For Our Liberty Page 7

  “Forgive me Monsieur Calvet, but what makes you think this balloonist will agree.” I asked.

  “If he doesn’t those complaints that I made disappear will soon reappear. He knows I am not a man to say no to,” he said. Unfortunately he was right. I tried to reason with them. I suggested that I travel dressed as a woman, as Henri had arranged for Dalrymple. I refused. I was ignored. In the end even Dominique was won around. Claude was very happy. I was not.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The Convent of St Catherine may have once been a house of God but in the dark of a moonless night its abandoned and derelict buildings looked to have been taken over by his competition. Had Mrs Shelley been with us that night she could well have garnered inspiration for a story or two but my own tale will have to suffice.

  We had arrived in Calvet’s carriage just after midnight; Calvet, Dominique, Claude and I. We were far too close to the centre of Paris for my liking. Far too close to the Ministries of Justice and Police. I felt as if we were heading for the heart of the lion’s den rather than away from it. The clip of the horses’ hooves echoed as we entered the convent through an archway. The old wooden gates hung rotten and sagging on their hinges. We stopped in a courtyard, unlit and broken windows surrounding us. The walls of the convent had probably never echoed with laughter and song but the silence that night was total, forbidding and ominous. We got out of the coach without any of us saying a word, the quiet was too oppressive. After a few moments Calvet broke the silence and told his coachman to leave us. Calvet’s voice and the clatter of the coach leaving broke the spell.

  “Claude, go watch the street,” Calvet ordered. Claude looked disappointed that he wasn’t going to get see the balloon up close but did what he was told. Dominique looked at her uncle reproachfully.

  “Uncle, I wish you hadn’t brought him,” she said.

  “You worry too much. Nothing is going to happen,” he replied.

  “Then why is Claude watching the street?”

  “Just a precaution my dear,” he said. Dominique didn’t look at all mollified.

  As the coach left the courtyard I saw the balloon for the first time. I had not the smallest doubt that the infernal invention would be the death of me before the end of the night. The balloon was about thirty feet in diameter, roughly forty-five feet high, and made from alternate yellow and green cloth squares. It was surrounded by six dim lanterns that lit it from below and made it look all the more sinister. As it moved in the slight breeze it seemed almost alive, the material bulging and sagging between the netting of ropes that covered it. Straining against those that held it to the ground like an impatient hound. Thick tubes emerged from the base and ended in bright metal vessels that obviously held the means of producing the gas. A figure was scurrying about the balloon, tugging on ropes and adjusting valves and tubes. A very small car was suspended from the netting by a mere four ropes. It was scarcely six feet by four and only a couple of feet deep with seats at either end. I could think of no place I’d less like to be. The convent buildings would have shielded our preparations from view had the buildings been in good repair, but a section that had been gutted by fire and where the roof had fallen in it might have let someone passing on the street see the very top of the balloon.

  Dominique and her uncle were a few paces ahead of me and as I muttered and cursed under my breath at the stupidity of their plan she turned and took me by the arm. I wasn’t at all comforted. I still couldn’t conceive that they were serious.

  “Do you not think that they will be watching all the usual routes? This is our best chance to get the plans and you out of Paris. And besides, I think you’ll like it. It’s really quite, how do you say, uplifting.” She grinned at me. I couldn’t help grudgingly smiling back, even if I was thinking that the damn plans could go but I’d be damned if I was going with them.

  “Oh very sharp, very sharp indeed. I’ll remind you that you said that when I plummet to my death,” I said.

  “Oh, Ben. I did not take you for a coward. Monsieur Garnerin has taken his wife and his niece aloft. Surely you are not afraid to do anything a woman can do?” she said, taunting me. I was not going to rise to the bait. I just swore some more.

  Calvet waved to the figure attending to the balloon. He was a slight man of medium height with a mop of dark hair fighting to escape from a tall hat. He waved back and jumped from the cart containing the gas vessels and instruments.

