"Hold all, lad," called Boson.

Still, Kincade shoveled one more load of coal into the furnace and closed the door with the shovel blade. A slight sizzling sound went unnoticed when he put the shovel down; it continued to burn a groove in the deck. If anyone was to care and examine the decking in any ship's boiler room, each stoker had a slightly different place to rest the shovel and tools of their trade. Leaving a history written in charred timber, seared into the deck, and coal dust. A recorded history for no archeologist to ever see, let alone ever care about or even attempt to read.

Kincade slapped both hands together to clear the collected dust and sweat. He had pushed the bracelet up tight on his forearm to prevent it from catching on anything. And it muffled the constant ticking some.

"Cup of tea." Boson offer. Boson

"Aye. One for me." Kincade responded, holding out his hand and taking a mug from Boson. He upended with a large gulp. Taking a desperate moment to inhale, he slapped his chest, creating a cloud of coal dust as it lifted from his leather apron and fell onto the cheese and bread on the plate before them.

"You make the best tea, Boson," Kincade said, ignoring the coal dust, with just a little cheer in his voice.

"Aye lad, cold black tea and five sheets rum. Best for what ails ye." Boson said.

"Good enough for me, at least. So what is to be done today? The same as done the last four weeks?" Kincade looked to his wall of marks to chart the passage of time.

"She will make port in Sydney township in a day or two," Boson said, waving a hand to signal the ship.

"Will we get off the ship?" Kincade asked. "And by that, I mean will I get off the ship," he thought.

"I will. Lad. Wallace wants you to remain here. While I get the coal orders and engineering items." Boson took a long draw on his pipe and patted Kincade on the shoulder. Then picked up a small wedge of cheese, blew on it, and took a bite.

"Boson, I need to come with you. I can be helpful. I promise I will not escape. I understand my position now." Said Kincade.

"Now lad, Wallace says no, and no, it will be. I got nowt to do with it. The engine will be cold, and I want you to clean the cabin. This dust could build and, well, it would be bad, a flashover at sea, and the whole thing goes up," Boson said.

"Got it. Keep the place clean or murder the crew with uncleanliness," Kincade responded.

"Fair to say, but it does not happen that often," Boson responded.

Kincade dropped his shoulders and bowed his head. "My chance to escape… how do I leverage this and escape?" He thought, and then the bay doors filled his view. "That's it, that's all I need. We will be on the ground, or surely close to it. I open the door and drop through." The thoughts and hopes for his inevitable escape started to form in his head.

Looking down at his wrist and the bracelet, the smooth surface gave no clue to its purpose. "I will need this to be gone or disabled. A simple task. All I need is a few pieces of metal slipped between my wrist, of this damnable device will be gone," Kincade concluded. He noted that the clicking was in tune with the beat of his own chest's heart.

"Ow, my lovely! Are you planning an escape?" Mr. Wallace whispered in Kincade's ear, jolting him out of this plan.

"No. No, no, Mr. Wallace, why would I want to leave this opulence." Kincade said, holding out his arm and showing the bracelet.

"Where did he come from? The man is part cat." Kincade thought.

"You still got a little too much insolence and guff in you. Here hold this..." Wallace shoved a hatbox the sized container into his belly, forcing Kincade to wince.

"Boson, where are you, my lovely. For the sake of all the gods, collected vengeance. This cabin is too small for you to be able to disappear like you do." Mr. Wallace called, face reddened, breath was short and sharp, spitting each word.

"I ain't hiding from you, Mr Wallace. I am just over here." Boson took a few steps forward from the shadows where Charlie had been hiding and slipped into the area when he saw Wallace.

"How tis it, we can be of service. Mr Wallace." Boson offered.

"Captain had some orders and was told to open them. That old fool forgot till now." Mr. Wallace looked around, showing no particular interest in anything.

"We have orders written on this page, and the decryption machine dropped only once. And poorly made, it would seem. Which is where both of my lovely boys come to the aid of the Raven's Claws," said Mr. Wallace.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Kincade offered no resistance as the back of his neck was grabbed.

"Fix this box. Tell me what is on this page. Or I swear someone will get a new understanding of jokes that start with the line. A one-handed…" Mr. Wallace shoved the crumpled piece of paper down Kincade's apron front.

"Aye, sir, and why is that needed?" Boson asked

"Do I look like an engineer…? The answer is no, Boson. You look like an engineer. Fix it." Mr. Wallace commanded Boson, poking his finger into the man's chest, then turned and climbed the top ladder. Turning back to "And fix it, quick," Mr. Wallace's laughter continued to echo the hall for a few minutes.

Kincade picked up a piece of cheese and took another big bite.

