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No Ship for Tranquebar, Part Four

Written by Kevin H. and Karen C. Evans

Over the Indian Ocean

September 27, 1636

The airship sparkled in the early morning light. There was only darkness below, as shadows still shrouded the earth. At almost two miles above the surface, the airship could see the sun rise much earlier than they would see it on the ground. Even now the crew watched as the sunlight spread across the water below.

Marlon was in the observation dome. He had his binoculars, and was examining the coast they were passing. "I can't tell where we are just by looking. I used to think that all India was a jungle, but so far I can only see more of the same desert we've been passing over since we left the Mediterranean." He handed the glasses back to the lookout, and started climbing down from the dome.

By noon, they could see the western edge of the Indian peninsula. Frode, the navigator, stood beside Marlon, with his own spyglass. "It's kind of hazy but I think I can see almost the whole southern tip of the Indian subcontinent."

He closed up his glass, and picked up a chart. "According to my sailing instructions, Tranquebar is just up from the point across the narrow strait to what your maps call Sri Lanka. What do you think they're going to say when this airship comes over the horizon?"

Marlon chuckled. "Whatever they think it is, I'm almost certain they don't expect it to be from Denmark. I've been talking to Herr Lund, the new governor. He says that they probably think that the Danish East India company is still floundering around, trying to arrange for a ship that will get here sometime next year. This will be a real shock for them, I'm afraid."

****

The course had been set deliberately south of where the navigator thought Tranquebar was. They turned north and sailed over India now for more than two hours, waiting to sight the fort. They were at about five thousand feet, watching the countryside pass by. Everybody was on the lookout, leaning over railings and out of windows, watching for the large square fortress the company had built there thirteen years before. As landmarks went, it was probably the best thing they were going to get for positive identification from the air.

"There it is!" Then several more shouts came confirming a sighting.

Marlon turned to Eric, the flight engineer. "Somebody tie a weight on the end of a rope, and then put our Danish flag on it. We'll lower it to about twenty feet below the airship. I don't want anybody down there taking a pot shot at us because they don't know what we are."

Just like in Venice, crowds of people were standing in the open and pointing upward. Marlon thought, I wonder if this is ever going to become commonplace? "Let's tie a bucket or bottle or something to a long strip of cloth. We need to get a message to the people in the fort, and tell them how to help us land. You go get the container and a streamer, and I'll write up the instructions. Then you can check it before we make the drop."

Later, their preparations made, Marlon instructed Gunnar, the helmsman, to take the airship across the fortress. "Well, here goes the first aerially transmitted message from Denmark to India in the history of the world." He tossed the green glass bottle out the window. The container fell, streamer fluttering behind it.

Marlon watched as the bottle, trailing a long tail of cloth like a kite, bounced off the wall on the west side of the fortress. Luckily it didn't break. He could see a figure running across the fortress courtyard. The boy scooped up the bottle and ran back toward the building on the east side of the compound.

"Okay, Gunnar. Take it downwind and then come back to that open area just south of the fortress," said Marlon. "We're going to have to make two more runs before we can land. First we're going to drop Ulrik and let him tell them how to set up the mast. Then we're going to drop the mast. For every run, we need to come in at a very low level, and make sure our deliveries are gentle. I don't want to lose either the man or the mast."

The crowd of people was pouring out of the fortress gates. They were all hurrying to a large open area south of the fortress. The airship was creeping upwind just about five hundred feet above the ground. Small boys were waving and shouting. People were staring in open amazement that such a huge thing could be floating toward them.

Marlon braced his feet against the railing near the gangplank and tightened the harness on Ulrik. "Okay, remember to do it exactly the way we practiced. Make sure that the rope hits the ground before you do. You want it to dissipate any shock before landing. I don't know how much static electricity we've built up."

The crewmen nodded. When Marlon said "electricity" nobody wanted to tinker with such a dangerous sounding concept.

Everything was ready. Time to go. Ulrik stepped to the door. The men at the winch put their thumbs up and started the crank, lifting the crewmen above the floor. Then they swung him out the door.

Marlon grinned like a picket fence. "Okay, start him down, boys." The winch crew were cranking like crazy, and Ulrik looked as if he were walking on air. He had a rope dangling below him that would bleed off the static electricity.

