The von Hedwig children are lost in an undiscovered country, their parents and a dashing American dirigible pilot are searching for them, and Herr von Hedwig’s laboratory assistant is left in command of the great airship Schöneluft, anxiously awaiting word, unaware that he will soon be caught up in adventures of his own…

Schöneluft Log, 1900.06.24

Ulrik Manfred Adler, acting Captain

27.834, 86,602, anchored. Wind northwest, 27mph

Despite my failure to protect their children, the von Hedwigs have given me the honor of commanding their ship whilst they attempt a rescue. It has been a week since Herr von Hedwig and his good lady descended the volcanic tube that swallowed the children the week before. They returned from Saigon in record time with the American pilot. Her racing vessel is a thing of beauty, a scarlet-enveloped custom Renard racing dirigible modified to carry extra fuel for longer voyages. Captain Charette showed me around her ship as we readied it for the rescue mission. The interior is built from Japanese lacquered panels, lighter than wood but just as strong. The controls are so delicate, the ship so responsive! I would love a chance to pilot her to be sure, but they are all mad to plunge down a cave in such a flimsy craft. I believe the pilot is quite reckless, but Mein Herr trusts her, and so must I. He may treat his own life as nothing, but he will not risk his lady wife.

I wish I had gone with them. I wish I could do something, anything, to recover the children. It is my fault they were taken, yet I float, useless, in the empty, quiet ship that should never be so quiet. There has been no word from the rescue mission below.

I have waited here as long as I can. Now I must proceed to Pekin to retrieve Fraulein von Hedwig. Captain Charette told us Saigon hears whispers of trouble in China, of fomenting rebellion. Perhaps these are only rumors, but I am anxious to have Philomena safely on board. Then I will have to tell her I lost her brothers and sisters, and she will hate me forever.

She has been touring the more remote areas of Eastern Europe with a British family of much wealth and little talent. Why would she go to Transylvania with them rather than to the Great Himalayas with her own family? Surely not for the sake of a piano-accordion player?

The boiler chief has made it clear he thinks he should be captain in Mein Herr’s absence. He rolls his lips around in a sneer when he thinks I’m not watching. They keep to their routine, as far as I can tell. None of us know what it is they do or why they do it, but they are keeping busy and the Schöneluft purrs in contentment. I shall play a small concert for them tonight, for morale’s sake. I must find something cheerful to play, as all that comes to my fingers these days is Mahler. Though the solstice is past, today seemed far longer, and I have felt every minute of it. Tomorrow we fly north.

The twins led the way back to camp, where Gerhardt displayed his stone axe head. He had managed to chip away at a shiny black rock (which Claire called obsidian) until it had a sharp edge, cutting only four of his fingers in the process.

“And only one of them is at all deep,” he boasted. Bettina’s pinafore was missing its shoulder ruffles, as she had torn them off for use as bandages. Mirabelle made him unwrap his fingers and cleaned out his wounds with a few drops of the boiler chief’s special distilled engine cleaner. Gerhardt jumped up and down clutching his wrist as though twisting his hand off would feel better. He complained that cutting himself had not hurt anywhere near as bad, but they all agreed that they could not risk infection in so remote and wild a place.

Adolphus hurried to fashion a handle for the axe. Claire built the fire, wasting half an hour rubbing sticks together ‘to conserve matches’ before Bettina grew impatient and used one of her strike-anywheres. Claire spent the rest of the evening practicing her technique, finally constructing a bow using a flexible stick and one of her boot laces and achieving sparks at last. (The trick is to have loads of the right kindling – something soft like dry pine needles, dry moss, or the underside of certain tree barks.)

The twins enjoyed a lively discussion as to the fate of the turnip. It lay still in the pinafore, giving rise to speculation that it was only “alive” (or at least mobile) in its home field. Eventually they filled the cheese tin with water and brought it to a boil, hit the turnip with a rock and tipped it in. They cooked it a long time, just in case. It was sustaining, but not at all delicious.

The twins set out their net in the river, but when they woke it was empty. Adolphus returned to the turnip nests to hunt breakfast, which he enjoyed catching far more than he enjoyed eating. They argued in a desultory fashion over whether to stay in the field, which felt safe and had water and a food supply, or to continue downstream into unknown danger and possibly something better to eat. When Adolphus offered to go catch their lunch and dinner turnips, they packed up and got in the boat.

