Free 1889: Journey To The Moon (The Far Journey Chronicles) by George Wier, Billy Kring Page A

of Bermuda. LeJeune had been sentenced to a hanging death by his captain, Lord Anthony Pembroke, for the murder of a yeoman who had beaten LeJeune fair and square in a game of faro. While gambling of any kind was strictly outlawed aboard any Admiralty vessel, enforcement of this rule was never a priority. Men had gambled, drank, and gotten into fights since time out of mind aboard sea ships. But taking revenge by cutting the winner’s throat during his sleep had never been excused. That LeJeune was the direct issue of Teach’s great-grandfather’s quartermaster was enough justification for an attack, rescue and hasty withdrawal, but not before spiking the Enforcer’s complement of cannon and retrieving the contents of her paymaster’s safe.
    LeJeune moved his lips over the petals of a speaking tube. “Fleet ahead full! Prepare grappling hooks! When in range, discretion to fire ballistae! Bring her down!”
    If he didn’t know better, Teach would have sworn the Arcadia was drifting with the wind—but the large, blunt object had no sails. Neither did it emit any perceptible steam. Its motive technology was a closely-guarded secret, yet its weird shimmer could not be solely the product of the fire below it. It was almost as if it were infested with St. Elmo’s Fire. Teach shivered at the thought. Whatever the eerie craft’s secrets, the two men he sent to intercept the mail delivery to the Russian woman failed in their tasks. LeJeune’s spies picked them up on the trail west of Pike’s Peak and killed the two on the spot. Their bodies would never be found.
    He knew there would be fire. He had been following Custer’s column for weeks. The Freighter Wagon was not difficult to follow, and the existence of the four TerraCycles were well-known. With such technology in the van, he’d known there would be hot fire and lots of it in the Battle of Colorado Springs. The plan had been that if Custer was successful, Teach would take to the sky toward Washington.  Teach’s eastern squadron of forty-eight skyboats would capture them. If Custer failed to get the Arcadia into the air, then he would attack the compound with both flotillas of skyboats and settle it between himself and Custer within the walls of the Merkam compound. If, however, the Arcadia lifted into the air and went any direction but east, he would know who had won the day, and both wings of his sky armada would still attack and win the prize.
    Below him his largest hulk, the Angelina , sped forward and downward. Dangling at the end of a dozen ropes were the black silhouettes of his most battle-hardened cutthroats. Behind the Angelina the entire wing dove after the drifting and unaware Arcadia .
    “Bring us down, Mister LeJeune. I want on that ship. Personally.”
    LeJuene looked forward and glanced at the markings along the struts of the cabin. “Zee minus fifteen degrees!” he shouted.

     
    [ 18 ]
     
    “Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness gracious!” Koothrappally swore to himself.
    “Cut that noise, Professor. Get to your station and get your mind on your numbers!” Jack Ross called from the Engine Room. The main hatchway to the Engine Room that had once been above him was at a challenging thirty-degree incline.
    Koothrappally, who had been holding onto the brace bar inside the hatch, now began to pinwheel his legs for purchase on the rapidly inclining deck. “I am attempting to be...being most compliant...with the orders upon which...I shall be obeying.” The man’s foot found the outside of the hatch and he levered himself through. He had a long climb ahead of him to the bridge. “Goodbye Mister Engineer Jack Ross,” Koothrappally called, and was gone.
    Jack Ross turned his attention back to the transmogrifier. The larger gears turned slowly. The far tinier gears were an almost invisible blurring of motion. According to Merkam, if the thing was ever brought to full power, the craft should become invisible to the naked eye. Something about magnetons