  “Monsieur Garnerin, may I introduce your fellow aeronaut for tonight.” Calvet didn’t add my name. Garnerin didn’t look surprised so perhaps it had been arranged that he did not need to know, or did not wish to know, the identity of his passenger. I knew though why the so-called aeronaut was so eager to help get an Englishman out of Paris; Calvet had explained that Monsieur Garnerin was inclined to charge people to accompany him in his balloon and then cry off due to bad weather. He kept the money of course and this had led to some small legal problems that Calvet had assisted him with, for a price. Garnerin had the slightly too wide smile of a madman or a villain, probably both, given his vocation.

  “Mon plaisir, monsieur. Mon plaisir. The weather is most clement. The wind is slight down here but I think stronger higher up. I can promise you an excellent aerial voyage,” he said and shook my hand rather too vigourously. His eyes barely met mine; they were darting back and forth to the balloon, the ropes and the sky. He wore a heavy blue coat and gloves protruded from a pocket; perhaps the predictions of freezing cold aloft were true. Dominique was enthusing about the balloon to Garnerin, asking to be shown every detail, and Calvet was hurrying Garnerin to get on with the ascent.

  “I am sorry, it will be some time yet. The balloon, it hasn’t got enough gas yet,” said Garnerin.

  “How long?” asked Calvet, appearing anxious for the first time.

  “An hour, maybe two.”

  “Is there anything we can do to help?” I asked. Whilst I wasn’t eager to fly in the damn thing the thought of standing around waiting to fly was even worse. Fly. There is something inherently wrong with the concept. I can accept that man can use his ingenuity to invent ever faster means of travel on the ground or even the sea, whether it be steam locomotives or paddle steamers, but any form of conveyance that leaves this earth seems to me to be against nature.

  “No, nothing. Just keep out of my way,” said Garnerin.

  I did. The delay turned out to be nearly three hours. I spent most of it pacing up and down. Dominique and Calvet stood a little away from the balloon and seemed to be having a whispered but vehement argument about something. I was familiar enough with disagreements within my own family, such as it was, to have little interest eavesdropping and so wandered over to the gates to keep Claude company. He jumped as I approached.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “The balloon still isn’t ready yet. Your uncle and sister are arguing,” I said, as I leaned cautiously out so I could check the street in both directions. It was too dark to see much of anything but it looked safe enough.

  “That will be about me,” Claude said.

  “She really doesn’t want you involved with all this, does she?”

  “No. She tries to protect me, but she forgets that they were my parents too. I have my own reasons to want to fight. My own reasons to do something, anything, to help,” he said. I could hear the passion in his voice and even in the darkness I could see the determination in his countenance.

  “Do you remember your parents?” I asked.

  “Not really. But I do remember being told they were dead.” He looked down the street. Staring away into the night. “It makes it harder, not remembering them.”

  “I can imagine. My own mother died a few years ago. I still think of her every day. But I’m lucky, I suppose, that I can still see her, hear her voice.” We were both silent for a few moments. “I’ll speak to your sister for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Keep a close watch.”

  “I will.”

>   I took one last look down the street. The shadows seemed deeper. The street looked even more deserted. Then, just as I turned away I thought I saw something, a figure running down the street.

  “Claude, did you see that?” I whispered.

  “What?” he said, also in a whisper but not without a note of excitement entering his voice.

  “Someone in the street. Someone running?” I looked again and could see nothing. Perhaps it had been my imagination.

  “No, I didn’t see anything,” he replied. I stared hard down the street. I could see movement. I was sure. Then a cat ran across the road, from one doorway to another. I sighed.

  “Keep your eyes open,” I said.

  “I will, I promise,” said Claude.

  I walked back into the courtyard. The balloon looked bigger. The fabric tighter. I guessed it was almost ready. Calvet was talking to Garnerin. Dominique was standing alone by one of the lanterns, her arms wrapped about her holding her cloak tightly closed.

  “You look cold,” I said.

