The adventurers were in low spirits.
The attempted rescue had resulted in the deaths of both hostages; Dr Grant was a loss to the world of archeology of course, but the loss of the innocent Miss White in such dastardly circumstances hit the British lads very hard, triggering harsh introspection and short tempers.
Not only that, there were the consequences to follow the impetuous behaviour of Ssassafrash and his “Followers of Fogg” in declaring that they would henceforth take up residence in the Crocea-Gorlimsk swamplands and … well there was the rub. What would the band of Venusian Militia get up to, unhindered by the guiding hand of British influence?
And to top it off, Captain Forsyth was stricken by a bad case of Martian Canal Fever and forced to retire to a makeshift bed. No doubt his low spirits in the aftermath of the failed rescue were partially to blame for the virulence of the disease.
Informed by the two remaining Martian bargemen that it was a matter of urgency to take on more crew before attempting to return to Syrtis Major, it was decided to make for the small canal-side town of Parabansit, and there try to recruit sailors.
The journey was mercifully free of harassment by pirates, hostile fauna or bellicose Martian forces of any kind, and the barge docked without incident. There were a few formalities, easily disposed of with trade goods, and two new Martian crewmen were retained, though they would only sail as far as Crocea, having no wish to enter the Crown Colony1. Arrangements were also made with a local ice-house to deliver sawdust, crates and ice to the barge so that the bodies of Dr Grant and Miss White could be preserved for the trip.
Although the team were now without the help of Forsyth or Jones, who was resolutely refusing to leave his captain’s side, they did haver the new-found help of one corporal Henry “Hank” Aldrich, late of the British Expeditionary Forces on Mars and sole survivor of a previous clandestine attempt at rescuing those same poor individuals now lying wrapped in sheets in the hold. Corporal Aldrich had recovered from his ordeal in the swamp and was eager to get back to his command structure.
The barge departed the next day and, after another peaceful day, arrived at the town of Samara. After the formalities had been dealt with, the team discussed options vis-a-vis the Crocea issue: whether to bypass Crocea and avoid any possible resentment toward British Earthmen, or whether to dock there and resupply as the two original Martian crewmen wanted.
Given that the new crew had agreed only to go as far as Crocea, the options were to loose the much-needed crew here in Samara and continue as best they could through waters already known to harbour canal pirates and very possibly Crocean privateers, or to dock in Crocea as honest traders, resupply from Crocean chandlers and attempt to recruit in that large port’s sailors’ establishments.
Crocea it was.
Once docked, the two original Martian crew hurried away to arrange supplies from a chandler, and Hartwell, Phipps and Aldrich went in search of crew, and were treated to the sight of a young human woman being accosted, nay, molested by two Martian ruffians in a dockside alleyway. They ran to the rescue, Phipps contemptuously knocking one bully almost senseless with the butt of his trusty pistol, and that was enough for the two assailants who fled into the alley, leaving our heroes to help the swooning young lady.
Once Phipps had applied smelling salts the young woman regained her senses and turned out to be French and very, very beautiful. This immediately caused a problem, for both Aldrich and Hartwell were smitten and began a jealous rivalry for her affections that was to be the cause of much friction. Phipps, ignoring the childish antics of his companions, ascertained that the poor woman, who introduced herself as Maxine LeBlanc, was in need of transport to her uncle in Syrtis Major, and offered to take her there. This offer was gratefully accepted.
Five new crewmen were obtained and the party, new hires, British worthies and Mlle Leblanc returned to the Krahnaanik’s Folly to await the return of their two crewmen from the chandlers. All afternoon Aldrich and Hartwell vied with each other to demonstrate their suitability as companions and the other’s lack of those very qualities. Phipps was more concerned with practical matters, such as the fact that their crewmen had not returned.
Finally, losing patience with the missing Martians and the ridiculous posturings of his two companions, Phipps led an expedition to the chandlers’ shops to find where the crewman had gone. It was not a quick business, but eventually he came to understand that the “loyal” crewmen had fled in a skiff, taking flight to the north for destination unknown.