The river spun them through the valley, along the foot of the mountains. They saw more strange birds in all imaginable colors, but mostly variations of green. They heard rustling from the riverside that must have been larger animals.

“Mammals,” Adolphus said, “or possibly enormous turnips.”

They did not stop to investigate, for some mammals are quite dangerous, and enormous turnips are quite unappealing.

The smell of sulfer grew stronger throughout the day, and the swirling violet clouds became thicker with orange swirls. Claire had a bad feeling about this, and watched the riverbank for steam, which would indicate lava flowing into the water.

As she predicted, they were approaching the volcano. Gusts of smoke occasionally wafted across the river, forcing the children to shut their watering eyes tight against it, and bury their faces in their handkerchiefs or pinafore skirts.

What she had not expected was the loud yapping and howling of many small dogs in distress!

In which there is stalking.

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The grassy floodplain ended in a steep wooded hill, from which Claire and Adolphus could collect firewood. Now that the river had left the wooded mountains Claire could better study the local topography.

“We’ve been descending from higher in the mountains through the foothills and into this valley,” she told Adolphus. “But we haven’t come straight downhill out of the mountains. We’ve curved around them; the river’s running right alongside the hills. There’s taller mountains downstream of us, I think.” She peered up along the chain of hills as it disappeared into the violet-white swirling sky.

“Well it’s jolly steep going, that’s for sure,” he said. When they each had a big bundle of sticks they picked and slid their way back down to the field.

“Smell that sulpher? I think we’re right, there is a volcano here, and I think we’re closer than ever.”

They came out of the woods far from where they had entered. Adolphus threw down his bundle in disgust, fishing in his waistcoat pocket for the compass he’d removed from the boiler crew’s ship.

“That will only help if you looked at it before we left,” Claire said, hoisting her bundle into a more comfortable position.

“Nonsense. I kept track of our bearings on the river. We need to go…” He faced one way and then another, consulting his compass and the horizon.

“We need to go down hill,” Claire said. “Then we look along the river.” She started off, leaving Adolphus and his firewood and catch up. After ten minutes they heard voices off to their left (“To the North,” Adolphus asserted.) and set down their burdens to investigate.

They climbed the crest of a small hillock. Below them Mirabelle and Annabelle were chasing … something. They had tied their pinafores together, and each holding a side they tiptoed across the field, stalking. Then, for no reason observable from the hilltop, they pounced, throwing themselves headlong onto the ground, pinafore outstretched.

Adolphus drew breath to shout down at them but Claire touched his elbow and shook her head. They watched the twins repeat their bizarre hunt twice more, until the pounce led to excited shouts from below. Then Adolphus and Claire ran down to see what had been caught.

As they approached they saw the field, so still from above, was alive with movement. Round, grubby white-purple things rolled and bounced through trails and tunnels in the grass. Adolphus gave chase, but as soon as he was close enough to make out what the rolling things were, they disappeared into the grass. Or into the ground, perhaps.

Mirabelle finished tying their pinafores into a bag. Something in the bag was trying to get out.

“They feel the vibration of your footsteps,” she said. “You can’t run up on them; have to walk lightly.”

“What is it?” Claire asked.

“Don’t know,” Annabelle said. “Looks like a turnip.”

“Turnips don’t roll away from footsteps!” Claire peered into the grass, trying to get a glimpse.

“And vines don’t strangle you and fish don’t have six eyes and taste like violets,” Mirabelle said. “We’re hungry, it’s dinner.”

“I don’t think we should eat it,” Claire said, “if it can roll away from us.”

“I don’t think we should eat it if it’s a turnip,” Adolphus said.

“Well, I’m going to try it. If you catch something better, we can eat that too.”

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This story began with On Grandmothers and continues weekly. The previous episode was Downstream.

In which the children explore a new land.

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The river picked up speed descending through the woodlands into a valley. Occasionally their mushroom cap boat was caught in an eddy and spun round and round, causing Mirabelle and Bettina to whoop with delight, and Annabelle to shut her eyes and cling to the gills.

Gerhardt was watching the banks intently, and made them pull to the side whenever there were many rocks on the bank.

“What are you looking for?” Mirabelle asked.

“Stone to make into an axe, like the cavemen used.”

