Three days into the journey and Arthur had finally gotten used to the idea about heading to the refinery, sure that he could tell someone what sort of mistake had been made.
While he hadn't been able to talk the captain into getting a larger room, at least he was free to walk about this one.
The captain had come down shortly after leaving the harbor and, upon seeing Arthur had been a mass of wild eyed panic, his greasy hands leaving dark streaks through his hair as he pushed it back from his eyes.
"You're not a child!" The captain had stated and began pacing in front of the door. This caused the Lemur-men to look around in agitation.
"You are correct, my good man. In fact I haven't been a child in a very long time. Care to untie me?" Arthur had said.
"My contract is to only take the slimes and the occasional fur baby." Arthur noticed that the captain hadn't even looked over at the lemur men when he had made the specist slight."
"Be that as it may, I am quite willing to attest to this faux pas and relieve your burden, simply untie me, drop me off at the next port of call, and I shall simply let bygones be bygones. I'll have you know this hasn't been the first time I've been mistaken for a child." Arther flashed a grin, hoping it was as caviler looking as he was trying to be.
"Gods be damned, you're not a slime, nor fur baby. Slants all to brindle! My contract is for slimes and furs..."
Arthur's smile faded. "We've established that. Now simply untie me, and drop me off at your next port of call."
"Next port is the Refinery." the captain had started wringing his hands.
"If geography serves the isle of Alta is in between here and there, without being too much out of your way. Simply drop me off there?"
"Can't schedule to keep. They'll know if we've deviated. Only enough coal to reach the refinery."
Arthur was beginning to feel some of the captain's panic. No one chose to go to the refinery.
"Why are you taking children to the refinery anyway? Last I heard it was for the desperate and the cast out."
"Do you know what ship this is?" The captain asked suddenly.
"The Wonsoon." Arthur said without thinking, but then quickly added, "But if you drop me off I could forget quite easily. All these coal steamers look alike to me."
"Slants all to brindle!" He shouted; "You!" he pointed at the nearest lemur man hanging from a rafter, go get me some marsh so I can figure out a way out of this."
"Keep dealing with me my good captain and I can have you in as much marsh as you can drink!"
"Slants all to brindle... Slants slants..." And with that he slammed the door closed. Seconds later he heard the agonized scrape of the bar sliding across, blocking all egress.
Arthur heard the lock click. He sloughed off the ropes that bound him that he had been loosening for hours and stood up to stretch. All his muscles ached. Even standing up straight he was only 2/3 the height of a lemur man.
That exchange had been three days prior. Food had been delivered by a non-speaking Lemur man. Arthur spent many hours gazing out the one porthole that was mere feet above the water line, listening to the constant thrum of the boilers. By his reckoning he still had another three days before they made it to the Refinery.
While all obvious enchantments had been relived from him, he could still see the aura of location around his clothes. Hoping against hope that Vincenti and the others had a map fine tuned enough to divine his location out at sea.
At one point he tried to call Vincenti using a crude wire ring hanging from a rat's whisker he was able to procure, but without fire the thaumurgy had little chance of success and there was very little that was flammable in his room anyway.
On the fifth day he awoke to a change in the engine pitch. Perhaps they had hit a headwind or the tides were against them but either way the engine was now straining. Arther was also pushed against the hull slightly from where he was sleeping. They were turning, a sharp turn. For an instant Arthur allowed himself fantasy of a change of course to Alta, but then he heard the thunder. Or what only sounded like thunder. Seconds later what sounded like a giant with a sledge hammer hitting the steel of the ship's frame made his teeth rattle.
Arthur scrambled up to the porthole. In the morning haze, dimly silhouetted and brooding not fifty feet above the water was an enourmous double bodied zeppelin. The gondola hanging below was many times the size of the wonsoon itself. A cargo platform had been dropped from the gondola and small steam powered cruisers were making their way towards the Wonsoon. The fog lit along the port sides of the zeppelin in an eeriy orange as another round of artillery left. Then came the thunder. Arthur dove behind a barrel just as the porthole he was looking in opened to the outside. The hole was barely above the water line and the stray wave began splashing in the jagged hole. Another flash, lit his room. This time Arthur could barely hear the thunder of the guns as the engines changed again to a deafening roar. Dimly he could hear someone shouting something about water in the boiler room.
Arthur found the sturdiest barrel he could and began pushing it towards the gash just as another volley made it even larger. Water began flooding into his room. The Wonsoon was officially sinking as Arthur could see the bulkhead of the compartments below his already filling with water.
One more heave and he and the barrel landed in the ocean, freezing water gripping his limbs and shocking his breath from his body. It took everything he had to position his body over the mostly-floating barrel so that only his legs were in the water. He watch the Wonsoon careen away from him, leaving his barrel twirling in the wake so that once every 2 seconds he had a view of the now listing ship.
Men, women, Lemur-men and women were darting amidst the rigging, some making graceful dives into the frigid water. Then the sea hit the boiler. The last thing Arthur saw was the bright orange ball of flame that seemed to split the Wonsoon in two. Arthur held onto the barrel for dear life as pieces of the wonsoon began raining down. It was one of these pieces that came down on his still tender head.
"Slants all to brindle." He mumbled as he lost consciousness...
