Three Moons Blind
This is an experimental steampunk novella, that will be uploaded an excerpt at a time. The tone and feel of the piece is in keeping with the rich traditions of the 'Steampunk' genre and as such, represents a vast departure from the style of my usual work.
Part One
“On the Small Matter of Red Indians”
1
Emily cannot help but notice the apparent discomfort of Colonel Manners. Suspended as he is within the constraint of a rudimentary harness and pulling device. He busies himself, red faced, nose down and heels to the ceiling in the apparent act of fumigating the staircase of the grand old family seat.
Not one to interrupt generally and certainly, having witnessed the attempts of others to do so with this particular man (and the stern chiding that inevitably follows) Emily simply waits.
They are to embark upon a journey to the New World the following day. For now; Emily contents herself with the wonderful image afforded by the afternoon half light. The enormous arch shaped window that sits directly opposite the stair case allows a great shaft of illumination to sweep through that portion of the grand hall that includes no more than the first seven steps of the winding, snake of staircase. This being the general state of things; Colonel Manners’ upper torso is brilliantly lit up amidst the swirling dust particles that his very actions disturb.
“Ahh, good day to you Miss Emily. I trust the Watercraft branch are enjoying such an advantageously beautiful afternoon. Might I be correct in the assumption of an outdoor sally, perhaps in the shape of a picnic or some other pleasurable pursuit?”
“Indeed, Colonel. My father readily embraces such occasions, as you know.”
It is the truth.
Mr Watercraft, being of excellent health and steel bodied, has been known to wander in the bosom of the downs for upwards of two days before returning on an unannounced afternoon sporting a ruddy complexion. He is apt to spill forth an exciting tale or the results of his quiet reflection upon his return and either way, is generally guaranteed an appreciative audience. Mr Watercraft is a first rate raconteur and it is a skill not lost in the physical and mental inheritance of his various offspring.
“And what of your mother?”
“It pleases me to report that she at last gave her blessing this morning to the inclusion of myself within the travelling party. Her primary concern, so it would seem is the reported activity of the plains Indians. We have heard all manner of gossip regarding such occurrences as scalping and worse. Father Heartworthy insists that in some cases; they have been known to eat a fellow.”
Colonel Manners suspends his activity to simply sway around in the harness and digest this information.
“Might you be so kind as to engage the lever by the door thus allowing me a firmer footing?”
Emily pulls the lever in question and all at once the Colonel lands in an untidy sprawl of limbs and contraption.
“I do apologise, Colonel.”
“Not at all, not at all.”
The Colonel unfolds himself and leaps to his feet in a movement so lithe, it suggests a man a good deal younger. Colonel Manners is not an old man, exactly. He has seen a fair few sunsets and a good deal of them on foreign soil but he will be blowed if is to give in to the shallow aches of lesser men his age.
“Now, then my dear. Let us see if we cannot worry a bottle of wine into inspiration for our little trip.”
Emily, though gently amused by the developments of the previous days that have culminated in such a theatrical collapse, is relieved that Colonel Manners is able to avail himself to an upright position. The fact of the wine is merely a ribbon to tie off the gift neatly.
“Are we to expect the pleasure of Professor Rheinhardt?”
“Not today, Emily my dear, not today. Mores the pity; splendid chap and such a fine way with agriculture. Have I mentioned his latest project? I believe he shall attain great renown and wealth if he were to succeed.”
“I am not familiar with his most recent plans.”
“He is planning to build a mechanical stairway to the moon. Father Heartworthy thinks him quite mad; stark raving in fact but I think he is a sharp old dog and if anyone is able to pull off such a magnificent thing; it would be him.”
Felix Rheinhardt is a German professor, recently known to the public for his talent at debunking psychics and quacks. He is generally thought to be of great entertainment and his keen eye for false intelligence is respected by those who know him.
“Father Heartworthy,” continues Colonel Manners, warming to his subject; “says the man will be absolutely ruined if he insists on making this venture one of public knowledge.”
“And what do you believe, Colonel, if I may be so bold as to ask you pointedly?”
