can swing and climb quietly. I can conceal myself. It is my skill, my business, non? If you were caught by the skyfarers, I do not know what they would do.”

  “Not only being a stowaway, you mean – but being an unlucky female, to boot.”

  “I have other news that may bring you more cheer.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I heard them speaking of your papa.”

  Harriet stopped chewing the piece of bread and cheese she had just put in her mouth and swallowed it whole. “What?” she said. “The crew o’ this ship talking about me dad?”

  “They did not say his name. They call him ‘The Adventurer.’ Yet what they say fits the story Poliakoff told us of your father.”

  “Do they know where he is?”

  “They do not agree. Some say he went to the Island of Birds, found treasure and lives there in great wealth. Others say he perished on the journey. Others still that he is in hiding somewhere, in the Outer Archipelago, on the Moon...”

  “Blimey,” said Harriet. “So we’re none the wiser, for all that.” r />
  “Your father is something of legend among the skyfarers. Behind every legend, there is truth. It confirms Poliakoff’s story and suggests we are on the right track. It seems to me...”

  Sibelius never finished the sentence. Iron squealed and scraped on iron. A lantern flashed. A voice whining in the darkness said, “I swear to you, it’s all in order. I dunno why you can’t wait ‘til we get to the first staging post. I can’t be unpackin’ all this lot...”

  Harriet looked at Sibelius. He put his finger to his lips and snuffed out the lantern.

  This is going to look odd, ain’t it? Harriet thought. A girl and a monkey having a picnic in the hold.

  Chapter Ten

  Men were searching through the cargo; their boots clunked dully, crates scraped across the metal floor.

  “Honest, guv’nor, I couldn’t tell you which one it is – you can see for yourself they all look alike. Look, mate, some of this’ll be offloaded when we get to the first station on the Starline. Now, how about I ask the captain if we can ‘ave a little look-see when we get there?”

  Just agree, whoever you are - and get out! thought Harriet. But whoever it was didn’t agree; an angry growl, a scuffle in the shadows, a thud, and then a strangulated cry. “All right, mate, all right – no need to get uptight,” said the first voice, strained and frightened. “I’ll tell you what: You have a good look about – I’ll leave you to it, fair enough? An’ I’ll come back a bit later, yeah? If you find what you’re lookin’ for before I get back, you just leave by this door and I’ll lock up after you. All you have to do is put that knife down and let me go, right? I’ll say nothin’, not a word. On me honor.”

  That don’t sound good, thought Harriet.

  Quick footsteps sounded over the floor. The iron door squealed open and clanked shut. Someone was rummaging about, fumbling in the dark. In the next instant, a flash lantern flared into dazzling, electrostatic life. The light reached to the furthest, arching girders and swung crazy, distorted shadows about the hold.

  Harriet turned to Sibelius. He pointed to the air shaft. They began to inch quietly towards it.