In reply to Grimsby Baskerville (msg # 733):

     "I'd recommend we make a direct approach into the port, coming in from straight off the water." Dash suggests, "Come in at a height just a little higher than a tall ship's mast and come in slow -- just fast enough to make way against any headwind.  Then slowly approach the Customs House, where we try to hover and drop a line down -- which one of us has to go down in order to see where they want us to land -- or if they even have a suggestion as to where we can land."

     Dash points out the window, towards the fort on the hill.

     "If we come in that low and that slow, it will put us under the forts guns for the whole trip.  If we also head straight for the Customs House, that should make our intentions pretty clear -- we want to make peaceful contact."

"Is the customs house going to be that obvious?" Mercy asked.

"Have you been here before, Grimsby?"

Grimsby replies, "I believe we should be able to recognize the Custom House -- an official-looking building flying a Union Jack, situated near the docks. I do not know it by sight.

 As I confessed before, I have never been this far east before -- my duties never took me much further that way than Assam, though I once had an odd experience in a place called Shang-li-la..."

Marian listens to the story of how the island was named with interest, amused at the mix up, but then such is the way of things. Human error was rampant, even in cartography.

She watches, later, as the flag is raised, a bit of homesickness at the sight of it startling her. But then, why should she be homesick? There was nothing waiting for her there. Perhaps it was nostalgia for things long passed. Or, perhaps she just missed her husband. No matter. She could miss him just as easily here as she had back home. At least here, there were friends and adventures to distract her.

In reply to GM StarMaster (msg # 722):

Maybelle had never been to Thursday Island, and looked forward to see it.

Ooc: The history lessons on the place are fascinating.

As the airship settles down to the 'deck' (aerial slang term for the near-surface of the ocean), what little wind there was almost completely vanishes. The sea at this point is calm.

From altitude, it had been easy enough to spot the island using the maps for reference, so now it was more or less a straight run towards it. Bellgrove only had to make a few adjustments to line up the airship for a proper direction. As it few ever closer, it was a bit intimidating seeing all the cannons lined up to shoot at it... or anyone else approaching from sea.

It was a bit reassuring, though, to see that someone was on watch as soon a few signal flags were raised on the flagpole.

Noticing the signal flags being run up from the fort, Connor rose from his chair, putting a hand over his feline brow to shield his eyes from the glare coming up from the water to try and see them better to read the code, barring that he could probably scare up a spyglass or a pair of binoculars from somewhere.

As he looked, he said nothing, the set of his feline features grim but purposeful.

In reply to Connor Holmes (msg # 740):

OOC: I'm pretty sure that, at some time or other, it's been said that either a telescope or binoculars have been found stashed here on the bridge ... binoculars, I think I recall, Connor.

In reply to Denholm Hawkesbury (msg # 741):

OOC: I think you are right.

There was a pair of binoculars on the bridge, but there was also a spyglass in the Captain's Quarters. The binoculars have a wider field of view, but the spyglass has a greater magnification.

"Does anyone know what those flags mean?" Mercy asked. "I've never been to sea, so they are meaningless to me. Well, not completely, in that I know they mean something other than just looking pretty."

"I'm guessing Marian and Maybelle and Rosabelle don't know what they mean, either, do you, Ladies?"

"Wasn't Bellgrove in the Signal Corps?"

"I should be able to read them, unless they're using some sort of private signal or something non-standard," Connor said as he swept around the control car and finally came upon a set of a binoculars, returning to the window and bringing them to his eyes and fiddling with the focusing knob to bring the flags into clear view, "Had a few contracts to fit some equipment on a few navy ships, got to know the 'bunting tosser' on HMS Thunder Child when she was on trials, picked up how to read and send the code flags, semaphore, and the morse on the Aldis lamps.

No guarantees, of course, but at least I can try."

"You are right about that!" Rosabelle responded. "Never went to sea either, and, of course, I wasn't about to join the Navy."

"I've seen flags on the ships and always wondered what they meant. It was all as Greek to me as... well, Greek!"

Connor, Dash and Bellgrove all know the signal flag meanings. The ones that are flying mean: STOP. COMMUNICATE.

Essentially they are asking you to stop while they determine just who you are, what you are doing here, and what you want.

"They say to kill the engines and start talking," Connor dutifully reported, setting the binocs down to see about tracking down a set of code flags, starting at the chart table, as from his experience at sea that was usually where they tended to be kept on ships.

If he could find them, he intended to hoist the answering pennant, indicating to the fort that the signals had been seen, then run it back in and then haul out the flag which stood for the letter "K", which when flown by itself said in the code "I wish to communicate with you."

