Voyage of the Chevalier: Episode 3 - The Misty Lanes of Moorhaven

Welcome to this series new home in Chapters! The previous episodes will remain in Fiction due to pathing, but rest assured you can access them easily through my page or the hyperlinks in each episode.

This is the continuation of a series, and it is recommended to read the preceding episodes. Use the links below:

Episode 1: A Nefarious Patron

Episode 2: Airship Sails and Mermaid Tales

***

The humid air hung in Duncan’s lungs. This close to shore, he was glad he had the occasional seaward breeze to cool him down. Sunset was fast approaching, he knew, even though he would not be able to observe it in this dense evening fog. The wispy-gray smoke plume from the Chevalier’s chimney disappeared into a tendrilled mass of white overhead.

He kept his eyes towards the north-northwest. He knew according to his charts that he should be coming on the Moorhead Lights soon, for missing those crucial markers would mean risking the perilous shoals and islands that guarded the harbor of Moorhaven. Instead of seeing the lighthouses, Duncan heard the distant baritone echoes of foghorns. The sea was otherwise ghostly quiet, save for the sharp reply of the Chevalier’s own steam horn. Duncan surmised that they were entering the harbor.

Duncan looked on as Marcel managed the crew’s efforts at bringing the ship in. Madeleine stood next to Duncan, wearily grasping the ship’s railing.

“How much longer?” she asked him.

“Not too long now,” Duncan replied, “perhaps an hour before we’re docked, then we’ll find lodging ashore.”

“Good,” she said with an artificially stoic look as she stared towards the source of the foghorn. Her left leg twitched.

They slowed the Chevalier to a crawl so the crew could react better to hazards in the reduced visibility. As they strayed too close to one side of the channel, they could see the vague shadow of a lighthouse atop a low sandy hill as its light futilely attempted to cut the fog. The horn was loud and sonorous here, almost mournful. The pilot let loose two bursts from the Chevalier’s horn, signaling that they were safe and on course.

“I hope this deviation of yours proves fruitful, mon ami.” said Marcel in a hush.

“I hope so, too,” he replied.

Soon after, their destination was in sight. Moorhaven’s compact skyline jutted from the headland, an undistinguished hulk of shadow and light that barely pierced the fog. A sudden shift in the air brought the bitter taste of smog. Madeleine wrinkled her nose in disgust, but Duncan instinctively breathed in. That revolting smell promised solid ground, a fresh bed, and a stiff drink.

Soon, the Chevalier was being tied to a concrete pier at the docks. The pier was lined with gantries, clockwork loading apparatuses, and other ships of varying sizes. The shadows of silent warehouses and offices stood beyond, just below the rising hills on which the rest of Moorhaven sat.

The moment the final mooring cable was bound to the sleepy dock, a distant figure appeared from the fog-bound harbor office. He carried a flickering oil light.

Duncan and Marcel looked to each other in calculation, Madeleine seemed rather uninterested in her current state.

The man approached the ship, holding his lamp up to Duncan and Marcel. The man was gaunt, his emaciated features masked by a bushy beard and a deputy harbormaster’s uniform. Duncan blew a sigh of relief, at least it’s not the customs men.

The harbormaster groaned, “Origin, destination, and expected departure, please.”

Marcel looked to Duncan, who stroked his chin, “New Colverelle… Blacklester, overmorrow.”

Marcel looked to Duncan as if to say, what game are you playing at?

The harbormaster looked up and began chatting in a dispassionately calm manner, “Blacklester? I have family in Coldport. They tell me the Isles are nice this time of year.”

“Indeed they are, Monsieur.”

“Reason for coming to Moorhaven?”

“… Resupply.”

“Anything to declare?”

“No,” Duncan said with practiced casualness.

The man looked the pair of them over, then said, “Customs men are off shift right now, lazy sods they are. If you’ve nothing to declare, then I’ll just send them by before you leave. My wife Sarah’s just made dinner and you lot have made me late.”

“Our apologies, sir, we don’t mean to keep you from such important affairs,” said Duncan charmingly, “but if I may, can I bother you with one question?”

He sighed and nodded, “Make it quick.”

“Where is the best accommodation? Comfortable, but within reasonable price.”

The man smiled, “My cousin Gertrude and her man’s got a small place a ways up the road yonder. Spacious rooms, well-kept beds, modern amenities, it’s a right bargain. It’s right next to the rail platform, can’t miss it.”

“Merci,” nodded Duncan.

The man left.

“Why did you lie?” asked Madeleine after waiting for the man to be out of earshot.

