Every Thorn Has Its Rose Chapter 14
Life around the Longwing's barn soon developed into a predictable pattern. Each day's schedule was different, in terms of the things Lt. St. Hubbins had to teach Rose and Spina, but there were four common threads to everything. There were his desire to prepare Spina for formal training, his need to teach Ensign Smalls as much about Corps life as he could in a very short time, and his willingness to allow Spina to visit her mother every day or two. But most of all, he felt a desperate urge to keep the young dragon as busy and as well-fed as humanly possible, so she would have neither the time nor the energy to follow her nose into some new kind of trouble.
Both of his charges were apt pupils. He was accustomed to dealing with female dragons (after all, half of the dragon population was female), and he treated them just like males. In the case of dragons, there were no real differences between the sexes, except that females spoke with higher voices and had the potential to lay eggs. In Rose's case, he had a harder time knowing how to treat her. There was nothing required of a dragon's captain that a woman was incapable of doing, with the possible exception of manhandling heavy dragon harnesses, and that was usually left to the ground crew anyway. Rose learned her military rules and skills as quickly as any man, and she asked for no special treatment due to her gender. But the inescapable fact remained that she was the one and only lady in the Aviator Corps, and virtually every man she'd encountered so far had had a violently negative reaction to her wearing the uniform and riding a dragon. Here on the breeding ground, where only a handful of men had come to see them, she could deal with it. But in a few weeks, she and Spina would be sent to Loch Laggan, where they would be surrounded by men who would surely be equally hostile to the idea of serving alongside a woman.
In his few spare moments, St. Hubbins tried to think of possible solutions to her problem. He came up with nothing. He would be right there beside her, of course; as Spina's senior rider, he would go through training alongside the dragon and her captain. But if he tried to shelter her from some of the scorn and abuse that would come her way, the other men would see her as being unable to handle her own problems. She would never succeed in the Corps unless she was somehow perceived as being just as good as the men. He suspected that Rose could accomplish this, given time and a fair chance. The problem would be the sizeable portion of men who would never accept her as an equal, no matter how well she proved that she was worthy of equality. That would most likely include the senior officers who would make the decisions about Rose and Spina's career.
What would that mean? The powers-that-be would not deliberately endanger Spina; her abilities were too desperately needed to defend England. But they would very likely push Rose to the breaking point, and beyond. Her training would be considerably harsher than that of the men and boys around her. He could warn her; he could encourage her; but only she could find the inner strength to prove that she deserved her place in the Corps. He couldn't overtly help without making it look as if she would fail without male assistance. But Spina could be a huge help. That meant that, if he could keep Spina focused, then Spina could help Rose succeed. That would be good for the Empire, and it would be good for Rose. It might not be so good for him, though; if Rose was disqualified, then he might become Spina's only rider. The dragon tolerated him, but preferred women, so her acceptance of him might not mean much. Still, something inside him wanted Rose to succeed. Perhaps it was the gentleman in him, not wanting a lady to fail. Perhaps he'd already invested so much effort into training her that he didn't want to be seen as an incompetent teacher. For whatever reason, he was determined to see Rose Smalls become the first female captain in the Aviator Corps.
But he couldn't tell Rose any of this. He was her immediate superior. If he was known to take so strong an interest in her well-being, everyone would assume a personal connection between them, and, as Captain Packard had observed, such a belief would undermine discipline in the Corps. He had to keep it strictly professional between them. That was sometimes hard, especially when the day's lessons were done and they were both riding Spina for the sheer fun of it.
Today, they were flying over the countryside, testing Spina's endurance in the air, when the dragon looked down toward the road beneath them. "Oh, what is that?" she asked.
"It appears to be a platoon of soldiers, out for a march," Rose told her.
"A company, I'd say," St. Hubbins added. "Judging by their ragged ranks and files, either they're new recruits or they've been marching for quite a long distance."
"May I fly down and see them? I have never spoken to soldiers before," Spina wondered.
"You may," the lieutenant said, "but listen to me, for this is important! The correct way for a dragon to approach soldiers is to overfly them so they see your shadow, then land at a distance and walk toward them. If you suddenly land right next to them without a warning, some of them will be frightened. They may break and run away, or they may shoot at you in a panic. Both would be bad. You must let them see you plainly as you approach them."
"Very well, I will do that," the dragon said as she swerved in the air to bring her shadow across the soldiers below them. Some looked up; within moments, the sergeant in charge had ordered the men to halt. She landed in a meadow about two hundred feet from the soldiers, who turned in unison to face her. The sergeant walked hesitantly toward them; Spina closed the distance on foot so they would meet him halfway.
"Rose, let me do the talking," St. Hubbins whispered. "Your female voice will give everything away." She nodded as the sergeant drew withing speaking distance. "Sergeant, we would like to approach your troops," St. Hubbins said. "It is a familiarization exercise for the dragon."