“That’s a good idea,” Claire said, “but you don’t want that kind. You want flint, or chert, or obsidian. I’ll help. I’ve much more geology than you.”

They stopped six times before they found a rock to Claire’s satisfaction, and other rocks needed to shape it into an axe head. She wouldn’t let Gerhardt try making it on the boat though, for like watch repair, flint-knapping requires stillness.

Adolphus watched the bank for a different reason. He had brought a collection of thin, long sticks on board, and tickled the plants growing on the bank for a reaction. Over the course of the day four of his sticks were snatched away by annoyed vines, and the children memorized the foliage of their dangerous foe.

Late in the afternoon (judging solely from how hungry they felt) the river widened and became shallow and clear, only a foot or two deep over rock ridges. That’s when they finally saw their first birds since coming to this new place. A pair waded along the edge of the river, peering sharply into the water for fish to spear on their wicked sharp beaks. The children watched in awe, hoping they didn’t want to catch anything bigger, for the birds were nearly as big as Gerhardt! One of them had a fanciful orange crest on its head, and both gleamed with shiny teal and turquoise backs and hot pink bellies.

“This is a floodplain,” Claire announced in her I-know-geology voice. “It will be a good place to make camp and look for food.”

Using their poles rather unsuccessfully, then just getting out and walking, they pulled the mushroom boat to shore where a sandy-pebbly beach led to a broad grassy field. Adolphus volunteered to make a fire and Claire went with him to look for wood. The twins ventured off for food, and Gerhardt and Bettina stayed with the boat, he working on his stone axe and she poking at the shrubbery along the bank to make sure it didn’t poke back, and then pulling off leaves to make boats with, filling them with flower cargo, and floating them downstream.

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This story began with On Grandmothers. The previous episode was An Unusual Breakfast and the next is What’s for Dinner?

Photo credit SriMesh.

In which the children have too much and too little imagination to enjoy their meal.

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The next morning the twins found something in their net. They called it a fish, for it wriggled and had fins and lived in water. However, the fins (there were six) were evenly spaced around the back of the thing, making a ringed sort of tail. It had three eyes on either side of its head, and a great rounded lower lip that protruded over its upper lip. It was a rusty orange-pink in color, with a pattern of pale purple spots beginning lightly at its head and intensifying so that it was mostly purple at the tail.

Mirabelle held it in the net while Annabelle hit its head with the side of the pick. She worked quickly so that no one (including her) could get attached to the creature and forget it was supposed to be food. When it stopped wriggling they examined it and made quick notes and sketches in Mirabelle’s observation book before borrowing a pocketknife from Gerhardt. (For all the tools and assorted objects in their pinafore pockets, they did not happen to have a knife, comb, or handkerchief.)

The skin was smooth, not scaly, and thick – difficult to cut through. And the inside! It was not like the inside of any fish or any other animal the children had ever seen or read about. It was all the same inside, a white, pulpy flesh more like an eggplant than anything else. There were no internal organs, just a tube connecting the mouth to the tail. The twins discarded that.

They threaded the rest on sticks and roasted it over the fire. It gave off a disturbingly floral scent while cooking, rather like the orchids in Mother’s greenhouse. This made the children feel homesick, for nothing on earth has more power over emotion than smells do.  It tasted a bit like flowers and a bit like asparagus. The children were too dispirited to discuss the strangeness of it though.

The twins emptied out the cheese tin and boiled water in it, which they pretended was tea. No one, not even Adolphus, had a strong enough imagination to enjoy it, but they all knew boiled water was much safer to drink than plain river water.

After breakfast and washing up Bettina said “Boat!” and they all agreed to give the river another try. They ventured into the woods again for poles. The geology pick made a poor hatchet, and they keenly felt the loss of the axe. It felt late when they got underway, but as there had been no sunrise (the sky just got lighter all over) and no path of the sun to follow (the sky got brighter and somewhat less violet all over), they could not guess the time. Adolphus’ pocket watch, after surviving the great fall, had succumbed to the river and the mud. He wanted to take it apart and fix it, but Claire dissuaded him from doing so on the river. Fixing a pocket watch needs a flat, non-moving surface, not an upside down mushroom in a rapid current.

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This story began with On Grandmothers and continues weekly. The last episode was The Last of the Gouda and the next is Downstream.

In which the much tried and exhausted children make camp in the unexplored wilderness.

