Robert Appleton - Prehistoric Clock

Kibo winced and looked away to the sunken lifeboat. “Then his spirit joins another three of our number, and Mr. Briory was killed, as well.”

“No. What happened?”

“Let us reach shore first, then I will describe our ordeal. Stay clear of the sides, you men.” He scolded two of his engine crew, then led Verity to the buckled bell winch. “I think we should cut the bell loose, Eembu. There is no way to hoist it up, and the only reason I didn’t cast if free and head back to shore is because you were still down there.”

Verity gently squeezed his arm. “You did well, my friend. Grace under pressure, that’s what I like to see.”

“I am sorry Djimon won’t be with us. The whole crew liked his…affableness-is that the correct word?”

She smiled. “Close enough, brother. That’s close enough. Now go ahead, get us underway. Have Kwame and MacDonald cut the bell hose.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Meanwhile, Reardon wrapped the brass clockwork in his waistcoat and hurried it back to the safety of the engine room, pausing only to compliment Verity on her “brave show, which may have saved all our necks.”

“You’re welcome, Profess-” But he was already out of earshot, deep in consternation. After all, there was no guarantee the intricate part hadn’t been damaged beyond repair.

Billy tugged her jacket down until she matched his height, and then hugged her for the longest time. Such a sweet, affectionate boy-he reached for Embrey’s hand and pulled him down to share the embrace. An extraordinary pang of contentment, fleeting though it was, made her feel…complete somehow. Alive and unguarded. Embrey’s hand nestled on the back of her neck, and her heart began to thump, thump, thump…

“You jus’ described that exact same ’un what attacked us.” Billy flicked to the appropriate page in his dinosaur book. “Lio-pleu-ro-don-that’s how Cecil says it. Big paddle-like limbs and massive, strong jaws like a crocodile, only it were a lot bigger than what it says in ’ere.”

“We estimated between fifty and sixty feet, didn’t we?” Verity turned to Embrey. He wasn’t really listening, and instead watched with fascination the re-coupling of A and B decks. Tangeni had begun his descent, and as B-deck was now moored on the lake shore, this promised to be a routine attachment. Verity’s men had already raised the guide spars to catch A-deck’s descending hull. The airship’s link chains dangled ready to be caught and locked into position. Her only concern was that the liopleurodon attacks had bent the bulwarks out of shape-a misalignment of the two decks meant they could not be cranked back into place together. The Empress Matilda might be divorced for good.

“Whose idea was the lifeboat, Billy?” She’d already heard the tale from Kibo but wanted to keep the youngster’s attention. The re-coupling was a deafening procedure-iron clanking and scraping on iron-and to a child, the sudden claustrophobic weight that bore down upon B-deck might be a frightening experience.

“Um, it were Cecil’s idea.” The lad blankly poured over the pages of his book. “After two men were snatched, ’e reckoned we had to do somethin’ quick. That bloody lio-pleu-ro-don kept jumpin’ out of the water, bashin’ against the side of the ship. ’E smashed us underwater an’ nearly capsized us. That’s when it got them first ’uns-them two aeronauts-they slid to the hatches and the monster got ’em.” He glanced up at Verity, then gripped the bell house rail next to Embrey as B-deck’s hull darkened the sky. “So Cecil said we should rig a lifeboat with some hydrogen canisters an’ let the monster attack it. Hydrogen explodes, see. ’E wanted the other men to shoot the canisters while the dinosaur were attackin’ that lifeboat.” Billy’s storytelling grew nervous and rapid. “But it were over with too quick an’ nobody got a shot off before the boat were sunk. Next time we were tipped on our side, Briory rolled into the bugger’s jaws an’ we never saw ’im again.”

Clank, clank went the airship’s hull onto the guide spars as Verity’s men rushed about fastening the link chains into place. B-deck scraped into position simply enough, and the Empress groaned as she leaned to one side under the extra weight.

Embrey gave her an appreciative nod, as if he hadn’t been convinced the re-coupling could work, before joining the aft capstan team to crank the decks together once and for all.

She sent Billy to Reardon in the engine room, out of harm’s way, and then rotated the forward capstan with her last remaining crewmen. The final clank of a Gannet’s re-coupling usually heralded several hearty huzzahs. This time, dead silence.

She sighed as the whole ship lifted from the beach. Gallons of purged ballast thundered from A-deck into the kelpy shallows. She’d lost many good men these past few days-far too many. At this rate, would anyone be left alive to make the time jump?

Snuggled alone in the bough nest, a single blanket cushioning his backside from the cold metal floor, Embrey wrapped his arms around his knees and took in the spectacular prehistoric sunset. At this soundless height, where only creaks from the balloon canopies kept him company, the vastness of this unvisited world stretched eerily in every direction. Neither car horns nor clattering hooves nor the bark of a feral dog emerged from London’s streets as he watched. He was truly some place he should not be.

Before mankind would rise to prominence, the entire known lifespan of Mount Everest had to unfold. According to Reardon, the number of days from here to 1908 was comparable to the number of stars in a small galaxy. And unless the machine worked, they would all die before the first rose ever spread its petals. This was so long ago, even romance didn’t exist.

The police chase through the storm seemed an epoch ago. Hell, Reardon’s accidental intervention had occurred in the nick of time…the literal nick of time. Unspeakable, yes, but fortuitous all the same. Given the choice between being hanged for treason or lost in a forgotten world, he was perhaps the only one, apart from Reardon, who’d secretly thanked his lucky stars for this accident.

“Ahoy, night owl.” A woman’s voice made him jump.

“Who goes there?”

Verity poked her head up over the rail. “First the depths, now the clouds? We really need to keep our feet on the ground, Embrey.”

“What are you doing up here?”

“What are you?” She climbed into the nest and crouched opposite him-to bring bad news? Berate him for coming up here without her permission?

“For some peace and quiet,” he said. “I fancied soaking up a little prehistoric magic-you know, before the back-breaking begins. This looked as good a spot as any.”

“I never pegged you for a deep-thinking fellow, Embrey.”

Seeing her dressed once more in her safari outfit-blouse, flared jodhpurs, half chaps and boots-quickened his pulse and recalled the time he’d seen her climbing the steps outside her cabin, in those last promise-filled moments before she’d turned on him. But that feud had been her doing, her prejudice. He’d done nothing except bear an innocent family name.

“You look worried,” she said. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Not exactly-well, not recently-”

She sighed, blinking her big, inscrutable hazel eyes. Embrey loved the way her lace cuffs, too big for her wrists, flapped in the breeze. But there wasn’t even the hint of an apology forthcoming. Not good enough.

“Things were said that can’t easily be forgotten. First you humiliated me in front of the entire congregation, then you insulted Father-without even bothering to hear my story.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You ass! I came up here in-”