I
Constable Blackwood Aristophanes Pool sat on a large rock, sweating through his light, linen clothing and way too far from his home office in distant Londbridge. The rock provided a roughly level seat in the sweltering noon shade of the distinctly odd airship floating above.
The footing of the mast consisted of an artificial jetty supporting the mooring mast and possessed a modest, pitch smelling wood walkway leading from the base of the mast’s stairs to a short wooden pier.
Tied off to the pier was noisy steam boat—not one of those great river boats, with paddle wheels and an attempt at elegance—but a simple open topped sort, with a clunky steam engine sputtering in the midsection and benches for passengers in the bow.
The engine churned and belched smoke and steam, though it was not geared into the single submerged prop below the brown water. There was a second engine tied into the craft’s primary, running a pair of rubber belts. This device linked to two air pumps with fat hoses attached and leading over the edge. Several barely clothed local men monitored the engine and pump, now and then peering over the [rail] in a futile attempt to get a glimpse of their employer below.
Pool returned to his damp notebook, twisting his pencil stub between his thumb and forefinger, imagining the scene below. The hoses continued to move, dragging the tethered boat around to a small degree. He sipped his comparatively cool beer, sitting to his left on the same rock.
work in progress. brackets mean I’m not sure of the word choice or meaning, or that I have to look something up to maintain continuity with the novels….
Ion Fyr 