I have had a sense of matters coming to some sort of Culmination, and anxiety for our safety has spurred me to near-frenetic activity. I feel a need to be everywhere and see everything.

After this afternoon's mishap with the captain and the rolling lead, I stayed mainly around the deck. I listened discreetly as Lt Cooper informed Lt Wooster of the accident, and so heard that Mr Moorhead expects that the Captain will likely be unconcious for 2 or 3 days. Oh, Dear.

Lt Wooster, to his credit, seems to have taken the news with reassuring gravity. He seems ready to hear advice from Mr Caine and Lt Cooper on maintaining smooth function aboard the Griffin.

Their discussion of the duty roster led me to realise that I have never explored the "crow's nest." I climbed up directly, to the evident astonishment of the lookout on duty there. Despite his startlement, he was good enough to loan me his glass. He helped me identify several typical sights.

As I came down, I heard Lt Lochsley berating the sailors in charge of the armaments locker for failing to account for all the lost balls. I could tell that they thought he was in the wrong, that he couldn't possibly have committed the locker's contents so thoroughly to memory.

(I recognise the signs of a rebellious heart from my years with the Merton's oldest girl, Emmeline, who was always positive that she knew everything, but that she must humour me until she was old enough to fire me)

He was shown to be correct in his reckoning, however, when Edward brought him a large collection of the lead balls which he had prised out of various crannies. As annoying as Lt Lochsley can be, I appreciate his satisfaction in knowing his job and doing it better than anyone.

In hunting for lead, Edward also found a stray rivet head. I take it as a sign of my anxiety the I urged him to look around and make sure it hadn't come loose from some essential portion of the ship (one can't be too careful with spies aboard). I was just in time to tell him to look only in the inside of the ship...he had been about to lower himself overboard.

I saw Sir Cosmo and Miss Chigwidgeon walking about the deck. I hurried over to speak with them. As I approached, it became clear that Sir Cosmo had not yet fully informed her that her error had caused injury to the Captain, no doubt to spare her anxiety and guilt. At that point, we broke the news to her as gently as we could, but it was clear that she was mortified and very concerned for the Captain and for the crew's opinion of her.

Sir Cosmo was called to join the Officers for a briefing. While we waited nearby outside the briefing room, my attempts to hear the proceedings were thwarted by a riotous complaint from Mr Brinkley, who was plainly intoxicated, about Lt Wooster. He was joined in this rattling by Mr Hargood and Mr Yeardsley. Miss Whitnell, who had joined us by then, was particularly offended by this unsatisfactory behaviour, and resolved to tell Mr Caine, whose grasp of shipboard etiquette would lead him to appropriate action.

I then rejoined Edward in his examination of the ship. Lo and behold, he discovered a mysterious parcel hidden inside a ventilation shaft leading to the Engine Room. Inside this bundle we found a spanner, a length of pipe, a pressure gauge, and an item Edward could not identify. The canvas satchel it was wrapped in was nondescript and held no scents, even to Owen's nose.

We sent Owen to get Miss Whitnell, who suggested that Mr Ramsay might be able to discover something about it. We tried to be unobtrusive as we brought it away to be examined.

Mr Ramsay's examination showed him, in some sort of mystic vision, the bundle being stowed in the vent shaft in Newcastle, before this voyage began, and that it has been undisturbed since. If we accept this as evidence, it suggests that if these tools were stowed here to assist some plan of Sabotage, the plan has not yet been carried out. Mr Ramsay also saw the face of the sailor who planted the parcel, but cannot at present identify him among the crew.

Now Edward, Sir Cosmo, and Lt Nottle (the Engineer-- who Edward and Sir Cosmo have deemed fully trustworthy) will try to discover how the plot was supposed to be implemented. After this examination, we plan to reposition the parcel, marked similarly to the false Will.

