Team Seven of Heroes III Chapter 13 & 14

13.

Mycroft looked to the three ladies seated opposite him. He was amazed that the task was given to him. Sir Fleming did not know him well. The previous M which he was never to know was his own sister Sigrina commanded him for over five years. Her so named betrayal was a big let-down to him. Both Sherlock and himself were deceived by the one person that was their peer in the planning and execution. Sigrina disappeared for years to resurface not as M but also the lover of their deadly nemesis, Frank Moriarty the twin brother of James Moriarty.

“Women….” Mycroft sighed to himself. He was like Sherlock; single and obsessed with their works with little time for the family activities. He hardly visited his brother for there was because he envied his brother exploits being brought out to the public while his was shrouded in the secrecy files. He was not keen to make know his exploits; well not all but there were some he did save lives.  

“Mycroft, I believed you have acquired us separate accommodations.” Mrs Watson looked to the man who was to be their guardian. “We have to be underway once we reached Gibraltar.”

Their journey was by sea then from Dover.  Mycroft have never been to the Gib or the Rock to some. It’s a small area with a low population but its strategic position there allowed monitoring of sea vessels coming to Europe or Asia on either way. Due to that, since the early seventeen century the ‘Rock’ was protected.

“We shall be in Gibraltar soon. We will put up at a safe house provided by SOE for us.” Mycroft told the ladies.

“I don’t trust any safe houses of the SOE.” Princess Fa Lo Suee spoke out. “We will stay at the nearest hotel to the dirigible port. Our stay will be short for two days and then we will be underway.”

“May I suggest my old place, my dears?” Mrs Hudson smiled. “I do have a nice cottage by the cliff overlooking the town. It’s in a village near the dirigible station. It was to be my retirement home, if I do ever retire.”

“Splendid idea!” The lady named the Black Cat replied. “I think we could stay there without arousing any attentions.”

Soon they reached the Rock, Mrs Hudson packed them off in a carriage to the home from home of hers on the faraway land there. Her local host was an Albanian by the name of Josef but to everyone he was Uncle Joe. He was in his eighties but he sprouted the seafarer’s health with the matching beard on his chin, in his turtleneck sweater and dark pants tucked into the Wellington boots. His carriage was a four-wheeler designed along the taste of refined Paris but the two mares that drew it was either in heat or the driver was a mad man with the reins. Their ride to the village was quick despite the uneven trail but the smell of the served food was soon to please the new comers.

“We bid our guests welcome to the Rock and here we are the pebbles in its shadow.” Josef introduced the fifty odd inhabitants there living in H formation of cottages and shops that lined the hill there. The host then gave Mrs Hudson a hug and continued on.

“We are ever glad to be of service to my good friend and saviour, Mrs Hudson. Some of us standing here was in favour to your courage to rescue us here years ago.” Josef announced to the other two ladies and Mycroft. He then looked at the Princess. “Your name is well known even by us though your father was more prominent.”

“The dish of roasted duck before you were of one of his enemy favourite once before.” Josef motioned that the chef be brought forth carrying the plate bearing the roasted duck. “Chef Chen was once a warrior in your land and he fought well for the people against your father but he has aged. He joined us here in this village to retire and eventually die of age. Today, he held no animosity towards you for he believed the fight with your father is not with you. He is a warrior and he will carry vengeance to the generations.”

Princess Fa Lo Sue looked to the elderly man in his nineties then. He was dressed in the simple tunic and pants with the waist belt that held pouches for his culinary knives. He bowed to the Princess and smiled with his broken teeth complete with the long pig tailed wound around his neck.

“I was General Chen An of the Xinjiang Army and for years I fought your father and his father but in the end the fighting had to retire. I left the land to come here where heroes are gathered. Like the gathering of the hundred and eight heroes in our land once before.”

“That was the tale of the older folks when the heroes were needed to fight the evil Emperor.” Princess Fa Lo Suee replied while she remembered the telling of the tales by the elders of the heroes. The exploits were documented into a long tale also known as the Water Margin (水浒传). She then bowed to the elderly man. “Our battles are far from over. My father lies missing now and I am to find him.”

“We heard of your father’s plight but we are no more the warriors we once were.” The ex-General smiled. “However, while you are here with us, your safety is assured.”

“If I may explain to all before we all draw guns and daggers.” Mrs Hudson took the attention of the two ladies, and Mycroft who was undecided then between the roasted duck and the gun he tucked in his waist coat. “Here in Pebbles as this place is known, the lot that you see before you are warriors of the past. Retired fighters of many causes and some are criminals just because they support the wrong cause. Here they are to live in harmony till the stroke of death claims them in their sleep or by ailments. It’s a sanctuary of such for them. Josef the Bear here held the balance. Enough is said and let us feast.”

It was a rare feast not because of the guests, but the friendship of the villagers. The ladies were given accommodation at the upper level of the tavern where they had their meals while Mycroft was leveraged with a loft on the opposite abode above the gunsmith.

