knowing the other brother was assaulting Elric.
I shouldn’t have bothered. A metallic thud sounded in the misty street, and suddenly Clives had joined his brother, a massive welt rising atop his grizzled head.
“My, you boys are up to no good,” our blonde barmaid remarked, a heavy tea kettle in her right hand. Blair lay crumpled a most undignified pile, attempting to untangle himself from Clives.
“How did you… ” Not sure if Blair or I were responsible for the gaping.
“The same way they did- through the back door,” the maid answered. After the initial rush, she turned to look at the prone figures sprawled on the cobbles. Was that shock, or disgust? “Shite, I do believe we’ve committed murder.”
“They’ll live. Staples might lose a couple feet of intestine,” I answered. “But it’s probably safer to leave right away.”
“Agreed,” my newfound companion said. Crikey, what had I done to deserve them? A violently assertive barmaid and a useless writer, both of who knew my identity, now looked to me for guidance. It would probably be best for them to hide out in my ship, never mind what the morrow would bring.
Swiftly, the three of us dashed along the streets of Portsmouth, grand old manors and redbrick dwellings giving way to the trace italien of Southsea Castle.
The glow of the castle’s lighthouse beam came through as a giant column of dimly lit mist over our heads. From above, the false moon would be one of three bounding the edge of the city from the wild ocean. Their light served to guide our way now, glinting off the rails set into the stone street. At the docks further north, these rails came together in a spider’s web of tracks, delivering the bounty of the British Empire throughout the homeland from the holds of hundreds of dirigibles.
“I say, aren’t we headed away from the mooring towers?” Blair called.
“You said it yourself, the dock’s men are all alerted to your presence. Besides, there’s a damned Naval base that way.”
We headed down South Parade, making for the pier. In the darkness, the restaurant and shops looked quiet and sad. We made our way along the promenade, suddenly amongst the nickelodeons, deserted fairy floss stands and midget-dirigible rides of the funfair.
“Having a go at us, Marauder? These tiny boats won’t even hold one of me,” our barmaid said, tapping at one of the children’s seats bolted to a guide rail.
“They certainly won’t,” I commented, failing to resist the urge to leer at her ample assets.
“Cad!” she answered with the uncanny observation of her gender. It is a language I have never mastered.
“Never mind those. Come, come,” I gestured.
Past the charming carousel full of gilt horses and carriages, and the calliope with its silent, sentinel pipes, I led my little band toward the small Ferris’ Wheel, perched at the very edge of the pier.
Part of me regretted giving up such a good hiding place, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
At the very bottom of the Wheel, there was an iron ring set in the floor. Lifting this up resulted in two very satisfying gasps of surprise, for underneath was a platform leading to a dirigible’s gondola.
“Who would have thought the big, bad Scourge of Shanghai would own such a tiny pirate ship?” Elric Blair remarked. “I suppose you’ll have to cling to the mast after yielding the cabin to the lady.”
“Pirates don’t have to follow etiquette,” I answered, sedately stoking up the modest boiler. With a pop and a sparkle, the embers came to life.
“And the balloon? Ah, there we are,” Blair continued. “Disguised as a child’s flying elephant, how quaint.”
“How absolutely adorable. To think, the Bandit of Budapest dropping out of the sky under a giant pink elephant,” our maid remarked.
As a matter of fact, I had a standing deal with the funfair owner, a rather pleasant Mrs. Bakersfield. The appearance of Jumbo the Pink
I shouldn’t have bothered. A metallic thud sounded in the misty street, and suddenly Clives had joined his brother, a massive welt rising atop his grizzled head.
“My, you boys are up to no good,” our blonde barmaid remarked, a heavy tea kettle in her right hand. Blair lay crumpled a most undignified pile, attempting to untangle himself from Clives.
“How did you… ” Not sure if Blair or I were responsible for the gaping.
“The same way they did- through the back door,” the maid answered. After the initial rush, she turned to look at the prone figures sprawled on the cobbles. Was that shock, or disgust? “Shite, I do believe we’ve committed murder.”
“They’ll live. Staples might lose a couple feet of intestine,” I answered. “But it’s probably safer to leave right away.”
“Agreed,” my newfound companion said. Crikey, what had I done to deserve them? A violently assertive barmaid and a useless writer, both of who knew my identity, now looked to me for guidance. It would probably be best for them to hide out in my ship, never mind what the morrow would bring.
Swiftly, the three of us dashed along the streets of Portsmouth, grand old manors and redbrick dwellings giving way to the trace italien of Southsea Castle.
The glow of the castle’s lighthouse beam came through as a giant column of dimly lit mist over our heads. From above, the false moon would be one of three bounding the edge of the city from the wild ocean. Their light served to guide our way now, glinting off the rails set into the stone street. At the docks further north, these rails came together in a spider’s web of tracks, delivering the bounty of the British Empire throughout the homeland from the holds of hundreds of dirigibles.
“I say, aren’t we headed away from the mooring towers?” Blair called.
“You said it yourself, the dock’s men are all alerted to your presence. Besides, there’s a damned Naval base that way.”
We headed down South Parade, making for the pier. In the darkness, the restaurant and shops looked quiet and sad. We made our way along the promenade, suddenly amongst the nickelodeons, deserted fairy floss stands and midget-dirigible rides of the funfair.
“Having a go at us, Marauder? These tiny boats won’t even hold one of me,” our barmaid said, tapping at one of the children’s seats bolted to a guide rail.
“They certainly won’t,” I commented, failing to resist the urge to leer at her ample assets.
“Cad!” she answered with the uncanny observation of her gender. It is a language I have never mastered.
“Never mind those. Come, come,” I gestured.
Past the charming carousel full of gilt horses and carriages, and the calliope with its silent, sentinel pipes, I led my little band toward the small Ferris’ Wheel, perched at the very edge of the pier.
Part of me regretted giving up such a good hiding place, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
At the very bottom of the Wheel, there was an iron ring set in the floor. Lifting this up resulted in two very satisfying gasps of surprise, for underneath was a platform leading to a dirigible’s gondola.
“Who would have thought the big, bad Scourge of Shanghai would own such a tiny pirate ship?” Elric Blair remarked. “I suppose you’ll have to cling to the mast after yielding the cabin to the lady.”
“Pirates don’t have to follow etiquette,” I answered, sedately stoking up the modest boiler. With a pop and a sparkle, the embers came to life.
“And the balloon? Ah, there we are,” Blair continued. “Disguised as a child’s flying elephant, how quaint.”
“How absolutely adorable. To think, the Bandit of Budapest dropping out of the sky under a giant pink elephant,” our maid remarked.
As a matter of fact, I had a standing deal with the funfair owner, a rather pleasant Mrs. Bakersfield. The appearance of Jumbo the Pink
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