Airborn by Kenneth Oppel Read Free Book Online Page B

Walken, or my bunk with its porthole that gave me a bigger view of the world than any landlocked window. My heart purred to the vibrations of the Aurora ’s engines. There were other fine ships, I knew, and some perhaps ever grander than the Aurora . But only she could fuel my dreams.
    “I understand.” The captain came around the desk and clapped a hand upon my shoulder. “This was your father’s ship.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Take heart, lad. A man with your courage and skill will not go unrewarded. There has not been one moment I’ve regretted taking you on as cabin boy. I will not break my word to you twice.”
    “Thank you, Captain.” I did not want to be childish and show my disappointment, so I stood and left quickly.
    Outside in the corridor, my eyes smarted with shame. A cocky young fool I’d been, assuming I’d be junior sailmaker. Me with no Academy training, and no wealth to help advance me. Of course I’d be pushed aside by the likes of Otto Lunardi’s boy. I felt no anger with the captain. He was an honorable man and had always done his best for me. But in my guts I already felt a hard, hot loathing for Lunardi’s son.
    A thief, he was. Taking what had been mine. If I were to steal from him, take so much as his uniform and cap, I’d be dragged before a judge and thrown into jail. But he had done just that to me, and worse. He’d stolen my life. That sailmaker position was mine. And there was nothing I could do to get it back. Who knew when there would be another position open for me? Might be years. Might be never. If the captain retired or changed ships, I would have no champion to forward my cause. And without that, my chances were slim of ever advancing beyond cabin boy.
    There was no shame in the position; I wasn’t so proud as to think it beneath me. But it was not what I wanted. What I wanted, with the intensity of all my dreams, was to one day fly the Aurora . To make her part the winds over the Mongolian steppes, soar over Antarctica, and weather the storms of Terra Nova. What I wanted was to take her airborne and keep her there forever.

    Anyone interested in the ship’s tour was supposed to meet at the grand piano in the starboard lounge at half past ten. When I arrived, there was only one person waiting: Kate de Vries.
    “Is the tour still on?” she asked. “I seem to be the only one.”
    I glanced around at the passengers reclining in their chaise lounges, some reading newspapers and magazines, others asleep with the sun on their faces, too full of breakfast to stir. Maybe they’d traveled so often they’d taken the tour before. Most likely the great lumps had no curiosity about the amazing ship that carried their lazy carcasses across the world.
    “Yes,” I said, “of course I’ll be offering the tour. Is Miss Simpkins—”
    “She’s out cold,” said Kate with a small smile. “Right after breakfast she said she had a splitting headache and needed to lie down.”
    “Very good, then.” I was not at all disappointed to be without her chaperone.
    We waited a couple more minutes, but when no one else arrived, we set off, just the two of us. I can’t say my heart was in it this morning, after my conversation with the captain. Usually I liked nothing better than showing off my ship, but right now I felt like I had ball bearings in my stomach.
    As always, I started with the A-Deck. The Aurora was running with the sun, leaving behind the coast of North America and heading out over the Pacificus. In a couple hours we’d lose sight of land altogether.
    Light poured in the lounge’s windows as we strolled through the writing and reading room with its wicker furniture and ivy growing up trellises, little desks with blotters and inkwells and Aurora stationery. Past that was the first-class reception room where groups of people could gather at tables and order drinks and coffee before and after meals. The dining room was being reset for lunch, stewards clattering silverware and