Marlon leaned out of the door and watched his man drop slowly but steadily toward the ground. He saw little boys running to catch the end of the rope. He got his megaphone and shouted, "Stay away! Stay away from the rope!"

Ulrik shouted as well, but the boys below didn't stop. Marlon felt as if he were going to burst, trying to save the boys from serious injury. Then he saw someone in a white uniform come running into the crowd of boys. He spoke to them, and gestured sharply, and the boys scattered. The rope touched the ground and bounced along for a moment, then Ulrik was within stepping distance of the ground.

He released his harness and made a perfect landing tumble, rolling into a ball and jumping up immediately.

The man in white walked over to him, shook his hand, then grabbed him in a huge embrace. "Looks like we're welcome, after all." Marlon grinned a moment more, then hurried back to the bridge.

"Okay, Gunnar. Time to deliver the mast. Then we can finally land this thing."

Gunnar brought the ship around in a stately turn, and then was again pointing at the potential landing site. Ulrik was pointing up to the airship and the long mast that have been slung below the cargo compartment. The pivoting cone attachment for docking was already in place on the mast. It seemed to take forever as he spoke and gestured what he wanted to do with the mast. But finally, Ulrik waved his arms.

Marlon said, "There's the signal. Gunnar. When the mast is away take us back over the ocean for the final run while they get it set up."

Marlon sat down in the command chair, feeling completely exhausted and rubbed his forehead. It's true that he hadn't gotten the sleep he needed on this trip. Getting ready to land was taking a huge weight off his shoulders, at least for now.

The Royal Anne sailed out over the ocean and waited. It seemed like only a few minutes but must have been more than an hour. Finally the mast stood on end, and was guyed down firmly to the ground.

"Docking positions," ordered Marlon. "Take us around and bring us up to the mast slowly. Let's do it by the numbers. I don't want to look like an idiot or a fool in front of these people. This is the first time they've ever seen this done, so let's do it right."

Governor's Office, Tranquebar

September 27, 1636

About sunset

"You've certainly caused quite a bit of an excitement." Roelant Crappé was host to Captain Pridmore and the replacement governor, Niels Lund. They were sipping tea and watching the sunset out of the west window of the office.

Crappé said, "This has probably been the most surprising thing to ever happen in this place. Nothing can compare with a great ship appearing out of the clouds, and flying to our outpost."

Niels nodded. "I don't know how much you've heard about things happening in Europe. But there are wonders and things that have never before been seen. And it's going on all over the continent."

Marlon set his cup down and picked up where Niels left off. "Yes, it's really true. There's a whole group of people who came from the future and settled in central Germany. I know for a certainty, because I'm one of them."

Roelant tried, and failed, to stop staring. The airship captain didn't look any different from any other captain ever entertained in this office. And yet, in speaking with Marlon, there was something subtly different. "So, Captain. You come from a time of magic and miracles. This all should seem totally normal to you."

Marlon chuckled. "Indeed, it may seem so. But even in the future where I came from, airships like this always seemed to have a certain magic. People were absolutely fascinated every time they saw one flying around. It's almost like people could not keep from looking at airships, 'blimps' as we called them. I still think they're just wonders beyond belief."

"I know you were wondering why we are here," Niels said. "Your missive was received by the Danish East India Company just this month. And already, we are here with this airship to pick up the most valuable portion of your cargo. We can only take twenty tons, so we need the most vulnerable parts. We can take it back to Denmark in less than a month."

Roelant looked a little surprised. Marlon grinned and pulled out his own large, official packet, covered with seals and ribbons and placed it in front of the long-time factor. "You know, it's a lot more fun to give this away instead of getting one."

After Roelant had thoroughly examined the packet, Niels pulled a document folded into soft leather from his inner jacket pocket. "This is our manifest. We didn't really know what we could bring to India that would have any real value in trade. As far as anybody knows, all the Indians want from Europe is money. However, we bought about ten tons of glassware from Venice. It's some of the finest they make, and hopefully in such a large quantity we can make a profit on it."

Roelant smiled. "Glassware is a good choice. It was never feasible to ship any on the long journey around the Cape of Good Hope. But I'm certain that you, as the new governor, will be able to find buyers. I'll introduce you to my assistant, Chander. He will be of great help."