Marcel realized suddenly and said, “Ah, another captain at a pub in New Colverelle was mentioning this the other month. It’s so if the Revolutionary Authority were to get suspicious, their bureaucrats might not identify our ship as having been the same one that made this stop. It works for ships with more common names. Risky, but smart…”

Duncan nodded.

Marcel’s smirk turned into a frown, “This means I have to forge an alternate manifest before the customs men come?”

Duncan smiled.

“Grâce du ciel, Duncan! You know what, it’s fine, this is my job, isn’t it…” he sighed and shook his head.

Madeleine’s knuckles turned white as she gripped the railing.

Meanwhile, the crew coalesced on the deck. They all seemed exhausted and ready for the day’s end.

Duncan cleared his throat, “All hands present? Bien. Everyone, you are granted leave for tomorrow. Everyone be back onboard for the following dawn! Am I understood?”

“Aye, Captain.” They replied, exhausted but smiling.

And not a word about our passenger, Duncan thought to himself. He hoped his crew was wise enough. “Dismissed.”

Duncan and Marcel let the crew pass between them as they walked up the pier towards shore. Madeleine joined the three of them, walking tenderly with practiced patience. She seemed quickly exhausted by the slight uphill climb up the cobblestone lane. A light mist began falling, but the elevated railway they found themselves under offered them partial shelter as they all walked onwards.

It was not long before they found the place described to them: a modest three-story inn squashed between two much taller buildings. ‘The Rattlin’ Rail Inn’ the sign said. Indeed, the elevated rail station was right before the front door and the rail itself ran right next to the upper stories as well.

“An apt name, it seems,” quipped Marcel.

“At least we can get some sleep while the trains aren’t running tonight. Allons-y…” said Duncan, suppressing a yawn.

“My… feet are sore on these stones, are we almost there?” Madeleine asked.

“Almost,” answered Duncan.

As the three entered the inn, they saw that, despite outward appearances, the establishment was quite cozy. A blazing hearth with a stew pot hung over it gave the room a gentle ambience and mouth-watering smell. A few haggard patrons in various states of dishevelment sat slouched on stools clutching their pints. Their conversations immediately became hushed as they saw Duncan, Marcel, and Madeleine enter. A middle-aged woman in a blouse, apron, and bonnet stood behind the counter, smiling warmly at the three.

“Hello, loves, what would you like?” she said.

“Two rooms,” said Duncan, “One for my quartermaster, one for my wife and me.”

Madeleine shot him a tired but sharp gaze at the word wife.

The woman saw this and cocked her head. “Ah, sailors, are you? You don’t often see them carrying their wives around…”

“Not often, but this one kept going on about how I keep leaving her every month. I offered her the chance to keep me company on this run.” he said, smiling.

The woman did not seem convinced, but her tone did not change.

“And so, Sailor, where is this run to then?” she said with a suspicious eye.

Madeleine looked directly at Duncan’s eyes and said tiredly with a hint of exhaustion, “Blacklester.”

Duncan deftly smiled back, then turned back to the woman.

“Yes, Blacklester. Excuse me, I forgot to introduce myself,” Duncan extended his hand, “Captain Fourchette.”

“Oh, Captain Fourchette!” she said, mordantly accepting the handshake while transitioning to a service smile, “You three seem to be in luck, Captain, two rooms are free next to each other on the next floor. Room three is a single and room four has a large mattress and ensuite bath. Me man’s had indoor plumbing installed. Marvelous thing, indoor plumbing, didn’t have that as a girl.”

Duncan smiled, “You spoil us, Madame. What is your price?”

“Nine crowns a night for both rooms.”

“A bargain, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me until the rail starts running at half-five.” she grinned.

“Duly noted.”

“The name’s Gertrude. Ask for me if you need anything.”

“Bien, thank you for your hospitality.”

The three began walking towards the stairs at the back of the bar room, Madeleine trailing a step behind. Gertrude cleared her throat to get her attention.

“You going to be alright, Madame?” she said, gesturing to Duncan and Marcel with her eyes.

Madeleine, very tiredly and hazily, said, “Of course, Madame.”

Gertrude, after a moment of introspection, raised her eyebrows and began cleaning pint glasses with a rag.

The three slowly climbed the stairs. Madeleine, barely standing, nearly missed a step and tripped. Duncan caught her arm. Her hand wrapped around his forearm like a vice.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

“I am fine,” she growled.

Marcel waited on the landing while Duncan helped Madeleine the rest of the way.

“This one is mine, I think,” said Marcel, pointing to a door.

“And this is ours,” said Duncan.