“I believe it rather a strange stance for a man of the church to disbelieve the ways of science in this matter. I would think that a chap who is able to ascend to the stars via a staircase of his own construction may well have something greater to add to the entire celestial debate. I say encourage him. Why, I myself have made a generous contribution to his expedition fund. Not that I boast, mind.”
They deliver themselves to the great dining table in the Eastern Wing of this vast and ancient edifice. When at last, they are able to take wine; Emily requests a broad outline of the plans that await them.
“I am pleased that you asked. This is a terribly exciting, although daunting time. We are to take flight to the America’s. Though a young country in the traditional sense of the world, Dr Rheinhardt tells me that the natives have a wonderfully informative way about them. Do you know, for instance, that they view the entire world as a breathing organism?”
“I am not sure I follow.”
“That is quite alright, Emily. I myself had to have the matter explained to me on two occasions and I am a little more than a silly young girl.”
Emily reddens; the old buffoon can really be quite too much, at times. Needless to say, thoroughly held captive by the sound of his own voice, he crashes through his pipe and wine with talk of red men who are skilled with the bow and easily vexed. “Make no mistake on this Emily, although we seek the counsel of these savages they remain savages and would no doubt murder and eat us, should the chance arise.”
“Then are they really suitable in terms of advice?”
“They are fundamentally sound, as I understand it, on their collective attitude to the stars.”
Emily is concerned that she may not have a true picture of the natives. Her mother has made the poor chaps quite the topic of late and almost every visitor to the house holds a differing stance on the question of likely peril.
The Colonel, fully appreciating the role, spreads his World map out on the table top, careful to remove the creases with the flat backs of his outsized hands. Emily is slightly startled at the hands. She has known the Colonel for most of her life and has never previously been aware of this uncomfortable detail. Whenever she sees large hands, she finds herself momentarily worried with the prospect that she may one day marry a man with such apparatus and find herself powerless to halt the progress of his roving hams in the moonlight of their master chamber.
The Colonel, Emily now sees, is also a man in possession of an improbably large head, to which is attached an unfeasibly huge nose. The nose itself, is pinched above the nostrils, spouts of unruly escaping hair protrude and in places, commune with the dense moustache of legend. The waxed spikes, situated at the extreme ends of the moustache, sit in silent witness like bookends or gargoyles atop a high turret.
“Now then, Emily my dear.” Emily does not care for the way in which the Colonel annunciates the word dear. She mulls over the question of whether or not it would seem impolite to mention it. Ahead of them lays a long and dangerous voyage across the open sea, around the apex of the Earth’s curvature and into the New World. Emily feels that the whole thing could very well become a tiresome chore if she is not able to converse freely with Colonel Manners without some aspect or other of his character causing offence.
“We have the names of our merry band of intrepid pioneers.” The Colonel removes a worn piece of paper from his upper blazer pocket and spreads this out alongside the map. Those hands.
The Colonel is a man given to prevarication and general wind bagging and this is a trait to be increased by a factor of several notches, given an audience. In this case and with only one set of ears his reward for due diligence, Colonel Manners arrives more or less directly at the point of his speech.
“In no particular order, accompanying you and I are;
Father Heartworthy whom we both know well. Professor Felix Rheinhardt, whom one might suggest to be the purpose of our trip viz a viz his grand plan for ascension. Miss Willow Keys; a keen naturalist and amateur astrologer and Mr Aubrey Mars, who although not a member of this parish is, I am reliably informed, a terrific chap to have along on just such an adventure. Mr Mars has travelled to the New World on a prior engagement and has first hand experience of the red rascals. I believe he is conversant in their language, although I dare say that is not so difficult as a working knowledge of French, for one. I would be greatly surprised if the Indians speak as many words as even the Chinese, for example.”
“I have heard it said that the Indians are an intelligent race.”
“Poppycock, they barely make do with clothes. Running around naked and nearly dressed in extreme climates will send a man to all manner of rape and misdeed. Pardon my forthrightness.”
“Now then; it is important that we each receive a restful night of sleep and a filling breakfast before we sail. We have no way to know how many weeks it will be before we are to eat satisfactorily again. If we are to succeed in our mission, then I believe it will be necessary to adopt a Spartan lifestyle for the duration.”