Marlon said, "My greatest concern, frankly, is fuel for our engines. We used far more fuel than we expected on the trip out here. The monsoon winds are now blowing to the west and we can fly with the wind and get more distance for the fuel we burn, but I still don't think it's enough. We need something in the way of fuel to take us all the way home."

"What sort of fuel do you need? There may be charcoal available, but I don't know in what quantities. And I don't know of any coal." Roelant scratched his chin, thinking of availability and costs.

"My engines run on liquid fuel, like oil or petroleum. Do they use any kind of oil around here for lamps or heating?"

The factor shrugged. "I will have to think about this. I really don't know exactly what we could use. There is very little of this petroleum that you speak of in use here in India right now. Don't worry, though. I've never seen anything we couldn't find in India somewhere. I'm sure we'll think of something."

Marlon stood up and started to pace. "You know, I can adjust to whatever we find, and I'm thinking . . ."

Roelant held up his hand and interrupted Marlon. "We can leave that for another day. Tonight, the natives have prepared a huge festivity to celebrate your arrival from home. They like to have a feast whenever anyone arrives."

Niels said, "Yes, and I'm sure it doesn't hurt your feelings, Roelant. You end up getting home again, even though the ship sent out to retrieve you sank."

"Indeed that has crossed my mind," chuckled Roelant. "Now let's all go to dinner. I think we have some things you may enjoy quite a bit."

****

Marlon sat at a desk in an office they'd loaned him here at the outpost. He felt as if an army of paper was marching past him, and he had to do combat with every single report. The more things change the more they stay the same.

He mumbled to himself. "When I got out of the army, I got a job where I wouldn't be shot at. Little did I know I'd be drowning in numbers. We go through the Ring of Fire and I'm still playing with numbers. I move to Denmark and I'm still playing with numbers."

From the door came a dry laugh. "I do believe the whole world floats on a sea of numbers now." Niels Lund came into the office. "Blame it on the people who want to buy and trade and want to get value for it. That seems to be all we have to defend ourselves, in a shroud of numbers. Perhaps they will keep us from making a devastating mistake.

"I came to show you this list of cargo that we want to send home with you. As you recommended, it's all compact, perishable, and highly valuable."

Marlon reached over and picked up the paper, then almost choked. "Are you sure these numbers are correct? I can see that the nutmeg will sell, and even the opium would bring a lot of money. But your numbers here are truly astonishing."

"Yes, indeed. And when you convert the expected sale price from Gilders to your USE dollars, you should expect to clear a little more than ten million on this trip alone. That's not much compared to what a whole ship would win if we could only get it back to Copenhagen. Your load is only about one fifth as large. But still, if we can get more than one airship a year out here, we could make a very tidy profit."

Marlon shook his head. Ten million dollars for a month of travel? "I'm not certain, but it's probable that we can make five to ten trips a year. It depends on whether or not we can have another airship available to us. There are all kinds of problems that we're lucky not to have experienced on this trip. Only one bad bearing in an engine, and almost no weather concerns. We had good weather all the way out except for when the wind shifted. The only serious problem we've really had, besides rescuing that very beautiful young lady, was that we burned a lot more fuel than we should have. That's something I hadn't expected."

Just then the door opened and a young maid servant brought in a tray. She curtsied, and delivered a practiced speech. "Kind sir, here is the meal you ordered. It is bread and cheese and ghee." Then she curtsied again, and scurried out.

"Did you order this?" Marlon asked.

"Yes, I did." Niels grinned. "In the heat of the day, according to Roelant, everyone eats a light meal. The more rich foods are for the cool of the evening. But you should have something to eat. You haven't eaten all day. This will help keep your mind clear."

"She said this was ghee?"

Niels shrugged. "According to Chander, it's a kind of butter from the milk of the water buffalos. He says they boil it to clarify it, and all the solids are removed. He says it keeps very well in this weather and does not go rancid as quickly."

Marlon tore off a bite-sized piece of bread, dipped it in the little pot and tasted it. "Not bad. A little like toasted butter without the same feeling in your mouth. I kind of like it." He dipped another piece of bread and continued to eat. Then he almost choked, dropped the bread and started scrabbling in his pockets until he found a small silver box.

Niels asked, "Marlon, are you all right? Should I call a doctor?"

