Free The Lightning Key by Jon Berkeley Page B

he could tell she felt the same. The sun had dispersed the fog, leaving shreds of bog-cotton mist snagged on the thornbushes, and ahead of them the airship hung silently in the sky like a fat, unfathomable future.
    Miles pulled in by the mill, where a number of other cars were already parked. A gangly teenager appeared from nowhere, wearing a battered cap. “It’s sixpence to park,” he said, peering hopefully into Miles’s goggles.
    Baltinglass of Araby leaped from the car. “How old are you, boy?” he shouted.
    â€œI’ll be eighteen in February,” said the boy.
    Baltinglass pulled a gold coin from his pocket. “Ever seen one of these?”
    The boy’s jaw dropped. “Not often,” he said.
    â€œYou’ll see three more of them if you look after this car until we get back,” said Baltinglass. “We may be gone some time, so you’d better take her out for a spin now and then.”
    â€œYou want me to drive the car?” asked the boy, who could hardly believe his ears.
    â€œThat’s what she needs,” said Baltinglass, “and you might find yourself more popular with the ladies in the bargain.” He sent the coin spinning toward the teenager with a flick of his thumb, and called to Miles. “Master Miles, let’s board that contraption before I change my mind, eh?”
    Miles pulled the duffel bag from the back of the car and heaved it over his shoulder. It swung around and nearly capsized him, but he felt that ashead of the expedition he should be able to carry the kit. He hefted the bag to balance it better, feeling something sharp poking into his back, and set off across the field. Little took Baltinglass’s arm and together they half ran, half stumbled past knots of spectators toward the airship’s mooring, where a sturdy rope ladder hung from the hull to the ground.
    â€œI hope First Officer Barrett makes it back all right,” said Little.
    â€œHe’s a wily devil, that one,” said Baltinglass. “He’ll come back with their pocket watches and their gold teeth, whoever they are.”
    Above them the Sunfish seemed to fill the sky. A muscular airman stood at the bottom of the rope ladder, and he took the duffel bag from Miles as though it weighed no more than a coconut. “Tickets?” he said.
    At that moment there was a high-pitched shout from the edge of the field, and First Officer Barrett careered into view on a bicycle, his glasses askew and his legs out straight to avoid the madly spinning pedals. “Weigh anchor, able Airman Calloway!” he shouted gleefully. “Embark those passengers at once. That’s an order!”
    â€œAye-aye,” shouted Airman Calloway. He pickedLittle up under one arm, and with the duffel bag over his shoulder he fairly ran up the rope ladder and disappeared into a square hatch in the hull.
    â€œRope ladder,” said Miles to Baltinglass, placing the old man’s hand on a rung. “After you.”
    At the top of the ladder Miles felt the ropes jerk as First Officer Barrett leaped from the bicycle and began to climb up behind him. “Away!” the dapper man shouted. “Weigh anchor. All hands on deck. Full steam ahead!”
    Strong hands reached from the door in the hull and grabbed Miles by the arms. He looked over his shoulder at the last moment, and a shock of giddiness swept through him. He could see no sign of pursuit, but the ground was falling away at an alarming rate. First Officer Barrett swung from the ladder’s end like a trapeze artist, waving and shouting, “Arrivederci!” to the dwindling spectators below. Beyond him tumbled the whitewashed houses of the port of Fuera, and out in the bay the Albatross rode the sapphire waters under bellying sails, bound for Al Bab with a brisk crosswind and a good head start.

CHAPTER NINE
THE SUNFISH
    T he airship Sunfish , reborn and airborne, moved ponderously through