Foreign Devils by Jacobs John Hornor

Author:Jacobs, John Hornor [Jacobs, John Hornor]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Orion Publishing Group
Published: 2015-09-16T19:00:00+00:00

NINETEEN

4 Ides of Sextilius, 2638 ex Ruma Immortalis

I was able to gain passage on a steamer barge downstream that afternoon, though it cost dear – a silver denarius dear – and I had to show the papers Cornelius had provided me and threaten to bring the portmaster before the captain of the barge, a stout, low-slung daemon-fired vessel called Gemina, would agree to my passage. It was the fourth day before the Ides of Sexitilius and I was six days behind Fisk.

The barge was very similar in layout to Maskelyne’s Quiberon, but without the rowmen slaves. It was possessed of a squat cabin for the captain, who was a dour man named Numask, on top of which sat the pilot’s roost. Trailing from those cabins were the crew mess and bunks, and a couple of staterooms that could be easily converted to more bunks. Beyond that was the domain of the engineer, a man whose name I never learned. In addition to the cabins, there was a large roofed cargo hold and livestock pen, on top of which extraneous passengers were allowed to make themselves a slow-moving camp, in the same manner as we had aboard the Quiberon. Captain Numask was kind enough to supply a rather moth-eaten canvas tent, but unlike the brusque Maskelyne, he did not allot any of his crew or servants to assist in its assembly on deck. So many hours into the night I struggled with the fabric and wood contraption and my aching chest proved a great detriment there.

The Gemina had far fewer lascars. Those it did have were libertini and in general a sorry lot, idle and profane, indolent. They lolled about near the swing-stages on the fore deck, gambling, smoking, and cursing. From what I could tell, the main cargo of the ship was silver pigs and there was a heavily armed cadre of fierce-looking men, clad in the black and gold livery of the Tempus Union – a militarized delivery company out of Encantata – all speaking Brawley, guarding the precious stuff.

Once erected, mine was not the only tent on the roof of the Gemina. There was a pair of hard-faced female pistoleros escorting what looked like an extravagantly rich sweetboy and, curiously, a clutch of dvergar tradesmen, maybe five all told. Judging from their garb and features, they looked to be of the eastern Eldvatch clans. Like me, they had pitched their tents far down-wind of the Gemina’s sulphurous stacks. They regarded me warily and did not respond to my greetings given in our natural tongue. It was a large vessel, and there was ample room on the warehouse roof and much space between our tents.

After I tended Bess in the livestock hold, I returned up deck to my tent to have a dinner of hard-tack. One of the Tempus Union guards watched me with a baleful glare, as if at any moment I would make an attempt to steal a silver pig twice my own weight. I stared back at him, blatantly, too tired to do anything else.

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