Chapter Seven
It was with a rising sense of excitement that Raoul entered his club early the next evening and headed for what was becoming "their" corner of the Blue Room. He had found himself caught up in the adventure of it all- think of it! A trip across the world, just him and his friend against the elements, surrounded by the sea, embraced by it... He felt young and joyful as he had not felt since- oh, for ages. Years, really. He no longer wanted to dwell on any past unpleasantness- indeed, his mind all but skittered away from such thoughts- but he didn't care. He was young, he was free, and he was once more about to set sail on an adventure on the high seas. He had spent an enjoyable afternoon perusing compasses and sextants, and had purchased an excellent set with a collapsible telescope. It was all he could do to not pack his bags right then.
Dubeau was there before him, as always, and rose as he saw Raoul. "Are you ready, then?" he asked. "We'll take a cab, I think. It's a beautiful evening but the Quai Voltaire is too far to walk."
Raoul agreed completely, and happily tipped the porter to hail a cab for them. It was with a feeling of immense satisfaction that he settled against the thinly-upholstered seat, grinning like a child on an outing as the driver urged the horse into a brisk trot.
They trotted across the Seine on a stone bridge lit golden by the rays of the setting sun, and turned right to follow the river. "Just up ahead, there," Dubeau called to the driver.
Raoul climbed from the cab and strolled to the edge of the pavement while Dubeau paid the driver. The river flowed past, as slow and ancient and unstoppable as the city herself.
"There," said Dubeau.
He led the way to a beautiful boat of a commendable size, considering she was to be operated by only two men. Her prow was sleek; her girth narrow despite her rounded hull. A cabin with large, square windows covered most of her aft; forward an open-sided striped awning provided shade. Raoul paced the side of the quay, following Dubeau to her prow, admiring the craft.
"She's just over fifteen metres long, fifteen and a quarter, to be exact," said Dubeau proudly. He pointed to the steam engine just forward of amidships, the funnel passing through the awning. "She'll reach a good ten knots, and she has a sea-worthy hull. Come aboard!"
He hopped onto the small deck at her front, floating almost level with the surface of the stone quay, and reached a hand back to steady Raoul. They stepped down under the awning.
"I would have preferred to have had her wheel here, by the boiler; she could be driven more easily by one man then," Dubeau continued. "But I suppose it does leave us more room here." He led the way into the tiny cabin. "She has everything we'll need. Those seats fold down into bunks." He led the way past the compact galley. "And here's the head. No buckets for us!" Raoul grinned in appreciation as he recalled his Navy training days.
"She's small for a long voyage," Dubeau admitted, "But we'll be stopping at some port or another almost every day, so we should be quite comfortable. As I said, if the weather turns bad we'll put in somewhere; but as you can see she can carry several days' supplies, so if we get caught in the open we won't starve. And the bilge has a pump installed. We can run it off the engine or manually, if we have to put the fire out. So." He paused, and shot Raoul a keen look. "What do you think?"
"I think she's beautiful," admitted Raoul. "She's perfect!"
"Wonderful! Then I'll finish stocking her up tomorrow. When do you want to leave?"
"Immediately."
They returned to the club, full of plans, and talked far into the night. Raoul would see to the navigation equipment and maintenance supplies; Dubeau would see to the food and sundries. Raoul insisted that a certain amount of salt pork and sea biscuits be included in the supplies; thanks to his naval training, he had developed, if not an actual fondness, a certain nostalgia for them.
They would sail south along the coast of France, through the Pillars of Hercules and into the Mediterranean, across the Mediterranean, and into the Nile. Raoul would see the pyramids.
They agreed to try and make around a hundred and fifty kilometres per day, or so; it would take them the better part of two days just to reach the ocean, the way the Seine twisted. "We can put in at Rouen for the night, and sleep on board," said Dubeau. "Best to discover if we need to make any changes before we leave France." Raoul agreed.
They talked far into the night. It was only when Raoul found himself nodding off for the third time that he finally agreed to have a cab summoned. Despite his exhaustion he felt energized, almost frantic to be gone. It was as well that he could barely stand; he wasn't sure his dignity would have been enough to prevent him from dancing about the club like a madman, so excited was he. But as it was, he left the club sedately, dignity intact if shoulders drooping slightly, and to his shock managed to stay awake for the cab ride home. He felt like a flower, he decided muzzily as he paid his fare; wilted, to be sure, but full of hidden vigour aching to spring free. He toppled into bed several minutes later and fell asleep to visions of singing flowers dancing about him.
A/N: Dubeau's little steam launch was a very popular type of boat at the time; I have to admit I'd like one myself! I've based this one principally off this particular one (whose lines I particularly admired) if you'd like to see what it looks like:
http: / / i61. photobucket. com/ albums/ h74/ Kryss_LaBryn /POTO %20 Stuff/ SteamLaunch1. jpg (no spaces)
Dubeau's isn't exactly the same (the main difference being that his has the awning in front, over the engine, as some others did) but it'll give you the idea.
