A Matter of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 1) (13 page)

“Oh, why do you say that?”

“It’s on account of them Pyrenees Mountains looming up to block our path.”

“My word, we are trapped, Mr. Temperance. Please make Captain von Tropp aware of your observations.”

“Yes, Ma’am! Howdy there, Captain von Tropp, sir, there are about half a dozen winged monsters closing on the
Edelweiss.
They look
like iron-skinned, flying monkeys and I think they intend to attack this airship. Here you go; take a look at them through the goggles.”

“Ja, Ichabod, these creatures are horrific and intend to destroy us. We must gain more altitude. Helmsman, adjust heading ten degrees starboard and take us higher.”

“Ja wohl, mein Captain!”

“I say, the Atlantic coast quickly approaches and there is no escape for this vessel from the beasts.”

“I am afraid you are correct, Fraulein Plumtartt. Helmsman, continue your heading out to sea.”

“I can’t see them anymore, y’all. They have passed out of sight above the ship.”

“One can only presume that they alight upon the top of our ship’s envelope. No doubt, they will tear their way in from there, eh hem?”

“Oh, Goodness, there’s all kinds of terrible screaming coming through the communication tubes! I think Miss Plumtartt is right, your ship has been boarded, Captain!”

“Come with me, you two. Allow me to introduce you to a safety device of this ship; der glide-ster.”

“Woah! Opening this hatch in the deck reveals open air below. Oh, I see, there is a framework of light wood and canvas attached to the bottom of the ship.”

“I say, Captain von Tropp, you are not going to drop us from the sky in that little kite, are you?”

“Ja, Persephone. My crew and I will continue to do what we can to distract the beasts while you make your escape. We will hold out as long as we can before we too, abandon the ship in other safety devices. Have you worked out the controls, Ichabod?”

“Yessir, I think so.”

“Do you see how Ichabod is lying prone in the framework, Persephone?”

“Yes...”

“Lie down atop of him.”

“My word! Oh, very well.”

“Farewell, my friends, good luck in your journey. I am pulling the release mechanism now.”

“A

    h

     h

      h!”

“Mr. Temperance! We are falling from the sky!”

“Yes, Ma’am, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am, but I was trying to build some momentum before I gently pulled back on the controls like this to level our flight.”

“Good show, Mr. Temperance! A flying craft! Canvas stretched around a wooden frame are the construct of our stationary wings. We are as a seagull, that holds his place in the sky via the aerodynamics of wind, more so than the propellance of kinetic wing energies.”

“Yes Ma’am, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am, this here mono-winged glide-ster ain’t so bad one’st you get the hang of it, but oh my Goodness, that poor ship sure is being torn apart, ain’t she?”

“Indeed, Mr. Temperance, it is a tragic sight, seeing the mighty Zeppelin being shredded by the gruesome gargoyles like insects ripping at the skin of a gigantic watermelon. Oh, dear, I say, one vandalistic vulture views our departure. The hawk-eyed harpie makes to pursue us!”

“Oh, golly, we ain’t gonna be able to make it back to shore! He’s chasing us out to sea!”

“The harpy closes on us!”

“Hang on, Miss Plumtartt, I’m swoopin’ us upward!”

“Mr. Temperance!”

“Hang on, Miss Plumtartt, I’m gonna corkscrew us!”

“Mr. Temperance, you are going to fling me from this craft!”

“I’m sorry, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am, I ain’t doing it to get you to hug me tight like you’re doing, I’m trying to shake this varmint.”

“I am confident that your motives are honourable, sir, and I do not mind the intimate contact of this embrace; nevertheless, one confesses a sensation of being cast into the open void.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“It does no good, Mr. Temperance; this monster is fixated upon us and is far faster and more maneuverable than we.”

“I see the lantern lights on the back of a ship at sea. I’m gonna aim for that!”

“Faster, Mr. Temperance!”

“Prepare for impact, Miss Plumtartt!”

Colliding heavily with the boom sail at the stern of the ship, me, Miss Plumtartt, and our glider, go face first into the stiff cloth. Our pursuer crashes into us directly behind. We all slide down the canvas and fall to the deck in a tangled heap of bodies, wings, and glider wreckage. I have a hold of the winged devil before we hit the deck. Those wings are strong, and they are beating the heck out of me. The bat-winged gargoyle is in a murderous frenzy but so am I. This bugger is strong, but his wings are unwieldy at this close range. In a wrestling contest, I’ve got the edge and manage to get one of his wings bent up the wrong way. Once I’ve got that sucker in a bind I draw the P.E.R.K., and juke that flying water spout for all I’m worth.

