Kincade roused with sound flooding his ears; he felt a gentle rocking beneath him. For a moment, it felt like he had woken in a backyard hammock after a night of drink and cards. Trying to make sense of each sound was the best option to get clarity. Opening his eyes was not yet the course. The first was the sound of a flame and something on fire. Next was a machine, a rotating machine sound of a twip-twip, much like a ship propeller. Forcing his body to sit up triggered a sharp pain in the back of his head. Slowly lifting his hand to the place where the pain was sharpest failed to stop the throbbing.
Now upright, he could see a firebox, coal bays with sides the height of a grown man filled to the brim with dark, dirty coal. A table and hammocks were at the far end, away from the boiler. A man sitting at the table noticed Kincade.
"Your awake, then." said an older man sitting at a workbench. He glanced at his palms, then wiped them on the heavy leather apron looking back at his hands again. He was happy enough with his efforts; the palms were still covered in soot and grease but slightly less so. Grabbing a tankard, a loaf of bread, and some cheese from under a cloth.
"It seems to me that you would like some'in to drink," he said as he offered the tankard. Kincade grabbed the liquid and gulped and gulped at the contents.
"Settle there, son." the man said
"Beer. It's good", said Kincade as he tapped the side of the tankard with this finger. "For me." continued Kincade pointing at the cheese.
"Sure, nuff, son." said the man. Kincade took the cheese in his free hand and paused for the tick of a clock, looking at the coal dust fingerprints on the cheese wedge, and then took a generous mouthful.
"Call me Boson, lad," he said.
"Kincade Rollins. Sir." Kincade replied. Finally, looking the man up and down and taking a measure, Boson was an older man, maybe in his fifty's broad shoulder and dark hair and beard all flecked with grey and brown skin; Kincade noted his features were that of a Samoan man.
"Well, Kincade. I was not sure you'd wake. They had to give'n you a little tap on the old noggin," Boson offered as he tapped his on his own head.
"It seems you didn't want to be on this trip," he continued.
"You would be right to assume that. Do you think I could talk with the captain of this ship? I would like to discuss returning home," Kincade asked, rubbing the back of his head.
"Lad. You are home," Boson patted Kincade on the shoulder.
Kincade pulled back from Boson and staggered back a couple of steps. His head brushed on a rope coil hanging from a peg. Boson reached again and steadied Kincade, whose color had drained away from his face. Shaking off the shock and nodding his thanks, Kincade looked toward the stair.
"Lad, it takes a while to get used to the ship's sway," said Boson, chuckling.
"Sir. I must return to my home to my finance." Kincade replied and pushed past Boson. Rage had replaced the white face of shock with the red color of anger. Stopping a ship's ladder up to a hatchway in the ceiling.
Kincade dashed forward and started to climb the inclined stairs of the ship ladder. A wheel in the center of the hatch at the top of the ladder spun free and easily. The hatch opened into darkness; Kincade froze momentarily, unable to move up. When a booted foot landed on the first ladder rung, followed by the other onto the second.
"Make way. My lovely." a voice called. Then the boot was placed on the sides of the stair, and a man began his slide down. Forcing Kincade at the bottom of the stair to let go and fall back to the deck, briefly landing on his feet, then falling down on his butt.
With a thud, the man landed. Kincade looked up at the man. The room's height must have been almost 9 feet, and this man was nearly 7 feet of that height. The Steamspire Royal Trading Syndicate's golden thread emblazoned on the left breast of his jacket was clearly visible.
This man turned, stepped forward, and grabbed Kincade, lifting him up with a burst of speed and strength that Kincade had not anticipated or would have thought a man of this size would be capable of.
This man spun Kincade around, and an audible hollow thud rang out as the man's giant arm was slapped onto Kincade's into the man chest. The man placed his chin on Kincade left shoulder sideburns of thick course red hair brushed against Kincade's face. It felt and sounded like sandpaper on wood.
"My lovely new friend is awake, eh. This is nice and cozy. See Boson, I said you be getting some help," he said in a deep Scottish brogue.
