Crossing The Atlantic In A Bathtub
an excerpt

Chapter One.

Imagine if you will a city, a city so teeming with life, that you have to suck your chest in so as to not brush against another person well walking down the street. Imagine a city, in which every person owns some form of steam powered contraption, they littered the streets, puffing smoke into the air. Steam power plants belching their smoke into the all ready smoggy sky. Imagine going one day to the cinema, and not being able to see the screen the smog is so thick. Imagine a man, coming home from work at the power plant, and stepping into his house, he sees his wife, pale from lack of fresh air and sunlight. He sees his son small and weak, unable to play outside with other kids his age, his asthma to much to cope with the smog. Is it any wonder when the thought struck him, that they could leave London, and move to America, a clean new land, more then enough room to find a place with clean air and sun, that the thoughtsstayed, and grew.

The crowd bustled and shoved their way onto the ship. Trying to get under cover before the rain really set in. It was spitting, and that was enough to take the nice side of everyone. Which combined with the smog was why most of them were leaving London, and England.
'Come on John, stop dawdling,' Mary Rendrige said, nudging her ten year old sons shoulder, in an attempt to get him to stop staring at the freight cranes, which had caught his attention moments earlier.
'Yes mum,' he mumbled, trying to drag his eyes away from them. John was a rather short for his age, no more then 4 foot 4 inches. Along with sandy blond hair, and dark brown eyes, he was vast contrast of his parents, who were both tall with had near black hair and blue eyes. But they were all alike in skin colour, pale, white un-sun touched skin.
When they reached the boarding ramp, the porter at the base stopped them. 'Show your tickets please,' he said, sounding bored out of his life.
'Ah, tickets,' muttered Douglas Rendrige, as he patted his coat pockets. He frowned, unable to feel them. Turning to his wife he said, 'Didn't I give them to you Mary?'
She looked at him in surprise. 'I don't think so, we'll have to check the bags.'
The courtier sighed and frowned at them, obviously annoyed at the hold up. 'Look,' he said, 'There's a spot over there where you can search you bags, and let the people through.' He pointed off to the right, away from the boarding people.
Douglas nodded. 'Come on family, better hurry and find those tickets.' He made his way to where the courtier had pointed them, and set the bags down. He and crouched down next to them, Mary didn't her long dress making it hard to crouch. She stood and watched as Douglas searched the bags, pointing out where he should be looking, and did he try that pocket?
John kicked a pebble lying on the ground, and stared around, bored. His eyes caught sight of the cranes again. How did they work? All those gears and pulleys, is must be fascinating to operate them. He turned and looked at his parents, they were both frantically trying to find the tickets, their voices were raising slowly. They were a mild mannered couple, but the whole moving to another country was enough to get anyone stressed. And the loss of the tickets did not help.
So engrossed were they, that they didn't notice John slip away, and head toward the cranes.
'Ahh! Here we go,' exclaimed Douglas, triumphantly flourishing the tickets.
'Good. Try not to loss them again, please?' said Mary, her voice softening slightly, now that they were found.
Douglas hurriedly shoved everything he had pulled out of the bags back in. 'Come on, lets go,' he said as he grabbed the bags and stood.
Walking quickly he headed back to the boarding ramp, Mary pulled up her skirts so they didn't drag on the ground and rushed after him.

By the time they reached the the porter, the crowd had thinned, they were the last in line.
'Tickets please,' said the bored porter.
'Here you go.' Douglas handed the tickets over.
The porter glanced quickly at them, not bothering to take in any details on them. 'Fine, on you go. Hurry though, we're leaving soon.' He punched a hole in the tickets, and handed them back.
Douglas took them, shoved them in his pocket and picked up their luggage. 'America, here we come.' He charged up the ramp,