The evening is passed with a succession of dull visitors and their wives or overly tedious visitors and their husbands. Emily eventually flirts with the first signs of sleep with a mind full of the possibility of Aubrey Mars and his dashing reputation.
2
The first to arrive the following morning, as the cock crows is Professor Felix Rheinhardt. He presents as a rather stout man, neighbouring the twin borders of portly and well refined. His manner of dress is less alarming than one might suppose. There is no evidence of a white coat in which to conduct all manner of experimentation. He wears metal framed eye glasses but they are efficient in design and do not encumber his face to any real degree.
Prof Rheinhardt sports impressively lush side whiskers that roll together across the summit of his lips, leaving his chin exposed after the fashion. Emily is always curious with regard to a man’s facial hair arrangements but finds on the whole that she is rather less enamoured by the hair than other men appear to be.
Professor Rheinhardt eats an apple as he enters the great house. His trench coat appears slightly preposterous on a man so lacking in height and his hair, darkened by bryl cream, curls at the ends in a manner most becoming… for a woman. The Professor is a calamitous combination of bawdy language and clumsy movement. He is a fellow to at once appeal and repel. Emily is fascinated by his speech patterns, sweeping arm gestures and grandiose proclamations about the significance of their trip and their assured places in the annals of scientific discovery. However, he is overtly prim and pampered for a gentleman. Emily would prefer an altogether more rustic man.
As the Professor makes a great show if ignoring an ornate tea pot he has sent crashing to the floor, having thundered into the nest of tables upon which the pot had been deported, one Aubrey Mars is introduced to the fray.
Emily flushes and feels herself quite faint. Mr Mars is all in person, as she had built him within the secret corners of her imagination. He stands a fraction over six feet, meaning he towers over virtually every man she has ever known. His blonde hair is worn tastefully short and he sports no facial furniture whatever. His choice of dress is both practical to the season, defending his frame from the heavy showers and yet, light in weight and in shade. Emily finds him quite the agreeable gentleman and wonders how she might orchestrate some time alone with the chap.
She produces a fan and wafts it before her heated features. She hopes that Mr Mars has failed to notice her school girl embarrassment. He merely kisses her hand on introduction and lets his eyes linger not a fraction above the allotted protocol.
Colonel Manners meets them at the foot of the staircase and gestures for all present to follow him to the drawing room where the party might enter upon business like discussions on such matters as supplies and adequate footwear.
“I fear gentlemen that we are set for a trying journey,” begins Mars. “I have been hearing reports that our red friends have become quite frisky of late. It seems they are no longer content to dwell in the shadows and are making known their intentions to repel any efforts at educational approach or anthropologist study.”
“Well, if I might be so bold and allowing for the presence of Miss Watercraft, I say damn their eyes, gentlemen! Who are they to make demands of men of science? It is we whom find ourselves inconvenienced by their harsh climate and savage ways. Why, they ought to be grateful that we are taking an interest.”
“Well, Colonel Manners, it is my understanding that mere curiosity is not what has raised their choler to such levels. I am given to understand that the gist of their strife has to do with white men killing their number and engaging in...” Mars glances over to Emily and stops himself from taking his observation further.
“Out with it,” says Colonel Manners. “Let us not grow dim before the dawn.”
“I would rather not say, Colonel. Not in the company of Miss Watercraft.”
“Miss Watercraft is a hardy creature and quite sensible, you need not worry about any adverse reaction. She is aware of the world and those who populate it.”
Aubrey Mars glances at the floor and at the Colonel and the Professor in turn, both await the quashing of the pregnant silence. Mars avoids the eye line of Emily. “The thing is, they have grown rather vexed at the amount of uninvited fornication with their women folk that Europeans appear to feel is their right. They have commenced retaliation by murdering any such blighter as can be found.”
The Professor’s mouth turns downwards, his attention taken by an area of ceiling. “Quite right,” he says; “a man should safeguard his bloodline. It begs the question as to who the real savages might be.”
Colonel Manners frowns heavily, looking from Rheinhardt to Mars and back again. “Surely, you are not suggesting a spot of harmless, leisurely copulation is a thing that reduces a gentleman to the level of a native. Well I’ll be blowed.”
