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No Ship for Tranquebar, Part Three

Written by Kevin H. and Karen C. Evans

Copenhagen

September 1636

Marlon burst through the door of his townhouse. "Reva! You won't believe it!"

Reva seemed to be waiting in the salon, tapping her foot. "I've already heard. You're off on a wild goose chase halfway around the world."

Marlon was caught by surprise. He hadn't thought about how Reva would take the news. Yes, all the danger signs were there: the tapping foot, arms folded tightly across her chest, withering frown on her brow. It was definitely time to tread lightly.

"Reva, it's not a wild goose chase. They already have a colony in India, and the governor has the possibility of a whole shipment of nutmeg. But it won't last forever. We need to get it here quickly. How else are we going to do it?"

"I don't want to be sweet-talked, so I'm not sitting down. Now you listen here, Marlon Pridmore. I've said nothing about you spending almost a year here playing with your airships. In fact, I've made some really good friends. I've had plenty to keep me busy."

"We've talked about that before, and there's no reason to drag it out now. I just . . ."

Reva waved her hand at him, and started pacing. "I'm not dragging out old business, you fool. I'm expressing my concerns. Now let me talk, I'm not finished. I've said nothing about the time we've spent here. I've said nothing about you crawling all over the ribs of that monstrosity, showing the craftsmen what you think they need to do. I've said nothing about you flying up there with student pilots, any one of whom could dump you in the Baltic at any moment."

She again stopped for a breath, and Marlon opened his mouth, but shut it with a snap when she held up her hand. "But now you're sitting there thinking that you're the only one capable of getting this silly venture off the ground, and all the way to India, for God's sake."

Marlon could tell it was not the moment to speak. He sat on the couch and kept his peace.

Reva started pacing in time with her temper. "You've trained everyone. Eric Strand, your flight engineer. He's been here at the house so often, it's almost as if he was your actual son. He handles the ship better than you do. Jannik Lynngaard . . . you couldn't have a better chief engineer. And Gunnar Ibsen, that nice young man we had to dinner the other night."

She stopped pacing and glared. When he didn't speak, Reva said, "Just give me three good reasons why you, Marlon Pridmore, gentleman banker, need to fly off into the heathen wilderness!"

Marlon sat silent for a couple of moments. Finally he patted the divan next to him. "Okay, you've had your say. Now come sit down, and I'll tell you my reasons."

Reva stood tapping her foot for a little bit more, then sighed and sat.

"Now, Reva. I realize that I've never taken an airship anywhere as far as Grantville, let alone to India. And the crew is in many ways much more competent than I am. Hell, some of these kids seem to have a natural talent at flight and navigation.

"But my first reason is that I have more hours in lighter-than-air flight than anyone else in the world. You have to admit that, if nothing else."

Reva frowned as if not wanting to agree yet. But finally she nodded.

"Second, while this crew is wonderful, the only one over the age of twenty-five is Jannik. Someone has to be there to make the hard choices in an emergency. Ships don't arrive at their destination by committee vote."

Again Reva frowned, but nodded. Now her legs were no longer crossed, and she dropped her folded arms to her lap. She was opening up a little.

"If I have to have a third really good reason over and above all that, I'd have to say that I'm going with them because I'm the only one with an atlas that shows the route we're going to take. Their own maps only show the shores, not the inland. And the quickest way to India is going to be largely over land. I have to be there to find our way home."

Reva sniffed angrily, and wiped her eyes. Marlon could see that she didn't want him to see her cry right now, so he looked at the ceiling until the sniffing stopped.

Reva's voice cracked as she spoke. "Well, at least I'll have a little bit of time to get used to the idea. When are you leaving? A month or six weeks?"

Marlon cleared his throat, and considered not telling her. But right now, he knew that honesty would get him farther with her than anything else. "Actually, sweetheart, we were thinking of starting in five days."

He stopped, expecting another explosion. Instead, Reva stood up, straightened her spine, and headed toward the bedroom. "I guess I should start helping you pack."

Copenhagen

September 1636

Marlon spent the afternoon in his study. When he heard a knock on the front door, he opened the study door and saw Gregers show Cornelius Holgarssen in. "Herr Chairman, come in and have a seat. What can I do for you?"

"I brought you the list of cargo we wish to ship to Venice."

Marlon, in the process of settling at his desk, was startled. "Venice? I thought we were going to India."

Cornelius shook his head. "Routing your airship by way of Venice will allow us to make a substantial amount of money before we take the risk of sending it to India. Some of our members feel that perhaps the only thing that the Indians want from Europe besides our gold and silver money are the glass wares of Venice."

Marlon sat down at his desk. "So you think we should try glass in India then?"

"Yes, I do. Nobody has tried it yet, so it will be a new commodity. Until now, it's been thought impossible to send glass and have it survive all the way to the Indies."

"I can see that. Glass may well be our best bet to make any kind of profit for the main leg of the journey. Of course, no matter what I take out there, we will make the cost of the airship, at least, when we return."