"It's a wot?" the sergeant answered blankly.
"I have never seen soldiers before," Spina said to him. "I want to be familiar with how they look, so I will never attack my own troops by mistake."
"I guess there's some sense in that," the sergeant decided. He returned to his formation, gave them some quick orders, then waved the dragon over. She walked confidently, but did not run; she didn't want to frighten the soldiers. Some of those soldiers were showing signs of impending panic, even though Spina was still small, by dragon standards.
"May we speak to the troops, Sergeant?" St. Hubbins was playing it by the book. He was an officer and could speak at will to any of England's enlisted personnel. But these men were Army, not Aviator Corps, and inter-service propriety had to be respected.
"You may, sar," the sergeant answered stiffly. "Just so ye know, we are the Second Company o' the First Toyota Highlanders. We're a proud outfit." It was plain that, while he was in no danger of breaking and running, he still did not completely trust dragons.
"Thank you, Sergeant." Spina focused on the first man in the first rank. "Have you ever seen a dragon up close?" she asked him.
"No, I 'aven't," the man replied. He seemed more at ease with the situation than his sergeant did. "What are those tusks on the side o' yer face?"
"Those are my venom-teeth," she answered proudly. "I can squirt death and destruction with them."
"You mean, you stick people with 'em and poison 'em, like an adder?" the next man asked nervously.
"No, it works like this." She turned, took quick aim at a nearby thorn bush, and squirted. The bush hissed, blackened, and withered within seconds. Muted cries of "Cor!" and "Blimey!" rippled through the ranks.
The second man suppressed a shudder. "Would ye do that to a man?"
"If that man was one of England's enemies, I would have to. It would be my duty."
Another shudder ran through the ranks. "The poor sod!' "That seems an uncommon cruel way to do in a bloke." "I'd hate to be on th' receivin' end o' that!" Others around them just nodded.
"Look at it this way, Corporal," St. Hubbins interjected. "If a Spanish dragon was diving on you and breathing out fire, and Spina here could stop that dragon by spitting her venom, would you want her to do it?"
"Well... when ye look at it that way, then I guess it's not so bad," the corporal nodded.
"Do the Spanish have dragons like her?" a third man wondered.
"No, Spina is the first of her kind," St. Hubbins answered with pride. "No other nation has a dragon like her."
"Then I'm glad she's on our side," the corporal decided, and others around him nodded and murmured, "Amen to that!"
Spina appeased her curiosity, St. Hubbins thanked the sergeant, and they leaped into the air. As they flew away, the soldiers began marching again. St. Hubbins noticed that they were marching a bit faster than they had done before they met the dragon.
"So now you've seen some soldiers," he said to Spina. "They aren't so different from anyone else."
"Just single men in barracks, most remarkable like you," she answered, with a passable imitation of the soldiers' accent. "But now that I have met the soldiers, could I meet some sailors, too?"
"Not this morning; the sea is too far from where we are now," St. Hubbins replied. "After lunch, if you still feel up to a long flight, we'll fly down to the Bristol Channel and see if any warships are about."
"Will the sailors be afraid of me?" she asked.
"Maybe, and maybe not. The Corps is under the authority of the Navy, after all, so they ought not to see us as an enemy. Dragons cooperate with the Navy more than they do with the Army, so they'll be more used to the sight of you. And, of course, if we meet with a dragon transport ship, those are the most cooperative of all; the only reason they exist is to take dragons to places that are too far for them to fly. But the average sailor is a lot like the average soldier. If you get too close without warning them first... most people don't like that."
"Why?" Spina was honestly puzzled. "Are they afraid I'm going to eat them?"
"Some of the less intelligent ones might fear that, yes."
Spina thought that over. "I have the answer! Rose, after I eat, do not clean me up. That way, the sailors can see that I have already eaten my fill for the day, and they will not be afraid of me. You can clean me later in the day."
Rose smiled. "Spina, if you came at them with a gory muzzle, I think that would have the exact opposite effect of reassuring them. But it's good that you're trying to think of ways for dragons and humans to get along better. Most humans are content to be afraid of dragons, and I think most dragons are content to not understand why that is so."
They returned home, Spina waited patiently while her riders took their lunch, and then they flew away to the southwest. It took two hours until they sighted the sea; Spina's long wings carried them effortlessly. A steady flow of merchant ships was coming and going up and down the Bristol Channel, but no warships were in sight.
"That's because they're all guarding the Channel," St. Hubbins explained. "The English Channel, that is. When the Spanish come, we'll need every ship we have, and they won't have time to get into position. They'll have to be ready to sail as soon as wind and tide permit. Bristol and the other ports on this channel are too far away to use as sally ports for the fleet."
"Have we come here for nothing, then?" Rose asked.