It is a solemn party that leaves the Manners house to meet father Heartworthy and Miss Keys at the church hall. Emily is at a loss to see what all the fuss is about.
3
From the Journal of Colonel Manners
The morning started rather agreeably on the quay side at Portsmouth. I had not the slightest hint of nerves in my system nor butterfly loose within my gullet.
One is born to water, or else one is born to land goes the common thinking. I am fortunate to be equally equipped atop wave or mountain. Whilst solid ground underfoot is or can be a comfort to many, I find that as long as I am of the vertical disposition, little harm can come my way.
Prof Rheinhardt appears equally at home aboard the outbound vessel, whilst Father Heartworthy and Mr Mars both appear to be experiencing some difficulty with the situation. I have personally witnessed Father Heartworthy part with the contents of his stomach on three occasions and we have been at sea for a mere four hours.
Mr Mars, appears to be tended on a frequent basis by a variety of ladies on board the ship. He seems to be rather the worse for wear and many of the ladies appear quite concerned with his wellbeing. They form a near endless party of inquisitive visitors, perhaps to mop his fevered brow and offer him comfort. I find it admirable that the females in the party should adapt so readily to the role of nurse in this situation. Mr Mars, I am told, is a keen shot and of some use with linguistics. His loss would prove a near insurmountable blow to the travelling party so early in our historic expedition.
Long may the attentions of our enthusiastic nurses be visited upon his person.
Aubrey Mars allows his equilibrium to return at its leisure and decides to seek out the shoreline from the vantage point of the deck. The sun sits on a slow burn at the crest of the day’s apex providing an agreeable service and a good deal of afternoon heat to soothe the ministrations of the sea wind.
He takes the air and concludes that laps of the upper deck are favourable, as they allow him to employ the horizon as a counter point to his lack of physical stability.
News travels fast, particularly in closed and confined spaces. It would seem that Mr Mars’ unique physical characteristic has been spoken about the length and breadth of the ship and more than one or two curious females have visited the private quarters of Mr Mars in order to make enquiries of a verbal or visual nature. Some, taken aback with the visual evidence before them, have sought knowledge through practical application and have found the results to be most satisfactory.
Aubrey strikes a match along the mottled surface of the ship’s rail and allows himself a moment of reflection as the sulphur rages briefly before simmering into a malleable tool to put flame to his pipe.
The plumes of blue-grey smoke hang heavily around him for a moment when he exhales, before being carried to sea as kitchen scraps cast out to benefit the wild life of the waves.
Aubrey Mars is not a man to be trifled with. Despite outward comfort and gentlemanly attire, ambition lurks within him, marking time. Aubrey is not, so far enamoured with Colonel Manners and views him as the mascot of the voyage. He takes the attention away from the more able travellers whilst serving no real purpose. This will be the third Mars crossing to the New World. He has seen and heard about a variety of legend worthy misdeeds and examples of treachery and executed a goodly number of his own. Aubrey Mars is of the considered, if forthright opinion, that Colonel Manners shall do well to survive the adventure.
As evening arrives, Aubrey finds himself once more content to walk the decks like some soul in limbo, scanning the ocean for signs of change. The flavour of the climate is agreeable and yet Aubrey still detects the mild glimmer of surprise within his body as Miss Willow Keys approaches from the aft.
“A pleasant evening, Miss Keys?”
“Indeed. I should not want to miss it.”
“Have you any plans for dining?”
“I believe I am to join Colonel Manners, as we are all, this evening in order to discuss the expedition.”
“I barely see what else there is to discuss, Miss Keys. Conjecture and experiences gained on strange soils elsewhere really are no match for the New World. One must experience it in all of its barren and unwelcoming hostility to fully appreciate what it is.”
Miss Keys glances over to the face now lit slightly from the glowing bowl of the pipe and back dropped with pin pricks of twinkling evening. She forces the rumours from her troubled mind and hopes, sincerely, that Mr Mars is unaware of her imaginative dalliance with gossip.
“Is it all they say, Mr Mars? The New World, I mean?”
“The America’s are a vast and largely unchartered mass of cruelty. Though the landscape often be pleasing to the eye, there lies within it a loneliness that I believe could kill a man with scant assistance from wound or peril.”
