Deep Sea Chapter 8

8.

The Surface

“Tell me Captain Claude. Did you get the windows washed lately?” Sergeant Major frowned at the lack of quality on the cleaning. “There seems to be some dirt on it? Pesky ones though.”  

“Another mongool...” In Dutch it meant retard. “Of course I cleaned it daily.”

The Dutch Captain leaned over to examine the nuisance that described on the window. He then jumped back and screeched general alert before scrambling for the communication line.

“Bewegen de verdoemden motoren maximal…” The Dutch Captain not pulling any punches there for the dirigible creaked and then lurched forward from the extra thrust of the engines. His Lordship peeked at the window and saw the threat. It was the flying contraption again and there were two of them climbing up to meet the dirigible.

“My Lord, I doubt Captain Claude has any military serving time?” Jones was at this usual self to compliment everyone possible shortcomings.

“As a matter of fact he was part of the elite ‘. Les vliegende knjgers’. Am I not right, Claude?”

“Yes but I was the engineer to their flying boxes. I only flew dirigibles later.” Captain Claude smiled. “Good days they were.”

“Well if you are to tell your grandchildren that, may I suggest we sprout wings?” It was the infallible Jones again. “I wished I had more bullets for my Whitworth rifle.”

Captain Claude checked on his crew and he got the affirmative. He then leaned back on his Captain seat and smiled. His Lordship then looked at the approaching flying boxes. There were two of them. He told them to throw the bags or anything not affixed while Claude was doing some mental calculations. The dirigible soared up into the clouds. He then jumped up from his seat and rushed to the window.

“Now” Claude called out his command. The soaring flying contraptions were still climbing when the sound of the machine guns roared off. The first flying contraption on the right was hit from the left-wing towards the center before it went diving down. The second flying contraption veered off left and flew under the dirigible.

“Jolly good show, old chap. I am sure the Lewis gun did justice again.” Lord Henry was all excited about the kill

.

“Lewis? No, it was the Chauchat. It was made in France but we are good neighbors. I got two of them mounted below for such events. Do not always think that only the English is good at inventing these guns. Have you seen the German Maxim? It’s a wonderful gun too.”

The Chauchat was a light machine gun designed by a French inventor. It had yet to enter into full service but it was a favored weapon like the Lewis. The gun weighed twenty pounds and fires 7.65 x 53 mm ammo at over two hundred and forty rounds per minute. It could reach over two thousand yards but it was effective at two hundred. That was why Captain was mentally calculating the climbing speed of the flying contraption before he gave the command.

“It also scared the pesky pigeons off the mountings.” Claude imitated the motion of shooting with the Chauchat.

“Those are eagles. They are back with mom and pop.” Jones called out. “Do you happen to have any forty-five cartridges?”

 “Does the Dutchman fly?” The Captain beamed with his wide smile. He saw the expression on the Welsh and shook his shoulders. “Never mind I do as I served many guests.”

The Dutch Captain pulled out the side drawer to display the rows of guns and ammo. There was the Webley, the Winchester, Remington and also the Thompson. Alongside it was the ammo clips.

“Mint and it comes with an impact.” Claude commented and again the Welsh did not appreciate the dry sense of humor. “Pick your choice.”  

Jones made his choice while the The sergeant picked up the forty-nine inches in length Martini-Henry rifle. It weighed about eight pounds and seven ounces with a sliding ramp and was a single shot rifle. Its cartridge was the five-seven with a range of nearly two thousand yards. He also picked up a pocket full of it.

“I say, old boy. I had not seen one of this for over ten years now since the one my paddy gave me to give way when he could not feed nine of us on the table. He told me to learn how to hunt.” The Sergeant Major was rarely seen emotional over a four feet long metal piece. He loaded in the cartridge and aimed it at the window.

“I would…” The Captain cut in but he was too late. The Sergeant Major had cocked and fired the rifle. The cartridge went through the window and at five hundred yards it killed the pilot in the head of the remaining eagle.

That was only one of the five which were aiming for the dirigible.

“Excellent.” The joy was short when four more eagles appeared. That started the aerial battle.

Jones was at the shattered window shooting with the Whitworth rifle. The flying contraptions have kept their distance and used their superior speed to weave near the dirigible. The Sergeant Major was laying fire on the other side when the flying contraption appeared below. He was shooting holes in the frame but his score was not getting them down. The machine guns were also doing their bit but the Captain noticed the direction they were heading.

“We are being herded to the hills.” Captain Claude called out. “I am trying to steer back to the sea. There we stand a chance if we crashed. Hopefully, the sharks had their supper before we arrive.”

“Aye, I hear Dutch liver mush are good.” Lord Henry quipped in. “What do you call them there?”

“Goetta.” The Dutch Captain sighed. He then muttered. “These bloody islanders are mad. They think of food when they are near death.

“I can see why they are leading us there,” Jones called out. “It’s a freaking ambush. They are two dirigibles out there.”

Lord Henry peeked out and saw the two dirigibles hovering there. It was not any dirigibles but these were Army issued ones. They came with cannons on them or at least, more machine guns. 

“Damn the traitors which we hold in our office.” Lord Henry screamed out. He then told the Dutch Captain to ditch the dirigible. “If I am going to die, let me on the ground of my choice.”

“I’ll be damned. No, Lordship. I am landing to drop you off and then take to my own flight.” The Dutch Captain replied. With that, the Captain gave the command to land the dirigible. At that moment the flying contraptions were pulling up and not shooting at the dirigible.

