Betsy and the Emperor by Staton Rabin

Author:Staton Rabin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon Pulse
Published: 2004-04-03T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Providence was with us and the weather promised clear sailing. The full moon cast a strong light over the beach. Huff and I had selected this remote spot on the island because few St. Helenians lived here and, shielded by a row of jagged mountains, there was little chance we’d be seen. Any soul wandering the beach, returning from a spree in Jamestown, would attribute the ghostly apparition of our flying contraption to too much rum—and surely vow to quit drinking forever.

The fire we’d made in the gondola was going furiously now, and the balloon slowly unfurled itself like a man stretching after a night’s sleep.

“Hold back on the straw, Betsy,” Huff told me. “Save the rest for the flight.”

It was a grand sight. Huff, who was artistically inclined, had even seen fit to paint some decorations on the balloon’s exterior—some lions’ heads, as a subtle reference to its celebrated passenger. The name “Napoleon,” Huff told me, means “lion of the forest.”

Spectacular as it was, the balloon had been made so crudely—from so many different elements—that it looked more like a giant inflated quilt than any balloon the Montgolfiers would recognize. They had used linen for their balloon; Huff had insisted on silk for ours because he believed the tighter weave would hold the air better—for a far longer voyage.

At last we were ready. Huff and I filled several bags with beach sand for ballast.

“Ladies first,” Huff said, holding the gondola steady so I could climb aboard. The basket danced a bit in the breeze as I put my foot in it. Our balloon strained at anchor, as if anxious to fly.

The old man joined me in the gondola. Then he cut the anchor rope, which had been tied to a stake, and fed straw to the furnace.

“Nothing is happening,” I said.

“Is that so, my dear?” Huff said, teasing me. “Look down.”

To my surprise, we were already a few feet off the ground! I could see the smooth greenish carapace of a small sea turtle on the beach.

In no time at all we were far above the beach. Exhilaration! How can I ever find words to describe the feeling? It was as if I’d left my body on the ground and my soul was now free to sail among the stars with the immortals! Was this the complete freedom I had been seeking all my life? If not, it was as close to it as any human could ever expect to come.

The lights of Jamestown twinkled in the distance. I ducked instinctively as a booby suddenly flew by our balloon—close enough for me to have grabbed its webbed blue foot if I’d been so inclined. As we rose higher, I watched the wild pigs on the island turn from recognizable beasts into little black dots. Entire houses became nothing more than children’s toy blocks. Farmers’ green fields were empty chessboards. From up here, St. Helena could almost be called something no one had ever called it before: beautiful.

“Well? What

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