The Lady Machinist (Curiosity Chronicles Book 1) (9 page)

Smythe straightened O’Neil into a seated position. He shouted over the metal drum that made up the engine’s lower half. “Engine valve struck him. The pressure got too high. We were changing it to draw water to the pump.”

Water shot out from where the valve separated from the drain pipes. Steam combined with it, heating the room an additional twenty degrees. Near the back wall, the water pump gurgled uselessly as the pipe that connected it to the engine hung loose and scraped against the floor.

Lydia assessed the clutter of clogged engine and drainage system. “Can you reattach the valve?”

“Aye.” Smythe swiped a thick-gloved hand across his freckled brow. “But I need someone to hold the main line steady.”

Lydia felt Nikolaos’ cold, wet hand clamp down on her shoulder. “We’ve no time.”

She edged out of his grip. “There’s still a chance to drain the water. And even if the ship can’t be saved, we can’t leave these men.”

His eyes became hard. “Do you want to die like your husband, Lydia? Come with me now.”

“The door’s closing.” Smythe raced to the stairs.

With an agility Lydia had never thought Nikolaos possessed, he sprang past Smythe and clambered up. Before either man could get his hands on the door, it swung shut on its frame. The water pressure behind it forced a vacuum seal.

Smythe drew air in through his teeth and cursed. “None are us leaving the ship now.”

Nikolaos beat upon the door, failing to make so much as a dent. Lydia shut her ears to the noise as she attempted to quell panic rising in her own mind.

“Enough,” she said aloud.

Nikolaos and Smythe looked at her. Lydia stood up and girded her arms around the unconscious O’Neil’s chest. The water made it easier for her to drag him to the stairs. “Nikolaos, keep his head above water. Smythe and I will reattach the valve and divert the water to the pump.”

Smythe removed O’Neil’s gloves and gave them to her before handing the man off to Nikolaos’ care. “You’ll need these. I have the valve and connecting pipe.” He fished them from the foot of the stairs, tucking the pipe in his apron pocket.

The water line climbed to Lydia’s knees. She waded to the engine and ducked under the steam torrent where the valve broke off.

“Careful,” Smythe warned.

She closed her hands around the pipe, feeling water pressure and heat course beneath the copper.

Smythe angled the valve and pushed it through the steam. The pipe shook in Lydia’s grasp as he worked quickly to tighten the valve with a wrench. Hot water sprayed his apron as it was now able to flow from two connectors. He turned the valve to divert the flow. Then he retrieved the connecting pipe and attached it to the valve body. “I need to secure it to the pump.”

While he carried the pipe along the wall, Lydia glanced at Nikolaos. He had dragged O’Neil to the top of the stairs and stood over him. Nikolaos faced the door, waiting for the slightest indication that the water seal would break.

Smythe called for Lydia to let the pipe go. She moved over to the valve and waited as he maneuvered the pipe to the water pump attachment.

“Is it fixed?” Nikolaos turned around and took notice of their effort.

“We’ll see.” Smythe slogged through the water to get to the manual control levers on the wall. He cranked until the bellows of the pump contracted and expanded. He nodded for Lydia to reverse the valve.

Once she did, water flowed into the pump. They listened for several minutes as the bellows sent it through a hose and out of the ship.

“It’s working. The water line’s beginning to recede.” Excitement built in Smythe’s voice.

Lydia saw the mark on the wall as the water level dropped an inch. A small start, but it was enough to give her hope. “
The Enlightened
won’t sink today.”

Nikolaos pushed against the door. “It will if that breach isn’t found.”

“We’ll look for it when the water drops.” Smythe continued to work on the manual levers. “See to O’Neil and find the crew.”

“Can you not see that this ship is not operational? The crew is gone. I’ll see to myself and Lydia.” Nikolaos put his shoulder against the door and prepared to give it a shove. The water seal gave way and the door opened before he had a chance.

Rhys stood before him. “Care to repeat yourself, Lord Abeiron? I’m afraid my men and I only heard that last part.”