“It’s working.” Lord Henry smiled while he walked to the bar counter. He poured himself a stiff one there. The Sergeant Major was grabbing the cartridges alongside Jones. It was then Dutch Captain handed over a shoulder slung bag to his Lordship.

“You may need this. I called it my survival kit. It contains medicine and some food. There is also a compass.”

“And you do deliver this for me.” Lord Henry passed the message to the Dutch Captain.

The Depth

Stacy was the one who saw the low flying dirigible. She shook up the Captain and pointed to the flying balloon. Some figures were being lowered down by the rope ladder. It was flying parallel to the train and was on a collision course.

“I think they are trying to land on the train.” Stacy looked out and saw they were on an upslope and its engines were dragging the load up. “They can’t make it.”

Just then, the Captain saw the four flying contraptions tailing it. There were two more dirigibles further to the right. They were smaller than the ones piloted by Captain Claude. These were smaller by half the design for speed and maneuverability. They housed a cannon on the fore and four machine gun posts but they carried a smaller complement of passengers.

“Those are Army dirigibles. I disliked them.” The Captain was fired on by these units before to stop his ship. He stood up to the lookout. He was unarmed and need to rush out there.

“You need a gun.” The sheep handler handed over a ‘Le Mat’. It was a nine-shot revolver pistol introduced fifty years ago. “It was my wife’s and given to her by her late father, and then to me. I hold it to shoot at wolves, or the one in sheep coating.”

Captain checked the pistol and saw it held four shots. Guess there were one too many wolves shot by the Captain. He was watching his dirigible speed. It was hovering over the train.

“Lower the ladder. They get off here.”

At a short distance ahead, Jones had to be the first to volunteer down the ladder. He held onto it while the dirigible swung across the field towards the train. Its madness to step off a ladder fixed to a dirigible bottom at five knots to board a train on the roof. Thankfully the train was slower for it was climbing the hill.

Once Jones felt his foot on the top of the train, he recklessly stepped off the ladder. He stumbled on the hard surface before he got his balance on. It was not easy to balance on the moving train. He had jumped off horses before but that one was an iron horse. There were no soft manes to grab or the hard leather of the saddle to hold on. It was all wood and metal with the gust of winds. He braced himself on the train while adjusting his body to the vibrations of the movement. He then signaled the others to climb down.

The The next one down was his Lordship. He climbed down with his butt protruded out because he wanted to look downwards. Jones stepped up to hold the ladder steady for the senior officer and was rewarded with a body slam when the wind swept the ladder.

“Ouch!” Lord Henry called out in pain. His Lordship had bumped hard with his wounded leg. He righted himself and then stood with his good foot on the train. It was worse than those infernal rides with the horses but he held on. He crouched forward and then sat there on the train top. Then it was the Sergeant Major who lowered the Henry rifle before he descended himself. He was more fluid than his Lordship and soon the trio was running to the end of the coach. The dirigible had pulled off to the skies.

There they climbed down to the balcony at the coach deck before the Sergeant Major knocked on the door. It was a gentlemanly way to announce the entry. The coach was a Pullman design with a length of forty-four feet. It was a plush coach designed for the one who could afford it. The furnishing was fine linens and silk shades covered the windows. The seats were full leather tanned and shaped to fit the cushion attached to the wooden structure. The electric light bulbs lined the walls to give it an ambiance feel of warm comfort. There were the valet ropes that will alert the staff on their needs. At the end of the coach, those were the comfort cubicles.

It was the first thing that his Lordship made for.

“It’s my bladder.” His Lordship went in to ease his agony.

“He could have done it anywhere.” Jones voiced out.

“Where? In your cupped out hands perhaps? Then you can drop throw it down the drain?” The Sergeant Major smiled. “I like the train more. They have running water.”

“Thank goodness, the enemies did not shoot at us then.” Jones looked at the two dirigibles. “I wondered why.”

Meanwhile then, Captain Arthur was making his way up the coach with Stacy following behind. The train was partially filled with the exhausted passengers who were mostly resting. He stepped over the extended legs and inched his way past the fallen bags. Then they reached the luxury coach and then sighed.

“Money does wonders.” Captain Arthur smiled. It was then he saw the Sergeant Major with the long rifle. The former raised the rifle and aimed at the Captain.

“Friend or foe.”

“It’s me, you are an oaf. I am Captain Arthur.”

“Aye, Captain. I ought to recognize you with that beard.” The Sergeant Major made his way towards the Captain.

“Bloody better times for us to meet and you had to choose this one.” Captain Arthur glared at the Sergeant Major. They went through the drills together before the Captain volunteered for stealth missions in the Army.

“If I knew you were coming, I would have brought the ham and sausages but now it’s just crummy bread and water.” The Sergeant Major replied. “So you are getting older or still shagging them younger than your age.”

Stacy rushed forth and held the dagger of her’ at the Sergeant Major throat. She was always wary of older men.

“Did he just accuses me of shagging you?” Stacy looked at the Captain. It was then Corporal Jones stepped up.

“Hold that. And hello, Sir. You are the only Sergeant Major I choose to dislike.” Corporal Jones has his Whitworth aimed at the lady’s chest when he saw her next. “But if you will tell me your name I could call you with.”

“Look like we are holding a sound reunion. Did you bring your drunken mother in law? She will be a hit at such parties.” Captain Arthur smiled at Jones.

“Pardon me, Sir. I was never married. It was those older ladies thinketh I will do justice for their daughters.” Jones replied. “I can’t say they were wrong but I have my eyes on your lady now.”

“Can it, boys. The train has stopped.” His Lordship spoke out. He was fuming mad when it did. He stained the front of his pants with a glass of wine.