Persephone
.

Once more, I am grateful for my bustle. It has proven itself yet again as a comfortable landing device.

I look up from the deck onto which we have fallen, to see we are in a ring of sailors. They are wide-eyed with astonishment as the invisible monster Mr. Temperance was fighting becomes visible to them in its death throes.

“Get me a bottle, or a cask, or something to collect this muck in, please y’all; he’s gonna melt away all gone lickety-split!””

A seamen with an air of authority about him, nods, at which several seamen hurry off and return quickly with various vessels. The evaporating ectoplasmic substance that is necessary for Mr. Temperance’s weapon construction is quickly gathered.

“Eh hem, might one of you strong lads care to assist me to my feet, eh hem?”

“Howdy, y’all, sorry about boarding your ship without permission, captain. We had to make an emergency landing.”

“Aye, we were watching a Zeppelin having difficulties over the coast when we spotted your aircraft on her erratic course. We had no idea what your trouble was until you killed that terrible abomination and it was made visible.”

“Yessir, that’s the way with these boogers. My name is Ichabod Temperance and this here is Miss Persephone Plumtartt. You all wouldn’t happen to be headed for anywhere in the Americas, were you?”

“Aye, my name is Captain Denver Hale. The lads address me as ‘Skipper’. This clipper, the ‘Midnight Minnow’, is bound for the United States.”

“My dear Captain Hale, you are truly our most timely savior. Unclean and supernatural forces have chased us to sea. Evil forces threaten the world and we require assistance in championing good over evil. May we please have passage aboard your vessel of such fortuitous providence?”

“Dear child, had we not seen that gruesome terror ourselves, we might have doubted ye, but, by my lights, we got a good two quarts of the foul creature’s remains bottled up. Oh, we’ll help ye’ both all right with  passage to Galveston, Texas. Texas is a country on the Gulf of Mexico, often associated with the United States.”

- - -

Ah, the smell of the open Ocean is invigorating and refreshing.

What a lovely craft this
Midnight Minnow
is! In the morning sun, she is beautiful to behold. I thrill at how she runs before the wind!

“Miss Plumtartt,” Mr. Temperance breaks in upon my thoughts in his quiet and bashful way, “perhaps we have rethought our trip to the Tibetan Plateau.”

“Why yes, Mr. Temperance. It would seem that we have taken an unexpected detour.”

“Yes, Ma’am, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am. We got run out of Europe like a child spittin’ watermelon seeds.”

“Oh. Yes. Err. Rather. I see.”

“Like the way I got run out of that posh French Clubbe.”

“Quite.”

“Like the way I got run out of the Strand Hotel when I bopped Sir Henry Stanley on the horn and bent his beak.”

“Why, Mr. Temperance! Was that you? Of course it was! The papers had said ‘Mad American.’ I should have realized!”

“I’m sorry, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am, I am awfully embarrassed about that. I ain’t one to go around hittin’ folks, but he riled me up the way he was talking about you.”

“This encounter with Sir Henry was before you and I were made acquaintances, sir. How is it that you came to my defense, even then?”

“I had a good impression of you and your father. I knew you to be a Lady, and that was enough for me.”

“I say, Mr. Temperance, the imagined vision of your punching that rogue in the nose brings me the greatest of joys. Yes, rather, to the point that I feel an irresistible impulse to clutch your jaw and bestow an appreciative kiss upon your cheek.”

~smack!~

Ichabod’s face runs quickly to red and then on without slowing down to a deep burgundy. His hazel eyes sparkle with fireworks that indicate great happiness within.

I privately confess, it does enchant my heart to see the boy so deeply moved by my simplest affections.

“Oh Goodness! I mean, gee whiz, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am, you sure took that awful bit of news well. So, um, anyways, if the way to Tibet is blocked from this direction, we may need to make an adjustment in our itinerary.”

My mild-mannered companion attempts to maintain his focus upon our errand; however, he scarcely seems to make contact with the deck. My simple kiss has the effect of giving the lad the appearance of buoyancy, and I fear that he will fly from the deck of the
Minnow
as a balloon.