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Having no idea of the time of day, but a great deal of anxiety at the thought of being caught out after dark in this strange and dangerous land, the children decided to make camp on the small sandy beach. It wasn’t much bigger than the overturned mushroom boat, but they ventured into the woods and found sturdy fallen branches and propped up the riverside edge of the boat, making it into a lean-to shelter. Then they returned to the woods for firewood and soon had a cheery blaze between them and the water. Feeling thus secured from threats by land or sea, the twins shared out the last of the gouda.

They took turns washing the worst of the dried mud off themselves and drying by the fire. Another clump of dead vines spun past them and the twins plunged in after it (to Claire’s horror), dragging it back to shore. Working together they tied it into a fishing net, hoping to catch something while they slept. Their emergency tin of cheeses was not at all enough for six of them.

“Is it getting darker, or is it just the fire making it look darker?” Mirabelle asked.

Adolphus climbed the bank behind them to reconnoiter. “It’s getting dark all right.” He jumped back down, spraying sand on his exasperated sisters. “But there was never any sunset! This is a weird place. Do you think it’s Fiji or something?”

“Father’s been to Fiji,” Claire said. “He would have mentioned if there was no sun.”

“Some other remote Pacific island, then. With a volcano belching creepy swirly purple clouds.”

“No sun in the center of the earth,” Gerhardt mumbled. He was nearly asleep, lying next to Bettina, who already was.

The twins finished their net and tied rocks to the bottom for weights and wood to the top for floats. Then all four waded into the water and placed the net, then settled back by the fire to dry.

“I hope that works,” Adolphus said, “I’m already hungry.”

“I don’t know what else we’ll find to eat,” Claire said. “We don’t recognize any plants here – how will we know what’s edible?”

“The same way anyone does. When you go to a restaurant in a new country, you order what the locals order.” Mirabelle said.

“That’s fine if we could find a restaurant! We’re in the wilderness!” Adolphus said.

“We can still watch what other animals eat,” she replied.

“But we haven’t seen any animals yet,” Annabelle put in. “Only heard them. We’ll have to set a watch tomorrow, be quieter.”

“We can’t stay here, it’s too crowded. If I stretch out my feet will be in the river.”

Claire, who was nearly a head taller than her brother, ignored this. “We can’t get too far away from water, though. One may survive longer with no food than with no water.”

Mirabelle yawned, and they could not help but follow her example.

“I’ll take first watch,” Adolphus said.

Annabelle smiled. “You’ve always wanted to say that.”

“True. I always thought it would be more fun, though.”

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This story began with On Grandmothers and continues weekly. The last episode was Hand over Hand, the next episode is An Unusual Breakfast.

So far the lab has produced two hand held weapons that are unique and original in their formation. A couple of others still on the work bench, are incomplete and will be written up later.  The first is Madame von Hedwig needle gun, a pistol out of brass lamp bits and hobby supplies. The second is a modification of a toy cap rifle with Adolphus.

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Madame, being a women at ease with plants and their uses desired a weapon that could deploy her practical knowledge at range.  Thus a weapon that could rapidly fire needles containing a selection of sedatives, poison or toxins seem the best choice.  Being that Hera dislike bulky gear that distracts from her normal peaceful social interaction with the world a pistol was ideal.

Working with this in mind I mounted two home brew yeast vials on to part of some brass curved tubing that uses to hold electric lamps in a lighting fixture.  The barrel is a section of brass tubing from a hobby store, with a brass lamp base for the muzzle and a lamp shade finial as the butt.    I used plumbing solder to connect these three pieces.  The tamp was an early tinkering project, a cigarette holder, recycled.  I used a jig to bend the tamp rod hook out of a short section of uncoated brass welding rod. The welding rods stiffness dictated that it had to be heated with a torch to bend it in to the tight shape. Low temperature solder is the key to soldering next to a previously soldered joint, so that the first solder joint is not melted by the addition of a second. The muzzle was attached with plumbing solder and the tamper rod hook was affixed was a low-temperature jewelry solder, because with a moderate torch temperature the plumbing solder was kept in a solid state.

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These three parts, the 2 vial arms and the barrel assembly, were screwed to a simple yet elegant stock shaped out of two by six stock. I made the cover plate from scrap brass and copper stock , attached by brass brads to cover the modern screws.  The trigger is simply a bit of bent copper wire, but the trigger guard was a bit trickier. Using just a divot in my work bench and a small ball peen hammer I dished the strip of copper for the trigger guard, bent it to shape, then dished the bends.