“I see I still need a chaperone?” Madeleine said irritably, dozens of beads of sweat forming on her brow.

“No,” said Duncan, “But you might need a hand. You’ll see why I suggested this arrangement in a moment.”

Marcel gave the two one last look before retiring happily to his own room, his own mattress. Duncan held the door open for Madeleine to theirs. Inside was a large, curtainless four-poster bed and a door to an adjoining washroom, separated by a thin wood panel door. Inside was an ornate cast iron bathtub connected to a veritable mess of brass piping.

Duncan stopped in his tracks. “This is better than I expected!”

Madeleine suddenly became weak at the knees. Duncan set her down on the bed and rushed to close the door to their room.

“I can’t keep this shape much longer… water…” she said.

Duncan stood at the door for a moment, then instantly understood. He walked to the bath and began drawing water. From the other room, Madeleine’s pained face lit up at the sound of rushing water. Immediately she stood, began disrobing, walked past Duncan wordlessly, and carefully climbed into the tub. Duncan immediately left to give her some privacy. As he stepped next to the bed and began tearing his boots off, he heard a long unsettling crackling sound. When he looked back, her head had disappeared under the rim of the bath and the end of a silvery mermaid’s tail hung over the side. He let the bath finish filling as he removed the dirtiest of his garments and flung them into a corner of the room.

He walked carefully into the washroom to find the bath nearly overflowing. He quickly shut off the knob and looked into the tub. Two otherworldly blue eyes stared back at him from under the surface of the water.

He smiled, “Bonne nuit, sleep well.”

Her eyes blinked in response.

He walked back to his bed and fell in. Sleep came quickly.

***

The sharp cry of a steam whistle woke him from his dreamless slumber. Similarly, Madeleine splashed awake in the tub, and the two heard a shout through the wall that sounded suspiciously like a startled Marcel. By the time they had fully roused themselves, the rails outside rattled again under the weight of a passing steam train.

“What was that?” Madeleine asked, her head rising rapidly from the water.

“I think that’s our wake-up call.” Duncan answered, swinging his legs out of the bed, “Come, let’s get dressed. We have errands to run.”

As Duncan rubbed his eyes, he heard a combination of that sickening rending sound from the ship the day prior and frantic splashing in the bathtub. When the worst of the noises were done, he looked over to see pieces of disintegrating fish skin, scale, and blood falling from Madeleine’s newly formed legs. She hid a wince of pain as she carefully stood holding the rim of the bathtub for balance and stepped down onto the floor.

Madeleine saw Duncan’s look of concern.

“I am fine. This time was easier after some rest. Let me get dressed.”

Duncan nodded and saw to his own morning affairs.

Once the pair were ready, they stepped out into the hall and walked down to the bar area where Marcel was waiting for them, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

“Bon matin, Lou- Duncan.”

Duncan cocked his head subtly at Marcel with a pointed gaze. Madeleine observed the reaction with interest.

“Yes, eh, pardon… it’s hard to speak at this hour,” he chuckled nervously, looking at Madeleine and the handful of patrons already gathering for breakfast.

Duncan sighed and shook his head, “What are you doing up this early?”

Marcel chuckled, “Well between the morning train and the sound from your room, I couldn’t close my eyes! But nevermind that, what is on the agenda for today?”

“I am going to accompany Madeleine to the city center for some shopping. Can you see to the harbor fees and paying the proprietress?”

“Ouais, Capitaine, I’ll add it to the list.”

“But first, breakfast.”

“Of course. I have already taken the liberty of ordering some.”

“Excellent.”

Soon, they had their fill of sausage, eggs, beans, and coffee, the last of which Madeleine seemed particularly fond of. Duncan had to convince her not to drink directly from the pot. Soon, they heard the tracks outside begin to rattle and squeal.

“That must be our summons,” said Duncan, “à ce soir, Marcel.”

“Bonne journée!”

Duncan and Madeleine promptly left the inn and approached the steep metal stairs leading up to the elevated rail platform. Madeleine eyed them nervously, but Duncan held her hand as they ascended, allowing her to use both him and the steel railing for stability. Madeleine’s masculine clothing drew glances from the workers gathering on the platform. She ignored it, not being the wiser, but Duncan noticed fully well. He pretended not to see.

The platform was windy, but a thin mist still clung to the morning sky. In seemingly no time at all, a hulking iron engine belching steam and smoke skidded to a halt at the platform, blasting the platform’s patrons with rapidly cooling steam. The train’s open-air carriages were surprisingly crowded with dockworkers, sailors, and even some well-to-do folk with luggage looking to make a morning sail.

