Journey to the Heart of Luna - Andy Frankham-Allen [7]
“Pray, we must make haste, Professor.”
Nathanial dragged his eyes away from the view outside, and looked up at Captain Folkard who was now removing a pair of goggles from a bag Nathanial had failed to notice before. He handed the goggles to Nathanial and rummaged once again inside the bag.
“You…” Nathanial swallowed, looking at the goggles in his hand. “You propose we board the Sovereign from an altitude of…”
“Twenty thousand feet,” Folkard supplied, removing a second pair of goggles and forcing his cap into the bag.
“Twenty thousand feet above the North Sea.” Just at the thought of such a thing Nathanial could feel the blood leaving his face. “Captain Folkard, I must protest, I am not a tightrope walker. I am…”
“Ready?” Folkard straightened up and lifted the bag from the floor. He smiled and walked towards the back of the gondola. The eyes of the passengers, those who were not mesmerized by the bulk of the Sovereign which all-but blocked out any sign of the sky now, followed Captain Folkard as he moved to the door. Two men, the same deckhands who had untethered the Zeus earlier, waited by the door, each tied by rope to protuberances from the bulkhead. Both men held the ends of the same thick rope that had kept the dirigible moored to the Dover Embarkation Platform.
Nathanial closed his mouth abruptly, suddenly aware that it had been open the whole time, like some gormless street urchin. Although every fibre of his being screamed against it, he carefully rose to his feet and began making his way to the rear of the gondola, where one of the men was now securing the thick rope around Captain Folkard’s waist.
Nathanial almost stumbled, but an arm shot out from one of the seats and steadied him. He looked down at the young man gratefully. “Thank you,” he said.
“You are most welcome,” the man, Bertie, replied, his eyes alight with excitement.
“Would you care to trade places, sir?” Nathanial asked wanly.
For a second Bertie clearly believed the veracity of the offer, but then he merely smiled. “I would if I could, sir, truly.”
Nathanial shrugged. “Lucky me, then.” He swallowed once again and joined Captain Folkard and the men at the door. “Is this really necessary?” he asked the captain, while rope was tied about his waist. “Surely the Sovereign could have met us at the Dover Cliff?”
“Even if the Cliff Embarkation Platform were big enough, Professor, it would have taken far too much time for my ship to lower itself so. Better that we met her en route, if you take my meaning.”
“Quite clearly.”
“Capital!” Folkard tugged at the rope now secured around Nathanial’s waist. “Splendid. If you gentlemen would be so kind?”
As one of the men set to unlocking the iron door, the other addressed the passengers of the Zeus. “Ladies and gentlemen, listen up and listen good. These two gents are about to embark on a most daring task,” he said in a manner that indicated he was missing his calling, Nathanial considered; the man would have been better in the heart of a Big Top. “Crossing from this tiny blimp to that enormous battleship which could squash us as easily as we crush a cockroach underfoot. Now, when I open these doors it’s going to get very windy, and bloody cold. Pardon me, ladies. So if I were you I’d see about holding tight to any valuables, and maybe think of the tale you can tell those that you’ll be meeting when we reach our destination.” The man smiled. “If we reach our destination, of course, lots of precise adjustments are needed to keep these two ships this close. Smallest mistake and…” He paused for effect. “Well, I am sure you understand.”
“You enjoyed that a little too much, I think,” Nathanial said.
The man winked at him. “Sure I did, guv’, adds a bit of colour to the toffs’ lives.”
Nathanial looked out at the scared faces of the passengers. Even the gentlemen, although trying to appear brave before the ladies, had much in the way of fear in their eyes.