The rifle was a project Adolphus and I did together.  For a start we disassembled a childrens toy caplock rifle. The hardware we might want to reuse we painted with bronze metallic paint.  Our starting point for conversion was a brass plated curtain rod for the barrel.  After digging through the salvage parts bucket in the shop (one of the thing I find most helpful it to keep a bucket of old brass and copper parts and scraps), we found a valve from a gas grill to be the breach and a male-threaded brass hose quick-connect to be the muzzle. The brass plating of the curtain rod, and that its external diameter was slightly larger than the internal diameter of the hose connect, made attaching the hose connector a little more involved that just soldering the two pieces.  We resolved this by using a hack saw to cut across the end of the hollow rod to form four cuts in a cross-shaped pattern about 3/8 inch deep.  It was just enough to start the rod into the hose connector with some hammer-tronics.  A few more taps had it in past the saw cut.

We attached the barrel with a screw in the same place the old steel one was and we replaced the steel strap that covered the screw with a copper one.  We remounted the painted trigger and hammer assembly to the stock with a brass screw. We were both suprised when the cap hammer on the side plate lined up perfectly with a flange on the gas valve. To hold the gas valve in place we cut a piece on scrap copper, dished then mounted it with three brass screws.  The wooden sight was just a re-purposed duck call attached through a screw hole in the top of the gas valve.

What say you? Ready for a day in the country?

They called and hallooed much louder, to drown out the whispering vines and their own panic. They were answered at last by a splash upstream. Adolphus had thrown a branch in the water. They retreated upriver to parlay.

“How can we answer you back with all that shouting?” Adolphus demanded.

“Never mind that!” Mirabelle interrupted. “It’s all those nasty vines over here unless we push back into the woods.”

“Bettina found the boat!” Annabelle said. “We need to find a way to get you all over here.”

The vines waved in the air as though seeking the source of all the noise. Gerhardt eyed them with distaste, running his finger along the string of his ammunitionless crossbow.

“Or you could cut through the woods and we could float down to meet you.”

They discussed this option at length. Finally Claire refused to do anything that might separate them further.

“Aaagh!” Gerhardt shouted and pointed to the river. “It’s swimming across!”

Annabelle looked. “Don’t panic. It’s just some vine that the yeti uprooted.” She raced the clump of dead killer vine downstream, jumping down to the sandy beach where the boat rested. To the pained dismay of her siblings he waded into the water, grabbed the dead vine and dragged it to shore.

“We know it’s strong and flexible,” she said. “Let’s see if we can use it.”

She taught Bettina to tie a sheet bend (Gerhardt already knew) and they tied the vines together. When the resulting rope was longer than the river was wide, she tied it to the pick. Instructing her siblings to move well back, she swung the impromptu grapple into the trees on their side of the river. She hit a branch on the first try but the pick bounced off and fell right into the middle of the living vine!

The vines grabbed the pick, feeling it all over. Annabelle yelled in frustration and yanked on the rope. The vine yanked back. Gerhardt and Bettina grabbed the rope too and all three of them pulled as hard as they could. More vines slithered over the pick to hold it.

Working under whispered instructions from Annabelle the children made as if to let go the rope, only to yank it all the harder on her signal. It didn’t work and they all fell into the dirt. The vines rustled and swayed. Gerhardt glared at them.

“It’s laughing at us!”

“Get ready over there!” Adolphus’ voice carried over the river.

Annabelle, Gerhardt, and Bettina jumped up and grabbed the rope again. They heard a brief scratch, and a small yellow flame fell into the midst of the clinging vine. The vines flailed and waved, frantically trying to escape the brief flame. The children pulled the pick free in the few seconds before the match went out, and von Hedwigs on both sides of the river cheered.

“How do that?” Bettina demanded.

Her eldest brother laughed. “Waterproof match case! Come on, Annabelle, don’t worry about getting it over a branch, just heave it over here and we’ll tie it off.”

She did so, and Adolphus, Mirabelle, and Claire crossed the river hand over hand on a rope made from the very vine that had tried to kill them.

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This story began with On Grandmothers. The previous episode was In a Strange Land and the next is The Last of the Gouda.