In a world of steamships and Progress, no one who sails due south across the Wild Sea ever returns.
No one knows why.
Dale Mortensen intends to solve the mystery. With the help of an old sailor and a reformed playboy searching for his missing sweetheart, he locates a captain and crew ambitious—not to mention crazy—enough to undertake the journey across the Wild Sea.
The Infinity and her crew sail south, but the truth of what really lies on the other side of the horizon is more amazing—and terrifying—than anything they can imagine.
It’s the adventure of a lifetime—and it may just get Dale and his friends killed.
Find out how this Young Adult steampunk adventure unfolds chapter-by-chapter every Thursday! Click here to start from the beginning. Or if you want to read it at your own pace, buy the ebook for $7.99 from Amazon, Apple, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Smashwords or Sony, or get it as a trade paperback from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or Book Depository.
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HORIZON
E. R. PASKEY
ELEVEN
GIVEN RAPHAEL’S LACK OF SAILING EXPERIENCE, procuring work for the pair of them was no easy business. It took the better part of four days before Dale found a first mate willing to sign Raphael on as a galley hand to get Dale too. Raphael, however, threw himself into the work with rather frightening single-mindedness.
Four months later, no one would have ever guessed how new he really was to sailing. He and Dale laughed over it, but the lack of any progress on the Wild Sea venture front had them both beginning to get a little twitchy. Though Dale kept an ear open for any word from Belly, things were suspiciously quiet. The only news circulating through the docks, shipyards, and pubs was the same collection of socio-political topics that always seemed to get dragged back up every few weeks.
Out of those topics, the only thing that caught—and held—Dale’s interest was news that the railroads were being expanded and a new flying machine had been invented and was beginning to transport cargo over both land and sea.
Trains, Dale could cope with; they did after all service areas through which even the best, fastest steamship could never sail. Dirigibles, on the other hand… For the first time, he felt the cold hand of fear at his throat. Should the dirigibles prove faster, safer, and more cost-effective than sailing—or at least some profitable combination of the three—his entire way of life was in serious danger.
He voiced some of this to Raphael one night. His friend was sympathetic, but had too much experience with the free market to truly grasp the reasons sailors felt so threatened. He looked up at Dale with a slightly bemused expression and shrugged his shoulders. “Learn to fly, then. The sky will be your new open sea.”
He can’t understand, thought Dale later. It’s the water beneath our feet, the tides, the waves, the wind. The sea is a part of us and flying through the air like some kind of deranged bird can’t replace it. He did not see how it could.
Within three weeks, the pair of them actually laid eyes on their first dirigible.
They had just docked in one of Varangia’s largest port cities, when a shout rose up from the crow’s nest. “Look at that! In the sky!”
Everyone in hearing range craned their necks to see what all the commotion was about. A collective gasp swept over the deck, before it gave way to stony silence. Dale was silent too, his curiosity dying as his heart sank like a rock tossed over the portside railing.
Framed against the cloudless blue sky floated what looked like a white sausage link nestled against a gleaming crimson and metal box. The Varangian crest had been painted—or sewn, Dale was not sure—on one side of the gasbag. He had no way to judge exactly how big the dirigible was, but based on the number of windows lining the gondola, Dale guessed it was fairly large.
“Magnificent!” Raphael leaned over the railing to stare up at the dirigible, hanging onto the wood with one hand and shading his eyes with the other. He jabbered excitedly to himself in Selendrian, watching the dirigible float on its way.
When it was out of sight, he spun around to face Dale with shining eyes. “Is that not amazing, my friend? Such Progress! A man can now take to the skies!”
Dale grunted in response.
Raphael did not seem to notice his lack of enthusiasm. Or if he did, he did not mind. “I would like to travel in one of those,” he said brightly. “Better, I will take Elena with me.”
“Hey, Avarez!” called the first mate. “Quit waxing poetic about that—thing—” he did not seem to be able to find a word that fit, “—and get back to the galley!”
Abomination, thought Dale mulishly.
Competition, you mean, a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him. He pushed the voice aside. He could deal with that later.
Once the ship had been unloaded, the captain gave most of the crew the night off. Dale and Raphael accordingly went looking for a pub. Dale was quiet, his mind still wrapped up in what dirigibles meant for his way of life.
Raphael, however, continued to rattle on about the dirigible and how he hoped he would actually get a chance to see one again. He managed to hold a one-sided conversation with more ease than Dale would have expected—and for longer. But even he eventually realized his friend’s interest was not with him.