"Lieutenant Wallace, right you are. Some help with the shovel and things, rightly so," replied Boson.
"Aye, my lovely, and that will save your old back from the coal and shovel, eh Boson," said Lieutenant Wallace keeping Kincade firmly in his grasp.
"You have a strong enough back for the shovel, won't you, my lovely?" whispered Wallace. "Well, man! Cat got your tongue? Give me an answer when I ask you something!" Lieutenant Wallace shouted, physically shaking Kincade like a child doll from side to side.
"I am Kincade Rollins of the Wellington Rollins, Lieutenant of the New Zealand Royal Navy retired. Unhand me, man!" demanded Kincade as he attempted to shake free of Wallace's hold.
"Well, nice to meet you, my good Sir. But you seem somewhat confused. You are not This Rollins fellow. You are a drunk found on the roadside, unable to hold yourself upright. You are a vagrant without a penny to support yourself, and as for you, your family, well now, my lovely, that's me." said Wallace
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"Sir, again, unhand me. I am a Gentleman of New Zealand, and you shall return this airship to port!" Kincade demanded.
Wallace released his grip and allowed Kincade to slip free, turning to face Wallace.
"Now that we are in agreement. How exactly do you plan to return me to the port?" Demanded Kincade sternly and earnestly, rubbing his throat as bruising became evident. Wallace looks into Kincade's eyes; stepping back half a step, he looks Kincade over from his bare feet, torn clothing, and un-keep stubble, then with a tilt of his head and a slow yet welcoming smile.
"You stay there, my lovely." Kincade's knees buckled slightly as Lieutenant Wallace's instruction was emphasized with a heavy slap across Kincade face. Kincade opened his mouth, and Lieutenant Wallace pushed him aside before the words formed.
"Charlie! Come out, come out where ever you are, my lovely!" Wallace called out.
Looking around the cabin, Kincade had not seen anyone other than Boson to this point, and he peered into the darkness to see if he could see this Charlie. He did not see him. He did see Wallace watching Boson, for the little betrail, Boson's eyes darted across the room. Wallace also noticed, and his head whipped around.
"Wallace. Wallace, look at me!" Boson said, holding up his arms.
"Watch your tongue Boson. This is a little lesson for our lovely new friend." Wallace spat back.
"Now then, Charlie is sorry for his actions, see. Lessons have been learned, and he's not going to do nothing like that again. No need to punish him no more, see." Boson said.
"Ey, I know he's repentant for his transgressions. Come out, boy, it's been long enough." Continued Wallace.
Charlie looked out from behind the boiler for a moment, just looking at Wallace, who beckoned him forward with a wave of his hand back. Charlie looked down at his feet. One of them betrayed Charlie and stepped forward. Then t'other each step was visibly more reluctant than the previous. To Kincade, this young man, barely in his twenties, appeared fit except for his left wrist, wrapped in a white bandage stained with coal dust and dried blood.
"Aww, my lovely, don't just stand there; it's time for us to have a wee chat," Wallace said quietly.
Wallace rushed forward, taking several steps, and grabbed Charlie by his hair. Dragging him for not more than a couple of steps, and with a grunt, whipped Charlie around, pulling him off his feet, and tossed him like a rag doll into the middle of the deck next to a set of bay doors.
Charlie rolled over and got to his knees. "Please, Mr. Wallace, I've learned my lesson." pleaded Charlie from the deck.
"You made your mark when you signed me ledger did nee, my lovely," said Wallace.
"I did, I did, Mr Wallace. I won't try anything again. Promise, Mr. Wallace, please give me some more time." begged Charlie.
"You collected the pay for the whole trip in advance, didn't you, my lovely?" Shouted Wallace. "I cannot hear you, boy!" Wallace continued.
"Aye, I did," Charlie said sheepishly.
"My lovely, you made promises to me when you signed on. Then the first port we landed at, you jump ship." Said, Wallace.
"I know. I know I did, Mr Wallace. Please, I won't do it again. Promise, Sir." Begged Charlie holding his bandaged wrist.
