Young Sherlock Holmes_ Red Leech - Andrew Lane [63]
One man,wrapped in an overcoat against the cold wind, attracted Sherlock’s attention. He had a trim black beard which curled out at the edges and a moustache which had been waxed so that it curled up at the ends. Instead of staring out across the ocean ahead, he had his back to it and was scribbling lines in a notebook with a pencil.
In fact, as he watched, Sherlock realized that the man was not scribbling lines but sketching something. Sherlock shifted his position, trying to see what the man was drawing, but all he could see on the paper of the man’s notebook was a cylindrical object with pointed ends, something like a fat cigar. It seemed to be separated into sections by some internal walls, or barriers.
‘You are interested in my drawing, yes?’ the man said, glancing up. His voice had a strong accent: German, Sherlock thought.
‘Sorry,’ Sherlock said, blushing. ‘I just wondered why you weren’t looking ahead, like everyone else.’
‘I am looking ahead,’ the man said. ‘A long way ahead, to a time when journeys such as ours are conducted not by boats, which are subject to storms and waves, but by balloon.’
‘Balloon?’ Sherlock echoed. He nodded towards the sketch in the notebook. ‘Is that what that is?’
The man stared at Sherlock critically. ‘I think you are unlikely to be an industrial or a military spy,’ he said. ‘Too young. And your face tells me that you have an open mind and a keen intellect, which is not my experience of spies.’ He laughed, although it was more of a snort than a laugh. ‘I have been . . . criticized . . . in my own country for my ideas. I am hoping that in America, things will be different.’
‘I’m Sherlock Holmes.’ Sherlock extended his right hand. ‘Pleased to meet you.’
And I am Ferdinand Adolf Heinrich August Graf von Zeppelin,’ the man said, bowing stiffly, then extending his hand to shake Sherlock’s hand. ‘In your country, I would be referred to as Count Zeppelin. You may just refer to me as “Count”.’ He turned his notebook around so that Sherlock could see it. ‘Now, tell me – can you conceive of a gigantic balloon made of varnished silk braced with hoops of some kind, a rigid airship, if you will, filled with a gas that is lighter than air and flying across the ocean at a height such that below the balloon you see clouds, not waves?’
‘What gas would you use?’ Sherlock asked.
The Count nodded. An excellent question. The French have been using hot air for smaller balloons, although I cannot see that working for larger ones, and the American Army have had good results with coke gas, which is derived from burning coal. I would favour hydrogen, if it could be purified enough.’
And how would you move the balloon?’ Sherlock was fascinated by this strange man’s ideas. ‘Surely balloons would just float off?’
‘This ship on which we find ourselves does not just float. It moves. It has engines. It has paddles. If paddles can move a ship through the water then they could move a balloon through the air.’
Sherlock looked at him dubiously. Are you sure that would work?’
Von Zeppelin smiled coldly. ‘I have conducted an extensive study of lighter-than-air flight. Four years ago I was in America, acting as an observer for the Northern Potomac Army in their war against the Confederate States. While I was there I made my first ascent in a tethered reconnaissance balloon. I also met Professor Thaddeus Lowe, who is probably the world’s greatest expert on lighter-than-air flight.’ Von Zeppelin’s rather rigid face seemed to light up when he talked about balloons. It was obvious to Sherlock that the subject enthused him. ‘Professor Lowe had previously built a balloon intended for transatlantic flight, just like this ship, which he named the Great Western.