Miss Keys pulls in the air, sharply. She feels all at once excited and repelled by this dramatic conversation. So different from the phish and snore of seasonal garments and opportunities to take the air that are generally afforded her.
“And what of the red men, I hear so much of?”
Aubrey Mars blows into the pipe bowl, causing a flaming sprite to leap, twitch with starvation and be gone. He turns the pipe slowly around and returns it to the corner of his mouth. Beyond the cool, soothing breeze occasionally whipped into isolated moments of a quietly contained fury, Miss Keys is aware only of the lapping ocean, rhythmically washing the lower reaches of the hull. The sound of the vast ocean, pushing this way, pulling that is agreeably peaceful at this hour.
His face is suddenly dark. The night air suddenly cooler.
“Miss Keys. Please understand this; they are not men to quarrel with or to attempt to exert one’s own values upon. Changes are on their way. When they arrive, mark my words when I tell you the world will have known no previous blood spill or stain of the land that can measure against it.”
With that, Mr Mars offers the crook of his elbow, abandoning completely the most interesting exchange Miss Keys has experienced in... Well, in the entirety of her born days.
“Shall we join Colonel Manners and the others?” says Aubrey Mars. Willow Keys merely nods her acquiescence, her voice taken by adrenalin, her thoughts duelling rumour once more.
When they find the others, Professor Rhinehardt and Father Heartworthy deep in some private conversation as Colonel Manners ‘entertains’ a table of travellers with his opinions of the New World.
“I would imagine our arrival has been discussed from coast to coast. Scientific expeditions have until now neglected the territory and I believe there will be those eager to embrace our enquiries.”
Since none at the table interrupts or offers an opinion of any sort, the Colonel blithely continues to hold court.
“Colonel,” says Aubrey Mars, “I fear the voyage thus far has produced within me a most ungodly appetite.”
“I believe we are to be given the honour of the Captain’s table this evening, Mr Mars. I would venture that even the most enthusiastic appetites amongst us will be satiated in such esteemed company.”
The Professor breaks away from Father Heartworthy to join the other men.
“The Captain is an interesting fellow,” he remarks, “I had the pleasure of his company earlier today.”
“Then you are to be thanked for our dining invitation,” says Aubrey.
“Not at all, I hear the purpose of our voyage has piqued the interest of Captain and crew alike.”
Across the dining room, beneath elaborate chandeliers and bordered by beautiful curtains, couples dance before a large orchestra.
“How delightful,” observes Willow Keys.
Following her eye line, Aubrey Mars straightens his waist coat and holds out a hand.
“Miss Keys, I should be honoured if you might favour me with your company around the dance floor.”
“It would be my pleasure, Mr Mars.” The couple proceed to the edge of the floor, observed keenly by Miss Watercraft. Sensing a neglected woman in their midst, the Professor invites Emily to take to the floor.
“Of course,” she says, her eyes fixed upon Aubrey Mars and Willow Keys.
4
“I hear it said that The America’s may one day be the richest continent on God’s earth.” Captain and host James Scott snaps his wrist, killing the flame of his match. He takes two enthusiastic pulls on his extravagantly sized cigar and blows a lingering plume into the air above their heads. “Of course,” he adds, winking patriarchy toward Willow Keys, “men have been mistaken before.”
Miss Keys inclines her head slightly, avoiding direct eye contact but hoping to project an air of agreement toward the captain. She finds him at once reassuring of manner and sturdy of character; a favoured uncle perhaps. Certainly, he seems the kind of man naturally at home leading others.
Colonel Manners presses Captain Scott for a brief history of his career but the captain is either too modest or disinterested to acquiesce. “I’m sure Colonel; that your party has no need of an old man wind bagging about whalers and war mongers. Much rather, I would be gratified to learn more of the details of your expedition.”
The professor clears his throat and grandly swirls wine around the basin of his glass. “We are setting out to the new world in order to consort with the red men about the possibility of building a staircase to the stars.”
Captain Scott’s forehead furrows and he returns to his cigar, eyebrows raised. “Fascinating. Tell me, are any of your party experienced with matters of the new world.”
Rheinhardt nods toward Mr Mars and says “Our friend Aubrey Mars is quite the adventurer and traveller. He has encountered the red men previously and is even able to converse in their own language to some degree.”
