Rue tried to look debonair and calm. She thought about Uncle Rabiffano, and allowed herself the hint of a dandy’s slouch. She thought that she might – at least – be fooling the decklings.
Percy continued protesting at Quesnel’s vanished form. “The current must have moved from its last charted location – there’s no way I could have predicted––”
Rue interrupted him. “Never mind that now, Percy. Virgil, stop squealing and use a handkerchief to clean your shoe. There’s a good lad. Percy, grab the helm and prepare for a hop.”
Percy’s eyes widened. “But I’m not prepared.”
Rue gave a rather ferocious grin. “No time – we’re making this hop now. It’ll be a good test of the Custard’s mettle.”
Percy stared at her. She did look a mite crazed.
“Now, Percival!”
Percy sprang into action. He yanked at levers and cranked dials, getting the ship out of flotsam status.
Rue ordered the mainsail pulled in. It took the decklings longer than she liked. She’d have to run some drills on them to improve speed.
“Propeller at the ready?” she barked.
Percy grabbed and cranked over the appropriate bar. “Ready, captain.”
The Spotted Custard farted.
Rue chose to ascribe it to nerves. “Steady, girl,” she said to the ship, then to Percy, “Which nodule registered? Are we dropping or lifting to catch the Shifter?”
Percy examined the probe. “Lifting, captain.”
Rue picked up the speaking tube that connected her to engineering and pressed the button that would sound a bell there.
“Yes?” Quesnel’s voice was almost snappish.
“Prepare for a puff, chief engineer.”
“I don’t know about this. We’re pushing her.”
“She was made to be pushed or Dama wouldn’t have given her to me.”
“As you say, mon petit chou.” She heard Quesnel turn away from the tube and murmur into the hubbub, “It’s a lift, Aggie – have them stoke all boilers hot.”
There came the sound of Aggie yelling.
Quesnel returned to Rue. “Ready, chérie.”
“Here we go!” Rue hung up the speaker tube and turned to face Percy.
“Do it, Professor Tunstell. Now, please.”
Percy pressed the puffer button to give the balloon its boost.
They bobbed out of the Gibraltar Loop into the loose uncharted swirls of the Charybdis currents. The Spotted Custard’s balloon caved in at several points as the dirigible was buffeted in various directions at once. The gondola section shook. Prim, still seated in a chair on the main deck, gave a little squeak of alarm and dived to secure the tea things.
“Find that current, professor,” Rue ordered, her heart in her throat.
“Almost there, captain, a little higher,” reassured Percy, looking utterly terrified.
He pressed the puffer button again.
They rose, but the balloon began to collapse inward on the leeward side. The gondola lurched to starboard as the balloon caught one current, while the lower part of the ship caught another. The two halves were being torn apart. If they weren’t quick, the gondola could separate from the balloon entirely and they would spiral down to certain death far below.
“Not enough power,” yelled Percy.
Rue battled the tilt of the deck, reaching for the speaking tube, holding her hat to her head out of instinct. She lifted the tube to her mouth, pressing the alert.
“What now?” came Quesnel’s voice, oddly calm under the circumstances, only that extra French to his accent indicating stress.
“More heat to the boilers, please, Quesnel,” said Rue, forgetting to use formal address in her fear.
“Since you ask so nicely, mon petit chou,” was Quesnel’s pleasant reply.
Rue nodded at Percy. “Again.”
Percy gave The Spotted Custard another puff.
The ship rose up in a quick bob, hooked in and then…
Everything levelled out, the balloon returned to its chubby ladybird state, the gondola hung straight down as if it had never tilted. Everything went calm as a loon floating serenely on placid waters.
Rue set the tube down with a whoosh of breath overset by a terrible temptation to give in to wobbly knees and collapse to the deck. But as captain she had no time for such silliness. She turned to Percy. “Everything as ordered, Professor Tunstell?”
Percy blinked at her. “Erm. Yes, captain. A completely seamless hop, as I predicted.”
“Indeed, seamless.” Rue arched an eyebrow at this outrageous statement. She turned to Virgil who was lurking to one side with a group of panting decklings. They’d only just managed to lower the mainsail in time for the hop.
“Deckhands, decklings, everyone still solid? Virgil?”
“Floating pretty, Lady Captain,” said Virgil with a grin. He’d recovered his aplomb with the remarkable speed of the very young. The other decklings only seemed able to nod, awed by what had just occurred.
Rue picked the speaker tube back up.
“What now, chérie?” came Quesnel’s voice, now devoid of accent.
“How’s everything in engineering?”
“Bit of a bumpy ride but we weathered it well and good. Couple of welts and bruises, the odd small burn, nothing requiring Matron. Got us a coal spill to clean up if you could spare any hands from up top?”
It was certainly a good thing no one needed a surgeon as they didn’t have one on board. Rue pointed at the decklings. “You six, report to engineering. Back up here post haste, mind you. We’ll need that sail up again shortly. You two to the crow’s nest – I want eyes on that current. You two stay on deck at alert.”
They sprang to do her bidding. Virgil wandered over.
“Six coming down to you now, Mr Lefoux,” said Rue into the speaker.
“Ta, mon petit chou.” This time Quesnel hung up on her.
Rue replaced the tube and went to attend to her last concern.
“It’s a good thing you started out bossy before you were given command,” Primrose said from where she sat, slightly swallowed by a partly collapsed deck-chair.
“Are you well, Prim?”
“One tea-cup down. But it was empty, thank goodness, so nothing spilled. And the pot’s still warm. Would you like a refresher?”
Rue, feeling all-conquering and victorious, waved a casual hand about her head in what she felt was a field marshal manner. “Just pour it, darling, just pour it.”