“It’s out of place for a village to hold a gunsmith when all of you advocate peace.” Mycroft sat there with host, a tall gentleman with the looks of a school teacher then with the pipe in the right hand seated on the verandah of the gunsmith.

“Truly, it may be but we lived in dire times. And to be honest, old habits die harder.” The gunsmith turned the body to display the derringer in his waist coat. “I was learning to shoot at the age of five, killed my first man at the age of eleven, and soon after I had on my gun belt eleven notches when I got my first Colt. Those were the ones I really counted on for years but it could be more. I was never good at counting. Alabama to Texas was a land then ruled by gunman. I have used up three sets of Colt but the last one was not a forty-five but the forty-four Navy. My last shootout caused me my right index finger to bend and I had to …retire.”

“Sad…:” Mycroft tried to stifle his yawn but the old man kept on talking.

“I could not care less for I was left handed. The varmint shot my finger thinking I will lose it all but he was dead before he could smile on his aim.” The gunsmith then stood up. “Guess it’s time for you to rest now.”

It was then Mycroft saw Josef walking towards them with three others including the ex-General Chen. Mycroft stood up and then decided to stay. Josef approached the gunsmith.

“Kid, we got some coming here. Can you loan us some guns?” The gunsmith addressed as Kid nodded to the others who went into his shop to pick their guns. Mycroft stood there with his baffled expression.

“Don’t get involved here, son. You ain’t their match and these elder folks, well they are far more dangerous than those you being involved with. Old Edward there was a hunter from the Canadian wilderness. Josef was part of the Royal Guards, and Pickering; he was at the start of the Boer wars.”

“And don’t you worry on the ladies. Their drinks were spiked to let them rest. So was yours. But I guess you are just one tough dude.” That was what Mycroft heard before he was clubbed from the rear.

Mycroft woke up on his bedding at the loft. He felt the throbbing pain there on his head. He stepped off the bedding and went downstairs. He met the gunsmith seated at the wicker chair at the doorway, cleaning some rifles.

“Good day, Sir.” The gunsmith smiled. “I guess the years of living here had me grown some fine greetings for my guest.”

“What happened last night? I was…” Mycroft was hushed up.

“What happens at Pebbles stays in Pebbles till the soil covers it. Nothing that you need to be alarmed over. You need to rush over to the tavern. Lunch will be served soon.” Mycroft was told and then he saw Josef on the street. He rushed and met the other.

“Late morning, Sir. You need your refreshment while it’s hot.” Josef smiled. His left forearm was bandaged. “We have good news for you. There is another dirigible leaving for Istanbul this evening. We have arranged your tickets. Bon Voyage.”

We will we get back to the Pebbles at another tale. It wasn’t that a good day for Sherlock.

14.

“Holmes. Would you please stop scribbling on your pad and hold the rifle? We are about to boarded by …. pirates or God knows who?” Doctor Watson placed the French made rifle on the table by Sherlock. It was the Lebel Model 1886 or also known as the Fusil Model 1886. It was a standard infantry rifle of the French Army for quite some time, rivalling the Enfield in use. The bolt action rifle measured over four feet in length with a ten loads magazine, with effective range of over four thousand yards.

“What in …. A French rifle? I have seen them before.” Sherlock was not a fan of guns but he studied them well when he needed it.  

“Well, don’t fret over it. The Captain may be Norwegian by origin but he loved French. His affinity for the wine served in his cabin would have told you that.” Doctor Watson and Holmes had the luxury of dining with the Captain one evening.

“Well, I will take my position once I stored the scrolls into the oil packs to avoid it getting damaged.” Sherlock continued on his work but also copied passages that he was reading on. “Be off with you now.”

Doctor Watson had then his loaned rifle and reached for the doorway when Sherlock voiced out.

“No daggers, Watson?” Sherlock learned of Watson other skill while in India as a trained assassin.

“No daggers, Holmes. Never again. I am trying to forget India.” With that Watson stepped out into the corridor and almost fell on his back from the uneven ship movement. The vessel was ahead of the storm but the sea was stormy with the high waves. Their pursuer had made better times in their sailing and was within earshot of each other. The Captain gave the alert when he saw the other vessel had not signalled their intentions. He had then issued orders for the ten crews to be armed and ready for a fight. Two crews have manned the Napoleon and given the weather condition, Watson prayed that the gunpowder will work.

The doctor made his way by holding onto the walls and then reached the doorway to meet mother’s nature fury. He was greeted with a body splash on his whale skin covered body but even that the coldness of the water was felt to his bones then. He lowered his head and then proceeded out to deck and held out his right hand to the railings. He felt a hand grabbed his wrist and was to lashed out when he heard the familiar crew’s voice.