“What is the matter with you, my friend?” He slapped Dale on the back. They were not far from a well-lit pub. “Do not tell me you are still depressed about the invention of those wonderful dirigibles.”
Dale stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “They’re going to take away our shipping business,” he said sharply.
“Pah.” Raphael waved a hand. “I do not for a moment believe that. Railroads did not kill the shipping industry. I do not think dirigibles will either.”
“Why?”
Raphael sighed. “It is a matter of logistics. Even I know this.” He steered Dale toward the pub. “The dirigibles, they may fly, but they can only carry so much before they are unable to get off the ground.”
Dale muttered under his breath, but he allowed the shorter man to herd him into the pub. They found seats in the back, not far from a group of rather grimy, less-than-trustworthy-looking individuals. Dale glanced sideways at them, on the verge of nudging Raphael in another direction, but his friend slid into a chair before he got the chance. It would look strange if they moved now. With a mental shake of his head, Dale took the other chair at the table.
“And if they should run into bad weather,” continued Raphael, raising a hand to capture the barmaid’s attention, “a dirigible has a very different set of problems than a steamship. In that case, it is much more dangerous. Where will they set down if there is no land in sight?” He shrugged prosaically.
“I see your point.” Dale folded his arms on the table’s well-worn surface.
“What can I get you, gentlemen?” inquired a sultry voice. The barmaid—actually one of the barmaids; there were several—appeared beside their table, smiling. The top of her blouse was loose, allowing it to bare one pretty shoulder, and her hair was pulled up in a mass of gold ringlets.
She was pretty, and she knew it.
She gave Dale a cursory look—the same look Belle used to give him, the one that meant she had not really seen him—and immediately forgot him. Instead, she leaned toward Raphael to give him a better glimpse of her cleavage and fluttered her eyelashes. “What can I get you?”
“Two ales,” replied Raphael with an answering smile. He glanced at Dale and produced a coin. “On me.” Still smiling, he slid the coin across the table toward the barmaid with the tip of one finger.
Sweeping the coin off the table and into her hand, she pocketed it and threw him a wink. “I’ll be right back.” She then proceeded to sashay away to the bar, moving through the press of men—and a few women—filling the pub. Raphael did not notice that she looked back once to see if he was watching her, but Dale did.
He glanced sideways at his friend, torn between amusement at his friend’s expense and resignation at being passed over for notice again. There were moments when Raphael flirted with ladies passing by on the street, or shop girls, or barmaids, but he seldom responded to the kind of blatant interest that girl had just shown. Instead, he played oblivious.
“What?” Raphael arched an eyebrow at him.
“You know what.”
Raphael shrugged. “She is not Elena. My Elena is prettier and she would never act that way around a complete stranger.” He smiled ruefully. “It took me long enough to realize that.”
“Right.” Dale noted the barmaid wending her way back to them, a hungry glint in her eyes. “You do realize this one’s going to need a little more persuasion?”
“Yes, yes, I noticed.” Raphael waved a hand. “Plan B.” He was inordinately proud of Plan B.
Sometimes Dale wondered what it would be like to have women of all ages falling at his feet all the time. Although really, he thought, settling in his chair to watch the show, I’d be happy with one. He could not imagine trying to keep more than one girl happy.
Besides, that was hardly asking for too much, was it? One girl who would see him and like him above all the other eligible men out there? Happily, the barmaid’s return roused him from this line of thought.
“Thank you,” said Raphael politely as she set their drinks on the table. He raised his tankard. “To your health.”
The barmaid dimpled.
“And,” Raphael continued, “to you, my friend.” He raised his beer in Dale’s direction.
“And to my lovely Elena.” Raphael raised his tankard once more. Dale lifted his as well and they drank together.
The barmaid was still standing there, though she was rapidly losing her smile. “Who’s Elena?”
“My sweetheart.” Raphael smiled dreamily. “The woman I am going to marry, though I do not deserve her.”
The barmaid deflated. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” Raphael bowed his head to her.
She disappeared to flirt with someone else and Dale raised his tankard to his lips again, shaking his head. Plan B rarely failed to work. Disappointed women who might have felt scorned otherwise—and made their full displeasure known—had the wind knocked out of their sails when Raphael talked about Elena.
It had been a brilliant idea the two of them came up with one night when an older woman would not leave Raphael alone. Raphael had, for once, been in over his head, unable to politely get rid of the woman or charm his way out of succumbing to her charms. Dale had jumped in with an entirely random question about Elena’s birthday and Raphael seized it for the lifeline it was. The woman had been far from pleased to be rejected, but Raphael had not given her a chance to slip a word in edgewise. He launched into a litany of Elena’s charms and she left in disgust.
