Read Online Chasing the Star Garden: The Airship Racing Chronicles (Volume 1) by Melanie Karsak - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Melanie Karsak
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Chapter 10
E arly the next morning we bundled up and set sail. Despite my best efforts, I could not shake Mr. Fletcher and Mr. Oleander. The memories added to feeling tense about the altercation in the opium den. I was unnerved. I woke at dawn feeling groggy, nauseated, and irritable. In fact, no one was feeling very happy once I shared how someone had tried to manhandle me in the opium den.
“You think it was just a thief or did it seem like he was after you specifically?” Jessup asked.
“I’m not sure,” I replied, hoping not to alarm them.
Angus sighed. “I warned you. That kaleidoscope came with blood on it.”
“Then the sooner we know what it is, and we get rid of it, the better,” Sal said encouragingly.
Angus, however, went below and returned with loaded sidearms which he passed to Jessup and Sal. Both men took a gun without speaking a word about it.
Angus handed me an extra box of ammo. “Keep your weapon loaded, your head clear, and watch your ass.”
The snow covered Alps, streaked with block rocks, went on as far as the eye could see. Even in July, the air was cold. It was, however, very fresh, so pristine I could nearly sense the divine. Navigating this beauty would be tricky all the same. I had done it before, but I was not in a mood for a challenge that morning. Low level clouds or stay winds would be certain, but I knew it would be manageable.
“It’s like a fucking painting,” Angus said as we all stood at the bow of the Stargazer and looked out at the mountain range.
“There are, in fact, several famous paintings of the Alps. There has been much consideration of the painting Napoleon Crossing the Alps by Jacques-Louis David who painted it for the King of Spain,” Sal offered.
I pretended not to see the gestures Angus and Jessup exchanged.
“Let’s just hope we meet with a better end than Bonaparte,” I replied.
We did. After several crisp, beautiful hours of smooth flying, we cruised toward Venice. We passed over the forests, mountains, and farmland in Switzerland, and we were over Italy shortly after the lunch hour. By late afternoon, we approached the Vento area, and air traffic became much busier. At first we saw mainly European transport ships rigged for long haul travel. A steam yacht passed us; it was an unusual contraption held aloft by a cluster of balloons rather than a single balloon. Steam poured from the back of the ship. Since it carried water, it was heavy and low to the ground. As we neared Venice, however, we noticed more brightly colored personal yachts and transport air gondolas. The Venetian air gondolas shone with thick black lacquer, their balloons dyed scarlet red. The air gondoliers wore the same black and white striped shirts as their lagoon counterparts, but the straw hats were replaced with tan leather skullcaps. The colorful ships sailed toward the Venetian air towers on the Lido; it was like a slowly moving painting. I could feel I was in Venice. As I navigated the ship over the city toward the Lido towers, Sal narrated the sites.
“We’re over the Grand Canal, Lily. There is the Rialto. Ah, there is Saint Mark’s… the Doge’s palace,” Sal listed.
I took a peek below; the dark teal colored waters of the canals glimmered in the late afternoon light. From above, the orange-red tiled roofs of the palazzi reminded me of a jigsaw of bread loaves. Excited, I smiled. I had been around the world racing, but I had never truly been anywhere on holiday. It was an excitement I knew Jessup and Angus—both of whom had always worked for every crumb in their mouths—shared.
“Go in port, Lily. There are international transport docks open on the upper platform,” Jessup called from above, his spyglass on the towers.
The breeze off the Adriatic Sea made for a bumpy ride into the towers. There were more air towers located in Venice than I had seen anywhere else. Big ships like the Stargazer were anchored on the upper levels. There were at least
Chapter 10
E arly the next morning we bundled up and set sail. Despite my best efforts, I could not shake Mr. Fletcher and Mr. Oleander. The memories added to feeling tense about the altercation in the opium den. I was unnerved. I woke at dawn feeling groggy, nauseated, and irritable. In fact, no one was feeling very happy once I shared how someone had tried to manhandle me in the opium den.
“You think it was just a thief or did it seem like he was after you specifically?” Jessup asked.
“I’m not sure,” I replied, hoping not to alarm them.
Angus sighed. “I warned you. That kaleidoscope came with blood on it.”
“Then the sooner we know what it is, and we get rid of it, the better,” Sal said encouragingly.
Angus, however, went below and returned with loaded sidearms which he passed to Jessup and Sal. Both men took a gun without speaking a word about it.
Angus handed me an extra box of ammo. “Keep your weapon loaded, your head clear, and watch your ass.”
The snow covered Alps, streaked with block rocks, went on as far as the eye could see. Even in July, the air was cold. It was, however, very fresh, so pristine I could nearly sense the divine. Navigating this beauty would be tricky all the same. I had done it before, but I was not in a mood for a challenge that morning. Low level clouds or stay winds would be certain, but I knew it would be manageable.
“It’s like a fucking painting,” Angus said as we all stood at the bow of the Stargazer and looked out at the mountain range.
“There are, in fact, several famous paintings of the Alps. There has been much consideration of the painting Napoleon Crossing the Alps by Jacques-Louis David who painted it for the King of Spain,” Sal offered.
I pretended not to see the gestures Angus and Jessup exchanged.
“Let’s just hope we meet with a better end than Bonaparte,” I replied.
We did. After several crisp, beautiful hours of smooth flying, we cruised toward Venice. We passed over the forests, mountains, and farmland in Switzerland, and we were over Italy shortly after the lunch hour. By late afternoon, we approached the Vento area, and air traffic became much busier. At first we saw mainly European transport ships rigged for long haul travel. A steam yacht passed us; it was an unusual contraption held aloft by a cluster of balloons rather than a single balloon. Steam poured from the back of the ship. Since it carried water, it was heavy and low to the ground. As we neared Venice, however, we noticed more brightly colored personal yachts and transport air gondolas. The Venetian air gondolas shone with thick black lacquer, their balloons dyed scarlet red. The air gondoliers wore the same black and white striped shirts as their lagoon counterparts, but the straw hats were replaced with tan leather skullcaps. The colorful ships sailed toward the Venetian air towers on the Lido; it was like a slowly moving painting. I could feel I was in Venice. As I navigated the ship over the city toward the Lido towers, Sal narrated the sites.
“We’re over the Grand Canal, Lily. There is the Rialto. Ah, there is Saint Mark’s… the Doge’s palace,” Sal listed.
I took a peek below; the dark teal colored waters of the canals glimmered in the late afternoon light. From above, the orange-red tiled roofs of the palazzi reminded me of a jigsaw of bread loaves. Excited, I smiled. I had been around the world racing, but I had never truly been anywhere on holiday. It was an excitement I knew Jessup and Angus—both of whom had always worked for every crumb in their mouths—shared.
“Go in port, Lily. There are international transport docks open on the upper platform,” Jessup called from above, his spyglass on the towers.
The breeze off the Adriatic Sea made for a bumpy ride into the towers. There were more air towers located in Venice than I had seen anywhere else. Big ships like the Stargazer were anchored on the upper levels. There were at least
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