Magnificent Devices 07 - A Lady of Integrity (22 page)

“There to port, ladies, you may see the arm of the gearworks that holds up Zattere and your hotel.”

Since this had been the location of the unfortunate convict’s untimely death, it was all Claire could do not to shudder and find somewhere else to look. “Is there any danger of the arms moving while we are down here?” she asked instead. “I should not like to think we might be hit.”

“The watch is on deck,” the captain said in reassuring tones. “And the gears move so slowly that with our greater maneuverability, we shall be able to get out of the way in time.”

“I am happy to hear it,” Claire told him, hoping her eyes and warm smile were at least as effective as Gloria’s. “How is this vessel propelled? I have just graduated this summer with an engineering degree, you see, so the gearworks hold only part of my interest. Transportation was the focus of my studies.”

“Ah, then perhaps once you have seen the gearworks, our chief engineer might give you a tour of the engine room.”

“I should like that very much,” Claire said, hoping devoutly that she would return to take him up on this generous offer. “Thank you.”

“Suffice it to say that the Meriwether-Astor submersible steam engine is the power that enables us to cross entire oceans in comfort. The technology is such that our two steam engines put out twice the thrust of the original models.”

“And is the vessel armed against attack?” Claire asked.

“Oh yes. That is only practical in any transoceanic endeavor—though if the truth be told, the only thing we have fired upon so far is a rather large kraken who became enamored of the vessel and would not let go of it.”

“Dear me,” Gloria said, fanning herself with one gloved hand. “How terrifying.”

“Fortunately it clung to the stern, and the aft torpedoes—which carry an eighteen-pound charge—gave it a fatal stomach complaint. Have no fear, Miss Meriwether-Astor. We will let nothing keep you from a reunion with your father once the water levels in the city recede.”

Claire exchanged a glance with Andrew. He had theorized that the best way for them to leave the vessel undetected was through the hatch where either refuse or weapons were released. With a nod, he confirmed that the torpedo tubes would be their goal.

Neptune’s Fancy
sank even lower, and lamps came on to illuminate their way through the gloom. The lagoon was much deeper than it appeared—though she had heard there were ancient channels scored in the seabed that had provided a defense for the early inhabitants. Only mariners aware of the channels could bring a ship close to the city. All others wrecked on the shoals.

“There.” Gloria pointed. “What is that?”

“You have a good eye. That is the base of the gearworks, my dear young lady,” the captain confirmed. “Leonardo da Vinci’s masterpiece—though I suppose few but the convicts have seen it.”

Glinting in the lamps of the dirigible, the base on which the gearworks depended was massive—so vast that the mind could hardly take it in. Buckingham Palace was not half so large, and how far into the distance did it extend? Part circular track, part clockwork, the incomprehensibly complex system of cogs and wheels and balancing weights moved slowly yet inexorably on its appointed rounds. Not even a typhoon could move it down here on the seabed—though Claire supposed an earthquake might.

Slowly, their own vessel dwarfed to inconsequence by even the smallest of the cogs, they began to circle the gearworks. While the captain and Andrew discussed the miracle of its operation after five hundred years, Claire peered through the gloom for any sign of a diving bell.

Then— “Captain, my goodness, what is that?” she asked, pointing.

He joined her at the glass and squinted. “That, Lady Claire, is a diving bell containing convicted men. You are familiar with the justice system in Venice.”

“I am, yes. Dear me. Are those … skeletons caught in the track? Might we go a little closer?”

“What do you hope to see?” His gaze was curious. Too curious.

She must not give them away, not when they were so close. “I do apologize. That must have sounded positively ghoulish. I am only interested in the propulsion in the diving bell. One would not imagine it to be so sophisticated as to be able to transport men down to these depths.”

“There your guess is as good as mine—and probably better,” he said gallantly. “This is my first visit to the gearworks, as well. All my knowledge heretofore has been the result of my own study. Let us go a little closer. Perhaps we might be able to satisfy our joint curiosity.”

With relief, Claire watched him cross the room to give the order to the helmsman, before her gaze was drawn back to the diving bell. Could this be the one in which Jake and Ian were working? How many were there, laboring so deep under the water where everywhere they looked they saw only hopeless imprisonment and the impossibility of rescue?