“Despite what you might think,” commented Raphael quietly, “popularity can be quite problematic.”
Dale grinned ruefully. “You’d be one of only a handful who ever experience that particular problem, mate.”
Raphael spread his hands. “We play the cards we are dealt, my friend.” His dark eyes darkened further with regret. “I lost the woman I love because I was too busy being too irresistible to resist when it counted.”
“Interesting way of putting it.”
A hand abruptly clapped Dale on the back; he choked on the sip he had just taken. Coughing, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and blinked at Raphael. “What was that for?”
“It was not I,” said Raphael solemnly. He nodded to a figure standing off to the side.
Instantly on guard, and regretting having not been on guard, Dale twisted around. His heart leapt. “Belly!”
Belly Skoog regarded him shrewdly before tipping his head toward Raphael. “This your new friend?”
“Raphael Franco Avarez.” Raphael extended his hand.
Belly raised his eyebrows. “That’s a mouthful.”
“One could argue ‘Belly’ is not a proper name,” retorted Raphael. “But no matter.” He waved a hand. “I have heard of you. Please, join us.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Belly grabbed a chair from another table and dragged it up to theirs without spilling a drop from the tankard in his hand.
“Any news?” asked Dale eagerly. It had been months since he last spoke to Belly; surely his appearance now meant something.
“What, ya mean a man can’t stop to chat with a friend he ain’t seen in months?” asked Belly sarcastically.
Chastised, Dale glanced down at the table before looking up at the old sailor again. “You know I’m glad to see you, Belly, I just—”
“Want information. I know, I know.” Belly drained the last of his ale and extended the tankard. “Buy me a drink.”
Dale obliged.
Once Belly had a fresh tankard, he regarded Dale over the top of it. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just spit it out. Ya ain’t goin’ to like what I have to say, lad.”
Raphael laughed. “That is what you have to spit out?”
Belly fixed him with a glare before turning to Dale again. “It’s lucky you’re here. I’ve heard of a venture. Just cropped up this past week.”
“You have? That’s wonderful news.”
“You ain’t heard the catch yet.”
Dale stilled.
“What kind of catch?” demanded Raphael.
“A man by the name of Peabody is takin’ a dirigible across the Wild Sea in two weeks.”
“What?” Dale rocked back in his seat as though he had been physically shoved. “A dirigible?”
“Keep yer voice down,” warned Belly. “It ain’t common knowledge yet. They don’t want every Tom, Dick, and Harry with an iota of curiosity about the Legend beatin’ down the doors tryin’ to join up.”
“A dirigible.” Raphael let the words slide over his tongue and then leaned over the table. His dark eyes glittered with mingled anticipation and excitement. “Where does one sign up?”
Dale and Belly both stared at him. “Hey, now,” said Dale sharply. “What do you mean by that?”
“It is very simple.” Raphael spread his hands with a little shrug. “This Peabody plans to cross the Wild Sea. I wish to cross the Wild Sea. I will join him.”
“And what about sailing?” Dale stared at him in mingled shock and horror. “What about us going together on a venture?”
“Come with me.”
“Oh, no.” Sitting back in his chair, Dale folded his arms across his chest. “The day I leave ground or water for the air is the day I’ll turn myself in to the loony bin to get my head examined.”
“It is an opportunity,” insisted Raphael. “The first opportunity we have had.”
“There’ll be another,” said Dale stubbornly.
Raphael muttered something under his breath.
Dale did not quite understand it, but he had a good idea. He turned to Belly. “That’s all you have to say?”
“Don’t kill the messenger, lad,” warned Belly, rising to his feet again. “I’m merely tellin’ ya what I’ve heard.” His mechanical leg made its odd thumping sound as he left their table.
Dale looked over at Raphael. “If you want to go, go. I’m waiting for a ship.”
“Fine.” Throwing a coin onto the table to cover his meal, Raphael stalked away to the room they were splitting for the night.
A dirigible. Dale’s upper lip curled in disgust. What is that man thinking?
Find out how this Young Adult steampunk adventure unfolds chapter-by-chapter every Thursday! Or if you want to keep reading right now, buy the ebook for $7.99 from Amazon, Apple, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Smashwords or Sony, or get it as a trade paperback from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or Book Depository.
Copyright © 2013 E. R. Paskey