“Port district!” a conductor on the carriage shouted.

As they rushed to disembark, Duncan helped Madeleine onto a relatively emptier carriage and passed the conductor a half-crown.

No sooner than they stopped to find a seat, the engine clacked to life and lurched the train forward. Duncan, more accustomed to steam trains, stood a stance similar to the one he took on his ship when at sea. Madeleine, who was not, was flung backwards into him. Duncan caught her with a look of surprise. As she looked back in apology, Duncan’s forced ambivalence melted into a chuckle. She smiled.

The two sat at an empty wooden bench, Madeleine sitting against the half-wall peering out over the side of the track. Her eyes widened as she beheld the sights below. The track swept left onto a brick terrace, offering a prime view of the lower street between the tall buildings. Throngs of people in various forms of dress walked up and down, a privileged looking few riding on rickety velocipedes or wheeled shoes. A group of young women promenaded under frilly parasols, as though in expectation of sun before the morning mist was even burned away. Several horse-drawn carriages passed the crowds in both directions in the center of the street. The one thing she hated amidst all this wonder was the ever-present tinge of smoke and dung in the air.

Duncan sat back, enjoying the familiar Republican scenery.

Before long, the train screeched to a halt and the whistle blew.

“Monument Street!” the conductor called.

“Let’s try here,” Duncan said, “places they keep statues often have good shops.”

Madeleine nodded. The two got up and descended the train with a dozen others. The train departed as soon as they touched the platform. They passed through a small archway between two buildings and found themselves walking along a wide street lined with street vendors, cafés, and brick-and-mortar shops of all kinds. The center was occupied by a miniature park with trees, benches, and a singular tall marble monument with a soldier atop it. As they wandered closer, they noticed the inscription in the smooth stone, ‘FOR THOSE WHO FOUGHT AGAINST TYRANTS AND WON.’ The soldier held a broken crown.

Duncan’s face grew pale, and he dug his fingernails into his palm, “Let’s keep walking.”

Madeleine had stopped to marvel at the monument, but followed close behind as he began walking onward.

A short walk down Monument Street, Duncan spied a small shop with a sign saying, ‘Clarkson Family Garments and Tailoring.’

“Seems respectable enough, let’s go,” he said, ducking in with Madeleine in tow.

Inside was a small exchange counter and numerous shelves of textiles, dresses, and suits against the wall. A man in a suit and bowler hat was handing banknotes to someone who appeared to be the store’s salesclerk. The man turned and walked between Duncan and Madeleine out the door.

The clerk looked directly at Duncan with an artificial grin and said, “Hello, Monsieur, do you and the lady require assistance?”

A well-dressed woman entered the store from a backroom.

“I do not,” answered Duncan, “but my passenger does. We were met with an unfortunate accident in port and the lady is in dire need of new attire.”

The clerk snickered, “Right, I can see the lass is most embarrassed by such… bohemian fashion.”

Madeleine cocked her head confusedly.

“Oh, behave yourself in front of the patrons, Connor!” said the woman, stepping up to the counter, “And to think you, my husband, in business with me for years, wouldn’t recognize a poor thing wearing someone else’s clothes!”

She gently took Madeleine’s hand, “I’m Ghislaine, dear. Come, let’s have a look at you in the fitting room.”

Ghislaine began leading Madeleine by the hand towards the back, but she stood firm where she was.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Ghislaine asked.

Madeleine hesitated for a moment, a hint of apprehension in her eye as she pointed to Duncan, “Can he come with me?”

Ghislaine looked at Duncan, trying to piece together a history.

Duncan immediately spoke up with an inventive excuse, “She’s rather shy, and until she reaches her destination, I am her de facto chaperone according to her parents. But it would be improper to intrude…”

Ghislaine sighed and ushered them with her free hand, “Come on, I haven’t got all day and you’re not my only customer! I’m not going to do anything you shouldn’t see, just measurements. If the mademoiselle feels more comfortable with you, then come along.”

“Merci mille fois,” said Duncan.

“It’s nothing,” said Ghislaine, “call it efficiency. Come, venez! Vite, vite!”

She led them into the back room and shut the door. This space was separated into a storage closet and partially finished fitting room. There was another door that led somewhere further back.

“You, Monsieur, pull up a chair! You, Mademoiselle, stand in the center there! Now where did I put my blasted measuring tape? Ah, there…”

The two followed her instructions as Ghislaine began humming to herself. She stretched the tape out and brushed back Madeleine’s hair and moved to measure her neck and shoulder. Ghislaine gasped as she almost rubbed her fingers against Madeleine’s gill slits.