When I next saw Miss Chigwidgeon, she informed me that she is planning to arrange to use the galley to "cook a dinner." This is plainly her plan to infiltrate the galley and observe its crew. I can tell that she has suspected Mr Yeardsley (yes, my favorite cook!) of wrongdoing since she and Salmalin spotted him creeping around the deck the night of the clock theft. Our seeing him with the loathsome Brinkley has cemented her dislike.

Anyroad, she made a foray to the Galley, (with myself and Salmalin in attendance) to inquire if she could prepare a meal one evening. Mr Yeardsley said he'd have to get Lt Cooper's permission. He always seems uneasy when I come into the galley, though there are surely innocuous reasons to account for that.

Supper in the Officer's Mess was marked by an unsettled air. Concern for the Captain's health has everyone on Tenterhooks.

I sat by Lt Spode and attempted to cheer him with discourse upon our mutual interest in Entomology, but his attention seemed mainly inward. I could see expressions playing across his face which seemed quite irrelevant to our conversation.

The rest of the evening has been calm. I have been able to do a bit more on my grey dress--I've stitched all the major seams, and will be able to start on the front placket once I check the fit. I will need some help to fit it. I hate to trouble Miss Whitnell to assist me, since she seems quite absorbed in her studies with Mr Ramsay and Mrs Cuthbert. I'm sure Miss Chigwidgeon would be glad to help, but I hesitate to let her anywhere near my person with a handful of pins. Well, it's too late at night to trouble with it now. I should try to sleep.

Thursday, 12 May, 1870
(midday)

This morning saw our committee sharing information gained in our particular areas:

Sir Cosmo and Edward report finding the purpose of the hidden equipment. It is, as we suspected, a sabotage kit, which was designed to build up excess steam pressure and explode the ship's boiler.

Captain Rodgers is beginning to regain conciousness intermittently, but is still far from coherent. The work Mrs Cuthbert did with him yesterday is apparently having some benefit. Sir Cosmo has been sitting with him from time to time.

I must say, Sir Cosmo is an entirely remarkable man. He seems to have struck up a solid friendship with the Captain, based, I think, on a mutual assurance of competence. Most powerful men I have been acquainted with (before my time with the League) have been too concerned with their personal prestige to work smoothly in this sort of partnership. This sort of attendance on the sickbed requires a compassionate patience not usually found in Gentlemen, and it's usually left to women. I'm glad Sir Cosmo has taken it on, as I should certainly do no good. I can't stand being shut up with an unconcious person, and incoherent babbling annoys me severely.

Speaking of babbling, Lt Wooster (or Commander Wooster as I must call him while he is in charge of the ship) made one of the worst speeches I ever heard. It did have the advantage of gathering the entire crew, then throwing all into a state of mental agitation which allowed Mr Ramsay to spot the parcel culprit from his vision. It was Mr Vanderlay, who so politely escorted me to the wheelhouse Monday last.

I don't want to assume his guilt on the basis of a vision, nor can I rule him out because he was nice to me. I suppose I should know by now that polite behaviour is not a reliable signifier of moral integrity.

Sir Cosmo further reported that Jimmy had delivered the false Will and had been instructed by Dawkins to note the contents of particular rooms in detail: Sir Cosmo's, Dr Wilson's, and Mr Cuthbert's. Various theories have been proposed regarding this selection of targets:
-These three are the most apparently wealthy, so it could be simple interest in cash,
-Two out of three might have plans for inventions and armaments, valuable to a spy
-All three are known to possess firearms (and perhaps other weaponry)

Jimmy's instructions give us no clear information as yet.

In General, the day's schedule has been:
Breakfast,
Defence lessons on deck,
Hindi lessons,
Lunch.

Next we will have a shipwide fire drill, a regular weekly activity at sea. All of us civilians have been instructed to report to the lifeboats (and stay out of the crew's way!). Later, I will be assisting Miss Chigwidgeon in the galley, as she has received permission to cook this evening. I am not sure what she is planning to prepare.

