Airship Stowaway

A Bold Proposal

"What you mean, Thomas gone?" Rasmussen's eyes peered out at her suspiciously from beneath his bushy eyebrows. "Gone where?"

"Just gone. He told me he was running away as soon as we reached London, and now he has. He waited until he was out of sight of the airship and then he ran for it."

Rasmussen looked confused, and slightly panicky. "But why? Why he would do this?"

Joanna shrugged. "No idea. He wasn't a very nice person, you know." She decided to cut to the chase. "I suppose you will be needing me after all."

"What? Nonsense. Is easy to find crew. Better than you. Experienced. No, you go now please." He stepped back into the airship and began to close the hatch. 

"No!" Desperation propelled her forward to stay the hatch with her hand. "Please. You have to help me. I have nothing! Not even a cent."

He frowned at her, clearly troubled. "Cents no good here anyway. England use pennies. And pounds not dollars." He stroked his unkempt beard with a rough hand. "Okay. Wait here. We go to pub. I try to find ship for you."

She waited anxiously outside the closed hatch, irrationally afraid he would just fly off even though the airship was still securely tied down.  But after a few minutes, Rasmussen emerged, wearing his long leather coat and a furry hat. He led the way towards a group of buildings close to the fence that surrounded the air park. 

"In pub, we find other pilots. Maybe one go back to Aeropolis. We try." He shrugged, opening the door in the side of a long, low building and ushering her inside. 

Warmth, noise, and cigarette smoke hit her, together with the smell of ale and whisky. There was a rowdy bunch standing at the bar, wearing coveralls or leather flying jackets, but Rasmussen steered her to the dim recesses, where men sat at tables, talking quietly, or staring morosely into their glasses. 

He walked from table to table, staring at the occupants of each, and finally stopped in front of a strange pair. 

One of them, a thin-faced man with a little goatee, nudged his companion. "Look, Bartholomew, it's that mad Russian again."

The other looked up, squinting. He had a ruddy face with long side whiskers. "I do believe you're right. Hello, Igor. Sit down, my dear fellow. Have a drink."

Rasmussen grunted, and pulled up a stool. "This Joseph," he said, motioning with his head. She decided not to bother correcting him; it might be better to reinforce the idea that she was a boy. 

The thin-faced man turned to face her. There was something unsettling about his smile. "Pleased to meet you, Joseph. First time in London?"

She nodded. First time anywhere, she thought. She found an empty stool. 

Rasmussen leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. "Joseph from Aeropolis. He want to go back there."

The man called Bartholomew nodded knowingly. "Oh yes? And of course you'd be too busy to take him?" He gave a knowing look to his companion, and both snickered. 

Rasmussen looked annoyed. "I just come from there!"

"Oh? Had to leave in a hurry, did you?" The look was exchanged again, followed by more laughter. 

Rasmussen was going red. "Can you take him or not!"

"So sorry, dear chap, but I'm heading to Tibet in the morning." Bartholomew turned to his companion. "But as luck would have it--"

"Can't do it, I'm afraid," said the thin-faced man, smoothly cutting him off. "But tell Igor why you are going to Tibet." There was a half-smile on his face, and when Rasmussen turned to look at Bartholomew, he gave a broad wink. 

The other man looked somewhat flustered. "Why I am going to Tibet?"

"Yes! Because of the lama."

"What is lama? Animal?" Rasmussen glared at the thin-faced man suspiciously. 

"No, no, dear chap. He is-- or was-- a great religious leader in Tibet. He died recently."

"So why Bartholomew going?"

Bartholomew, looking more and more alarmed, tried to speak up for himself, but the thin-faced man broke in. "He's taking a whole load of kids there. Aren't you? Because of the reincarnation thing."

Rasmussen frowned. "Re-ink what?"

"Reincarnation. The Tibetans believe the lama is reborn as a child. Anyway, the thing is, they pay a lot of money to find that child."

Bartholomew was glaring at him. "What did you tell him that for?" he hissed. 

The thin-faced man grimaced. "We'd better get going." He stood up, nodded his goodbyes, and walked out of the bar, closely followed by Bartholomew, who seemed to be quite angry. But Joanna thought there was something odd about the way they both kept looking back at Rasmussen. 

She decided to forget about them.  Since they obviously weren't going to help her, the most important thing was to find someone who would. "Is there anyone else here that you know?"

Rasmussen appeared to be deep in thought, and only grunted in reply. Irritated, she repeated the question. 

He shook his head, and stood up. "No one else." Her heart sank, waiting for him to leave her here, alone in a strange country. But then something strange happened. 

He looked down at her. "We go back to ship. I take you to Aeropolis."

She blinked at him, unable to fully comprehend what she had just heard. “What did you say?” Maybe she had misheard. He did have a strange accent.

“You come now! I take you back to Aeropolis!”

"Really?" Elation filled her. She hardly dared believe it, but it seemed was going home after all! "Thank you!"

The big man only grunted, and turned to leave. She hurried after him, excited, trying to stop herself beaming too much.