Stowing Away...

The dock was quiet, with no sounds but the soft snoring of crewmen, and the thump of the guard strolling on the decking. The only light came from brilliant glowing stars and the occasional lamp hung here or there to keep the path lighted. Alistair was sure to keep quiet as he looked around for a likely vessel. From experience he could pick out which ones seemed about ready to set off. A few seemed in need of more hydrogen for their balloons. One seemed to be in the middle of being refitted. There were, however, some that seemed likely to be loaded and ready to go soon.

He eyed a cargo ship and decided it would be the best bet. He just needed to make himself into cargo. Luckily, after a little bit of prying, he fond a crate that was only partially filled. It took only a moment and a bit of maneuvering to open it, climb in with his bag, then quietly close it behind him.

It was not the most uncomfortable place he had ever slept, and it reminded him of younger days... When the nights were too cold, or too wet, an empty crate could be fairly good shelter. It hadn't taken him long to work that out. While his old classmates had been sleeping in soft beds and gaining education in their magic, he had been gaining an entirely different sort of education altogether. He thought of that as he laid his head on his bag, using it as a makeshift pillow.

He woke with a start when he felt the crate he was in rock a bit. They were moving him. He remained silent and listened to their conversation, muffled as it was.

"This go in the first hold?" the first man muttered.

"Naw. It's one o' t'others. You know..."

"Yeah... Alright."

Alistair held on as best he could and breathed a sigh of relief when he was aboard. After a while, there was the sound of hammering nearby. Then all was quiet around him. *cautiously he peeked through a small crack between the boards of the crate, but he couldn't really see anything, just the dim shadows of other crates. Ah well. He would just wait until they got a few days out, then reveal himself and offer to pay for passage. He just didn't want anyone to find him before he left the city.

After a few extremely boring, stifling hours of being left alone with his thoughts, Alistair felt the ship jerk, then begin to rise into the air. They were setting off.

Now that a day had passed by, Jenkins was now feeling safe enough to check on the "fragile" cargo. He headed down below deck to the cargo bay with a crowbar in his hands and a gun in his belt, looking over the piles of boxes they were shipping. With a grump, the middle aged man pulled on a small notch on the ship's side, revealing a secret compartment containing crates.

While shipping clothes from the factories payed well enough, though the tax on outgoing and incoming tobacco was outrageous. Enough to force "gentlemen" like himself to have to go to desperate measures. All he could do was hope that Sterling hadn't gotten into the stash yet.

Using the crowbar, he began to open the boxes to make sure none of the stuff had managed to get wet.

Alistair awoke to the sound of the crowbar prying open crates. He knew it was only a matter of time before they caught him. Still, he held stock still, hardly willing to breath. He didn't know what exactly to expect from these men, but few were likely to take kindly to a stowaway. The tobacco he had found occupying the other half of this crate did not bode well either. These had to be smugglers, and smugglers were generally skittish about their stashes of contraband. As the sound of footsteps came closer, his feverish brain attempted to work in doubletime.

Jenkins finally opened the crate Alistair had been, sliding the top off of it before looking in. It was rather dark, but even in the low light he could tell there wasn't as much tobacco in this one. Though he also could see something else in there, something that felt off. He moved to grab his gun in case of violent resistance and leaned forward a bit, squinting his eyes to try and make out just what was in there. He was beginning to get a clear image, either a human or a sack, he still wasn't sure...

Alistair looked up at the man and, in a split second had decided on a course of action. He yawned. "Ah, wha' are you disturbin' me for?" he groaned. "I ain't done nothin'." He hoped he looked sufficiently rumpled and lower class to seem like an accidental stowaway than a purposeful one. Still, all stories he could think of were rather flimsy given the fine carpetbag with fine clothes and other valuables under his head.

Jenkins was not amused. In fact, he was flat out annoyed by the intruder. Annoyed enough to point his gun at him. "Getta there," He grumbled, moving to the side so that Alistair could comply with his demand.

Alistair stood, eyes trained on the gun. He kept his hands visible and made no sudden movements as he stepped out of the crate. "No need for 'at... It were a mista'e. Though' I coul' sleep 'ere for th' night, an 'en next I knows I 'as being carried away."

"Y'don't go sleepin' in crates without permission," Jenkins growled, a look of disbelief crossing his face under his mustache. He gestured back, toward the stairs. "Get movin' up 'em stairs. We're gonna 'ave a chat with the cap'n."

Alistair kept his hands raised and proceeded up the stairs. His brain was fizzing with activity as he tried to think of a plausible story for the captain.

The man lead him up three levels, stopping him before he would hit a fourth set of stairs and directed him down the hallway. While it wasn't a luxury ship, it wasn't that bad for shipping ship. At least the paint was still intact, and there were a few images of lovely ladies exposing an ankle or a knee nailed to the walls. A few workers passed by and gave Alistair a curious glance, though were quick to move on their way. Not their problem.

Upon entering the captain's room, it could be seen that this was a fairly busy ship that required a lot of paperwork to function. Even then the captain was busy working on his accounts, writing feverishly. He glanced over his shoulder when hearing the door open and looked over Alistair with a bored expression. "Whozzat?" He asked.