Cornelius nodded, but obviously still had something on his mind. "I have another matter I really want to discuss. I think we need more than the twenty tons of cargo that you've designated on the airship. I've gone over the numbers you've given us and the results of the tests we've conducted. I had it double-checked by Rikard Shipwright, just to make sure, and he confirms it. Our airship can lift fifty tons. I understand that twenty tons of the total is reserved for the airship and its fuel. That would seem to leave thirty tons for cargo."

Marlon grimaced. "I understand that it looks like we have an extra ten tons for cargo. But we need that extra weight for safety. Having a little extra lift will allow us to carry a few extra tools, and the hydrogen production system, so we can refill the gas cells on the other end of the trip. Besides, if we load it to capacity now, we won't have room to acquire anything extra on the way. Who knows what we may find?"

The chairman looked thoughtful for a moment. "You are certain about this? There is no room for negotiation?"

Marlon shook his head. "On this first flight, I want to be very conservative. Perhaps in later flights we'll be able to change that ratio. But for now, I'd rather stick with twenty tons of cargo."

Cornelius sighed. "All right, then. Twenty tons. On another matter, His Majesty was commenting today on the device that you used to produce hydrogen. Who would’ve thought that spraying water on red-hot iron would free such a light gas."

Marlon smiled. "It’s not really my invention. I lifted the entire apparatus from a conflict in up-time America called the American Civil War. It was a device exactly like this one that was used to provide hydrogen for observation balloons. I still want the extra capacity so we can carry that and the extra fuel to make certain that we can make the trip. It's almost certain that there will be no refined oil in Tranquebar."

Cornelius seemed to hesitate. "The matter of navigation still has many of the shareholders seriously concerned." Cornelius pointed at the atlas that was always on Marlon's desk. "Indeed the maps depicted in your book have very small resemblance to the charts that our navigators have compiled over the years. Many are afraid that if we use these maps from your atlas, the airship could be lost, without possibility of any return on our investment. So we've decided to provide you with a true navigator. His name is Frode Nillsen. He has been with the fleet for some time, and he's, by all reports, very reliable."

Marlon shrugged. "As you wish, Cornelius. A navigator won't hurt anything, and may actually help me stay on track."

Copenhagen

September 23, 1636

Marlon sat in the command chair at the rear of the control gondola. This command area's not bad, he thought. Although it still looks too much like the bridge of the Enterprise. I tried to avoid it, but the layout was just too efficient.

He watched as the helmsman and flight engineer in front of him prepared to take the airship away from the ground, and off to Venice.

"Let’s get this thing going," Marlon said.

Gunnar nodded and stepped to the open window. "Okay men, give her a bounce," he called. The men holding onto the rail around the outside of the gondola pushed down, compressing the springs of the landing wheel. Then, on command, everybody let go of the rail, and the large spring pushed the airship into the air.

Marlon said, "That was so much better than our first flight. I told you that spring would work."

The navigator, Frode Nillsen, at his small table full of charts raised his eyebrows then smiled, and went back to his calculations.

"Okay, Gunnar. Take us up to five thousand feet, please. With any luck we’ll be able to hear Magdeburg's radio beacon from here; if not, maybe Grantville's. It's a fine night and the wind is just about right. Let's enjoy the ride."

As they sailed up and over the city, Marlon could see the sun to his right flaming in a glorious sunset. He looked the spires of the church, where he knew Reva was watching the launch. She didn't like good-byes, and was a little superstitious about watching him leave.

"Gunnar, call the engine section, and have them set revolutions for full power. Keep an eye on the ground site to check our forward progress. If we can, we will shut off two of the engines."

Just at sunset, the winds were calm, making for a much better launch. They would fly through the night to Venice. That way they would be able to land during daylight.

"Herr Captain, aircraft on the starboard bow," Gunnar said.

Marlon leaned forward, and saw the Danish Air Force flying escort. "Too bad we're too big to waggle our wings. Signal the air force, 'Thanks, and good luck landing!'"

****

It was a wonderful night for flying. "Gunnar, tell Jannik to take the engines back to half power. We don't need to fly this ship full speed and I want some warning before we reach the Alps," Marlon said. "I'm going upstairs to check the cargo. Eric, take care of the bridge."

The door led to a hallway, and Marlon could access his cabin, the galley's night table with drinks and snacks, and four other cabins. One was a hot-rack for the bridge crew shifts, one for Engineering shifts, and the other two for guests. Then came the ladder that led to the catwalk over the cargo hold.

Behind the cargo hold, there was the chow table for the whole crew, and the galley and food storage area. Also the cabin for Jannik, chief engineer. Finally, there was the Engineering section where the other tools and equipment were stored.

Marlon continued past the cabins. One of those was empty, but the other was occupied. Their only passenger was the new governor of Tranquebar, Niels Lund. The current governor, Roelant Crappé, had requested a replacement.

Marlon climbed the ladder up to the inside of the airship envelope. Proceeding aft along the walkway, he nodded to the crewmen who were still checking the cargo pod tie-downs.