* * *

Boson looked to Kincade. "Clear the bench, and let's look at the thing." He said, holding out his hand to accept the dark-stained pine box.

Standing before the bench, Boson slipped latched to the left. The top popped open with a click. Inside was a machine; the base was rectangular and made from oak. On top of the oak casing, a metal cylinder stood upright on its end. A piece of paper was wrapped around the cylinder and held in place by metal guides. In the casing base was a series of metal rods with small letters engraved.

Lifting the device out of the box, Boson gave a small grunt of gratitude, happy the thing did not fall apart. Kincade took the casing of the bench only to hear a metallic clinking. Kincade rummaged inside and pulled out a crank, placing it on the table next to the device. He continued to fossick in the box, looking like a stage magician attempting to find the rabbit hidden in the false compartment of the magical top hat.

"Ta-Da," Kincade said as he pulled out a collection of rods quite similar to thoughts in the casing base. He lined them up next to the crank and looked at Boson.

"Well, lad, let us have a looked then," Boson said.

"It's a code transcriber," Kincade said.

"Not quite lad sees these 3 leavers here on the side. What happens if you slide them into the place indicated on the message? Pushing the key, which looks like the symbol, imprints the paper. If the leavers are in different places." Boson demonstrated this by pressing the key that looked like the Egyptian symbol for the eye of Ra. Nothing happened.

"Hmmm," Boson responded.

"The crank." Kincade offered, handing it to Boson.

Quickly finding an opening, he placed the key into the slot, looking to Kincade, Boson said.

"Lefty lousy. Righty tighty."

"I had a teacher once who told me a square is a rectangle with equal sides." Kincade offered.

"What?" Boson said.

"It is the only useful thing I could offer," Kincade replied.

Boson spun the key to the right and let go. One of the arms jumped up and stopped before it could strike the paper. And would not sit back in place. Boson tapped it with his finger is clicked into place.

Over the next hour, Kincade watched Boson remove the casing to expose the mechanical elements of the device. He would grunt occasionally and call to the muses for inspiration more than once. The color of his face was taking on more and more of a red flush, then dropping the tool and slumming his shoulders somewhere in the second hour.

"Our only hope is if Wallace beats us to death quickly. But I fear he will choose to do something creative. A that is never quick enough for the likes of me." Boson said.

"Do you really think he will kill you?" Kincade asked.

"No, not all. You, however." Boson swiveled his head to look at Kincade and lifted his eyebrow.

"Well, then there is nothing for it then. Move aside." Kincade said and set to work. Replacing the keys so that they were added to their original position.

"So you place them anywhere they lad," Boson asked.

"Not quite. I am looking at the wear patterns and then looking to see the orientation of the letterhead. At the top of the arc, the arm is at 90 degrees. So if I place them in the wrong place, the wear pattern will tell me that the striking arm should not be there," Kincade trailed off.

Once finished, Kincade pressed several keys and wound the crank. One of the arms struck the paper, followed by the cylinder spinning once to the right, then the second key hit, and the third key stuck and held in place.

"Blast and bugger me," Kincade said.

"It's stuck this one and some of the other too. It seems that the leavers are held together by… I think it's congealed sugar. I think someone has spilled sugar water, and it has dried and stuck the parts together. I think all we needed to do was wash it with soap and water." Kincade offered as a plan.

"Sounds good to me, lad." Said Boson. Kincade prepared the water and cleaned the mechanical internals' inner workings.

"Will you do the honors, or shall I?" Kincade asked Boson.

"Thank you, lad. I think I shall give you the honor for your efforts." Boson gave Kincade a slight bow.

Kincade again set the leavers to the configuration at the bottom of the page and spun the crank. The metal arms tapped each of the symbols that corresponded with their order on the page. Leaving an impression on the paper as the cylinder turned, lifted, and dropped the cylinder, then stopped. Kincade removed the paper from the guide and gently swept the back of his coal-stained hand over the page. The coal painted the page black leaving the impressions in clear white with a simple blow of air from pursed lips, the page read.

Dock Sydney Ports High Tower 23.

3 days in the dock, No liberty.

Equip and supply for designation:

Auckland, New Zealand via Apia, Samoa.

Special package to be drawn from Steamspire Royal Trading Syndicate Sydney Signals Group. Deliver to the destination indicated.

Kincade read the message to himself. "Here you go, my good man. What do you think of though orders." Kincade asked, handing the page to Boson.

Boson looked at the document, holding it on an angle, and tipped his head to the side. "Nothing out of the orders here, lad; it just is another stay with the convicts. Have you ever tried that kangaroo meat? Them is a good stew lad and no mistake." Boson replied.

"Best we call Wallace and give him these," Kincade said. Thinking, "Let's see if he also can't read. I can used this."