Betina Krahn (44 page)

The dolphins’ passivity made securing them in the nets easier than expected. Celeste spoke soothingly to them, stroking their heads and praying that they didn’t suddenly revive and begin to struggle the moment they were lifted from the water. When the slings were in place, one of Titus’s students suggested using the rafters overhead to help hoist the animals. It proved a valuable suggestion, and Ariel was already up in the air in her rope cradle when the reverend gave a soft whistle, which was relayed by the brigadier … only seconds before a banging erupted on the front door.

Everyone froze. Thinking fast, Anabelle grabbed Penelope and headed for the entrance. Motioning to the Bass brothers to get behind the door as she opened it, Anabelle straightened her hat and unbolted the door. “Wot the—Who are you?” a voice came from the doorway. Anabelle fell back before the fellow’s determined entry and pulled Penelope back with her.

“Umm … we come for a look at the fish. That other fella let us in. His friend Ollie sent us.”

The hulking brute scowled. “
I’m
Ollie. An’ I ain’t never
seen you before. ” Glancing up, he caught sight of the rope and the net and the dolphin. “Hey—wot’s goin’ on—”

His hard head made a satisfying
crack
under the billy club. Hiram tapped his palm with the club and looked at his brother. “Yer right, Bernie. It is fun.” Together they took the fellow to join his comrade on the sawdust pile.

Reprieved, they were instantly back at work hoisting, straining, lowering. Everyone had to get into the effort, hauling on the rope or keeping Ariel from swinging and banging into the tank or platform. The dolphin didn’t struggle as she was lowered to Titus and three of his students on the ground. Celeste rushed to untie the rope and the first phase of the transfer was done.

It took six of them to actually lift and slide her into the tank in the hearse. She was a bit longer than the tank, but with her body bowed, they managed to close the velvet curtain at the rear of the hearse over her flukes.

Celeste sagged against the lacquered pillar at the corner of the vehicle and looked at Titus with cautious optimism. “That’s one.”

Prospero was nearly two feet longer than Ariel and considerably heavier. He also had more fight left in him. Several times, they thought they had him secured, only to have him flop and twist the ropes and net into a tangle. Celeste finally succeeded in reassuring him, and had to stay by his head, stroking and talking to him, while he was lifted out of the water. The Atlanteans groaned and winced, straining on the rope until they finally succeeded in hoisting him up and lowering him over the side.

Since he was heavier than Ariel, they had to rush to help Titus and his students carry the dolphin outside. Getting Prospero into the tank was a backbreaking task that strained every muscle they possessed. Celeste had to climb into the hearse beside the tank and reassure Prospero continually, while Titus and the others padded the edge of the tank for his long tail flukes to rest against. Even with his body bowed
his tail flukes stuck out the rear of the hearse, beneath the black velvet curtain.

“Come on—get your cloaks. We’ve no time to lose,” Titus said. Then he put Lady Sophia and Daniel into the hearse with Ariel, and climbed into the rear hearse with Celeste and Prospero.

Reverend Altarbright hurried down from his post and paused over the two sleeping guards to reassure himself that they were not dead. At his touch, the bigger fellow stirred. “Come on, Reverend!” the brigadier bellowed, not knowing that his volume would penetrate the fog in their victim’s head. The fellow’s eyes opened and the reverend lurched up and headed for the rear door at a run.

The hearses were already halfway down the alley when the reverend caught up with them. He seemed worried and kept looking back over his shoulder. “What’s the matter, Reverend?” Penelope asked.

“The big fellow was waking up,” he responded. “What’ll we do?”

“Walk faster,” Penelope said, and passed that worrisome news along.

At the brigadier’s whistle—their prearranged signal—the drivers picked up the pace. Now that they had the dolphins, every minute that went by prolonged their risk of discovery. They had to get Prospero and Ariel back into the water and to do it soon. Prospero’s caws and screeches would attract attention, especially coming from the inside of a hearse.

The drivers hurried through Trafalgar Square as quickly as they could and headed down Thames Street toward the location on the riverbank that the Bass brothers had scouted for them the previous afternoon. The place was one of several old docks east of the Isle of Dogs. It served only a few ill-kept boats and had stone steps and a ramp down to the water nearby. At that point, the river widened slightly and boat traffic was not as dense. If all went as planned, they would reach the place at high tide, and the dolphins could reach open water faster.

