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  The companionway deck was sticky with drying blood as I crept down it to look into the control room.

  More death.

  Five crewmen and several pirates were dead, with the crew having died at their stations. Brave lads.

  Captain Leblanc was dead at the helm, locked in a death struggle with a pirate. Like his men, he died at his post, a hero. I took a moment and saluted him and made up my mind to see that the Royal Air Corp was informed of his actions.

  I looked that the controls and had a sudden thought that I had no idea how to fly the Pride and hoped that the Baron was not just an owner but had technical skills.

  I moved further in to the ship, heading back toward the crew quarters and storage areas. That was when I heard it.

  A soft moaning sound.

  I stopped and listened.

  There was a hushing sound and then the moan again.

  I moved on slowly, my senses keen, my cutlass at the ready.

  Deep in the narrow confines of the crew quarters I heard the moan again.

  I stopped outside a closed door to a storage room that had a number of scars from axes and listened intensely. I heard a muffled sound and a gasp.

  “I hear you, in there,” I called. “This is Baronet Grey; the pirates are all dead.”

  There was more muttered words too soft to make out then a heavily accent voice said, “We are four of the crew, Herr Baronet. Klaus is badly wounded and but we were able to flee here and jammed the lock. Now the frame is bent; that is why the piraten could not get in. They tried but then gave up and left.”

  I considered the situation, examining where the freebooters had attempted to batter the portal down. From the tour that the Baron had given us realized it was the storage room for valuables, which accounted for the fact that the door had a sheet of steel over a wooden frame and it having a lock on the inside.

  “I will find a pry bar and we will get it open,” I said.

  “I think, sir,” an American accented voice said, “You’d be better getting to us through the wall from the captain’s room next door; them scurvy fellas were too anxious and left before they figured that out. The walls ain’t near as solid as the door.”

  I went next door and cleared a section of the wall of bookshelves and a portrait of Queen Guinevere-Victoria. It made me sad to think about the now dead officer.

  I took the boarding axe from my belt and began to work on the canvas and wood wall. It yielded to the weapon after very few strikes and I was able to chop a hole big enough to see through.

  A black face popped into the opening.

  “Well done, sir,” the face said in the American voice that had spoken to me before. “Hand it through we can take it from here.”

  “Good show,” I said. I handed the axe through. “I should look for others who might also be barricaded in.” As he took the axe from me the rough, dark hand of the trapped man took mine and we shook.

  “Thanks, Baronet. My name is Joshua Jenkins.”

  “My pleasure to meet you, Joshua; though I wish it were under other circumstances.”

  “I’m with you there, sir,” he said.

  “When you get out, Joshua, take the wounded to the grand salon, Lady Camden will attend their wounds, then any of you who can should get to the control room.”

  “How bad is it, Baronet?”

  “As bad as it can be, Joshua; the captain is dead as is all the crew except for you four as far as I have ventured.”

  “All of them?”

  “Yes.” There was an audible gasp from the other side of the wall, though I am sure most of the men had guessed something of the sort.

  “And the pirates?”

  “Your boys put up a good fight to account for many of them; the rest were stopped in the salon; as far as I know. I am checking the ship now.”

  “I guess you’d better get to it, sir, “ the American said. “And thanks again.”

  I left him to finish his own escape and headed deeper into the ship.

  There were a hundred places in the ship that could harbour a hiding freebooter so I proceeded with great caution, but now, as well with some hope that I might find some surviving crewmembers.

  Aft of the crew quarters were access ladders up into the gasbags, with long narrow walkways between the bags and the vacuum tanks.

  The sound was deadened up there, with the constant whirring of the engines blocked by the massive vessels. I moved slowly with my ears attuned to any organic sound from the dark interior of the vast space.

  I made it all the way to the end of the walkway and was starting back, just beginning to relax when I heard a slight scrapping of metal against metal. It was a very faint sound and not repeated, but that, in and of itself made it suspicious.

  I gripped my cutlass more tightly, edged around one of the gasbags and prepared for combat. I was glad I had the short, broad weapon in such tight confines if it came to action. Then saw the cause of the noise.

  “Don’t kill me, sir!” A young boy of no more than thirteen pleaded. He was wedged back under a bulge in the gasbag frame in an uncomfortable position.

  “I’m not one of the pirates, lad. I’m Baronet Grey, one of the passengers.”

  He looked at me with frightened eyes before he recognized me.

  “Are they gone?”

  I extended my hand to help the gangly youth to his feet.

  “All the pirates are dead, lad,” I said as we walked back along the catwalk to descend to the crew quarters. “But be prepared it is an ugly sight.”

  “I didn’t run away, “ the boy said. “I didn’t. I wasn’t scared, I, uh, I would have fought them, but Captain LeBlanc ordered me to run up here and hide.”

  “I never doubted you-“

  “Micah, Baronet, sir.”

  “Call me Athelstan, Micah. And don’t worry, a good shipman always obeys the captain, you did just what you supposed to.”

  When we got down to the crew deck the lad stopped when came in sight of the first pirate body but I saw him swallow hard and work to buck up.