“Aye, Sir It’s me Lenbeir. Let me guide you to the upper deck and be with the Captain there.” Watson recalled the man he met several times from the storage crew. An experienced seafarer with the beard and deep sunken eyes and his upper body was raked with tattoos. He did tell Watson, that he won’t let them tattoo below his waist line for he was not keen to bend over to see any. They laughed at the racy meaning of it leaving Sherlock not amused at the rationale then. He has probably not stayed in the Frontier for long without the lady’s comfort.

“Welcome in, Doctor. Our unknown vessel had not responded to my signals. If its fight they want, we are ready. We consist of mixed nationalities but on the vessel, we are one family and all of us have served in the war whether locally or foreign.”

The Captain himself was armed with the Mauser 98 rifle; German manufactured and the gun belt with the German Mauser pistol. He also had on the double edge sword that he claimed was from his grandfather. Swords were heirloom in the Vikings and they have names given to it. The Captain’s sword was named Alfhild after a maiden who disguised as a warrior pirate in the olden days.

“Alfhild will do her duty in my hand as we are duly bound by love and strength.” The Captain told Watson but the later was keen on knowing who they are battling with.

“I know not of the crews there but I saw their faces. They are Chinese and it’s a rarity to find them so far North unless they are up to bad fishing. They are mostly at the Mediterranean on their own home to the Far East. I saw some others but it does not matter. The Great Neptune will swallow them all regardless of their diet.”

Across the stormy waves the slate of light rain, Hathaway had armed himself with the gun belt holding the Webley and slung over his left shoulder was the newly produced Thompson machine gun. He looked to his boarding crew of dozen warriors. Each of them had on them the extra length of ropes and the grapnel to latch on.

“We cannot delay for the storm is approaching. Deploy out and on my command board them.” Hathaway then turned to the Captain. “Show them your dragon fire.”

The dragon fire was a mounted Maxim gun on a four-wheeler cart. The gun fires six hundred rounds per minute. There were two units and it was rolled out to the deck to fire on the other vessel. The guns were loaded and then the gunners opened fire. With the stormy waves, the line of fire was erratic when it strafed the lower deck and then the ship side and then streaked upwards to the deck again. Three crews manning the deck there were injured by the bullets but not fatal. The crews on the vessel shot at fired back but the machine gunners were protected by the metal plates that acts as a shield.

“Darn!” The Captain cursed out and then ordered the Napoleon crew to retaliate. The two crews having loaded the gun lit the wick and watched. The gun roared as it were in the previous battlefields and the cannon ball went streaking across distance between the vessels. There was no targeting by the gunners but with the offerings to Neptune, they hoped their aim was right.

Well, it missed the gunner’s intended target; the machine guns but it hit the stern of the vessel. The twelve-pounder ball tore past the metal plate there and into the engines there. The ball did some damages but the vessel was still seaworthy. The machine guns trained their aim on the Napoleon causing the crew there to seek cover.

“Return fire, old sea dogs.” (The Norwegian words are unrefined than these.) The assorted rifles of different makes were no match to the Maxim guns. Maybe Neptune did not favour the good sailors.

“Steer to starboard five degrees.” The Captain called out and then he saw Sherlock stepping into the cabin. He asked for permission to man the Napoleon.

“Holmes, you are mad….” Watson saw the look on other. It was not madness but Sherlock may be into something. The sleuth made his way to the Napoleon and it was then there was a lull in the firing.

“Gunners, we need to get the gun ready.” While the two gunners attended the Napoleon, Sherlock crouched there to look at the other vessel. He heard the affirmation from the gunners and then he told them his plan.

“Do not fire until I tell you to.” Sherlock then remained there to look at the vessel. The machine guns returned to focus on the Napoleon. One of the gunners was wounded by the fire but Sherlock remained observing. He then turned to the remaining gunner and gave the signal to hold. His signal was given and the cannon roared. The cannon ball flew across the distance and hit the impacted on the damage engine making major damages. The other vessel was rendered partially inoperable although it could stay afloat and sail.

“Steer starboard and get us away from them.” The Captain called out then. Watson saw the predicament of the other vessel.

“Surely, Captain. You will not leave those men there to die.”

“I have no choice, Doctor. We are at war now. I can’t tow them not with the storm behind us.” The choice was made then but Hathaway was not giving up that easily. The half British Chinese warrior called on the vessel to force at the other.

“You are mad, Sir. We will both sink here.” The other Captain protested and was given the knuckle jab by Hathaway right hand into the throat. Hathaway then clenched his knuckles and then formed a fist to slam the damaged throat there. It was that blow that severed the air pipes of the Captain.

“I will take command.” Hathaway called out. “Steer towards them.”

On the other vessel, the Captain saw the intended action and called for full engine to move starboard. The vessels parted with distance but Hathaway was adamant of ramming the other.  Watson stood there on the deck watching the distance built up with regrets. He was not sure then of the other vessel’s fate.