Kincade paced the boiler room. In the depths of the Ship, the bells tolled nine times. The smell of the coal filled the room. It was always the most noticeable odor here, even over the pipe. He gently puffed as he passed the workbench. He ran his hand along the edge of the workbench. He and Boson had spent so many nights with a good day's work behind them, a pipe in their hands.

Theirs was the simple conversation of men discussing the world. If they, the ones in charge, would only listen to them, the ones who knew, and then they, all the others, do what they were told. The world would be a much-improved place.

"Come on, old man, it not like you want to stay here in this prison either," Kincade said to himself, and he ventured to the top of the stair and poked his head through the portal into the Ship, looking to the port.

Then looking starboard, then to port, before retreating back to the bottom of the ladder, testing the exit he would take at ten bells. His escape felt so imminent. He felt so close to his real life. The small metal plates from his pocket, he inserted them between the bracelet and skin. All preparations were finished. And in any future clapping contest, he would remain a shoo-in for the blue ribbon.

All he needed was the bell to ring. Then, he would be free. Returning to the bench, Boson had left many tools strewn across the top. An instinctive habit took hold of Kincade, and he cleaned the tools up, placing them back onto a scatter board or into a drawer. But, when his hand found the handle of a screwdriver, the shaft was long and thick his grip tightened around the wooden handle. Two iron rings at the top and bottom of the handle were dull and lacked luster, giving the implement even more heft. He looked at it for a moment in his hand, then put it into the waistband of his pants.

The tenth bell rang, Kincade was at the top of the stair-stepping through the bulkhead, and no one was around. There was no noise.

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"Everyone will be resting for the early morning start," he thought.

At the end of the corridor, he hit another bulkhead door, reached out, placed his hand on the handle, and pulled it towards himself. The door didn't budge.

"Damn! Damn!" he said out loud.

Then, something occurred to him, and he pushed the door. It opened smoothly and quietly. Smiling, he stepped through. Then the winds hit him in the face, forcing his eyelids into a squint. He stopped, closed the door, and looked around for anyone. He was outside, on the Ship's outer deck.

The Sydney Cliff Tops ahead and below were illuminated by the fixed gas lamps and what he assumed were workers traveling with their own lights' moving around. They appeared so far away. The Ship's balloon was above him, massive compared to the other ships he could see moored off in the distance. Yet still, he could not see the gangplank Boson had promised would be there. But, an outer cabin wall was obscuring the forward section of the deck. Inching to the corner, Kincade peeked out and saw a gangplank. It was a rigid, covered structure. No one would be able to see him when he was inside.

"Where is that Will fool?" Kincade asked himself.

"He should be standing watch. Boson said he would be here. Maybe he is port side?"

Kincade pulled the screwdriver out from the band of his pants and moved forward to the railing. As he crouched back to the rail, inching forward a few steps. Stopping, he looked around to see if anyone was looking, then set the screwdriver down on the deck like a mouse scurrying across the kitchen. He took a few steps, stopped, sniffed the air for danger, and repeated the procedure. Finally, he got to the gangplank entrance. Without hesitation, Kincade launched himself into the opening and the darkness. Traveling quickly, he reached a landing at the top of the gangplank. In multiple sections, the stair first ran down to about halfway and the switch back on itself. But, at the bottom was a light. It seemed the beautiful white light of freedom.

Slowly taking the first few steps, then turning into a sprinting run, Kincade emerged out of the opening at the bottom.

Something hit him in the chest, stopping his forward momentum, and took the wind out of his body. His legs ran out from under him and slammed his back onto the ground. Kincade looked up, and the devil looked back.

"My lovely, what took you so long?" Wallace looked down into Kincade's eyes, then kicked him.

The blow rocked Kincade's head against the ground, and darkness overtook him yet again.