  “I would’a fought them, Athelstan, sir,” he said, as much to convince himself as me. “I’ll tell the Captain; next time I’ll have to disobey him.”

  Somehow, with all that had gone on I dreaded telling him about Captain LeBlanc more than facing more pirates.

  Chapter Twelve

  Journey Resumed

  Micah’s breakdown when he learned the captain’s fate, and that of the other crewmen, was harder to see than the deaths of the stout lads in the control room. Fortunately I was able to delay telling him until we were in the salon and I put him in Aunt Mini’s hands.

  Seeing her holding him as he sobbed out his grief reminded me too much of the moment when I found out my parents and her husband had died in the train wreck in Normandy. Then I cried for hours while we held each other. She cried later, alone, I know because I heard her in the night.

  Now Mini was the rock she had been all these years and shushed the boy and held the lad- who was taller than she—gently and saying “it will be alright, boy, you’re alive now and that is what matters.”

  The very words she said to me.

  We caught each other’s glance and I knew she was thinking the same thing I was, remembering that long night of death in vivid detail.

  The crewmen that I had released had been and gone, leaving their wounded man to Mini’s care. Baron Von Burton had gone with them to see to the condition of the controls.

  Ambassador Chichua’s wife, Lady Tozi had joined Mini in taking care of the crewman with the head wound and in tending to the leg wound on Nenetl. The jaguar was embarrassed that the noble lady would stoop to attend her, but Tozi would have none of it.

  “We both serve the people,” the lady said. “Each in our own way, proud warrior; now is my time to serve you so you may continue to serve them.”

  The ambassador, who I learned was also a priest of his people, set up a small area in the centre of the salon and was chanting
for the dead, both defenders and invaders, asking his death god, Mictlāntēcutli

  to accept them for the courage they had shown. He went from body to body, including the fallen Eztl and chanted over them, marking their chests with ash from a small incense burner he carried.

  “Will you bring me to the other men, Baronet?” Chichua asked me. “They must be prepared for their journey Mictlan, the underworld.”

  “An honour, sir,” I said. We moved off through the ship then, moving to the most extreme sections and working out way back with him solemnly repeating his ceremony over each corpse.

  When we got to the control gondola Baron Von Burton greeted us.

  “Herr ambassador, Baronet,” he said with a stiff bow. “My men said that they can stabilize the ship but it is too complex to fly by them selves, but Joshua has a possible solution.”

  “Yes sir,” the black crewman said. “Them pirate sloops can be steered boy only two of us; I reckon we are pretty close to Memphis. We could head down and round up a crew and get back to the Pride in less then half a day.”

  “A good plan,“ I agreed. “I would suggest bringing back a doctor for the Baron and the others as well.”

  “I will write a letter of credit and authority for you, Joshua,” the Baron said. “And give you names of those who should be informed of what happened here.”

  Next we set about the grim task of gathering the dead, clearing the bodies from the control room first.

  “What shall we do with them, Baron?” Joshua asked the owner of the craft who by all rights was the senior ‘officer’ of the Pride of Prussia now.

  “I don’t quite know, herr,” the large man was nursing his heavily wrapped arm and overseeing the engine controls. “I care little what happens to those piraten, but these heroic crewmen deserve a proper airman’s burial with honours.”

  “Here, here,” I said. “Well said.” Then I had an inspiration. “Baron, perhaps we could convey all the bodies to the food-keep in the galley? I assume it is rather large for a ship this size?”

  The food-keep was a spelled container that slowed time and thus decay for a period.

  “Capital thought, as you Albion say,” the Baron said. “There are two food-keeps, each is like a small room. One is virtually empty for this trip, to be restocked in Montreal before the rest of the trip.”

  “Then I suggest we put young Micah to emptying that one and we can load all these poor souls into it to keep them till we can debark.”

  “Do the boy good to be useful, baronet, sir,” Joshua said. “He’s a good boy.”

  “Good thought,” I responded. “Why don’t you go along to tell Lady Camden and she’ll set him to it, then come back to help with these fellows.”

  “Allow me to go,” the ambassador said. “I am not useful here and Master Joshua is. I will help the boy empty the space and then bless the space to give them what dignity we can; then help you move them.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I said, “but I can not ask you to carry cadavers-“

  “Rest easy, baronet,” Chichua said. “There is no protocol to be observed in the passing of the dead; I will tell your aunt and return.” He started to leave then turned back to speak quietly to the Baron and myself.

  “I would hope, for the memory of Eztl and the honor of his clan that both of you will say nothing of what that brave jaguar did after he defeated the pirates.” He looked at us with hopeful eyes. “The Aztec Empire would be most grateful. As would I.”

  The Baron and I exchanged a look.

  “I have never seen a braver man,” Baron Von Burton said with a slight bow of his head. “He was a credit to his people.”

  “I was honoured to fight beside him,” I added. “I will talk to Mini when I see her, Mister ambassador, she will completely agree.”

  “I am sure my wife has spoken with her by now.”

  That made me smile; I know Mini would understand the importance of appearances, since she was so good at shattering facades. She also respected courage and there was no doubt that Eztl had that in abundance. If nothing else, she would give her silence to the memory of that.