Marlon shook his head, and tried to swallow the rest of what was in his mouth. "No, Niels, I'm all right. Just let me try something."

Marlon pulled a small metal device out of his pocket, opened the lid and spun a wheel. Flame leapt up out of the lighter.

"What is that thing? Is it supposed to burst into flame like that?"

"Yes, Niels. Don't worry. It's called a lighter. We use them kind of like permanent matches." He handed the small silver square to Niels.

The governor examined it closely. It had rounded corners, and an etching on the side of some kind of heraldic device with arrows. "That's a very unique device. Do you have more of them?"

Marlon looked down at the floor, and his voice sounded gruff for a moment. "Well, no. This was a gift many years ago from a friend in the army. That was our unit insignia there." He held out his hand, and Niels quickly handed the lighter back.

Marlon kind of cleared his throat, and put the lighter down on the table. "Never mind all that. I've got to try something."

Marlon tore a strip of paper from the edge of one of the reports, dipped it in the ghee until it was well coated, and left it in the little pot, with just a half inch of paper sticking up above the oil. When he held the lighter's flame to the paper, the strip lit, and burned with a clear, smokeless, yellow flame. The paper wasn't consumed in the fire, so it was obviously acting as a wick.

Marlon began practically dancing around the small room. "This is fantastic. You've done it, Niels. This is exactly what we need. How much of this ghee can we get?"

"Are you saying you want to use this food for fuel?"

"I think so. It has the right feel, and all oils have a lot of energy tied up inside. We could use it to heat our boilers. That is, if we can get enough of it."

"My friend, sit down," Niels said. "You're making me tired. I'll see what we can do to get you some more ghee." He stepped to the door of the office. "Chander, can you come in here for a moment?"

The governor's assistant was a local who spoke Danish very clearly, even though he had a strong accent. "Yes, sir? How may I help you, please?"

Niels pointed at Marlon's tray. "Chander, is it possible to get this ghee in large quantities? As though we were going to sell it?"

Marlon laughed. "A couple of tons a least."

Chander looked thoughtful. Finally he said, "I know of a group of merchants who make this in quantity and sell it in the larger cities. Here we are a small village, and have a local source for our needs. But in the cities . . . they require a great deal of ghee. Does it matter how pure it is?"

"What do you mean? There are different levels of purity?"

Chander nodded. "The rich can always find pure ghee, like this. It has the best flavor, and is not burnt. But the poor, who require it to cook their food, have to settle for ghee that has been polluted . . . I mean it has palm oil or other food oils added to extend the pure ghee. It is certainly not as tasty."

"Chander, that's marvelous," Marlon said. "Adulterated ghee sounds like a dream come true for me. I want to ask one more question. Is ghee ever used for lamps or lighting, like this?"

Chander looked a little horrified at the small pot of ghee smoldering away on the table. "I do not know for sure. My mother never used the ghee in this way, but it is possible. Especially in temples and shrines. Why do you want it? Do you have a new buyer?"

"We need fuel for the airship, so that we can return to Europe. Ghee seems like it would be ideal."

****

That evening, some of the young officers were sitting in a drinking establishment in the village of Tharangambadi. There was Magnus, Ulrik, Henning, Gunnar, and Martin. And since Gunnar was there, so was Estela. She didn't let him out of her sight if it were possible.

They were listening to Chander recount the Marlon's odd behavior. "And then he picked up that flaming pot of ghee, and danced into the hallway. I was concerned that he'd spill the burning oil on himself, and we would have to beat it out with our hands."

Everyone at the table laughed. Captain Pridmore was often the subject of discussion with the most senior of the officers of the Royal Anne.

Chander shook his head ruefully. "And to think I went to such effort to find high quality ghee for their dinner. I could have served the meanest quality, and he'd still have been delighted."

Gunnar had Estela by the hand, and their fingers were interlaced. "That is true of almost everything Captain Pridmore does. I was in the workshop the day he showed up wearing that strange yellow camisole with the smiling face. He looked like a vagabond, or a traveling minstrel. And yet he showed no consternation."

Estela lifted her head from Gunnar's shoulder. "Captain Pridmore has always been so gentle with me. He always treats me as if he were a true gentleman. What do you know about his family?"