Disgusted at the loss of a half day’s sailing, Phipps returned to the Krahaanik’s Folly where Mlle LeBlanc offered to make dinner as “poor consolation and to reward the brave British men for rescuing her”, an offer the heroes gratefully accepted.
Phipps, Hartwell, Aldrich, Jones and Forsyth were treated to a fish dish - “Lemon sole, or the nearest I can make with this Martian fish the name of which I am not acquainted but which has six eyes, though the taste is acceptable I am assured” - and tea, liberally seasoned with Bhutan Spices. All ate heartily.
Phipps detected a flatness in taste but could not sense any adulteration, though his suspicions were aroused by some sixth sense. And his wariness was well-founded, for soon his companions fell into a deep sleep from which he could not arouse them. Why he alone was unaffected was a mystery, but he was fully alert when the treacherous Mlle LeBlanc ran at him, leapt into the air, kicked him squarely in the chest with some force and, like some kind of demented French acrobat somehow retreated past him, and adopted a boxer’s stance, laughing at his expression of surprise.
Phipps attempted to counter attack the treacherous woman, but she was lightning-fast in her reflexes and tiger-like in her ferocity and in relatively short order his battered body sank into blesséd unconsciousness, not before the Frenchwoman announced this was revenge for her sister’s death.
The five woke briefly to find themselves chained in the brig of what must have been a flying vessel of some kind, and suffering tremendous hunger and ravening thirst. A martian guard appeared with food and water, but naturally it was drugged and the prisoners were once again sleeping when they were delivered to High Martian slavers.
The heroes woke to find themselves chained into a work team with a handful of Martian unfortunates in some sort of cavern. It wasn’t long before High Martian guards drove them out of a tunnel into an orchard of trees whose peculiar shape Phipps knew to be that of Liftwood trees! Only a handful of humans had ever seen these miraculous trees. Phipps might have been entranced had the circumstances been other than they were. The battered heroes looked around and saw he whole orchard was under a net canopy, obviously made to prevent loose branches floating up and revealing the position of the plantation.
Several work teams were being held in this cavern, and they worked shifts to tend the trees under the watchful eyes of the armed High Martian guards. One of the other teams proved to have the crew of the ill-fated Persephone in it.
One day, the work crew were taken through a different tunnel to a docking cradle where a small Kite waited at anchor for lading with goods stacked alongside. The work crew were organized into a bucket-brigade and made to load the cargo, and this gave Hartwell the chance to steal a pin dropped by a careless sailor. Once back in their cavern prison the heroes conspired with the other British prisoners to formulate a plan for escape.
The next time a ship docked, Hartwell picked the locks securing his, Phipps’ and Aldrich’s chains, and the heroes attacked and subdued the Martian guard, stealing the keys and releasing the rest of the chained prisoners. Then the now-free prisoners feigned being still chained and followed the inattentive High Martian guard into the tunnel to the docking cradle. Just before rounding the final curve of the tunnel they attacked and killed the guard then, en masse, the slaves charged screaming from the tunnel, attacking the Kite crew before they knew what was happening.
In short order the original crew of the Kite had been savagely dealt with, along with any High Martians foolish enough to get too close, and the former slaves flew the Kite out of the Kraal to freedom. The enraged High Martians gave chase, but were soon left far behind as the Kite ran east with a following wind with Hartwell at the helm. Once clear of pursuit, they Kite turned north and made for the Moeris Lacus-Shastapsh canal, where they turned west toward Moeris Lacus and British rule.
For a short time they were pursued by a Kite obviously of the Shastapsh navy, which went as far as to fire on them, but once again the piloting skills of Hartwell saved the day, and the astounded shipyard master of Moeris Lacus watched a ship full of battered, ragged Martians and Earthmen settle into a free cradle.
- Syrtis Lapis↑