"No, Bristol is an active secondary port for the Admiralty, and there are sometimes advantages to not being close to the zone of battle. We might see a damaged ship heading up the Channel for repairs, or a freshly-repaired ship heading down. Spina, pray fly up and down the length of the channel, rather than back and forth across it. Our chances of sighting a warship shall be greater."
About twenty minutes later, Spina called back, "That ship ahead looks different from the others. Is that a warship?"
"It might be," St. Hubbins said as he leaned to the side so he could see around her neck. "Rose, ask her to fly lower, please." Rose relayed the order, and Spina did so. They swiftly overtook the ship, which was tacking down the channel against the wind. She was a square-rigged caravel, newly-built and armed for war, with the word "FIREDRAKE" painted in gold on her fantail. Members of the crew soon noticed the dragon coming up astern. To St. Hubbins' surprise, they waved enthusiastically and gestured for the dragon to land on deck.
"Ahoy, the dragon!" the captain hailed them through a speaking trumpet as they pulled alongside.
"Ahoy, the Firedrake!" St. Hubbins shouted back as loudly as he could.
"Can you land on deck?" the captain called.
"What do you think, Spina?" Rose said. "I think you will just fit between the first and second masts. But you must land on the very centerline of the ship, or your weight might tip it over."
"I think I can do it," she said confidently, swung out to the right, and came straight at the ship from the starboard side. The ship's crew scrambled to get out of her way, and she made a near-perfect landing (aside from a few grooves in the deck from her claws). The deck creaked from her weight, and the ship settled in the water a bit, but otherwise there were no signs that Her Majesty's ship had just taken on a passenger of unusual size. St. Hubbins saluted the flag, then the ship's commander, who returned the salute crisply.
That commander strode over to them without a trace of fear. "Lieutenant Bradley Paisley, of Her Majesty's ship Firedrake," he introduced himself.
"Lieutenant David St. Hubbins, on Spina."
"Welcome aboard, and I truly mean welcome! Your arrival is well-timed," the Navy lieutenant said.
"How so?" St. Hubbins asked.
"As you can see, we're a brand-new ship, completed just in time to face the Spanish. As we approached commissioning, my officers and I all agreed that, on account of our name, we needed to find a dragon from the Aviator Corps to serve as our lucky dragon. Most of us have been in action before, and we know what a comfort it is to see one of our dragons overhead."
The first mate added, "Especially when enemy dragons are about!"
"But we had no idea how to go about finding a proper dragon," the blue-clad lieutenant continued. "So we set sail, trusting to Providence, and here you are! With your consent, we would like to name you HMS Firedrake's official dragon. Whenever we go into action, we'll look for you overhead, and if we see you, we'll take that for a sign that we're destined for victory. And, seeing how the Spanish will certainly come sooner or later, we're sure to see some action."
"That sounds very exciting," Spina interjected.
"We are willing," St. Hubbins answered, "and in return, we will name you our dragon's patron ship. Whenever we overfly the Navy, we'll look for you, and if there's any help a dragon can give you, you'll get it. You just need to be aware that Spina is still growing, and in a week or so, she'll be too big to land on your decks anymore."
"So she'll be a big one? So much the better! Midshipman, fetch a bottle of wine from the stores!" While they waited, the lieutenant introduced his other officers and his ranking enlisted men. St. Hubbins introduced Spina herself, and "Ensign Ross Smalls," who nodded wordlessly. The men stared curiously at Spina; very few of them looked or acted afraid. The midshipman finally returned with a bottle of a reasonably good claret and two glasses. The two lieutenants toasted each other, each other's commands, and their future success.
An ordinary seaman named Rodgers, perched in the rigging on the foremast, was unusually curious about her. "She doesn't breathe fire, does she?" he asked.
"No, but I can spit a deadly venom that destroys anything it touches, and that's just as good," the dragon answered as she raised her head to face him. Rodgers was visibly startled; he hadn't realized that dragons could talk.
"That sounds like a fine way to sink an enemy ship. Can you demonstrate?" the first mate wondered.
"Not on board; it's too dangerous," St. Hubbins said. "Throw something overboard, something that will float, and you'll see what Spina can do." A quick search turned up a leaky bucket, which was duly cast over the side. Spina shot a quick burst, and the bucket sizzled and blackened as it sank.
The first mate shivered, but muttered, "I'd trade half a dozen of our cannons in exchange for something like that."
"Wow," Rodgers whispered.
As they flapped away afterward, Spina asked, "What was all that about?"
"Sailors are very superstitious," St. Hubbins explained. "The Corps will protect and fight alongside any ship in the navy, of course, but it makes this lot feel better to think that one special dragon is looking out for them. It did no harm to go along with their idea, and you've satisfied your curiosity about ships and sailors as well. The chances of us ever seeing this ship again are remote – it's a big navy on a big ocean. But her sailors will sleep a bit more soundly, knowing that there's a dragon who thinks they're special. There's nothing wrong with that." They flapped and glided steadily homeward.