Gunnar said, "Not much. Herr Pridmore has always been courteous. He speaks to everyone, no matter who. We've almost gotten used to it, really."

Eric, the assistant engineer, frowned. "Chander, are you saying that it's possible we may find enough of this oil to fill our tanks and take us back to Denmark? Your hospitality is wonderful, but I would rather spend the winter in my own home."

Chander put down his cup and shook his head. "I have not dealt with the ghee merchants, but I have heard from my neighbors that they are a difficult group of men. I do not look forward to the negotiations, especially after they find that we want large quantities of their product. They have the reputation of cheats and rapscallions."

That brought another laugh. Estela asked, "Chander, where did you learn such language?"

Chander's white teeth gleamed in the dark room. "Herr Crappé taught me a lot about swearing in the years I've worked for him. He is very adept at the art of oath and insult."

Estela looked thoughtful. "You are doubtful of coming to an agreement with these oil factors? Maybe I could help."

All the young men stared at her as if she had just grown a new head. Gunnar patted Estela's hand. "You don't need to worry, sweet one. We will get you home. We don't want to worry you."

Sparks glinted in Estela's eyes. "Gunnar, are you saying that you don't think I would be able to negotiate with these men?"

Gunnar didn't take the warning seriously. "No, of course not, Estela. Negotiating with a factor is man's work. You don't need to do that anymore. I'm going to take care of you now. Don't bother your pretty head."

Estela not only unlaced her fingers from his, she pushed him away and stood up. "If you think so little of my upbringing and abilities, Gunnar Ibsen, I'll be leaving now. I'm going to offer my services as buyer to Captain Pridmore. Perhaps he has more of an appreciation for what a woman can do." Then she spun on her heel, and stomped out of the tavern.

For a moment the young men at the table stared at each other. Then Chander stood and bowed. "It is not proper for a young lady to walk alone after dark. I will accompany her to the fort. Good night, gentlemen."

Gunnar looked at Magnus, Eric, and Henning. "What was that about? Why would she flounce out like that?"

Eric was the only one at the table who was married. His young wife at home, Marina, was expecting their first baby. "Gunnar, go after her. Apologize."

"Apologize for what? What did I do wrong?"

Eric slapped Gunnar on the back. "Does it matter? Make the apology kind of general, and see if that helps."

****

The next day, Herr Lund, Chander, and Estela formed a small parade, followed by several small boys. They walked through the small village, and finally arrived at the shops of the ghee-sellers. Herr Lund was there as the buyer, Chander was the translator, and Estela was the negotiator. Discussions had gone late into the night, but Marlon finally put his foot down and sent Estela along.

Now they sat down with a congenial man, Sanjay Soury. He offered them refreshment, and they accepted. Chander translated their exchanged courtesies, and finally brought the discussion around to ghee.

Estela said very little, watching her opponent on the other side of the table. The man was probably in his forties, but he could be older. It was difficult for her to tell. People didn't seem to age quite the way she was used to here. But she saw a man who was confident in his ability to rake as much money from these foreigners as he could.

Chander opened negotiations. He had been coached extensively by Estela. "We purchased some ghee this week, and want to perhaps have some more. It was of marginal quality, but we feel generous to a man so obviously advanced in years. We don't want to take advantage of our elders."

Herr Soury blinked. He had never been addressed in such a manner by the Danish factors. He signaled his wife, and a light lunch was served. While they were eating, Chander again brought up the possibility of purchasing some ghee.

Herr Soury smiled and held out both hands. His explanation was obsequious. Chander bowed, and turned to Herr Lund. "Our host apologizes, but he has not been able to find higher quality ghee for an affordable price. He says it is because the cattle are not producing milk in any quantity."

Herr Lund leaned over and looked at Estela. She nodded, and whispered to Chander. Chander then asked for several barrels of ghee, ready for travel, to be delivered in three days.

Herr Soury beat his chest, pulled open his shirt and pretended to be about to stab himself in the heart with a rather dull knife, and he even pulled on his hair until he looked like a beggar on the street.

Whenever Chander wavered in the negotiations, Estela would lean over and whisper. Any empathy that he had been feeling would vanish. Then he would attack the negotiations again.

****

Two days later, small boats from the north arrived at the docks. They were filled with barrels of very low-quality ghee.