"Caught a stow'way in t'good stuff. Says 'e fell asleep in there," Jenkins said almost mockingly, keeping his gun trained on Alistair's back.

"Well, 'splain yerself," Said the captain, not even bothering to turn completely around to hear his story.

"I 'as just finding a place t'sleep for the nigh' before las' and saw th' crates sitting aroun'. I 'ad no way of knowin' tha' they'd be stowed up proper-like b'fore I woke up. An' 'en I was on the ship, an' I though' well, bes' hide an' keep quiet. Don' wan' to upset anyone. I meant no 'arm," Alistair explained. He wasn't sure they would buy it, but he certainly tried his best to play the role of the simpleton. He examined the Captain, trying to read his expression.

The captain gave him a sympathetic nod, though there was a hint of amusement behind his eyes. "Everyone makes mistakes. Wot's your name 'n' what do y'expect us t'do 'bout 'aving you 'ere? We ain't gonna turn 'round."

"Jonathan," Alistair said quickly. "An' I can fin' my own way back if you le' me off at th' next port. Don' mean t' be a burden. 'ad no luck in Cen'ral Ci'y anyway... Could use a change of scene. Don' eat much, an I can work a ship." Amusement... That could be good or bad. Either he was genuinely amused by the simpleton... or he enjoyed toying with the lying stowaway.

The captain continued his nodding, standing up from his seat. "Well 'en, sounds legit t'me. Jenkins, why don't you go bring anythin' 'e brought with 'im to 'is room while we go discuss t'terms of 'is stay," He said, straightening the collar around his neck and moving to put an arm around Alistair's shoulders, trying to head for the door.

Alistair tensed a bit under the Captain's arm. The man was being too friendly. There was no way he had good intentions. Alistair kept his smile, though, and remained vigilant as he let the captain lead him out. He was sure his story was about to fall through. The moment they saw his bag...

But no he was a confidence man. Gaining peoples' confidence was in the name! Whatever they discovered, he would dispute... He had to. He would find a way to fast-talk out of this situation just like he had through many others.

"Yes sir!" Jenkins replied, waiting a few moments to make sure Alistair wasn't going to attack his captain on the spot before heading out the door himself.

The captain himself headed even further down the hallway with him in tow, using his arm to direct his movements. He opened another door and headed outside to the deck, stopping by the rail to admire the stars for a few moments. It was a lonely sight with out the smoke to get in the way, covering the entire horizion in a speckled blanket from both islands and the stars themselves.

"So what're y'really 'ear for?" He asked, keeping his face to the moon but his grip on Alistair's shoulder.

Oh Bugger, Alistair thought as the captain brought him closer to the rail. He made sure to stop at least a foot back, though pretended to look at the moon as he shot glances in the Captain's direction, ready to start grappling at any moment. "Alrigh' if you really mus' know, Cap'n, I'm on th' run. Stole from my master back in th' Ci'y an' thought it best to ge' ou' of dodge. Live like a king in another ci'y." He laughed. "I think you'd know wha' I mean. I never done no 'arm, but those coppers 'ould lock me up quick and 'ang me by th' neck for sure."

"I don't like being lied to," Said the captain, trying to push him closer to the edge just a bit harder, but not outright pushing him. "'N' I don't like ferrying 'round freeloaders. Tell me, wot can ya offer me?"

Alistair firmly kept his ground, resisting the push. "My fam'ly used to run a boa'. I can 'elp aroun' the place. An' seeing as I'm no' wan'ing to run into coppers meself, I'll keep my mouth shut. An' since I brough' along some nice things, I think you coul' fit my master's good clothes, eh? Maybe you'd like some gol' cufflinks?"

"What'd you steal?" The captain asked, letting him go. No way he was getting this one over the rail if he was going to be that tense.

Alistair smirked and winked, though he was very careful to take a surreptitious step away from the edge when he turned to face the other man more fully. "This an' tha'. Gol' candlesticks, some nice things."

The captain moved to lean on the railing, keeping his head from facing Alistair. "Bring any of it with ya?" He asked calmly.

"Think I'd offer if it weren' por'able?" Alistair did not like being unable to see the man's face. He seemed much too casual, though. Overly casual.

The captain's grin grew. "It's in your luggage, ain't it?" He asked, keeping his position.

At that moment, Jenkins came out the door with three other crew men with him, carrying the carpet bag Alistair had with him in the box. He looked a bit surprised to see Alistair still there. "Got t'luggage, sir," He said, rather unsure of what kind of tone was expected at the moment.

The captain said with a wave of his hand, "Great, dump it out there 'n' tell me wot's innit."

This was not good. Not good at all. Alistair took one or two steps so that the Captain was between him and the rail.

He patted the pocket of his waistcoat and was reassured that the picture of his family, the only thing he had left of them in this world, was in it. He did his best not to laugh. How fitting, if these men truly had plans to send him skydiving, that he should die in the same way as the rest of his family did... Falling through the emptiness of their world and coming to rest on some distant island they had no knowledge of. The last of the Fairchilds, ending the exact same way...