Barring that, he was hoping to find a blinker lamp or even something reflective like a hand mirror to use morse code if flags weren't an option.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:45, Wed 01 Feb 2023.

In reply to Mercy Kincaid (msg # 744):

Maybelle shook her head."No, I think not."

In reply to Maybelle Diggory (msg # 749):

     As Connor sorts through the signal flags, Dash recalls something he saw the former Captain of Black Talon walking around with, back at Bourbony, and begins searching the control cabin for a Bullhorn.

     Dash searches about for a bit, going through cabinets and shelves -- finally locating the brass bullhorn (which the Vril had typically painted the outside of in black) hanging on clips abouve one window.  As Dash reaches for the bullhorn, he realizes that this is the same window he'd leapt from in order to take out the hidden Vril gun emplacement, back on Bourboney.

     Bullhorn in hand, Dash opens the window and brings the bullhorn up to his mouth,

     "Ahoy Harbormaster!  We are..." Dash pauses just a moment, as he realizes that he and the others had not yet thought of a different name for the dirigible, other than the original Vril designation of Black Talon.

     In a hurry, Dash quickly responds with...

     "...We are airship Raven, out of Baltimore, Maryland, in the United States.  We are under contract to Lord Kentigern, of Scotland.  We request permission to tie up and purchase supplies.  Can you direct us to a large enough open area?  Or maybe give us permission tie up over one of your docks?"

A new set of signal flags are sent up the pole at the port, which mean 'Understood. Proceed to dock 3'.

Even as Bellgrove steers the ship forward, you can see someone run out onto the dock and fasten a '3' flag to the dock's staff.

The airship moves to the indicated dock. No one, however, comes out to assist the ship anchor. You can also see that there are now four armed soldiers standing outside what is probably the customs house... along with another man.

"Nicely done, Dash," Mercy compliments the merchant sailor. "Shouldn't we be flying a United States flag then, instead of a British one?"

When the ship reaches the dock, she jumps out the side door and grabs one of the mooring lines to fasten to one of the dock posts.

"Maybe that'll teach them some manners," she says  to herself. "Then again, this is a rather backwater port, so maybe they don't have any manners in the first place."

His job as acting signalman over with, Connor quietly stowed everything he had gotten out back to where he had found them before generally keeping out of the way as the airship swung over the dock, swinging into action along with Mercy to secure the airship's mooring lines to the dock.

As he went about it, he stole a few glances in the direction of the armed soldiers but made no comment other than frown and lay his ears back, though he was wary of some trigger-happy fool taking a potshot at him. After all, just how many anthropormorphic tiger-people do you see every day as the average gun-toting grunt?

"Gather they probably think we're something out of a penny dreadful brought to life," he commented, to no one in particular.

In reply to Mercy Kincaid (msg # 752):

     "Well, we are already flying the Union Jack, Mercy.  And at the last second, I realized that I don't exactly sound British -- even with my delightful Massachusetts accent -- and Bellgrove, our Pilot, also sounds American.  So, I thought it best to just say the ship was American, but that we are flying the Union Jack because we're '...operating under contract to the British Nobleman, Lord Kentigern...'"

     As he follows Mercy and Connor out of the ship in order to help secure it to the dock, Dash adds, "That -- and as we've been relying on Grimsby's government credentials so often, I'm hoping nobody will think twice to question an American ship thus flying the English flag, when he again uses them..."

In reply to Denholm Hawkesbury (msg # 754):

Grimsby says (a little proudly) "I should hope no colonial outpost would think of questioning my papers, or the right of a ship carrying me to fly a British flag. But just in case, we might telegraph Lord Kentigern and ask him to authorize us to use his name --given our previous services to him, he should agree."

Marian flits about, helping as needed, not that she really knows what she's doing. She's excellent at following instructions, however, and is the very picture of obedience when given a task.

In the meantime, she tries to memorize the quickly unfolding cover story that Dash is laying out. She was a good liar, but more so when she had a few minutes to think.

Maybelle was an actress, so she would have no trouble with the cover story- at least she hoped they would believe it.

And she could do a good American accent.

Intrigued by the appearance of this flying black ship more so than he was disconcerted by the strange scene of a cat-like person and an attractive women tying the lines to the dock, Basil's feet carried him forward to greet these newcomers. After all, he had a job to do. And he'd better do it well if he ever wanted to get out from under this armpit of Australia.

"Basil Brookstone," he introduced himself, "Port Kennedy's Customs Inspector. Do you have anything to declare?" Old habits died hard.

He wasn't even sure who he should be talking to... who was in command (charge?) of this ship and crew. In the end, he turned to Grimsby as the defacto leader of all things British. Besides, he looked the part!