“Might I inquire as to your thoughts on the subject, eh hem?”
~batt, batt, batt~

“Uhb,.. uhb,.. uhh, oh! I’m sorry, Ma’am. I think I was saying, maybe we should try to slip in the back door to Asia. Let’s go to the top of the world via the Pacific Ocean.”

“At this juncture, I fail to be able to mount an argument. Let us give the Pacific expanses a go then, shall we?”

“Our Skipper, Captain Hale, says the
Midnight Minnow
is bound for Galveston. It’s an American port in Texas. From Galveston we can travel overland across the North American Western territories, to the Pacific coast.”

“Splendid, Mr. Temperance! A brief train ride, another ‘clip’ across the Pacific pond, and we are on the back doorstep to our destination. With a quick skip around the Asian Promontory, we shall land on the Asian continent at Calcutta. A swift trip up the Ganges, a portered ride up the slopes, and there we are, neat as a pin.”

“Yes, Ma’am, ‘neat as a pin’. Let’s hope so. We’ll need a quick stop over in Galveston as I have a few ideas floatin’ for equipping ourselves.”

- - -

I peruse a Spanish newspaper that the Captain has recently acquired. The contents are full of dread.

There is a heartbreaking report that the Plumtartt Factory has been destroyed. Witnesses claim ‘unseen forces’ smashed the great factory to the ground. No satisfactory explanation has been given. There are also mounting numbers of ‘Ghost’ attacks and desiccated corpses being reported not only from England and France, but from Gibraltar, and again, in Egypt and the Arabian Peninsula. A grisly trail of terror emerges.

To the best of my knowledge, there have been no attacks in the Americas.

I pray that we have left our tormentors in Europe.

Ichabod

Galveston is a busy spot!

The city’s harbor is crowded with ships of all description. Her bay teems with schooners, clippers, freighters and even warships of different nations.

Golly it’s hard to say goodbye to our friends on the Minnow. If Captain Hale could, I bet he and his crew would be willing to see us through our coming adventures. I can still see him, back there on the deck of his ship.

Impulsively, Captain Hale and I call to one another.

“Skipper!”

“Little buddy!”

Miss Plumtartt and I secure rooms at a towering edifice, the Beach Hotel on Galveston Island. This structure sails six stories into the air. Ornately laid out, she is the picture of comfort and elegance. The girl looks like a big, wooden cloud. I sure hope a big wind does not come along and blow her away someday.

I accompany Miss Plumtartt into town, where we separate on our different errands. She must shop for clothes, for we left Europe with nothing but what we were wearing  when we boarded the
Edelweiss
’ glide-ster. I had several of my possessions secured about my person, but Miss Plumtartt has been without a parasol for a week!

I am itching to get to a manufacturing shop, but as I search out various firearms, and hardware stores, for the right place to build my device, none are quite what I have in mind. I purchase the supplies I will be requiring at each location along the way.

This world operates on supply and demand. Since the
‘Revelatory Comet’s
passing, and the steep rise in the inventive community, so too have businesses arisen to provide the productive tinkers with the material of development. Cogs, wheels, gears, pulleys, spindles, rods, chains, ropes, rivet and plate are now easily gained. Electrical components, just an engineer’s dream a few short years ago, are now there for any layman to utilize.

I locate an especially industrious blacksmith. His barn is full of interesting devices that he has constructed. He is shoeing a horse, though, when I arrive. He has a good and gentle way with the animal. I appreciate this as I have a strong connection to animals and find that I like people who like animals.

In exchange for some stable boy work, he generously allows me access to his workshop.

In a few hours, I leave with a most astounding new tool in my arsenal. The ammunition was actually trickier to manufacture than the device itself.

When I return to the Beach Hotel, I find Miss Plumtartt on the expansive seaside veranda reading a pile of newspapers.

“Excuse me, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am, but I thought you might like to inspect this device I have created.”

“My word, Mr. Temperance, but this does appear to be a fearsome creation.”

“Yes, Ma’am, I’m hopin’ so.”

“I am unhappy to report a change in the status of our circumstances. It would seem by these many newspaper reports, that there has indeed been an infestation of the ghost’s despicable presence in the afore-spared Americas. Rio de Janeiro and New York, South and North American cities, respectively, now describe isolated, yet horrific attacks and sightings indicative of our foe’s unclean manifestation.”

