Dinosaur Wars

Chapter thirteen - Awakening

Ajax steamed into first light, towing its towering cargo. From the stern of the ship the barge looked like a miniature city, the wooden frames surrounding the dinosaurs like the bones of buildings, the family of Brachiosaurs some grand monument at its center.

The crew had hauled the barge off the sand at four in the morning, at high water. The team of firemen in the boiler room had stoked the fires into a hellish heat to gain maximum steam pressure. Slicked with sweat and coal dust, they heaved shovelful after shovelful of anthracite into the gaping mouths of the furnaces to feed the ravenous infernos within.

Addison, gripping a handrail at the stern, was certain he could hear the mighty engines grunt as Ajax strained at the cable. For some minutes, the barge didn't appear to budge at all. Donald Quinn, Ajax's captain, was in the wheelhouse. He ordered the helmsman to turn the wheel hard to port then hard to starboard, pulling at the barge first one way then the other. Those that weren't directly involved in the ship's running leaned on the handrails at the stern and squinted into the darkness, waiting for any sign that the looming shadows were departing the shore. Below them the water churned a bright white as the screws spun at top speed.

Eventually, there was a slight jolt on board the ship and then the vessel seemed to hop forward. Another jolt and the cable let out a low growling moan and the barge shifted from the sand and was afloat and Ajax chugged forward into the dawn, her smoke stacks heaving great gouts and billows of black into the lightening air.

As the sun came up, the horizon burned red. A slurry of colors swept over the clear blue glass that covered the dinosaurs. They glowed, opalescent. Then dark plum purple. The T-rex, amidships, shone in the morning light. The Tricerotops, secured on the opposite side of the ship to balance the weight, seemed to darken and gain more solidity. At the bow of the ship, forward of the wheelhouse, the frames with the striped raptors rose up and down as the ship drove into the sea, reared up on the swells, then dived into the troughs again.

After the ship and barge were underway, Addison's men at the stern congregated amonst themselves, opposite Masters' shore party, who did the same. Following the initial shock, a hot resentment over the slaughter of the horses had begun to boil up amongst them.

Luc Girard spoke loudly, publicly to all who would listen.

"We break the horse, hold it to our service, compel the creature of spirit and honour to bend its power to our will then what are we? No better than dogs. No better than dogs ripping at rotting meat in the refuse."

As he spoke, he eyed Raker. Raker leaned against the railing, sucking on a pipe. He fixed the Frenchman with eyes that looked as though they had narrowed behind a gunsight.

Girard took a step forward. He pointed at Raker.

"And this one eats and shits like a dog. And his tongue hangs out like the dog at a bone when his master pats him on his head."

Raker stood upright from the rail and spat down at Girard's feet. That was all the provocation Girard needed. He threw a punch straight at the center of Raker's face, breaking his nose. Raker reacted immediately, throwing the burning ash from his pipe into Girard's eyes. He swung his boot to connect with Girard's groin, but the Frenchman managed to deflect this kick with his shin despite his stinging vision. He grabbed Raker around the neck and the two men smacked down on the deck and tumbled over and over.

The members of the shore party circled the combatants, shouting at them, gesturing with suggested blows, gouges, kicks.

Pat pulled a pencil and paper out of a shirt pocket.

"Luc's gonna down him like a hot dinner. I'll take any money that says otherwise."

Hakon Lind, MastersÕ brawny site foreman, stepped from his side of the brawl.