Deep Seas War 1.1

Book 1

"The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore."

— Vincent Van Gogh, Painter

1.

The Surface

The carriage that pulled away from the high gates was not grandeur in design but more to a hearse in with its extended wagon space. The carriage was steered by the pilot as it was the norm for these steam operated contraptions operator preferred to be named. They were differentiating themselves from the horsemen with their oat fed geldings with their fined tuned coal burned steam that works the gears and screws with the hot steaming turbine at the rear. No one cares that the contraption may be contributing to the smog that was already suffocating the city. If it was, it was only a meagre amount compared to the large chimneys of the factories that were churning out the needed for the growing population there.

The carriage was a six seater with the cola driven steamer in the front, looking like a train steamer but with short boiler upfront. The carriage was supported by six sets of wheels of which four was supporting the boiler with the pilot compartment. The rear was the passenger’ wagon separated by the leather lined compartment wall to keep the heat of. That carriage was modified for only two s eaters with a table laid across it then lined with rolls of drawings on paper with the stacks of crates. As mentioned earlier, the carriage was akin to a hearse for it lacked all the fineries of the drapes and cushions with the drinks counter.

Lord Henry Huggins was not a generous Lord when it comes to the plush and comfort. The man was still looking at his prime with the wide shoulders and trimmed chest despite his late fifties age. He hardly drinks with his strict high vegetation diet. He was a retired General some years back due to a bad leg from a fall off his horse. He had then distanced himself from that infernal four legged beast in his exact words. His Lordship on retirement however had not dwindled on his brilliant mind that was doing wonders for the military in inventions. With his retirement, he had indulged himself into developing what he termed as military assisted designs to further mankind in the new frontiers. He was by no mean fearful of funding for his late father had left him a fortune in the family estate.   

“Watch out for those bloody holes, you oaf.” His Lordship had had his writing ink spilled on the paper roll. He swabbed at it before it dried and then scratched at it to highlight the earlier details. He cursed at the pilot for the mishap although it would have helped if he had paddled the carriage with some springs and cushions. His nature of longing for the hard boards and tacks of his military days was his legacy to the fineries there. He then leaned out of the carriage window and hollered to his servants who were doing the paces at the rear. They were soldier mates of his but they were ranked way below him. His Lordship had them riding the fine horses he bred.

“Stewart”, The Lordship called out to his butler and personal aide riding a grey gelding with the back upright on the saddle. “Did you pack the extra set I asked of you?”

“Aye, your Lordship.” The ex-Sergeant Major voiced back with his deep baritone voice that used that once to rouse up the sleepy heads in the barracks. “It’s in the box marked “Extras”.

“Good, old chap. Keep in pace.” Lord Henry then popped his head in but he had to annoy the pilot. He pulled at the metal cup that had a wire linked to the pilot’s compartment. He had to depress the switch which will light up the lamp there to signal the pilot. It was the only method to alert the pilot above the loud noise there.

“What’s my time of arrival, Jones?” His Lordship was a precision man with his time and action. He does everything on a timely basis including his indulgence in the game of bridge. He hurries the others in the game so that he could complete the game within the scheduled hour. He was all about timing and carries two watches plus a stop watch with him at all times.

“It’s all about timing, my good chaps.” That was his Lordship favourite quote. There was a standing joke that his Lordship probably shagged with the precise number of strokes. He was not married but he has been associated with a number of ladies of fine standings. They have moved on but none of them complained of their relationship except one that was rumoured to say the Lordship holds a hard baton. It was never elaborated but it was the hush of the servants he rode them harder than the stable studs.

“We should be there soon, my Lordship.” Jones was formerly a Corporal who never made it beyond that rank due to insubordination. The man was a fine chap from the southern island and was built with a tall lanky frame that had on him accolades in the fighting rings then. Nevertheless the Corporal had been a fine guard for his Lordship as a personal guar with gallant protection when attacked. He retained the Corporal as well as the Sergeant Major for their loyalty and strength.

“Scram it, you miscreant for a Welsh. I have a scheduled appointment there”, his Lordship picked up his watch on the vest pocket to check. “In bloody ten minutes.”

“I can’t push the steamer any more, my Lordship.” Those ending words held a twang of cynical tone. “Your servant had got us some lower grade coals. Probably had soot over his sight when he parted the shillings. My Clarks and Guinness’ are moaning through the shafts.”

“Screw your clangs and gears.” His Lordship snapped back with his barroom tone. “I will have you flogged for your remarks.”

“Dos i chwarae efo dy nain…” The Corporal cursed in his own words. It was Welsh for go fuck your granny.


“I heard that, you oaf. I have relatives in your sodden hills too.” His Lordship was getting nowhere with the argument and decided to shut it off. He slumped back into his leather seat and huffed on his self-wrapped paper with tobacco. He picked it up from his lads in the ranks and was hooked. He disliked the wrapped prick long cigars for they lack the smoke he needed.