Madeleine reflexively stopped breathing or moving her neck to keep her gills from moving. Duncan also stopped breathing, attempting to think of a quick, reasonable lie.

“Great heavens!” Ghislaine exclaimed, “What happened here?”

Madeleine was frozen, but looked wide-eyed right at Duncan as if to say, well?

Duncan took a quick breath in and stammered a bit, “Well, yes, I asked a while back and she was not willing to talk about them much, poor woman. They are… ah… scars from a childhood accident, best I can gather.”

“Ah, yes… scars…” said Ghislaine, “poor girl. Well, I’ll make this quick, then.”

Duncan could not tell if she was convinced. Ghislaine looked Madeleine in the eyes for a moment, then shook her head and took the upper body measurements as quickly as possible.

When she moved on to the waist, Ghislaine asked, “What sort of fabric were you looking for?”

Madeleine looked to Duncan again.

He sat forward. “Nothing outrageous in price, durable but wearable in public.”

Ghislaine laughed, “Durable but fashionable. Right, you’re on a ship. Right. Lucky for you, dear, practicality is coming back into fashion. Luckily, we sell undergarments in your size, and we can easily make a simple dress for you; two if you’d like a change for washing. When do you need it by?”

“Tonight,” said Duncan.

“Tonight!” shouted Ghislaine, “Well, that will certainly limit the color choice, but I have a few cotton dresses in stock that I could easily hem. I can move you to the top of today’s work order, but that will be an extra thirty crown charge.”

“Thirty!” he shouted.

“Thirty, time is money after all. White, green, yellow, or pink?” she smiled.

Duncan sighed and shrugged, “Green.”

Madeleine’s gaze deepened sternly at him.

“And a yellow one.”

“Smart man,” chuckled Ghislaine.

***

“What do you call this again?” Madeleine asked.

“Cream ice.” Duncan said.

The café they were sitting in was bustling with people. Servers rushed back and forth with beer pints, pots of coffee, and small plates of food. Duncan and Madeleine sat alone at a small table. A man at a bar was scooping more cream ice out of a hand-cranked mechanical churn. Rain pattered against the glass windows.

“Why is it purple?” Madeleine asked.

“I think they put blackberries in this batch. They’re fresh this time of year. Go on, try it.”

Madeleine looked at him strangely, but fumbled with the spoon until she got a large enough scoop.

She tried it, “Not bad. It’s very cold.” She ate more, “What is it you have? It smells better.”

“Me? A bacon sandwich. Food of the masses, you can get it anywhere anytime, unlike cream ice.”

Madeleine shrugged but kept eating her cream ice. “What exactly are we doing here, Duncan, other than waiting?”

Duncan bit off some of the sandwich and ate it. “Whatever you want, really. After so long in your… confinement, I assumed you would like to vent some steam. Moorhaven, as small as it is, is known for a modest variety of amusements.”

Madeleine cocked her head, “This place is small?”

Duncan laughed, “Even some of the minor ports in the Republic are much larger than this – more advanced, too!”

His smile turned into grim contemplation before he looked back at her.

“If all goes to plan, I am not certain how much you will be able to enjoy at our destination, so I figure ‘it’s better now than never’ as they say. New Colverelle is a pittance compared to this as well.”

Madeleine finished her bowl but began casting eyes at Duncan’s sandwich.

“So, that being said, what would…” Duncan began saying, seeing her look alternatively at him and his sandwich.

He sighed and gave her the remaining half-sandwich. She smiled and began devouring it.

Her mouth half-full of bacon, she asked, “So what would you suggest I might find ‘amusing’? Remember, I am a stranger in this place, and you obviously know more about its diversions.”

Duncan wiped the bacon grease from his chin with a rag and thought for a moment. It was then he saw a poster that had been freshly adhered to the back wall of the café:

MOORHAVEN SUMMER CARNIVAL

Can’t miss attractions for all ages and inclinations!

Carnies of eccentric talent, exotic beasts from all corners of the globe, and miraculous inventions from across the raging foam!

Only a quarter-crown per entry!

Located on the River Street Amusement Pier, open 16:00 to midnight!

“I think I have a good idea…”

***

I hope you enjoyed the next chapter of this amazing tale! My apologies for not posting it sooner, but my life got somewhat hectic for a bit. Thank you, my readers, for your unerring patience! If you liked Episode Three and can't wait for Episode Four, then give this story a like, comment, and share. Don't forget to subscribe to keep up with all new developments on my profile!

A la prochaine fois, mes amis!