"It's not jumping ship. I don't mind you jumping ship, my lovely." Wallace reached down and grabbed Charlie's bandaged hand, eliciting a cry of pain from Charlie.
"What I do mind is that you jump the rail in port. You see, it's an odd wee rule. You listening to this as well, my lovely." said Wallace pointing his chin towards Kincade while unwinding the bloody bandage from Charlie's hand with every twist and turn; Charlie's body convulsed with pain racking through his body.
"If you jump ship before you earn out of your contract. I told you about that rule. Did I not?" asked Wallace.
"Aye… I know, I know," replied Charlie forcing the word out through clenched teeth, tears running down his face.
Wallace allowed the bandage to fall away from his grasp, revealing a brass bracelet around Charlie's wrist. Mr. Wallace had twisted Charlie's arm so that bracelet and hand pointed towards the deck. Unfortunately, the bracelet was emitting a rapid ticking sound. With each rapacious measure of ticks, Charlie's pain became more evident. An ever-strengthening stream of blood pulsed out from under the bracelet and down over Charlie's hand and fingers, his heart betraying him, pushing more of his vital blood down onto the deck in a worthless puddle.
"Careful, my lovely, you don't want to stain my jacket." With this freehand, Mr. Wallace said with a smirk and unbuttoned his jacket's brass buttons, pulled out a fob watch from his waistcoat pocket, and opened the closure for a few seconds. He just steered at the face of the unremarkable timepiece, which looked like a simple silver plate case without any decoration. Kneeling, Wallace looked directly into Charlie's face. Charlie let out an ungoverned cry of pain as Wallace took hold of Charlie's wrist and placed his ear next to the bracelet. The ticking was frantic.
"So you know then that I would become responsible for the cost of your contract. And that, my lovely, is not something that I can have! You see these people in this image. They are my family, back in Scotland. It has been so long since I have been home. And if you forced me to earn out your contract. Well, that's not as easy as it once was." Wallace said, holding up the inside of the timepiece to Charlie.
"I am sorry, Mr Wallace. I won't try to run again. I know it would cost you. I don't want to cost you nothing." Charlie forced out each sentence with deep pained breaths.
"So we are of a common understanding then. Well, that makes me happy, my lovely. I truly believe you will not run again." Said Wallace, and as he released his hold, Charlie pulled his hand to his chest and cradled it before extending his arm towards Wallace. Charlie watched, panting, drawing in short breaths. Wallace walked the cabin wall behind Charlie and stood next to a series of levers and a great wheel like one at a ship helm.
"Please, Mr. Wallace. Please give me more time," begged Charlie.
Then ticking sound emitting from the bracelet beating from the bracelet around Charlie's wrist became more pronounced, and desperate seconds passed. The look in Charlie's eyes betrayed a pathos. He inhaled deeply before screaming as the device clicked, and Charlie's hand fell away from the bloody stump. The scream was refreshed with each breath Charlie could force out of his body.
Kincade looked on at this horrible scene before him. "This is a ridiculous farce; surely cannot be happing" he looked down towards Charlie's disenfranchised hand hemmed in brass.
Wallace slapped his hand on the break, pushing it hard against the leaver, then heaved it to the far right with both hands. Without fan fair, the floor fell open under Charlie. Dropping him into the Sky as the winds whistled into the engine room, the copper smell of blood mixed with the scent and grit of the coal and the wind wiped the mixture around the room, touching everything and everyone, Charlie's screams were drowned out by the wailing winds and the distance he fell.
Mr. Wallace grabbed the wheel. Like the leaver, it was of a simple industrial design. It was a solidly built work of craftsmanship and was painted deep gloss blue and stood out from its brass housing a greased chain wrapped around a cog looping down into the floor.
"Boson, my lovely. Help me with this wheel." Wallace commanded over the winds.
"Aye, Mr. Wallace," Boson replied. Wallace spun the wheel, closing the doors as they shut. The din created by the winds dyed down, and Boson slapped the leaver to the left. Made the sign of the cross with a prayer for the dead and the living.