“The Eastern seaboards of this hemisphere’s two great continents have now been affected by this pandemic of supernatural activity.”

I resolutely do not allow the wondrous feminine charms of Miss Plumtartt’s prettiness distract me from her fact finding researches.

“Why, Mr. Temperance, have the abominations chosen these areas? What do they have in common with England and Graz? If the sole aim of these fiends is to find and kill me, or take the scroll, why are they now in the Americas? What is the connection?”

- - -

With our fresh kit of clothes and supplies, Miss Plumtartt and I set out across the American Southwest territories.

I should be ashamed of myself. The pride and joy I feel with my new invention at my side is almost sinful. I can't help it, though, especially with the curious looks that it and my green ammunition cartridges on display in the loops of my holster receive.

With Miss Plumtartt smartly set out in a fresh, new pink dress, bustle, and parasol, we depart our Texan island on the Galveston-Red River Rail Road. It is a heady feeling to be seen with the beautiful Miss Plumtartt. I’m not sure which I am more proud to be seen with, Miss Plumtartt or the fancy new weapon. Naw, I guess it’s Miss Plumtartt.

It is a short ride to the mainland, and in Houston, we change lines onto the Greater Mid-Texas Concern. This express line takes us to Austin City. I am happy to get Miss Plumtartt out of this crazy city: it is a wild place!

Continually traveling North through Texas from one train line to another, it is at Chambers Creek that we begin a gradual ascent. This quickly turns to dizzying heights as we enter the first foothills of the Rockies. We skirt Caddo Peak, the train clinging to the hillsides. Vertical drops of hundreds of feet, fall from directly out our windows.

Once we are clear of the mountains, we make good time on the Grand Continental Western.

We cross the Rios Pecos at Independence Springs, and then rattle on to El Paso, via the Marco Pass. We continue West, across the wide, Mesilla Valley on the Southern Pacific Railway. This is the grand opening of this line, connecting the country from coast to coast, on the southern end of the Rockies. We are taking part in an exciting, historical event!

This opening of the second trans-continental railway line of America will save us hundreds of miles of train travel north to the ill-fated Donner Pass. Otherwise, we would need to proceed by stagecoach, across dangerous Indian territories.

Unfortunately, when we attempt to purchase tickets on this historic opening, an ill-tempered ticket lady tells me ‘there ain’t no tickets to be had.’ I inform Miss Plumtartt and she decides to take the procurement of passage into her own hands. An aura of command that I did not know resided within Miss Plumtartt billows up from a depth of concealment. With a proprietary composure, she sweeps past the ticket ladies, going over their heads to their supervisor. It sounds like she is using a much softer tone of voice with the young man that is the manager. Now it looks like he is able to make the proper arrangements for Miss Plumtartt. I don’t think he noticed me. People don’t notice me much, no how, but especially when I’m around Miss Plumtartt. That Miss Plumtartt! If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was flirtin’ with that boy to get us fixed up. I have a feeling she just had to batt them pretty peepers of hers once or twice to hitch us up a pair of tickets.

Aboard the
Sunset Limited
, we are diverted most charmingly by a handsome man of the cloth, the Right Reverend Alonzo Dolomite. He is a strongly built, coloured gentleman with a shaven head, and dressed in a clergyman’s black frock. We enjoy this leg of our journey due in great part to our meeting this wonderful fellow.

“I say, Reverend Dolomite, you are quite the raconteur, and you give our spirits a much needed lift! I must say, I suspect that you are one shepherd who would attend to the needs of your flock most assiduously.”

“You are a perceptive woman, Persephone. I would be honored if you were to visit me in my new habitat, for I intend to build a church in Los Angelos. I would even allow you to bring Itchy-bod along.”

Reverend Dolomite’s loud and enthusiastic stories are accompanied by frequent injections of an exclamatory “Yes!” (pronounced, ah-eee-yeh-
ess
-ahhh) to punctuate his enthralling tales.

We disembark our train in Tanner, Arizona, to stretch and walk about while the train takes on fuel and water. I am just ruminating upon our fortunate smooth sailing so far - a foolish curse of our luck - when Miss Plumtartt touches the side of her head and appears to suffer from a pain there.

“I find myself in some distress, Mr. Temperance. A headache of quite monumental proportions has seated itself in the front of my brain. I am becoming as vaporish as my elderly Aunt Matilda with her ubiquitous
sal volatile
.”

