Free The Ironclad Prophecy by Pat Kelleher Page B

could identify the state of the engine by the colour it gave off. But most of all he liked looking at Nellie. Great gaseous expanses of soft yellows billowed gently from her like silk sheets in the wind and oh, how she shone. If only he could tell her how beautiful she was. She thought herself rather plain. But he doubted anybody had ever seen her the way he had.
    He hated leaving her now. Before, all he had was the crew of the Ivanhoe . Now, there was her.
    He recalled the last time he saw Nellie, a day ago now, just before they left, but it seemed an age away when he wasn’t in her company. They’d received orders to move out on another seek and find patrol. He’d spent half the night checking and tuning the engine, oiling it, having to use rendered down fats as grease. The rest of Ivanhoe’s crew were full of pep and up for it, knowing they’d be able to partake of the intoxicating fumes again.
    The only other person who might have an inkling of the effects was Tulliver, the RFC chap. He used the same petrol fruit liquor to fuel his aeroplane. But he wasn’t confined in a dark, airless cabin with it. The wind would soon whip away any fumes he might inhale.
    As the others stocked up on supplies, carefully watched by Company Quartermaster Sergeant Slacke, Alfie had wandered off to say goodbye to Nellie. He found her trying to haul a large pan of some sort of edible, well, stew, for want of a better word.
    “Alfie. Can’t give us a hand, can you, m’duck?”
    “Sorry, Nellie. Moving out. Another one of the infantry’s explore and patrol missions.”
    “Oh aye. And keep an eye out for –”
    “– Jeffries, yes,” he finished. They laughed together.
    He peered into the pot. “Cor. What have the mongey wallahs come up with this time? It looks disgusting.”
    “Yes, well, it isn’t for you. It’s for them poor beggars in the Bird Cage,” she said, nodding her head towards the barbed wire enclosure where the shell-shocked men were housed.
    Lieutenant Mathers had climbed the steps out of the communications trench that led to the battalion HQ, his shoulders hunched and a sullen look on his gaunt, pasty face.
    “Perkins. Don’t dally. We’ve got to shove off.” He sniffed the air and homed in on the cauldron. “Mmm, what’s that?” He reached in and pulled out a lump of something, put it in his mouth and chewed experimentally.
    “Oi!” Nellie slapped his hand. “This is for the poor shell-shock victims, not the likes of you, sir.”
    The rebuke caught Mathers off guard. He looked towards the enclosure at the shuffling, jerking scraps of manhood within and at least had the manners to look guilty. He coughed in embarrassment. “Yes. Right.” He wagged the rest of the handful at her. “Still, not bad,” he said and strode away. “Come on, Perkins. Work to do.”
    Alfie had shrugged an apology, “Must dash,” and he’d followed his commanding officer. The last he saw of Nellie was her lugging the pan towards the Bird Cage...
     
     
    B RIGHT GREEN RIPPLES burst from the floor of the compartment as the tank lurched and Alfie cracked his head on an overhead pipe.
    “Watch where you’re driving!” Alfie bellowed at Wally’s back.
    “Plenty of room up bloody top if you’re not bleedin’ happy with it!” Wally retorted.
    “Got a real bee in his bonnet about that bounder Jeffries hasn’t he, that Lieutenant Everson?” Norman was yelling above the noise of the engine. “I mean this is the fifth time he’s sent us out on patrol to try and pick up his trail, and have we? Have we, billy-o. Not a sign. One of the promising directions picked out by Tulliver? Bollocks. I bet everything looks promising from a thousand feet up. Oh, and here’s a map what a nurse saw. Sorry it’s mostly empty, would you chaps mind filling in the blank bits as you go?”
    “We could run right over Jeffries in Ivanhoe and not even notice,” Cecil yelled back.
    Norman nodded in agreement. “Wild goose chase is what it