looked doubtful.
“Come on, Arvel. We can do this. We have the best ship.”
Arvel gave an exasperated snort. “Yes, but the gondola is
everything. The Germans have the edge when it comes to warfare, but our maneuverability
and the retractable gondola offers the best design. Neither the French nor the
Belgians, nor anyone else can touch us. Without the gondola, that German
monstrosity will be all the more impressive.”
They’d planned for every contingency except this one. Even if Rudy
could straighten out the crumpled metal, Simon wasn’t certain that they had
time to get it working before the weather cleared.
“It will be expensive,” Rudy said.
Simon grinned. “Don’t worry about the money.”
Arvel gave him a knowing look. From the very beginning, their
friendship had always been based on absolute trust. Arvel always made sure of
their safety in the air, and Simon always made sure they had the money they
needed to keep them flying. His apprenticeship under Master Benoit had seen to
that.
“We’ll need it up front,” Arvel said. “That may affect your other
plans.” He had lost his defeated look and his color had returned.
Relief flooded through Simon. “Not at all. Besides, even if the
gondola isn’t perfect, we’ve still got the act and Louie’s fireworks. We’ll
dazzle them with our showmanship.”
Arvel pointed to the trio of acrobats stretching out beneath one
of the French ships. “They’ve got an act, too. No doubt every one of these
Captains has the same idea. We've got to have the gondola, or we’re done before
we start.”
Simon nodded. It’s never
been just about the money for him. He wants to prove himself and his designs in
front of the Queen and the other captains, too. “All right. Let’s go see about
finding a forge.” He glanced around for the dog. “Where’s Vectis?” He whistled,
but the dog did not come. He called up into the cabin of the ship. “Come on, Vectis,
where are you?”
“Give it up,” said Arvel. “We’ve got a lot to do. The dog will
show up. He can’t have gone far.”
CHAPTER
11
Roman listened impassively as the Honorable Cecil Gibbs of Bristol
lectured him on the historic importance of the airshow. Gibbs gestured broadly,
as if he were speaking to a crowd, and his proprietary manner seemed to declare
his dominion over the upcoming event, although Gibb’s poetic waxing about the
‘glorious airfield’ was a bit overstated. To anyone who’d grown up on the
island, the area had always been known as the brickyard and mudchute; where the
muck from the bottom of the locks was dredged up, spewed out, and slopped into
forms for bricks.
“I say, have you ever been to an airshow, Inspector?”
Roman gave him a polite smile. “I’m afraid not, sir. Although we
did use hot air balloons as observation lookouts during the war.”
“It’s quite exciting, I assure you. Those of us in the know,”
Gibbs tapped his forefinger to his receding hairline, “Believe the Queen
herself plans to make an appearance.” He clasped his hands atop his rather
impressive belly. “Yes indeed. She’s
finally come to her senses about the need for a Royal Air Squadron. Just think
of it! We have ships arriving from all over Europe—even a battleship cruiser
from Germany! I can’t imagine she would pass up a chance to see that beauty. We know how partial she is
to those Germans, eh? I hear rumor of a royal purse will be awarded to the ship
that wins the day. If there’s a prize to be won, no doubt those German chaps will
have it sewn up handily.”
Roman felt the color rise in his cheeks at the rudeness of the
remark. With Albert’s untimely passing, the Queen’s public appearances had
become as rare as hen’s teeth. “There’s no call to insult his heritage, sir.”
Gibbs pushed his eyeglasses back up to the bridge of his nose and
gave him a closer inspection. “Oh, I beg your pardon. Were you over there with
our chaps? General
“Come on, Arvel. We can do this. We have the best ship.”
Arvel gave an exasperated snort. “Yes, but the gondola is
everything. The Germans have the edge when it comes to warfare, but our maneuverability
and the retractable gondola offers the best design. Neither the French nor the
Belgians, nor anyone else can touch us. Without the gondola, that German
monstrosity will be all the more impressive.”
They’d planned for every contingency except this one. Even if Rudy
could straighten out the crumpled metal, Simon wasn’t certain that they had
time to get it working before the weather cleared.
“It will be expensive,” Rudy said.
Simon grinned. “Don’t worry about the money.”
Arvel gave him a knowing look. From the very beginning, their
friendship had always been based on absolute trust. Arvel always made sure of
their safety in the air, and Simon always made sure they had the money they
needed to keep them flying. His apprenticeship under Master Benoit had seen to
that.
“We’ll need it up front,” Arvel said. “That may affect your other
plans.” He had lost his defeated look and his color had returned.
Relief flooded through Simon. “Not at all. Besides, even if the
gondola isn’t perfect, we’ve still got the act and Louie’s fireworks. We’ll
dazzle them with our showmanship.”
Arvel pointed to the trio of acrobats stretching out beneath one
of the French ships. “They’ve got an act, too. No doubt every one of these
Captains has the same idea. We've got to have the gondola, or we’re done before
we start.”
Simon nodded. It’s never
been just about the money for him. He wants to prove himself and his designs in
front of the Queen and the other captains, too. “All right. Let’s go see about
finding a forge.” He glanced around for the dog. “Where’s Vectis?” He whistled,
but the dog did not come. He called up into the cabin of the ship. “Come on, Vectis,
where are you?”
“Give it up,” said Arvel. “We’ve got a lot to do. The dog will
show up. He can’t have gone far.”
CHAPTER
11
Roman listened impassively as the Honorable Cecil Gibbs of Bristol
lectured him on the historic importance of the airshow. Gibbs gestured broadly,
as if he were speaking to a crowd, and his proprietary manner seemed to declare
his dominion over the upcoming event, although Gibb’s poetic waxing about the
‘glorious airfield’ was a bit overstated. To anyone who’d grown up on the
island, the area had always been known as the brickyard and mudchute; where the
muck from the bottom of the locks was dredged up, spewed out, and slopped into
forms for bricks.
“I say, have you ever been to an airshow, Inspector?”
Roman gave him a polite smile. “I’m afraid not, sir. Although we
did use hot air balloons as observation lookouts during the war.”
“It’s quite exciting, I assure you. Those of us in the know,”
Gibbs tapped his forefinger to his receding hairline, “Believe the Queen
herself plans to make an appearance.” He clasped his hands atop his rather
impressive belly. “Yes indeed. She’s
finally come to her senses about the need for a Royal Air Squadron. Just think
of it! We have ships arriving from all over Europe—even a battleship cruiser
from Germany! I can’t imagine she would pass up a chance to see that beauty. We know how partial she is
to those Germans, eh? I hear rumor of a royal purse will be awarded to the ship
that wins the day. If there’s a prize to be won, no doubt those German chaps will
have it sewn up handily.”
Roman felt the color rise in his cheeks at the rudeness of the
remark. With Albert’s untimely passing, the Queen’s public appearances had
become as rare as hen’s teeth. “There’s no call to insult his heritage, sir.”
Gibbs pushed his eyeglasses back up to the bridge of his nose and
gave him a closer inspection. “Oh, I beg your pardon. Were you over there with
our chaps? General
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