Slowly, the engines cut nearly to an idle, the
Fancy
drifted closer. In the powerful glow of its forward lamps, Claire could clearly see the moment when the men within realized that they were being observed. There were five, not including the
campanaro
, and three seemed to be occupied in an effort to extract an enormous bone from between a cog and its toothed track.

The other two were pressed to the glass sides of the bell, watching the approaching vessel.

One was tall, with dark hair and a wondering gaze. And the other was shorter—thin and wiry—with reddish hair plastered to his skull, as though he’d been sent out into the water with no breathing globe to reconnoiter whatever problem the bone was causing.

Relief and joy swamped her in a wave as strong as any the city’s piers had ever seen. With a moan, she slumped to the deck in a pool of skirts, one hand outflung in an unconscious plea.

“Claire!” Andrew leaped to her side and gathered her tenderly into his arms. Standing, with Claire’s skirts hanging nearly to the floor, he said to the captain, “The sight of those unfortunates has overcome her. I will take her to her cabin.”

“Let me help,” Gloria said. “She may need … feminine assistance.”

The bathynauts who had moved to help checked at this unforeseen prospect. “Of course,” the captain said, his tone worried. “We have no medic aboard, but I will send for one.”

“That will not be necessary,” Gloria said quickly. “Claire is of a delicate constitution and is prone to being overcome, particularly at such a grisly sight as this.”

The unconscious form in Andrew’s arms twitched slightly.

“We will prepare to join the fleet, then, in case one is needed.”

“I am sure she will come around as soon as I administer my smelling salts,” Gloria assured him. “I would like just a few moments more of taking in the gearworks. Please hold the vessel here until I return. I will only be a moment, until I am assured she is recovered.”

Andrew carried Claire down the arched passage to the room she and Gloria had been assigned, and as soon as the door closed behind them, tipped Claire onto her feet.

“Well done, both of you,” Claire said breathlessly, patting her hair. “Jake and Ian are in that bell, and we haven’t much time.” She began to unbutton her walking skirt.

“Claire!” Gloria whispered, raising scandalized brows. “You are removing your clothing in the presence of a gentleman!”

“Not all of it,” Claire assured her. “But we would have more room if you were to step outside and stand watch. I am sure you will have no trouble at all providing a distraction—especially if Captain Hayes should happen to come to check on me.”

“You’re a very convincing fainter,” Gloria told her, slipping out the door. Then she said through the crack, “You’ll have to show me how you do it sometime.”

Under her skirt Claire wore a pair of Alice’s trousers and her leather corselet and blouse. “Should I remove my boots?” she asked Andrew anxiously.

But he did not reply immediately. Gazing at her, he said, “Dearest, I must ask you one last time to reconsider.”

There was no doubt as to what he meant. She shook her head. “I will not let you risk your life alone.”

“But Claire, think. If I take a breathing globe and a rucksack, then I can give it to one of them. That will leave only one man to face the uncertainty of holding his breath all the way back to the
Fancy
. And with the knowledge that you are safely inside, I may focus my resources on my task without distraction.”

“But if something goes wrong, you will have no means of help. No, Andrew. My purpose is fixed. If you are to risk your life for our friends, then I will, too. And if by some dreadful mischance we are meant to lose our lives today, I would rather that we were together.” She paused, and her throat thickened with emotion. “I do not think I could bear it if I were left behind to grieve you.”

“Nor I you,” he said softly.

He took her in his arms, and in his kiss she felt his fear for her—and also his gratitude for her refusal to allow him to face this alone. When he at last released her, he cleared his throat and returned to the more prosaic subject of boots.

“I believe we both ought to keep our boots on. You might need to use your feet to cushion your arrival at the gearworks. The propulsion of the rucksack is easily controlled in the air, but I am not certain of the effects of my adjustments for underwater travel. I should not like you to be injured.”

He helped her on with the rucksack and then the breathing globe, running its hose under the strap so it would not be caught on an errant piece of metal or entangle her arms. All sound was then silenced except for that of her own breathing.