There were more people about on the streets now and the dripping and noise from the hearses were reaching embarrassing levels. The mourners bustled along behind, breathlessly trying to keep up and to block any onlooker’s view of Prospero’s tail flukes protruding from the curtain, waving and flopping in agitation.

I
T WAS HALF PAST EIGHT
, and P. T. Bentley was lingering over coffee and a copy of the
Times
in the Clarendon Hotel dining room, savoring the comfort funded by his latest scheme. When a commotion broke out by the door, he ignored it, spooning another bit of sugar into his coffee with determined leisure.

“I said, you can’t come in here!” The headwaiter raised his voice, a serious breach of decorum in such an elegant establishment. Bentley looked up at the sound of scuffling. A second later his newspaper was being dragged from his hands by the sweating, steaming longshoreman named Harold, whom he had hired to guard his exhibit. Bentley shot to his feet, furious at the oaf’s intrusion.

“What the hell are you—”

“They’re gone, Mr. Bentley,” the fellow panted out, still fending off the maître d’. “Yer dolphins. They whacked me an’ Ollie o’er the head and jus’ took ’em.”

Bentley seized the wretch’s arm and shoved him out the door, intent on minimizing the embarrassment of being linked publicly to the oaf. Once outside, he pulled the thug behind a thick column and demanded to know: “When?”

“A bit ago. Ollie—he woke up an’ saw ’em takin’ off down the alley. In bone-rollers.”

Bentley’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell are ‘bone-rollers’?”

“Them fun’ral wagons. Ollie, he woke me up and sent me to fetch ye, whilst ’e follered ’em.”

“Damn and double damn them!” Bentley cursed with quiet fury. “I should have known.” He glared up at the
longshoreman and gave him a vicious shove. “Stupid bastards—you’re fired—both of you!”

A quarter of an hour later, Bentley was in the local constabulary, pouring out his tale of loss and outrage to the sergeant in charge who was impressed by the well-dressed, drawling American. In minutes, the sergeant was calling for the police van and three constables to come along with him in pursuit of the stolen dolphins.

There was only one place for the thieves to go if they intended to free the animals, Bentley and the sergeant agreed. The Thames. But which direction? East, Bentley finally decided; they would have to head toward the brackish tidal region, toward more open water. There was only one major road along the Thames between Covent Garden and the Tower: Thames Street. By deduction and process of elimination, they gradually closed in on the route Celeste Ashton and her “gang” had used to transport the dolphins to water. Their theory was confirmed when, on lower Thames Street, Bentley spotted one of his henchmen, lumbering along—winded from running—heading back toward the exhibit.

“ ‘At way, sarr.” Ollie pointed behind him, gasping for air. “Follered ’em … a ways. Big black … bone-rollers … some walkin’ b’hind.”

Without a second’s hesitation, Bentley smacked the sergeant’s shoulder then pointed to the road ahead. “What did I tell you? Let’s go.”

T
HE CLOSER THEY
got to the dock where they would release the dolphins, the faster the hearses traveled and the more the mourners on foot lagged behind. Finally the brigadier struggled up to the back of the second hearse and called to Celeste and Titus to hurry on without them: “Got to call a halt. Troops all fagged out, back here.” They were passing through an area of crumbling buildings and aged docks, and
Titus, peering out the side curtains, rapped on the roof and ordered a halt.

He slithered out of the back and helped the Bass brothers hoist Anabelle and Penelope up onto the seats beside the drivers. Then the Basses, the brigadier, and the reverend climbed up onto the pallbearer steps on the sides.

“We may as well run for it,” he called to the drivers. As soon as he was back inside, they slapped the reins and the hearses lurched and began to race along at a breathtaking pace.

Within minutes they were turning down a rutted side street that led to a set of dilapidated docks. There, the Atlanteans disembarked and helped the first driver turn and back his vehicle slowly down the long stone cargo ramp until the back wheels were submerged. They braced the front wheels with wooden blocks and threw open the rear curtains. Titus and Celeste slid to the back and exchanged nervous smiles at the sight of the water at their feet.

