Wednesday, January 4, 2017

Chapter 26 Liza and the Air Pirates of Navassa (NaNoWriMo work in progres, unedited)


26

 

The ship, and it did indeed look just like a sailing ship, was about 200 feet long and over 50 feet wide. The back of the ship was raised several levels above the front, allowing for a deck outfitted with a ships wheel and a look out station, while keeping the deck below clear for the sails and cannons. The sail, rather than going up tall masts, hung off the sides on the left and right. In place of the tall mast was a massive balloon at least twice as tall as the ship. Moto could see no burner underneath, which puzzled him.
 
On the deck were also what appeared to be about a dozen large cannons tied down. There were also bales of goods on the deck and other items under large canvas covers.

Moto brought out his spyglass, but despite his careful examination he could not find anyone on the deck of the ship. Then, he did catch sight of a tall dark figure stand up from behind the ship’s wheel and take a hold of the giant wheel, turning it very slightly.

Within a moment the large ship, now towering over them, was alongside of the sedan, but far enough away to be clear of their balloon. For an eerie moment there was silence. Despite the enormous size of the ship, Moto quickly counted at least 5 levels plus the aft deck, it made almost no sound as it hung in the air.


The ship was painted in bright yellows, golds, reds and oranges on its top, but sky blue on its bottom. The effect was fairly dazzling, especially in the fading golden light of the sun as it set. Nothing about the ship suggested it was of any age, the paint was fresh, the deck clean and shiny.

“Please tell me you are seeing this too” Mary said quietly.

“I’m… I’m not sure either Mary.” Liza responded.

“How on earth does it float?” Moto said.

“The balloon?” Liza asked.

“No balloon is big enough to float that much wood and iron. Simply not possible.”

Small flags of red and white and gold fluttered in the breeze. But nothing else stirred.

 

“What… what is going on do you suppose?” Will whispered, although there was no apparent need to whisper.

“No idea” Moto said, trying to keep their balloon stationary.

“Are these, is this  what you saw Will?” Liza asked. “When you came up last time…”

“No, no, not at all…”

 

Without warning a man appeared over the railing of the mian deck, the line of which floated a few feet above the sedan. He was a tall and handsome man, decked out in black pants, a bright white shirt and a deep blue coat bedecked with medals and gold trim. His face was long and gaunt and as dark as midnight.

“Pourquoi es-tu ici?” he said in a rich deep voice, his face stern.

“That’s French!” Moto exclaimed. “I know a little… Nous sommes amis!” He shouted back.

The tall man’s expression did not change. “

“Attaché votre bateau à la nôtre!” he shouted and he let down a large thick rope.

“He wants us to tie up…” Moto said. The General nodded and so Moto and Will did their best to attach the sedan to the larger ship, bringing the basket up to the level of the deck.

“Dégonfler le ballon et monter à bord. Comporte-toi!” The tall man said.

“He means us to come on board and leave the sedan witht eh balloon deflated.” Moto said in a low voice.

“I say we do as he asks. If we try to run now I suspect he can blast us out of the sky very quickly.” Will said.

With some effort the five of them wrestled the large balloon into the sedan while Mary sat, pale, on the bench. Then, once everything seemed as secure as they could make it, they made to get off the ship. Will and Moto were last, as they helped the other, Will slipped a Browning into his jacket. Under the pretense of handing a coat to Moto, he slipped the other one to him as well.

Shortly Moto, the General, Thornsberry, Mary, Liza and Will were standing on the solid wooden deck of a 17th century style man of war ship suspended thousands of feet above the earth.

Moto cleared his throat, he spoke, slowly, haltingly.

“Nous… venons…paci, paci, pacifiquement!”

“Êtes-vous leur serviteur? Pourquoi les autres ne parlent-ils pas? Sont-ils Anglais?” The man demanded in rapid French.

“Um… he is speaking so quickly, I think he wonders if I am  a servant and if you are silent because you are English?” Moto said to the group. “It is difficult to understand his accent.”

“It is a bit rough…” Mary said. “But let me try…”

Mary then stunned the other members of her party by launching into flawless and lilting school girl French.

“Dear Sir…” She said, in French of course, “I must first thank you ever so much for your kind treatment of us. We are truly sorry for any imposition we have made. My dear friend Mr. Moto is no servant, he is a citizen of the British Empire and from Uganda-“

“Tanganyika.” Moto interjected, delighted that he could keep up with Mary’s simple French.

“Tanganyika that is. We have come a long way, from Great Britain.”

Mary paused and looked at the General. “Why should I say we are here General?” She asked.

“Tell him was are sight seeing in the Caribbean…”

“No, Mary, tell him the truth. Tell him we want to find the city in the clouds…” Will said. “Truth will out eventually and I want him to trust us…”

Mary turned back to the tall man, who had been skeptically eyeing the brief conversation.

“Yes” She started back in French “I wanted to make sure I was correct in what I was saying dear sir. We have come searching for… well, my friend here tells us a tale of a floating city he saw once and-“

“Stop!” the tall man said, holding up his hand. “You come looking for the Le dyab?”

“Le Dyab?” Mary repeated and turned to look at Moto, who shrugged. “the devil sir?”

“Yes, Le Dyab, the people of the city in the clouds? Are you allies of them?”

“No, I can assure you sir, we are no one’s allies. Nor, nor” she hastened to add” Nor anyone’s enemies. We are merely curious.”

The tall man eyed her for a moment. “Devils in the clouds, white devils on my ship, I am getting too old… What is your name girl?”

“I am Mary Sir.” Mary did a little bow. She wanted to ask Moto about the White devil comment, but thought it impolite to keep turning to speak in English.

“I am General Henri Boukman.” He made a loud clicking sound three times with his mouth and, seemingly out of nowhere; several dozen people emerged out from various parts of the deck, all armed with rifles. “And this is my family.”

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