At the midpoint of the airship, Marlon reached the ladder that went up to observation on the very top and climbed up. "Hi, Martin. How do you like the cat-seat, up here?"

The lookout shrugged. "It's a good view. But it's hard to see in the darkness."

"It's important, though. Keep a good eye out for storms. The only protection we have is to run away from the storms if we can. We can't afford to get caught in any kind of rain or weather front."

Martin nodded, and kept the binoculars in hand.

Marlon perched on a rail, and watched the clouds. He felt like he was standing on the top of a great silver bubble. The full moon rose and turned the land below to shades of pewter and silver. He could see a river gleaming in the moonlight. "This is all so beautiful. But don't let it lull you into a sense of safety. We are pointed directly at the Alps, and we need to know about them before we run into them. Hopefully, the sun will touch the tops as we arrive, and it will be easy to spot them. Report regularly to the command deck."

"Yes, Captain."

Finally, Marlon climbed back down into the airship. Once back on the cat-walk he checked the tie-down points for the cargo pod along the way to the galley and his cabin. Everything seemed to be in order.

Marlon climbed down the next ladder into the bridge level and sat down in the command chair. "How’s it going?"

"Nothing's changed while you were gone, sir. As you wanted, we’re using engines three, four, five, and six. They’re working at about seventy-five percent of their capacity and they seem to be holding our speed well. As far as we can tell, we're moving around fifty knots."

"Let me know if we have any problems." Marlon yawned, surprised to feel tired at such an exciting time. "I’m going up to the galley to get a drink. Can I get you guys anything?"

****

Marlon was nervous, and couldn't sit still. The more time he spent on the bridge, the more he disrupted the work. It was the same up in the Observation Dome. Martin seemed to come to attention every time he showed up.

Also, about the third time he went up and down the long ladder into the observation dome, he was huffing and wheezing like a leaky steam engine. Been a while since I've been in New Mexico, he thought. I didn't used to think that five thousand feet was much altitude, but the air seems very thin up here.

Tired, and yawning again, Marlon went to his cabin. It was at the back of the gondola area, with windows opposite the bridge. The crew was well-enough trained to handle things, and they knew to wake him for anything unusual.

As the flight proceeded, they reached the limits of reception for the Copenhagen radio. Without waking Marlon, they transferred to the Grantville Station.

****

There was a knock at the cabin door. Marlon was instantly awake. "Yes?"

The door opened, and one of the crewmen stuck his head in. "Captain, lookout reports sunlight on the tops of the Alps. Helm requests you to the bridge."

"Tell him I'll be right there."

****

There in front of them, mostly still dark, he could see the pink and orange sunlight dancing on the snowy peaks.

"Pretty, aren't they?" Marlon settled himself into the command chair.

Gunnar's eyes looked like saucers. "Sir, are those really the Bavarian Alps?"

Marlon knew that the boy had hardly ever been out of Copenhagen. "Yes, that's what they are. Now pay attention to what you're doing, and steer around them. Beautiful as they are, we don't want a closer look. I think it looks pretty good around there to the left."

He turned to Eric, the flight engineer. "How are we doing?"

Eric said, "Sir, since we left the Grantville beacon behind, we've been searching for the radio frequency in Venice, but haven't found it yet."

"Well, I didn't expect it. We've got those mountains in the way. As soon as we're clear of them, I'm sure you'll pick it up and home us in."

In the distance the mountains seemed to grow right out of the clouds, higher and higher. The snow-topped peaks were brushed with green along the edges. Lower down, the fall colors were strongly apparent among the trees. Here and there you could see the curling smoke from fires in villages spotted around the mountains.

The angle of the sun in the bridge changed as the helmsman and the chief engineer together set the airship on the new course more to the west. This way, they would slide around the mountains and down toward the Adriatic Sea.

The morning was a brilliant blue, one of those truly perfect flying days you can get in the fall in Europe. Marlon turned to Eric, now busy at the radio. "I need to know if the landing mast has been set up according our instructions. Please tell me they'll be ready when we are about an hour and a half or two hours out. I think they’re going to need all the warning they can get to be ready for us."

That afternoon, the lookout in the observation dome announced that he could see Venice. The sun had been reflecting off the ocean for some time, glowing like the forge of the gods. Using the radio as a beacon they had been able to steer almost directly toward the transmitter. The city was laid out in all its splendor. Light reflected from the canals, and thousands of people were in the streets and courtyards and the central plaza, looking up at the airship as it approached.

Marlon stood with his hand shading his eyes. "Is the mast up?"

Martin replied on the speaking tube. "Yes, sir. I can see it over there. It's set up on one end of the Murano, as you asked for."

Marlon sighed and then grinned. "Very good. Gunnar, it's time. We need to fly this thing over there to hook up. Remember, you approach the mast just like we practiced back in Copenhagen. Head out past the mast towards the east, then approach heading west. That should put us against the wind and allow fine control for our approach. Eric, when we get close and down near the ground, have the lines to the bow dropped. I hope some knucklehead doesn’t pick them up and electrocute himself before they dissipate the static."

...