  “Mini will be no problem,” I said, “Eztl will be remembered as a valiant and heroic example of the jaguars, I can assure you of that.”

  I could see the relief in the Aztec’s whole body posture and he smiled softly. “You are both the definition of nobility; and you, Baronet Grey are a valiant one equal to any jaguar.”

  The ambassador headed off and I set about the grim business of gathering the dead.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Dead and the Living

  Clearing a pile of victims of warrior violence was something I had never thought to do after the Crimean conflict. It brought my mind back to the many brave lads, companions, enemies and friends, who had died there in the frozen passes and open fields.

  It had my mind returning to the undead creatures I had encountered less than a week before. They had been ghosts in flesh, creatures existing without purpose save to serve the twisted revenge of Mourant who had stayed on the earth well past their time. Yet these men around me had lives and hopes and fought for each breath with all their energy and were dead before their time. They were dead and I was alive; but to what purpose?

  Joshua stayed at the helm with the Baron while I and one of the other crewmen carried the corpses up the ladder into the corridor above. After that we went and gathered all the other bodies from aft till we had stacked them like so much cordwood on either side of the companionway.

  It was exhausting work and my minor leg wound was soon throbbing. I and the crewman, a stout fellow named Klaus, were forced to wear bandannas across out mouths against the smell of death which had become overpowering in the elevated numbers.

  Just as we finished and were taking a rest Joshua and the other crewman came up the ladder.

  “I’m heading down to Memphis, Baronet sir,” the black said. “I have my credentials and all, is there anything you might need on our return trip?”

  “No, thank you, Joshua; but ask Lady Camden and the ambassador before you depart. Good luck.”

  Klaus and I began carrying the bodies back to the salon. When we arrived with the first of our burdens we discovered that Ambassador Chichua had already begun moving the bodies in the salon into the keep-food.

  We two joined him and between us we got all them into the room, as large as a small hotel room, quickly.

  “We will get the others by the control room,” I said to the Aztec nobleman. “You have been more than helpful.”

  “It is alright, baronet,” he said. “It is better this is done quickly and we can do that better together.”

  For the next hour we ferried bodies to the keep-food, being careful to keep the crewmen separated from the corsairs, a last reverence we could give them.

  When we were done the three of us sat and Mini brought us stiff drinks. We needed them.

  “Thank you, Frau Camden,” Klaus said after he downed his. “I should get to the control room.” He stood and bowed stiffly. “Herr Ambassador; Baronet!” Then he headed off.

  “Baron Von Burton has chosen good men for his crew,” Chichua said.

  He and I went to wash and change from our blood stained clothes. Afterward the ambassador lit some incense which he insisted blowing on me. ‘Smudging’ he called it. “To clear away the spirits of the dead that might cling.”

  By the time we returned to the salon Aunt Mini had Micah mopping the deck of blood and laughing at some story of hers to distract him.

  The Lady Tozi greeted her husband warmly and the two embraced. I could see a little crack in his stoic persona when he was finally able to relax in her arms. It made me respect him all the more.

  Nenetl was seated by herself, near the observation window, her heavily bandaged leg propped up. As I approached I could see that her colour was still pale but her breathing steady. She was looking out the window, down toward the river.

  I stepped up close and she starte
d at my presence.

  “Sorry, Nenetl, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “I am not all myself, baronet.”

  “None of us are after all that.”

  She turned from the window to glance at me and I saw her eyes widen as she looked me up and down.

  I struck a pose to show off the blue jacket and gold waistcoat.

  “Like the jacket?” I said. “It is crushed silk, directly from the Cathay Confederacy; I have a tailor in Savoy Row that imports it.”

  I saw the hard line of her mouth soften but she turned to look out the window again.

  “The smaller sky boat has left,” she said.

  “They will bring a healer, if one is available, if not, a doctor.” I said. “That leg wound is bad.”

  She looked at my own leg, no doubt noticing I was favoring it. “A warrior expects pain.”

  “But one should not encourage it, dear lady.” I pulled a chair over and sat beside her to gaze out at the windows.

  One of the pirate craft was still fastened to the side of the airship and we were still moving directly above the wide, muddy course of the Mississippi. On the horizon the amorphous shape of a vast buffalo herd was moving, setting up a cloud of dust that tinted the setting sun red.

  I sat in companionable silence with the lady warrior for a time, conscious of her nearness as I had not been before. There was vitality from her, even in her wounded state that got my own pulse going.

  After a time she spoke without turning to look at me. “When I first saw you,” she said quietly, “I thought you a pointless dandy.”

  I snorted. This made her turned her head to look at me directly. I noticed her eyes were obsidian black but with a luster that suggested warmth in their depths.

  “I do try to present a stylish front,” I admitted.

  “And you try to hide your competence,” she countered. “You fought like a devil; you have been in battle before.”

  “The Crimea and the uprising in Bombay,” I said quietly. “I wore the queen’s uniform for over a decade some of it on detached duty with the East India Company as a trouble shooter.”