(Thursday evening)
Poor Miss Chigwidgeon has had a very trying day. Our presence onboard ship has begun to cause more inconvenience to the sailors. After the fire drill, I heard several sailors complaining about "bad luck"--citing the strange storm and the Captain's injury--and blaming the women aboard!

Just as I was considering telling them what they should know about superstitious claptrap, Lt Lochsley came upon them, berated them for cowardice and proceeded to deliver a monumental oration about the glory of the English Navy which nearly had Me ready to enlist!

Anyhow, the fire drill was impressive. The ship is equipped with huge pumps which spray seawater through hoses to any place aboard. Everyone knew exactly what to do, right down to whose turn it was to mop up the water after the drill. This knowledge proved reassuring later.

I instructed Edward to spend some time documenting the experiments he's been working on (I hadn't yet seen the demonstration, which proved to require a large washtub full of water in the tiny cabin he supposedly shares with Salmalin--I had to tell him to empty it carefully and take it out on deck). He and Dr Wilson, and at times Sir Cosmo, have been working feverishly to make the "Sinkable Boat" model into a working prototype with a variety of possible uses. Plans seem to include adding photographic equipment and underwater rockets.

Meanwhile, I accompanied Miss Chigwidgeon to the Galley to assist (and chaperone!) while she prepared a dinner.

Miss Chigwidgeon was just inquiring after what ingredients were available, barely starting to get a few things heating, with Mr Yeardsley looking on rather balefully, when one of the pans burst into flame.

Now, I have observed that good cook can generally smother a pan-fire and go on cooking without turning a hair. For some reason, this little bit of flame became a roaring conflagration in that tiny galley before you could say "boullion."

I propelled Miss Chigwidgeon out into the passageway as quick as can be, to give the galley crew room to work. Just as the fire bell was ringing, I looked down to see flames inching up Miss Chigwidgeon's skirts. We were just starting to pat out the flames when Mr Dawkins came toward us with a soaked blanket. My instinct was to block him--to be honest, I thought the blanket might even have something flammable on it, I distrust Dawkins so.

Before I could do a thing, Dawkins was laid out on the deck at Mr Salmalin's feet. I guess I'm not the only one who didn't trust Dawkins. Salmalin handed me the blanket and Miss Chigwidgeon's clothing was safely extinguished.

I had a Chilling Reminder when Mr Salmalin, standing above the helpless Dawkins, asked if Dawkins should wake up (meaning "ever'). Just because he has given his allegiance to the League, and is willing to abide by our less draconian ethical code, does not change the fact that his own internal moral sense is that of a religiously-motivated assassin. I know he is very dangerous. Yet somehow I trust him completely.

I also found it strangely flattering that he should trust my judgment enough to stay his hand at my word. He knows that I'm not sentimental, nor afraid to give my opinion frankly in a very serious matter. How many Englishmen would ask a woman to make such a judgment? Fortunately for Dawkins, I thought it premature to place the ultimate verdict upon him. Besides, he might yet be needed to draw out co-conspirators. Mr Salmalin took him out of harm's way.

Once the kitchen fire was out and everyone returned to their stations, I took Miss Chigwidgeon to the infirmary to get some salve for her burns. Mr Moorhead gave us thorough and slightly anxious instructions about the injuries. We were all relieved that the burns didn't require her to stay in the infirmary for his professional attention.

Poor Miss Chigwidgeon is so downhearted. She is sure that the crew must hate her, what with the big storm, the Captain's injury, and now the wreck of the galley. Come to think of it, she's probably right. The Sailors DO blame us for their "Bad Luck." Well, too bad. We all have our work to do, and they'll eventually notice that their nattering and finger-pointing won't improve anything.

Perhaps if Miss Chigwidgeon could be kept busy with familiar sorts of tasks assisting Sir Cosmo, she would feel more confident and be less prone to mishaps. Of course, that never spared the newts back in Town...

Miss Chigwidgeon and I went back to our cabin to dress her burns and stayed there through supper. We ate bread and sausages, all that could be arranged due to the damage to the galley. The bread was good, it must have been baked just this morning. I didn't dare try the sausages.

