The Chase of the Saltire: An Adventure in Multiple Parts

[davedove]

Very interesting, the same setting again, but from an entirely different point of view.

[Rob Wright]

III

The ferry’s double stacks puffed great columns of smoke as the mighty wheels churned the locals waters as it steamed northward. The cold fall winds blew steadily down upon the decks the passengers huddling together for warmth.

Stefania sat near the cabin’s tiny window composing a letter home as John and Rebecca sat at the table the remains of a fair supper off to the side as they went over the file once more.

“This Captain Panache comes across as a brutal violent fellow,” John noted as he read the information Grant had provided.

“Downright abusive it sounds, having crewmen humiliate and toss this Grant fellow around like a...a...toy!” Rebecca set the file down. “It sounds to good to be true.”

“I agree,’ John said. ‘I’m not sold on this Grant’s trustworthiness.”

“Throw in the colony troubles and it looks more and more like a Britannia plot to cause trouble north of the border,” Rebecca sipped at her port.

“There are some down in London still fuming over the debacle with the fissionables,’ John noted as he leaned back and smoothed his tweed waistcoat.

A sudden blast of cold ocean wind filled the room as Maureen entered struggling briefly with the door before it slammed shut with a solid thump. “Bloody hell,” she growled out as she set down the the ice. “No sign of our “friends.” probably laying low and doing the same as us.” She mixed herself a gin and tonic.

“If Steede and Peele are here, they are up to something,” John yawned. ‘And they want us to know they are here.”

“Where are we heading John?” Stefania asked as she sealed her letter home.

“Isle of Skye is our final destination but we are stopping over to visit Jock first.”

Stefania’s face lit up. She enjoyed roaming the countryside with Jock while he spent his free time settle on a river bank casting for salmon.

“Jock?” Maureen gave John a look. ‘You trying to use his military connections?”

“Now Maureen,just because I am not looked upon favorably by certain elements of the Ministry of Defense does not mean I would make an end run around the chain of command.”

All three ladies rolled their eyes and made polite sounds of disbelief. John gave each of them a glare. They each smiled at him demurely.


Grant slammed shut his locker and flopped down onto his tiny bunk buried deep in the bowels of The Saltire. Hanging from the curved wall of his cabin was his rubber chicken sporran, its head folded back, a roll of paper stuffed down the chickens gullet. Grant reached up pulling a clean sheet up and reached for his pencil.

“Blast them for making me muck out the clogged air toilet,” he muttered under his breath. “They damn well know I’m a delicate creature and should not be subjected to such abuse! I even pointed out to Captain Panache the regulations that forbid me from performing those duties! But did he listen? NO! Not him! It’s just Grant, he can handle getting dirty, he can handle the toxic fumes generated by the diet this crew consumes. Grant is disposable, we don’t care what happens to Grant as long as he does our dirty work! Well, I’ll show them all!”

Big Mikey paused as he stood watch. ‘Did you hear that?” he commed Ensign Mender of Weasels.

“Sounds like Grant is plotting again,” Ensign Mender replied back. “He didn’t like having to clean out a clogged pipe in the air toilet.”

“Is that what all the moaning and groaning was about?” Big Mikey grinned.

“He was complaining about the diet of the crew being hazardous material,” Ensign Mender chuckled. “Naturally forgetting it was his cabbage stew that clogged the pipes in the first place.”

“Is that what that was? I thought he was trying to ferment some new alcohol recipe,” Big Mikey scanned the horizon for signs of approaching airships.

“I’m turning in,’ big Mikey said, see you for breakfast, these fair winds should bring us to Skye by the morrow.”

Ensign Mender nodded and settled into his watch, the night stars brilliant at this altitude.

To Be Continued…….

[Old Hippie]

Heh, heh...an aerial adventure par excellence! Keep it up!

:ootd:

[Rob Wright]

IV

Jock sat on the bank casting his fly rod as Stefania sat nearby her sketch pad in hand her hands busy as she roughed out another sketch of Jock fishing.

“I hope you have moved onto a more fitting subject,” Jock joked as he placed his fly just where he wanted it.

