After Breakfast on the Rheingold
“Are you quite sure you’ve finished, Mister Sheridan?” Kurt asked solicitously. “Another cup of coffee, perhaps? More toast?”
Sheridan threw down his napkin, trying to hide his excitement. “I am quite satisfied, I thank you.” He patted the small brown camera beside his plate. “And I have all my gear, notebooks, pencils, everything. I am ready when you are.”
Kurt rose, a steward leaping out to pull his chair away. He pulled his pocket watch out and snapped it open. “Excellent timing; it has just gone ten. Let us descend to the mining camp. Remember, it is to be a flying trip; we do not dare stay too long, for fear of damage. We should be back in time for a late luncheon.”
Sheridan followed his host out of the Rheingold’s lounge and onto the deck. Even in the short time since they’d sat down to breakfast, the zeppelin had dropped quite near the ground. It currently hovered, he could see, very near the heaped outcropping of bare rock, mingled grey and brown, so strange for such a verdant planet.
“If you will follow me?” Kurt led Sheridan to the port side, where several crewmembers were belaying grappling hooks at the ends of long lines.
The men, Sheridan could see, were excellent at their work, well practiced and precise. One caught a convenient tree, but the hook pulled through the branches and broke free. Before the leathery leaves fell quite away, however, the other hook grabbed a heavier branch and the hook held tight.
A third crewman buckled himself into a harness and slid down the rope. He made several ropes fast below, and as Sheridan watched in interest, a sort of small cage, made of sturdy yet slender wood and webbing and big enough for three or four men to stand in comfortably, was pulled out to the edge of the deck and securely fastened to a rope webbing.
“Shall we descend, Mister Sheridan?” asked Kurt politely.
Sheridan had ridden in such contraptions before, but he thought it politic to look a little concerned. “Are you sure it is quite safe? It appears somewhat…forgive me, but flimsy.”
Kurt strode across the deck and climbed with agility into the cage. “It is as safe as can be, sir,” he called cheerfully. “Would you like to hand me your camera apparatus and pack, so that you might have both your hands free?”
Sheridan handed his gear over and carefully climbed in.
In another instant, the cage was sliding down the ropes to the ground below.
“Aren’t we going…rather fast?” Sheridan asked, continuing to appear uneasy. Before the last word was even out of his mouth, the little cage sat down lightly on a bit of flat ground some distance from the rocky outcropping.
Sheridan let out a breath he wasn’t even aware he’d been holding. “Ah, that was… quite exhilarating, to be honest, Herr Oberst,” he said gaily. He watched as the cage ascended on its series of pulleys, then shot back down; three well-armed crewmen stepped out.
The cage ascended for the third time, and one of the crewmen detached the original hooks; the heavy cables anchoring the Rheingold were hauled up.
“Is that…quite safe?” Sheridan asked. “Won’t the wind blow the airship away from us or some such?”
“The usual security procedure, that is all. The zeppelin will hover here until we return, keeping close to the ground so as not to miss our signal. But not too close.” Kurt motioned towards the village, perhaps half a mile away. “Come, Mister Sheridan. It appears to be an easy walk, sir. A pleasing constitutional. Just what we need after breakfast.”
Sheridan reached to take his gear, but Kurt handed it to a crewman.
“I’ll just take my camera,” Sheridan said. When he had it safely in hand, he said, “Well, sir, I am in your hands.”