Miss Plumtartt tries to bravely laugh off her discomfort, but I sense it is very troubling to her.

Miss Plumtartt gives a start with a sharp intake of breath. Looking out to the desert stretching off into infinity to our North, a disturbing blankness of expression comes over her fair features.

“Did you hear that, Mr. Temperance?”

“Ma’am? No, Ma’am, I didn’t hear nothing.”

“I am sure I heard a voice call to me.”

“Miss Plumtartt? Ma’am? Are you feeling all right?”

Miss Plumtartt gives another sharp inhalation of breath.

“There it is again.”

“I didn’t hear nothing, Ma’am.”

She does not hear me.

“Ma’am? Miss Plumtartt?”

Miss Plumtartt stares out into the desert, North of Tanner.

I move directly into her field of vision.

“Hello? Miss Plumtartt? Are you sure you’re feelin’ okay?”

The train whistle gives a brisk double toot to signal its imminent departure. Miss Plumtartt does not hear the signal. The girl is mesmerized, unable to hear the train whistle or anything else around her.

“Please Ma’am, wake up, Miss Plumtartt. The train’s pulling out and we need to be on it.”

Miss Plumtartt walks to the shimmering desert.

The train engineer sees what’s up. He sounds his steam whistle with emphasis and rings the train’s bell.

Reverend Dolomite calls us to return.

Miss Plumtartt walks straight out into the unforgiving wastes.

I am powerless to dissuade her.

Dropping her parasol, she uncharacteristically shuffles onto the burning sands.

I have no choice but to pick up her parasol and follow the entranced girl. Unheard pleads fail in coaxing her to stop.

Several minutes later, about a mile behind us, I hear the train leave.

Miss Plumtartt and I are walking into desolation.

- - -

“Miss Plumtartt, please stop. This is, I beg your pardon, Ma’am, ... intolerable!”

The Tanner Station has long since passed from view. Dusk is upon us and we are still walking straight out into the desert.

Miss Plumtartt is in a trance-like state. She stumbles forward without a look to, or care for, her surroundings. She stares straight ahead, and walks steadily onward.

Fortunately, it is a clear night. The Moon and stars light our way.

Even I start to tire. I know Miss Plumtartt is long past exhaustion, yet somehow she pushes herself on.

I see something. Directly ahead of us is a spark of light. This must be the poor girl’s destination. Picking her up, I carry Miss Plumtartt forward. She slips into unconsciousness in my arms.

I approach a small camp fire. A solitary man is waiting.

I carefully place Miss Plumtartt on the ground.

An Indian is the the campfire’s only companion. Even though he is sitting down, I can tell he is a man of immense size. He calmly observes me without a flicker of movement. Sharp black eyes from a wizened, though inscrutable, face survey me.

Several long moments pass.

I decide to break the ice.

“Good evening, sir. I do hope that we are not intruding upon you. My name is Ichabod Temperance. My resting companion is Miss Plumtartt. It would seem that she finds herself compelled to maintain a rendezvous with you this evening. May we be of service?”

His features remain impassive. Nothing can crack that wooden countenance. However, a spark, way down deep in those black eyes, betrays a trace of humour.

“I too, felt compelled,” says the imposing Native. “I am Chief Running Blind. My spirit would not rest without giving this girl my guidance.”

Miss Plumtartt stirs. She looks to the big Chief.

“Child of destiny, you must complete a great quest. You require instructions to complete your tasks.”

“What are my instructions?” manages Miss Plumtartt.

“I cannot tell you, because I do not know. You must go and seek them on your own.”

“How do I do that?” asks the exhausted woman.

“You must go on a spirit quest.”

“How do I do that?”

“Drink this,” says the wizened shaman.

- - -

It’s been about ten minutes since we drank the elixir the big Indian presented. Miss Plumtartt had already taken a big gulp of the juice before I could stop her.

Big Chief Running Blind says that if I want to go with her, then I must drink the horrible muck as well. I don’t think I’ve got a choice. I take a big gulp of the rancid tasting, foul smelling brew.

“What happens next?”

“You will go on a journey.”

“Where are we going?”

“Don’t worry about going anywhere, the journey will come to you.”

The stars are restless. They are gettin’ all squirmy. They twinkle and wane more vividly. They don’t want to stay put like they oughtta. They forego their normal positioning to chase one another about.

The Indian is gone.