The two of them made their way
downstairs to find the two men smoking in the men’s parlor. Breathlessly Liza
told her Grandfather of Mary’s desire to go with them other trip in the
morning. Her Grandfather looked surprised but then chuckled. “Well Colonel, there’s your answer; I think
the girls are getting along pretty well.”
Liza frowned. “You
make us sound like school girls.”
“Well, anyone
under 50 practicallyis, to me.”
“Well General.”
Colonel Thornsberry said “I agree with that! Now Mary, I think it will be fine
if you were to go, assuming it is ok with you general?” The Colonel looked
meaningfully at Liza’s Grandfather.
“Yes, yes, or
course.”
“Wonderful. Say
General, is there room in the sedan for a fourth?”
“Certainly good
sir. Come with us and meet Mr. Cogwright. I suspect you will find him to be a
young man of a very interesting character.”
“Agreed. And
perhaps on the way you can tell more about your reasons for seeking him out?”
“All in good time,
all in good time.”
Chapter Three:
The next morning
dawned brisk, a touch cold even for London in the springtime. But the skies were
clear and the wind low, perfect sailing conditions. Liza sat by the front
parlor’s main window, eagerly looking up and down the street outside. She had been
up for several hours in anticipation. She had already replaced the altimeter in
the sedan, overseen the packing (and repacking) of a cold lunch, and had even
thought about packing an overnight case (and thinking better of it). She had changed
her outfit three times. She’d settled on brown linen pants and a white blousy
shirt with a brown tweed jacket over it. She thought it sufficiently country,
although she had no idea if it was actually at all. Mainly she had been
excited, excited for an opportunity to fly, a chance to get to know Mary better
and a chance to meet the mysterious Mr. Cogwright.
At precisely 7:45 Liza
heard the front bell ring. She had been
daydreaming, thinking about the best route to sail up north and had not been
watching the street. It was all she could do to wait the few extra seconds for
the Mr. Rupert to get the door instead of doing it herself.
She was glad to
see that Mary had dressed sensibly, in a long but reasonably tight skirt and
blouse with a warm jacket over top. Liza had hoped that Mary might even wear
pants, but supposed that would be asking a lot. The Colonel looked as if were going
on a big game hunt. Liza wondered if he might get slightly cold in the thin
cotton but said nothing, although she did tell a passing housemaid to pack an
extra blanket in the sedan.
Liza led them up
the stairs to the top floor. Along the way she collected her Grandfather, who,
true to form, was still reading the morning paper, only half dressed to go out.
She told him they would wait up top for him.
Liza led Mary and
the Colonel up to the attic, which, like many of the better homes in turn of
the century London, had been converted into a cozy but elegant waiting area for
the household balloon sedan. In the winter months, or even on miserably hot
days, guests would be able to wait in here while the balloon was readied. Liza
suggested they could so do today, but Mary wanted nothing of it.
“Come on now!” she
said with a smile, “I didn’t get up at the crack of dawn to sit around an attic
and chat. Let’s see the balloon.”
Liza returned the
smile. “Alright, but the proper term is sedan.” She whispered. “No one ever
calls them balloons anymore…”
“Why on earth
not?” Mary asked.
Liza stopped as
she was opening gather door and looked back. “You know, I’m not sure.”
Mary made a
dismissive gesture with her hands. “Not important, not important. Carry on”
Liza swung open
the door to the outside to reveal a large patio that jutted out from the attic.
About half of the attic had been removed some years ago to make way for the
patio. It was a large open space ringed with stone-worked balusters capped with
a stone ledge all the way around until it met with the remaining section of the
attic. The ledge had some planters on the side, but was otherwise plain. The
most curious feature was a series of stone steps leading up the ledge in the
long section of the patio, the one facing the back of the house. The steps ended
at the ledge and then dropped off into thin air. If one followed the steps up
by walking them, one would find oneself lying in a heap on the ground in the
back garden. On either side of the steps were large sturdy cast iron poles with
elaborate finials. They were painted black and stood as if sentries. Tied to
each pole was thick heavy looking ropes that themselves were attached to what
Liza explained was the sedan.
The sedan itself
was a large woven basket, about three meters long by about two meters wide and
just over a meter high. Attached to one end of the basket was a large propeller
and a housing box that turned it. The basket itself had four large, thick woven
ends that snaked up from the basket and met in the middle overhead. These were
woven, in turn, into a large circular section that served both as a sheltering
roof but also housing for a large canister. The canister spewed forth a medium
flame that burned under a large, that is to say, massive silk balloon the color
of a pine forest. The green material seemed to extend endlessly into the sky,
but if one stepped back and looked up one could see it was shaped something
like and inverted pear, with a rounded bulb at the top. In the morning light it
seemed to glow and ruffled slightly in the mild breeze.
Standing inside
the basket was a tall, thin man. He saw the three emerge from the attic and
tipped his hat.
“Morning Ma’am” he
said to Liza, who nodded back.
“Good morning Mr.
Ndege.” She looked up at the massive silk balloon. “The pocket seems to be
filled nicely.”
“Yes Ma’am. Good
morning for it too. Is the General not going?”
“Oh no, he is, he
is running late, if you can believe that. Mr. Ndege, these are our guests I
told you about- the Colonel Thornsberry and his Niece Mary Gosling.”
The man tipped his
hat again and smiled. Mary smiled back but also seemed to study him. She had
never seen a man like him, he was very tall and very thin and his skin was shiny
ebony. Mary decided that he was actually quiet regal and handsome.
“Mr. Ibo is one of
the very best pilots, we are in good hands I assure you.” Liza said.
The colonel
cleared his throat. “Ndege, Ndege… Not Mr. Ibo Ndege, from the King’s
Tanganyika regiment of 1898?”
“One in the same”
Mr. Ndege said, smiling a wide smile.
“Colonel Reginald
Thorsnberry at your service Sir! You’re commander, lieutenant Banks told me all
about your adventures in scaring off the Germans back to their end of things
eh?”
“Yes sir, although
I am sure he exaggerated most things he said about me. I was but a humble pilot
in the airforce.”
“Not what I heard.
We can relax Mary dear girl, Mr. Ndege here is not only a good pilot but an
excellent marksman too.”
“No guns here
today old boy!” Everyone turned at the gruff sound of the general coming out
onto the patio. “Just a little outing today, we’ll not need your marksman
skills today Moto.”
Mary cocked her
head. “Moto, but I thought your name was Mr. Ndege.”
Mr. Ndege laughed
heartily. “I have known General Littlefield for many years. Sorry, ‘Robert.’ So
he calls me by the name I was given in my village back home, Motohewa. If it is
alright with you Ms. Gosling, you can also call me Moto, it is easier to say.”
“Yes, of course,
and you must call me Mary.”
“Right then, if we
stand around all day chatting we’ll never get to Mr. Cogwright will we?” Liza
said, laughing but also gently shooing the others up the steps and into the
floating sedan.
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