  “I am,” she said, turning towards me. I took off my own cloak and put it across her shoulders. As soon as I did it I regretted it because it was damn cold but we men will make such considerations to the fairer sex, especially when we are getting increasingly enamoured of them.

  “Thank you,” she said. “How’s Claude?”

  “He’s fine. Keeping a sharp watch.”

  “I wish he was at home in bed,” she said.

  “I know, but he’s young and impetuous. It might be better to let him do something to help you, where you can keep an eye on him, rather than him doing something rash on his own.”

  “I suppose you are right. It’s just that he’s all I have,” she said.

  “What about your uncle?”

  “We may live in the same house but we are not always on good terms,” she replied in a low voice.

  “Why not?”

  “Differences of opinion,” she said. “It is not important. Come, I think the balloon is almost ready.” She shrugged off my cloak and returned it to me. “I’ll think you’ll need that.”

  “Is it too late to get a coach to the coast?” I asked, only half joking. My options for evading my first, and most definitely, last aerial voyage were fast running out.

  “You’ll be fine, Ben,” she said, squeezing my hand.

  Then my options vanished all together. Claude came running into the courtyard.

  “Soldiers!” he called as he ran. Dominique and I looked at each other. I could see the fear in her eyes. Not for herself but for her brother.

  “Calvet! Take Claude and Dominique,” I shouted, “Find a way out the back of the convent. Go! Garnerin, are you ready?”

  “Nearly, a few moments more,” he said as he made the final adjustments to the balloon. I drew a pair of pistols from my coat. Calvet had given them to me after I had demanded to be armed.

  “I’ll hold them off,” I said. Calvet had not moved. He seemed frozen. “Calvet, take your nephew and niece. Find a way out. There must be a back door somewhere.”

  “No, I’ll stay,” said Dominique drawing her own pistols. I’d had no idea she was armed as well. It’s always amazed me what ladies can hide about their persons, always finding a kerchief, mirror or some such when the occasion demanded. There wasn’t time to argue with her and I already knew better than to try.

  Calvet looked at me. There was fear in his eyes as well but then it was gone. He grabbed the boy and ran into the convent. Claude, to his credit, didn’t protest.

  Dominique and I ran to the gate.

  Two municipal guards were walking up the street, leading another figure, a young girl I thought but I couldn’t tell for sure. As they got closer I caught snatches of their conversation. The girl was trying to convince the guards that she had seen a balloon. She was telling them it must be smugglers or pirates. The guards were humouring her.

  “What do you think we should do?” whispered Dominique.

  “Buy some time I think,” I said. I leant out and fired a pistol down the street, aiming high in the air to avoid shooting the girl. The guards ran to a doorway. The shot echoed between the quiet houses and shops. One guard spoke to the girl and she ran back down the street. I fired again, aiming at the two figures huddled in the doorway. I missed by a mile but it kept them where they were. I ducked back into the archway and reloaded the pistols. Dominique kept an eye and a pistol on the two guards.

  “What are they doing,” I asked as I reloaded. Calvet had said I wouldn’t need any powder or shot, his point being I think that if we were discovered we were done for anyway. I had insisted. I quickly poured powder from the small powder flask into the barrel of each pistol.

  “Nothing,” said Dominique. “Just waiting.”

  That wasn’t good, I thought. They’d probably sent the girl for help. I carried on reloading as fast as I could, not easy in the meagre starlight. I took some wadding and quickly moistened it in my mouth and then wrapped a small piece around each of two balls. I slid the balls into the barrels and then slid a ramrod from its holder beneath one of the barrels and rammed the balls down on to the powder. I opened both frizzens and poured powder into the pans. I closed them and cocked both pistols.

  The sound of a troop of cavalry at the trot is unmistakable. First you hear the drumming of the hooves, like the rolling of a barrel. Then you hear the harness jangling, the weapons slapping on leather. Finally you hear the shouted orders of the officers and, if you are unlucky, the hissing of the blades from their scabbards. We were unlucky.