Stefania smiled. “My grandfather would say the same thing when I would visit him at Lake Como,” she smiled her cheeks dimpling as she continued to draw.

Jock grinned and continued on with his fishing.

“Any sign of Steede and Peele?” John asked as he set down a large hamper overflowing with food and drink.

“Saw them out earlier nosing around the shore near the ruins,” Rebecca said. “They were acting like a couple on holiday.”

“Really? Are they still using that cover? I think every agency on the continent is aware of that ruse,” John replied as he spread a large wool blanket over the ground.

“It seems a bit odd to be having a picnic this time of year,” Rebecca smiled as she knelt down.

“It is a bit chilly I admit, but,” John deftly removed the cork from a bottle of champagne. “I know that Skye is not the destination of The Saltire.”

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. ‘And you know this how?”

John grinned. “ I charted the currents from North America to here, they will make landfall in a day or two just to the north. Jock being close at hand was just a bonus.”

Maureen adjusted her camera’s lense and snapped pictures in rapid succession of Steede and Peele.

“Smile for the camera Miss Peele,” Steede said grinning, we seem to have attracted company.”

“One of the lady’s I see, he does have quite the industrious little harem.”

“Why MIss Peele, do I detect a hint of moral outrage?”

“What ever gave you that Idea?” Miss Peele smiled her eyes twinkling. “Trying to cover your hidden desire’s for your own?”

“Miss Peele! I would never desire,” Steede paused and looked down the glen, ‘Such an outmoded and barbarous institution!”

Maureen shook her head chuckling as the exchange carried across the glen. “John wishes he had a harem too,” she said softly too herself as she began to pack up the large camera. It took several minutes to break down the large camera and its components, placing them in their slot in the large carrying box.

“Grant!” The loud firm voice of Captain Panache traveled the length of the the airship The Saltire. “Report to the bridge!”

Grant set down his wrench and adjusted his golden flowing locks. He took his time working his way up from the bowels of the airship until he stood upon the open bridge.

“Reporting as ordered Captain,” he said standing there before Panache.

“Yes, Grant, have you been sending off those misleading reports as I requested?” Panache gave his crewman a stony gaze as he absently flicked his fly whisk about.

“Of course Captain, I always follow orders don’t I?” Grant said gazing at Panache.

“Except when you don’t,” came a rumble followed by laughter further down the bridge.

Grant shot daggers in the general direction of the laughter. Panache raised his hand and the laughter stopped abruptly.

“Good, we make landfall on the morrow. I expect you to have done your job well and that we shall be met by officials of Alba’s government so we can quickly go about our business. “

“Of course Captain,” Grant said staring ahead.

“Hmmm, yes,” Panache eyed Grant. “Crew, break out your number one kilt uniform, we must make a favorable impression after all. Grant, you may return to your duties.” Panache turned and took the wheel of The Saltire.

To be continued...

Rob

[Ancienne Alliance]

Excellent, the fly whisk , simply excellent !


Best,

Robert

[Jock Scot]

As per usual I am a bit late on this one. Now lets just get this right!Nothing gets in the way of Jock and his fishing! Well, er, um, apart from pretty women, a shed load of loot, vintage port, a good days grouse shooting, or a spot of daring do.Other than that, Jock could get a wee tad pithy!

[Rob Wright]

As per usual I am a bit late on this one. Now lets just get this right!Nothing gets in the way of Jock and his fishing! Well, er, um, apart from pretty women, a shed load of loot, vintage port, a good days grouse shooting, or a spot of daring do.Other than that, Jock could get a wee tad pithy!

Pithy? As in? ith:




Rob

[RB51]

Pithy? As in? ith:




Rob

Is that perhaps the faint whiff of another twist in the plot in the air? Just asking.....

[Jock Scot]

Pithy? As in? ith:




Rob

Pithy as in, ill tempered.

[Rob Wright]

Pithy as in, ill tempered.

Not you Jock! Come lets enjoy a nice port and relax After all Grant's misadventures are going to begin soon .

Rob