“So far, so good.” Celeste dropped into the water, skirts and all.

“Now if we’ve calculated correctly,” Titus said as he beckoned the Basses, the brigadier, and the reverend into the water with them, “we should be able to slide the tank out into the water and let the tank drop away. Prospero, here, should be able to float without it. Then we just peel off the net and give him a shove in the right direction.”

The scent of the water, the strange angle of the tank, the sudden movement … all startled Prospero. When the tank was halfway into the water, he began to thrash and cry out. Celeste tried to calm him, but he was too panicky and before the tank slid off the hearse bed he flexed powerfully and keeled over onto his back in the water. Celeste screamed as he hit with a tremendous splash.

For a moment afterward all fell silent, as the group held their breaths in horror and expectation. The only sound was the violent sloshing of the water where he had disappeared.

Celeste felt as if she were falling slowly down a well,
watching disaster approaching at one-tenth normal speed. To come so far—to get him to the very edge of the water and then—

Suddenly his pale, rope-covered body rose to the surface and as they watched, stunned, his blowhole opened and shot a tremendous spray of water into the air. They shouted and grabbed each other and jiggled and hugged, while Celeste and Titus rushed to remove the cargo net from him.

“One down!” Titus cried, grinning at Celeste as he pulled the now useless tank from the hearse and dragged it aside.

They had to help push the hearse back up the ramp and the going was slippery on the wet surface. But soon it was done and the driver, Marsh, gave Titus a salute and drove off. Next, they helped Nana and Daniel from the second hearse so it could begin backing down to the water. At the bottom they halted, braced the wheels, and gathered around to pull the tank from the back.

Ariel was visibly weaker and lay quietly in the tank, except for an occasional toss of a fluke. This time, they struggled to support the tank as it slid into the water and then let the water of the Thames flood into it and surround Ariel. She wriggled some when the tank dropped from under her, and Titus and Celeste supported her as they worked quickly to remove the net. Suddenly she was free. Celeste gave her a few strokes along her head and sides, hoping to stimulate her, and felt her give a series of little jerks. When she thrashed her flukes once, Celeste retreated into shallower water, beside Titus, who put his arm around her. The Atlanteans gathered at the water’s edge watching the dolphins floating aimlessly in the water and, after a few moments, began to look at each other and Celeste and Titus, with concern.

“Wot’s wrong with ’em?” Hiram asked quietly.

“They aren’t swimming, aren’t going anywhere,” Lady Sophia said.

Alarmed, Celeste waded out into chest-high water, feeling for footing on the slimy bottom. “Go on, boy,” she said,
stroking Prospero gingerly, and gave him a gentle push in the right direction. “Go on, you’re free now. Head for the sea.” She pointed. “That way.”

She went to Ariel and stroked her, relieved to see she seemed a bit more alert. The dolphins floated into deeper water, occasionally bumping into each other and seeming as if they were having difficulty waking up from the week-long nightmare they had endured.

Celeste headed back to shore, where Titus helped her out of the dark water. “What if they’re too sick or disoriented to find their way?” she said, looking up at him, then around at the others. She looked out into the main channel and it seemed that the number of ships and boats had multiplied just since they arrived here. Some of the ships headed for berth were huge, and in places there were so many of them that the river seemed to be covered from bank to bank with decking. “There are so many ships … the water is so muddy and dark …”

Titus was already eyeing some of the aged boats tied up at the dock nearby. One was a small catboat, not unlike the one Celeste had always sailed at home. “We’ll have to lead them down the river—show them where to go.” He pointed to the boat. “Think you could handle that boat?”

She looked it over quickly and nodded. In moments they were racing up the ramp and onto the nearby dock. She and Titus climbed down into the boat and she inspected and pronounced it seaworthy. With trembling hands she unlashed the aged sail and tried the ropes. They were half rotted, but she only needed them to last another hour or two. Carefully she and Titus nudged the boat out into the water, and as she worked the lines and tiller, Titus leaned over the side and began to beat out her dolphin call on the hull to get the dolphins’ attention.

They were just catching a bit of wind when shouts and the sound of running came from the street above them. They looked up to see Bentley in his elegant gray morning clothes
and a number of black-clad constables running down the steps and ramp toward them.