The Captain's Letters

A dark figure stirred on the main deck, heading for the bow of the airship with measured, determined strides. Startled, midshipman Byron Coyle nearly fell from his post. If his leg hadn’t been hooked through the shroud, he might have fallen to an untimely death miles below.

Byron untangled his leg and lowered himself from the shroud. His boots hit the ship’s deck with a thud.

“Why are you away from your post, midshipman?” a gruff voice came from behind him.

Byron spun round. His heart gave a sputtering jolt at the sight of a lieutenant. “Someone’s moving on deck, sir,” he said with a gesture towards the bow. When the lieutenant frowned, Byron added a salute.

“This must be your first night watch.”

Byron nodded reluctantly.

“It’s just Captain Melville, but you won’t have heard the rumors yet,” the lieutenant said with a pitying laugh.

“What rumors?”

“She lost a love to the sky. It’s why she flies an airship in the Royal Forces... to search for him,” he replied, voice lowered for dramatic effect so Byron had to lean in to hear him over the mechanical hum of the ship’s thrusters. “Some men say she releases a letter every night, hoping it’ll find her love.”

“Do men really get lost up here?” Byron felt suddenly uneasy about his new commission aboard the Duchess.

The lieutenant laughed and commanded Byron return to his post.

Byron wasn’t assigned to night watch again for a fortnight. He never could get more than a glimpse of the acclaimed Captain Melville during the day, yet she occupied his every waking thought. That night, he recalled the captain’s peculiar behavior as he took his post at the fore top.

Just before dawn, she appeared at the bow. After checking for superior officers, Byron vacated his post.

He approached her, unsure whether to announce himself. He risked a court martial leaving his post, but curiosity pushed him onward.

The captain’s amber hair fell from the hood of her coat in wild ringlets. She was struggling with something in her hands. Byron heard her swear under her breath.

“Need a hand?” he asked.

She turned and a pair of green eyes pierced Byron with a glare, then softened. “Help me with this. The air seal on this balloon isn’t working.”

Captain Melville handed Byron a helium canister from a holster on her belt. He recognized the fabric balloon as a beacon ships dropped into the air as warnings for hazardous weather or pirates.

With a little tinkering, they managed to inflate the balloon. The captain attached a glass bottle with a letter rolled inside and the released it over the gunwale.

“For your lost love?” Byron asked innocently as he watched the beacon dip into the clouds and disappear.

“Is that what Lieutenant Shakespeare says these days?” she chuckled. “Do you know why we are afraid of heights?”

Byron started at the obvious question. “Because we don’t want to fall?”

“Mortal men aren’t meant to reach the heavens. My first captain taught me that,” she answered, turning to face Byron. “He also wrote letters to the sky… an old superstition.”

“Love letters?” Byron asked, remembering the tenderness with which the Captain had released the letter.

Melville nodded. “We tread ancient realms up here. You don’t fly the skies for as long as I have without giving the Winds the proper reverence they deserve.”

A warm tailwind picked up as she spoke. Melville closed her eyes and an expression fell over her face that Byron would come to know well: a woman embraced by her lost love.