After supper, Sir Cosmo invited us and Miss Whitnell to his suite to play cards. We hadn't been playing for long when I heard the distinctive sound of Edward's feet in the corridor, going toward the deck. I excused myself from the card table and went to retrieve him.

I spotted him, and was just about to speak sharply, when I heard lowered voices coming from a shadowed area near the lifeboats, and realized that Edward was peering intently toward them. Together we moved surreptitiously to a superstructure which allowed us to overlook the conference without being noticed.

There was Vanderlay, speaking harshly to one of the cabin boys. Vanderlay instructed the boy, "only sell it to who I tell you," and then in turn Vanderlay received a report on the movements of various officers and their batmen. As the cabin boy scurried off, our dear Dawkins approached. Vanderlay chastised him regarding "the pretty girl's inheritance," apparently concerned that Dawkin's messing about would draw our attention to their other illicit activities. After concluding his "office hours," Mr Vanderlay sauntered off and Edward and I returned to Sir Cosmo's suite to report.

Plainly, Vanderlay is conducting a brisk business in contraband (probably rum). Although we have a variety of evidence pointing to Vanderlay as a central figure in various unsavoury goings-on aboard the Griffin, we really don't have a solid case nor do we know the extent of his network or the scope of his plans.

We can only watch and wait.

Friday, 13 May, 1870

Today I saw an Aerofrigate for the first time--What an astonishing sight!

I saw it because I was on deck (after Defence lessons) and I heard the peculiar rhythmic noise of the on-board telegraph being used by the lookout in the crow's nest. I have been told it is used for conveying urgent information to the wheelhouse, so I concluded he'd spotted something.

I was up the ladder before I knew it. The lookouts seem to be getting used to my interest in their work, as the fellow on duty didn't seem too surprised to see me.

Lt Cooper, on the other hand, was somewhat startled to see me there before him. I thought it best to yield the first look through the glass to Lt Cooper, as he has much more to do with the safety of the ship than I. Once he had watched for a bit, though, he handed the glass to me and I looked while the Lt and the lookout discussed the matter.

It was quite large, a bulbous or ovoid shape with a relatively small cabin or gondola below. The entire thing must be huge, since I understand it carries a significant crew. I couldn't see much color or detail at this extreme distance. We watched for some time, but it didn't come much closer.

On the opposite horizon (West), a storm was approaching, and Lt Cooper indicated that the Aerofrigate would probably need to retreat to its tender and anchor to it during the storm. This seemed to bear out, as the Aerofrigate gradually disappeared.

Now we had to worry about that storm. Mrs Cuthbert, Miss Whitnell and Mr Ramsay spent much of the day observing it through various mystical means. Their conclusions were:
1) that it was generated the same way as the violent storm of Tuesday night, and
2) someone on the French vessel was attempting to control it in some mystical fashion.

In any case, the storm proved not very serious, just rain and relatively distant lightning. Still, its continuing effects are making me strangely agitated. I have scarcely been hungry all day, and I have spent most of my time running up and down the ladder to the crow's nest, poking into everybody's work, and generally being a nuisance. I can't seem to help myself.

I'm trying to settle my thoughts for sleep, but I have a feeling that it will be one of my very late nights.

Saturday, 14 May, 1870
(after breakfast)

Well, I have discovered an unexpected use for a stout hatpin.

I spent a restless night, much as I supposed I would. The rain and wind subsided as dawn approached. As the sound of the wind diminished, I detected a different unfamiliar sound. I looked out our porthole and I could see, indistinctly against the shifting cloud, the French Aerofrigate.

I knew the lookout must have seen her already, but I could scarcely be expected to ignore an incipient invasion and go back to sleep. For some reason, the hush aboard the ship disinclined me to wake my colleagues. In retrospect, very foolish.

I dressed hurriedly, but thoroughly bundled against the weather on deck. I crept out onto the deck, prepared to lend a hand or to get out of the way. I was surprised that no alarm had been given. I started toward the wheelhouse.