Rhys entered the engine room, flanked by Finley and a muscled crewmember whose name Lydia did not know. Rhys’ clothes were soaked from the storm. His shirt was torn at the shoulder, and he bore a haggard, worn face. Still, his authoritative stance broke through. “We made the pirates turn back. The storm should keep them from returning. ”

At the sight of the captain very much alive, though somewhat in tatters, the tension ebbed from Lydia’s body, replaced by relief and an urge to rush and put her arms around him. She curbed the swell of emotion and clung to the network of pipes on the wall instead.

“What happened to O’Neil?” Rhys inspected the still unconscious engineer.

“Hit by a flying valve,” Smythe spoke.

“Finley, Duncan, take him to the infirmary table and have Malcolm look at him. Was this an accident?” Rhys’ probing stare fell on Nikolaos.

Nikolaos proceeded to save face. “Lydia and I found him that way when we entered this room.”

Rhys continued his descent as the crewmen tended to O’Neil. “I told Lady Dimosthenis to stay in the cabin where it was safe.” He turned to Lydia, his mouth reduced to a firm line of disapproval.

Surely he wasn’t going to scold her like a child before everyone? She lifted her chin and stared him down.

Water covered Rhys’ boots when he walked out to her. He spoke below his breath, his voice filled with a sarcasm that was only a little more saturated than the floor he stood on. “You’ll pardon me for inconveniencing you with orders, my lady, but they are meant to keep you in one piece.”

Her breathing quickened. “I thought the ship was no longer in one piece. I heard a loud explosion. How could I stay put after that?” She matched his stare until Smythe’s strident voice broke through in her ears.

“Captain, the hull breach needs patching up.”

Rhys nodded to the apprentice engineer. “Thomas will see to it once we get O’Neil on deck. I’ll aid you as well, after I see to our passengers’ safety.” He referred to both Lydia and Nikolaos, but he didn’t shift his eyes from her as she edged by him.

Lydia left the engine room and stepped back into the ship’s corridor. Nikolaos and Rhys came behind.

“You must not blame us for employing our own means of escape, Captain,” Nikolaos further placated Rhys when they ascended to the second level.

“Since you refused to aid O’Neil and Smythe, you can do their share of the work on top deck. See to it.” He gave Nikolaos a look that dared him to object.

Nikolaos spared a few choice words for the ship’s captain. Lydia heard his Greek mutterings when he sidled past her to go upstairs.

“He forgets I can understand every word.” Rhys walked beside Lydia. In the narrow confines of the ship, his arm brushed against hers.

Heat ran along her skin at the contact. “I don’t think he’s learned how to swear in English yet.”

“He’ll have ample opportunity before this voyage is through. The ship needs multiple repairs, not to mention extensive bailing. I’ve yet to inspect the hold for damage.”

Lydia thought of the automatons and the rest of her personal belongings stored in the cargo hold. However, the welfare of the crew and the ship were of more importance at the moment. “Where did those pirates come from?”

“France. Broussard’s gaggle of sea thieves spotted
The Enlightened
and thought to take the ship for their own.”

Lydia shook her shoulders free of tension. All of them came too close to being at the mercy of pirates.

The door to the cabin hung wide open as Lydia left it when she dashed out. The water had drained, but the bedcovers lay ruined at the foot of the bed. Her trunk didn’t tip over, thankfully, but papers from Rhys’ desk had spilled from the drawers and formed a pulpy mass on the floor.

Water squelched and bubbled from the rug as Rhys walked upon it. He surveyed the open bookcase. Lydia tensed as he set the volumes in order one after the other.

He shut the glass panel. “Gather your remaining dry clothing and blankets. You’ll have to make do with our company on deck until this room is dry again.”

Lydia set to her task, grateful that he decided not to leaf through the encyclopedias. “How did Mr. Clark and the others fare?”

“Most are injured but all are accounted for.”

His succinct manner made her uneasy. Since the voyage began, Rhys’ polished veneer chipped bit by bit until today’s violent storm and pirate attack scraped it away completely. What remained was raw, determined, and would not tolerate defiance from anyone. The similar demeanor of the pirates that she fought off from Aspasia’s shores came to mind. Perhaps the perils of sailing gave all seafaring men a coarse edge.

She threw items into her toiletry case. “You have things to tend to. I’ll make it up to topside shortly. You needn’t wait for me.”

“I can’t have you traipsing around alone. The men are ill at ease. Half of them think having you onboard brought on the dual misfortune.”