Marlon stood on the docks with Engineer Jannik and Niels Lund. He was elated. "Niels, you've done well. You said they were sending three tons of the oil? And only for two hundred Guilder? I thought Chander said the ghee-sellers were cheats and liars. How did you do it?"

Niels blushed a little. "I thought I was a good businessman. But after watching Estela bring that man to tears, and wring the oil out of him, I think I'm just an amateur. She has trading in her blood, that's for sure."

Chander still seemed a little worried. "Herr Captain, I would apologize for the quality of the ghee. It is not at all pure. There is very little butter in it and I . . ."

Marlon interrupted. "Chander, I tested the sample you brought home, and I think we'll do better on it than we did on the olive oil from Venice. This stuff is pretty powerful. I don't care, really, how pure it is."

Chander sighed in relief. "Then I'm certain you will be happy with this product. I inspected it before I delivered the payment, and there are no impurities in the fuel oil, and the barrels are consistent. They haven't been artificially weighted."

Niels said, "Chander, we've only been here a week and already you've proved to be a valuable part of my staff. What was Roelant paying you? I'm sure it's not enough. No Dutchman could understand generosity as well as a Dane."

****

As the sun went down Marlon gathered his crew in the large dining room. He invited Niels Lund and Roelant Crappé. Estela was seated to the right of Gunnar.

When everyone was seated, Marlon stood. "Men, we have finished the first half of our pioneering expedition. As your captain, I want to let you know that I am proud of you. We reached Tranquebar safely, and in a very timely manner. We have accomplished what nobody else in the world has done."

He stopped speaking as the room erupted into cheers and hooting. The crew was all enthusiastically celebrating their success. Finally, he held up his hand for silence. "Yes, I agree that we have done something wonderful, but I want to remind you that we are only at the half-way point of our journey. We still have to make it back to Venice and then to Copenhagen to be counted as successful. And to that end, I want to have a bull session. And before any of you jump up to ask me what that means, I'll explain it."

The crew laughed, and then listened again. "Now that we have finished our longest piece of flying so far, I wanted to find out what the problems were, as well as the things that worked out better than you expected. I expect all of you to contribute, because nobody had exactly the same experience. That means that I don't want to hear from just the bridge crew, or just the engineer, Herr Jannik. I want everybody to think of something productive and helpful to say. Even if someone else has said what you planned, please feel free to tell me what you think." Marlon stopped and grinned. "And that's an order!"

There was silence for a moment, then a young man stood in the back of the room. Marlon recognized him as one of the cargo specialists, Torsten. "Herr Captain, I want to say that I don't like the breathing tube. Is it necessary on our flight home?" He sat down among murmurs and nods among his fellow crew members. They all seemed to have the same opinion. Not that I blame them one bit,Marlon thought. I hated the silly thing myself. Couldn't sleep a wink with it on.

"I agree with you," Marlon said. "Trying to work, eat, or sleep with the breathing apparatus strapped to your head is not my favorite form of entertainment. But I find it far preferable to piling into a mountain peak in the middle of the night. If we decide that our course is over some of those tall mountains, yes, we will use the tubes again. I'm sorry, but I value you all too much to risk your lives if I don't have too."

Niels Lund stood. "Herr Captain, I was not a member of your crew, just a passenger. But I have a question as well. Do you intend to fly the same route home again? I also didn't relish the experience of the face mask."

"I chose that altitude because I didn't want to play games with high mountains in the dark. However, from the beginning we had planned going home a different direction. So our course home is south, closer to the equator. We will follow the Arabian Sea across to the Mediterranean. There we turn toward the north and fly up to where we can see Italy and follow the Adriatic Sea up to Venice. This has the great advantage of being fairly low altitude all the way. We don't have to worry about mountains, and now that the wind is changed from the monsoons, we can fly with the wind, close to the equator almost all the way home."

At the mention of the Mediterranean, Estela blanched and grabbed Gunnar's hand. "Don't worry, Miss Estela," Marlon said. "We'll be over the Mediterranean, not on it. Those pirates will never be able to reach us."

Roelant Crappé said, "Marlon, I understand monsoons. I've been here for fifteen years, and seen the weather up close. I know the monsoons are a steady blow, but they are not usually violent. Just a lot of rain. From what Niels has told me, though, I ...