As I made my way across the deck, I heard the chilling click of a handgun being cocked, somewhere along the port side.
Fortunately I was almost to the wheelhouse. I burst in simply saying "gun" to Lt Cooper, who, I'm glad to say, didn't pause to question but followed me back toward the sound, signalling a nearby sailor to join us. As we peered 'round a corner, I could hear Mr Vanderlay's voice from between the lifeboats. He was answered by a concious and lively Captain Rodgers.

Vanderlay had his back to us, holding a gun leveled at the Captain's chest, keeping him backed against the rail.

In the distance, and approaching, I could see La Victoire. At Vanderlay's feet, a pair of Semaphore flags lay where he had dropped them.

The Captain was exhorting Vanderlay to give it up, that he'd never get away with it, that the French would betray him, every disuasion he could think of,. What could we do to stop Vanderlay and hold off the French without Jeopardising the Captain? I couldn't even talk it over with Cooper.

I had little choice but to get on with what needed doing.

I crouched and scuttled to the lifeboat where it was tethered by the rail. I laid myself down on the deck under the boat and slid forward on my stomach. I came right up to Vanderlay's feet without him noticing.

What next? I had determined to grab his leg and try to unbalance him, hoping to cause enough distraction to allow Captain Rodgers to escape, or try to get the gun away. I wished the I had a knife, then realised the my hat was held firmly to my head by a pair of pins as sharp as daggers. I drew one out stealthily, then plunged it, hard as I could, into the back of Vanderlay's knee. It proved an adequate distraction.

Vanderlay was crushed to the deck by all the men about. His gun went off in the struggle, but I don't think anyone was hurt. The Alarm was general once the gunshot sounded, but the immediate hazard was over. I was helped to my feet and I noticed Mr Kirati emerging from under the other lifeboat, where, unkown to me, he had been mirroring my actions. Only my smaller size allowed me to slide faster under the boat and attack first. He had had to remove his jacket to keep the metal buttons from sounding against the deck.

As I read back over this, it sounds awfully melodramatic. At the time, however, I was simply moving from one step to the next, doing exactly what seemed necessary. The scenic descriptions come to me only in retrospect.

Anyroad, once we had captured Vanderlay, we still had to deal with his Airborne Employers. The Griffin's gun turrents were all aimed at the Aerofrigate. The Griffin and La Victoire exchanged polite fictions in signals: La Victoire asking if we needed assistance (Ha!) and the Griffin replying, "No. Please move off to a safe distance."

The next task was to round up everyone who had been involved with Vanderlay, so as to separate those merely participating with contraband trading from those enmeshed in the treasonous French conspiracy.

Of course, the rest of the League had to be informed of the morning's events, and Sir Cosmo informed us all as to why the supposedly senseless Captain Rodgers was roaming about on deck before dawn.

Sir Cosmo told us that he and the Captain had worked out a plan to discover the Saboteurs, wherein the Captain would feign illness, and so be able to creep about and watch when everyone supposed him bedridden.

It was ultimately quite convenient that Miss Chigwidgeon's little mishap put the Captain so convincingly in the Infirmary. Sir Cosmo and the Captain had already agreed on various signs by which to communicate the Captain's midnight discoveries. This plan is the primary cause of Sir Cosmo's apparent solicitude toward Captain Rodgers.

I reported for breakfast feeling positively Ravenous! No doubt a result of all the night's excitement. Unfortunately, Mr Yeardsley is in the Brig pending investigation of his involvement in the Sabotage scheme. No one thought to prepare anything edible for me. I had tea and plain toast.

Miss Chigwidgeon and I are now relaxing in our cabin. Perhaps I shall have a little nap.

Proceed to 4. Peculiar Encounters

Return to Miss Sinclair's Diary Index

Return to Main Menu

Contents this page copyright 2002 by Ieva Ohaks. All Rights Reserved.