Aubrey Mars shakes his head and looks at his feet. “You overstate my prowess, I’m afraid professor. I can speak to a rudimental level, solely on the matters of getting by, getting around and simple trading.”
“Still, rather impressive attribute to carry, Mr Mars,” says the Captain, smiling now. “What are your chances of success, I wonder?”
Colonel Manners, possibly agitated by the shift of attention toward others in the party talks at length about the scale of the operation and the motivation to succeed. It is apparent to the others that the Captain bears him little mind or notice.
They dine on swordfish and vegetables and the wine flows freely. As time passes, the Captain appears to relax. “Tell me, ladies, what are your thoughts on matters of the spirit world?”
Emily appears to brighten considerably. “I find the entire subject extremely interesting, Captain.”
“Poppycock,” says Colonel Manners. “Charlatans will always find a way to separate an uneducated fool from his money.”
“How so, Colonel?” says the Captain, “You appear very confident on the subject.
“It is mere good sense, Captain. Ghostly apparitions, voices from the darkness, tales of the other side, all nonsense if you ask me.”
“Well,” the Captain holds his wine glass in such a way that light plays on the liquid and casts its reflection toward his face, playing around his nose briefly. Emily thinks the moment to be terribly atmospheric and is sure the Captain is about to impart some tale regarding spectres of the sea.
“Do you have experience in such matters, Captain Scott?”
He allows his eyes to fall on Emily, in a direct manner, possibly for the first time since they met.
“The sea is a mysterious companion Miss Watercraft. Sailors have, since time forgot, long passed on stories of strange events. The water you see, especially around dawn or dusk can do peculiar things to a man’s mind.”
“That and cabin fever,” says Aubrey.
“Indeed,” accepts the Captain, “However, one much one is able to dismiss some stories as the product of a homesick brain, I have encountered stout and able men, honest men, who will swear on the Holy Trinity that they have seen dead men walk across ship decks.”
There follows a moment of quiet. Colonel Manners betrays with his facial expression a total disregard for the subject and attempts to start a conversation with Father Heartworthy, who cuts him off.
“It is not natural, or healthy for men to involve themselves in these matters.”
“There are occasions Father, when a man has little choice but to face down the circumstances fate would have in store for him.” The Captain’s voice has dropped to a deep timbre, serious and suggestive in its tone.
“I can’t see any good come of this discussion,” Father Heartworthy crosses himself and reaches for his wine. “I find it to be a good deal unsettling.”
“Then we shall put it aside for another time,” Captain Scott smiles expansively and lowers his head briefly in a nod of respect to the clergy.
“I agree with Emily,” says Willow Keys. “I find the whole subject most interesting and agreeable.”
“Curious,” the professor casts a look to his fob watch, “how it is the ladies amongst us who appear to possess and appetite for these matters. One would have supposed that a lady might find the possibilities of supernatural behaviour quite the daunting prospect.”
Colonel Manners can no longer contain himself. “It is because their young and suggestive minds are filled with romantic notions that amount to little more than piffle and triviality.”
“I find that remark somewhat offensive, Colonel.”
“Forgive me, Mr Mars. But really, am I to understand that we are to actually lend credence to this speculation? The dead are dead. They do not walk among us, or talk to us, or write messages for us. They are dead. They are gone and that is all.”
“If you are so confident, Colonel, I suggest a little game,” Aubrey winks at Emily, who blushes, whilst Willow narrows her eyes, noticing the exchange.
“And what might that be?”
“We shall attempt to contact the spirits this evening via the use of a Ouija board.”
“I really feel that is not advisable,” Father Heartworthy has the appearance of a man who has already seen a ghost, just now, visible only to him and possibly engaged in deeds of such outrageously hideous proportions, that he is unlikely ever to forget the scene.
“I on the other hand,” says Captain Scott, “think it a splendid idea. I would however, advise caution.”
“Of course.” Aubrey glances around the table. “All those who are interested, convene at my quarters half an hour before midnight.”
“Will you be joining us, Captain?” asks Emily.
“Unfortunately not, my sweet girl. A ship won’t sail itself.”