Andrew outfitted himself likewise, and then they opened the door.

“Good luck,” Gloria said, her words muffled and coming from a great distance, as though Claire were already under water.

It was indeed a stroke of luck that the tiny cabin was in the stern, and that their side trip to view the gearworks was as fascinating to the crew as it had been to Claire and Andrew. The men had all gone forward to the viewing ports, so they made their way unaccosted back to the defense station in the stern, and thence to the pressurized chamber containing the torpedo tubes.

Fortunately, since the
Fancy
had been safely in the midst of a fleet of its fellow dirigibles for several days now, the tubes were not armed. Claire gazed down into the dark well, where water lapped restlessly.

Andrew took her hand and indicated he would go first. When he would have crouched to slip into the water, she did not let go, instead tugging on his hand until he looked up.

I love you
, she mouthed.

His face softened in a smile, and in his eyes she saw his response even before his lips moved.
And I love you. Come. We go together.

Claire’s instinct was to hold her breath as she slipped into the dark well and swam down the short tunnel, her feet and hands brushing the sides. But the small engine that Andrew had rigged to produce oxygen in the breathing globe seemed to be performing. Regulating her breath under stress, if anything, seemed the greater difficulty to be overcome.

Neptune’s Fancy
appeared to have turned away to investigate something a little farther along the cog track, probably due to Gloria’s timely request. They did not have much time. Gloria would keep the crew busy for the fifteen minutes allotted before they were forced to return. If they did not succeed in that time, well … Claire shook away the discouraging thought.

Ahead of her, a plume of bubbles jetting upward in an arc told her that Andrew had activated the rocket rucksack. She pulled the cord on her own, and found herself powering through the water much as she had on her one and only safety exercise with the rucksack in the air, years ago. It was not an experience one was likely to forget, however. The drag of the water had the added benefit of increasing her ability to control her direction. She resisted the urge to whoop with excitement and trepidation—it would use oxygen unnecessarily—but it did not stop a high note of exhilaration escaping her lips, similar to one’s scream at reaching the apex of the Ferris wheel and going over the top.

Fish dodged out of their way as they careened toward the diving bell. If only two of the convicts had seen the
Fancy
, they all had now observed the curious pair weaving toward them like dolphins. Jake leaned against the curved wall of the bell with his hands cupped on either side of his eyes, like a child at a shop window, before he was dragged roughly aside and another of the convicts took his place.

Andrew tilted his body in the water so the stream of bubbles from the rucksack acted as its own braking system, extended his legs like an eagle landing in a tree, and grasped the nearest extrusion of metal to bring himself to a stop close to the diving bell. Claire attempted to do the same, and succeeded merely in doing a graceful backward flip before she recovered her ability to judge the speed and angle of the jet.

She did, however, succeed in getting even closer to the bell—so close that if she had not dodged to one side, she would have been plastered flat against it in an echo of Jake’s own stance a moment ago.

Their friends had recognized them.

Jake’s mouth opened in a shout, and he grabbed Ian’s arm and shook it vigorously. Ian merely stared.

Claire hoped that in all his travels, Jake had seen a pantomime, because there was no other way to communicate. Swiftly, as Andrew made his way down the cog track to join them, she mimed their taking a deep breath, dipping down and under the rim of the bell, then clinging to each of their rescuers as they swam away.

Jake gave her the thumbs-up, and grabbed the buckle across Ian’s chest, shaking it. Ian seemed to come out of whatever stupor held him captive, and his face lost its slack expression. He began to unbuckle himself while Jake shrugged out of his harness, landing with a splash in the water. But at the same time, their companions woke to what was about to happen.

As one man, they flung off their harnesses, each desperate to escape and seeing immediately that only two were going to be successful.

But Jake, thin and starving as he was, had not amassed a reputation as a dab hand on the streets of London without cause. He snatched up what appeared to be a scraping iron and gave the closest man an almighty wallop. Since their quarters were cramped, that man took down the one behind him. Jake heaved on the captain’s harness and when he fell out of it, gave him less than a second to gulp a lungful of air, and stuffed him under the water and hence under the rim of the bell.