The enormous box, the size of a carriage, into which the balloon envelopes had been stowed the previous day had been opened again, and from its top emerged a gradually inflating mass of Venusian silk. Glowing in the light of the rising sun, the three huge balloons resembled white fluffy clouds drifting in over some far horizon.
But they were not clouds, they were not fluffy, and they were not far. They were gigantic masses of fabric, as huge and ungainly as a thousand wet bed-sheets, and as the furnace-hot air began to fill them it took every bit of the entire crew’s strength and skill to keep them from tangling with each other and with the net of silk ropes that caged them and tethered them to the ship. Light and smooth though the Venusian silk was, tugging and hauling on it soon left Arabella’s hands red and sore and blistered.
*
An hour later, Arabella lay panting on the deck, watching the balloons as they firmed up and grew taut so high above her. The sun was well up now, and the bright white Venusian silk gleamed like a trio of full moons brought down to Earth. Unlike the previous day—when, she knew now, they had been filled only with cold air, to test for leaks—the balloons not only swelled against the constraining nets, but strained upwards as though desperate to reach the sky. The ship, too, seemed to feel the upward pull, riding high in the water and rocking in a new and unsteady motion bearing more kinship to the wind than the wave.
“Trim ballast and prepare to cast off!” came a command from the quarterdeck. It was Kerrigan, the chief mate, and was echoed, reechoed, and amplified down the length of the ship. Airmen sprang into action, many hurrying below, others hauling on ropes. Arabella had no idea what to do, but her messmate Young sat unmoving on the deck, so she did the same.
The ship began to shudder and lurch as Kerrigan called out command after incomprehensible command. Each one was repeated, or expanded into a series of other commands, by lesser officers, who relayed it to the airmen designated “captains” of the waist, the fo’c’sle, and other parts of the ship, who in turn directed their men to perform whatever task was desired. This Arabella knew in theory … in practice, it meant that she did whatever Faunt, the captain of the waist, told her to. And when, as was so often the case, she had no idea what his aerial gibberish meant, she could only watch the other members of her mess and try to do the same.
The captain stood beside Kerrigan, arms folded behind his back, the calm in the center of the storm of activity. He watched every thing, though, and from time to time he would mutter softly to Kerrigan, a word or two immediately translated into a fusillade of shouted commands.
He had not spoken to Arabella once after handing her off to Kerrigan. She hoped he had not forgotten her.
Now Kerrigan cried “Cast off the furnace-gut!” and the already feverish activity of the men grew still more agitated. Young poked her elbow. “This’ll be a sight,” he said, and moved to the rail. She followed, and with him she looked down at the gray Thames where it lapped Diana’s hull. The ship was riding much higher now, five feet or more of dripping khoresh-wood showing above the waterline.
The furnace-men now unfastened Diana’s tube from their barrel, blasting Arabella with a gust of hot smoky air that rippled the balloons high above, and put their oars in the water, backing away from the ship with what seemed considerable haste. Two of Diana’s airmen hauled the sagging tube from the water and out of sight below the curve of her hull.
The ship seemed to pause. Arabella looked to the captain, whose eyes scanned the length of the ship, seeking any fault or error or she knew not what. Then he nodded briskly and spoke one word to Kerrigan.
“Ballast away, fore and aft!” Kerrigan cried.
With a creak of wood and a great rumbling rush that made the rail vibrate against Arabella’s chest, several small ports opened in the hull below her, each discharging a square column of frothing, filthy water.
The whole ship trembled.
Then, suddenly, she burst aloft.
Arabella’s stomach seemed to drop below her rope belt as the ship flung herself into the air, and she found herself whooping with surprise and excitement. So did all the other crew, a great wild “Hurrah!” that echoed off the Thames rapidly receding below.
Arabella leaned as far as she could over the rail. The river immediately below churned, a great ship-shaped roiling welt in the water showing the space Diana had just vacated. Water continued to pour from the ballast-ports; more water ran down the ship’s sides, flowed along the keel, and fell in a great stream from the rudder.