She clutched a stack of shirts and a set of linens in her arms. “When you speak like that, I believe you think as they do.”

“I’m not one for superstitions, but I do expect obedience from anyone that sails under my flag.”

Lydia’s weary sigh was muffled by the linens as she shifted them to one arm. She reached for the toiletry case with the other. “All I heard was the storm battering the ship. I thought you were gone. Fallen overboard or—or swept away.” She stopped, ashamed of herself when she realized her voice had grown high and distraught. The last thing Rhys needed to think was that he brought a fretful, histrionic woman aboard.

He came forward and took the linens from her arms. He lingered in front, his body separated from hers by a few articles of folded fabric. “I would not leave you.”

He waited for her to come before he closed the door to the cabin.

#

Rhys knew he locked the glass panel of the bookcase well before Lydia came to occupy his cabin. The pitching of the ship must have knocked the tumbler loose during the storm. He meant to return and see if the COIC mission papers were in their rightful place. Hopefully, he wouldn’t find them in the mass of pulp that sat by the desk, sponging more water from the carpet.

The pile of linens caressed Rhys’ jawline when he shifted them in order to open the topside door. Their soft texture and clean juniper scent tantalized as though they were Lydia herself. Either the passing storm managed to lay waste to his senses, or Malcolm was right. It was fast becoming perilous to bring Lydia onboard. Even her bed sheets were getting the better of him.

She moved through the door ahead of him, having no inkling of the thoughts she stirred within him as she went past. Her hair hung wet down her back, producing a line of moisture that snaked down her shirt to well at the curve that was the small of her back.

Her hips undulated as she walked ahead of him on deck and jolted to a halt an instant later. “There was an explosion.” She assessed the fallen mainmast as it laid split in two upon the deck. Both pieces partially obstructed access to the quarterdeck. All that remained of the cables was scattered among broken crates and frayed rigging lines.

“Pirate cannon struck the mast.” Rhys kicked a piece of glass from a broken bottle over the rails. “It made short work of just about everything else.”

Lydia surveyed the four crewman and Nikolaos as they labored to clear the deck of debris. She drew a ragged breath when she saw their injuries. O’Neil’s head injury was now bandaged. Thomas’s leg was bloodied from where a timber split off the prow and pierced the muscle of his calf. Malcolm’s hands and arms bore the angry purple and red abrasions from grabbing a cable when it broke loose from the mast. The rest of the crew suffered varying degrees of gashes and scrapes.

Rhys headed to the quarterdeck “I’ll see you to the navigation room.” A rumble of distant thunder made him look heavenward. The gunmetal skies were ready to release another onslaught of damage.

Rhys seethed at their predicament, how easily a sea squall and French pirates endangered the life of his men and nearly destroyed the ship. Their chances of getting to New Britannia safely, let alone on schedule, were sorely diminished. It would cost them precious days, if not weeks, to regroup. No telling how long it would take to patch the hull, hammer new boards, and get the engine unclogged.

As expected, Lydia uttered a protest before he could light the lanterns and set her belongings down on the chart table in the navigation room. “I can’t sit idle while your crew salvages the ship. Allow me to help with something.”

Rhys found a swab left by the ship’s rails. Next to it was a tin pail. He set it at Lydia’s feet with a clatter. “You do know how to swab a deck, don’t you?”

“It’s no different from cleaning a workroom floor.” She bent to pick up a blue-finned fish that somehow washed upon the deck and flopped into the navigation room. “Except at home, these don’t make it past the beach.” She tossed the wiggling creature back into the ocean.

Rhys admired her resilience, if not her knack for discovering every nook and cranny of the ship. The navigation room held only a chart table with an etched depiction of the known world and map collections of sailing routes and ports of call, so he had no reason to be concerned.

Seeing her squared away for the time being, he returned down to the engine room to check on Smythe. The apprentice had the water drainage system working at normal speed again. The pump drained half of the room’s water volume.

“Captain?” Smythe scratched the back of his neck, as was his nervous habit. “I didn’t say anything before, but the lady helped me repair the water valve.”

“She did?”

“Yes, sir. I didn’t put her to work on purpose. Her travel companion, the Aspasian lord, refused to do anything. It was every man for himself, by his reckoning.”