  I leant out into the street. A half troop of dragoons were coming up the street. They slowed as they reached the guards huddled back in their doorway. I fired and hit a horse, but a pistol ball at that range didn’t bring it down. It did however have the desired effect and brought the troop to a halt. They dismounted quickly and their officer ordered the horses to the rear and the dragoons into cover. Their swords were sheathed and instead they took their carbines from their saddles. I hoped Calvet and Claude had found an exit from the convent and were safe. Dominique leant out to see what was happening. Immediately a volley of shots splintered the gate near us and ricocheted off the stone wall. I dragged her back into cover and she fell against me.

  “Get into the balloon and tell Garnerin we’re going, now,” I said. She hesitated. “You’ll have to come with us. I’ll be behind you, don’t worry.”

  She looked at me for one more moment, and then nodded and ran back into the courtyard. I heard her shout something to Garnerin. I risked a quick look. The bastard had already cast off all but one rope and I think he would have left us there had Dominique not stopped him when she did. I couldn’t blame him really. I looked back down the street. The dragoons were creeping forward, moving from doorway to doorway. I steadied myself against the wall and aimed just above the head of the nearest trooper. It was a long shot with a pistol. The flash from the pan blinded me and I didn’t see the ball strike but I heard a cry of pain and a curse. That was good enough for me. I stuffed the spent pistol in my belt and ran for the balloon.

  Dominique and Garnerin were already in the basket and the balloon was pulling against the last remaining rope holding it to the ground. I jumped into the small car, making it rock wildly as I did so. I heard running boots behind me. The dragoons would be upon us in seconds.

  “Monsieur Garnerin. I think we should depart. Now!” I said. Garnerin cut the last rope and we began to rise. The dragoons had drawn their swords again and were charging through the gateway. I fired, dropping the leading dragoon. Garnerin turned at the shot, ashen faced.

  “Merde! Don’t fire you fool. The gas is combustible. You’ll kill us all.”

  “We’ll all die anyway unless we ascend quickly.”

  “Yes, yes. I should never have agreed to this. Never. ” Garnerin said as he began to throw bags of ballast out of the car. All too slowly the ballon rose. Only a few feet at first and then the wind caught the top of the balloon as it rose above t
he convent walls and we began to head towards the running dragoons. One leapt and grabbed hold of the car, just getting his arms and elbows over the edge. I was standing, holding on to the ropes. We were still rising and the trooper’s legs were waving in the air. He looked at me, suddenly regretting his heroics and realising what was coming next. I shrugged apologetically and kicked him in the face. He fell about fifteen feet and I heard a nasty crunch as his leg broke.

  “Can’t you steer this damn thing?” I shouted at Garnerin who was still dropping sacks of ballast over the side.

  “No. We are at the mercy of the wind.”

  “Then can’t we get up more quickly? We’ll hit the damn roof,” I said and we were getting very close to the convent buildings.

  “I don’t usually fly with three. All the ballast will have to go I think,” he said.

  I prayed and cursed at the same time as I helped him again with the ballast. It worked, the ballast not the prayer, and we began to ascend more quickly. Just clearing the roof by inches. I looked down at the dragoons. They were milling around the courtyard, with some following us and coming back into the street. We were at about a hundred feet now and a gust of wind began to take us away from them. The officer turned and spoke to some his men. They slid their swords back into their scabbards. I thought they had given up but they were reaching again for their carbines. The first one aimed and fired, splinters flew from the wood only inches from my leg. I took a pistol from Dominique and then remembered the explosive gas above me and thought better of it; I threw the last couple of bags of ballast at them instead.

  We were rising quickly now and by the time the second dragoon fired we must have been nearly three hundred feet from the ground. A carbine could miss even a target the size of a balloon at that distance. The convent began to shrink behind us and we were soon over the Seine and safe. Well, safer than we had been. All the excitement had almost made me forget that I was now aloft and that my life depended on some science that I didn’t totally understand and the aerostation talents of a half-mad Frenchman. I sat down. The car rocked and I gripped the side, knuckles white. Dominique looked flushed and animated.