John stared up at the crane towering over him in awe. It was picking up a crate at the moment, its long multi-jointed arm bending as it moved down to pick up the crate. Nearing it, its claw like hand opened up and it grabbed the crate. Swiftly it moved up and swung around, extending slightly to reach over the ships hull. It dumped the crate in the ship and came back for another one.
'Hey kid, fascinating machines isn't they? No one to run 'em, they does the job by themselves.' The old man crouched down beside John and squinted at him. 'You lost or somethin'?'
John stared at him a moment before answering, taking in the unshaven beard, messy and somewhat curly hair, and the strong smell of tobacco. 'I'm not lost. I know exactly where I am,' he paused a moment before continuing. 'Yes, they are fascinating. How do they work?'
The old man laughed heartily. 'Well if you ain't lost, then that's fine. Let me tell you how they is run. Shall we sit?' He pointed to a crate just behind them.
John looked at the crate and nodded, he stepped back and sat down on it.
The old man sat down by him. 'So what's yer name kid?'
'John, John Rendrige. What's yours?'
'John,' he rolled the name round his mouth a bit. 'Good strong name that.' He nodded. 'Well, Peter C. Hayward, at yer service, but you can call me Pete.'
John smiled. 'Ok Pete. So, how do the cranes work?'
'Well now, they is run by steam you see? They have these like tube things which when you load with steam, it pushes 'em out. Makes the arm longer see?–' John nodded– 'Well, when they wants to go shorter, they let the steam out of one end, and fills the other end with steam. Making it shorter.' He slammed his hands together to demonstrate what he meant. 'The same goes for all the other joints and stuff, ye fill tubes with steam to get the fingers on the claw to move in and out, and everything. Very clever, but, you know the best bit?'
'Umm, you don't need someone to run it?' John ventured.
Pete stared at him in surprise, 'How'd you know that?'
'You told me just before.' John answered.
'Oh? Did I?' Pete shook his head and smiled sadly. 'Aye, me memory ain't what it used to be. Anyways, they got these newfangled contraptions in 'em which works somethin' like a brain, it sees what it's doin'.'
'Machines that think?' asked John his face lighting up at the thought.
Pete glared at the crane, distrust creeping over his weathered face. 'You can't trust a machine that thinks, that's what I says.'
'But I thought you said that that was the best bit?'
'Aye, tis good 'cause you don't have to try get them lazy slobs that works the docks to do anything. But a machine that thinks is, well, it just ain't natural.'
'Ah, I see. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, eh?'
'Aye, so true, so true.' Pete lapsed into silence.
John turned his attention back to the crane, watching in the deep fascination that comes so naturally to ten year old boys. So engrossed was he, that he didn't notice the whistle blowing, and the voice yelling, 'All aboard! Next stop America.' He didn't notice the ship which his parents where on start to pull away from the docks. It was behind him, so not his fault he didn't see.
He and the old man just sat in silence, Pete in though, John engrossed in the crane.

'Well, this is it Mary,' Douglas said as he smiled at his wife, his arm round her shoulder as they stood at the railings. 'leaving England for good, to make a new life in a new country.' He kissed her lightly on the cheek, and stared out to the horizon.
Mary smiled happily to herself, they had done it, moved away from the big city of London, away from the smell, the smog, the noise. Now John would be able to play outside, get sunshine, grow up healthy and strong. She turned to look at John. Her smile faded slightly. 'Douglas, where's John?'
The tone of her voice snapped in instantly out of his revere. 'I don't know. Wasn't he with us when we bordered? Maybe he went off to explore, you know what kids are like,' the cheerful note in his voice was forced, and Mary wasn't fooled for a second. 'Douglas, we've left him behind! I can't believe it, we were so caught up with losing the tickets we forgot him. Oh Douglas, what have we done?' A tear trickled down her cheek.
'Don't worry, he's probably fine, we'll just go and explain to the captain what's happened, he'll understand.' He gave her a quick hug. 'Don't worry honey, he'll be fine. He's a smart kid.'
Mary smiled faintly at him. 'I know, but I'm still worried.'

Five minutes later found them in with the captain.
'I'm sorry sir, but I can't turn back now.'
'But my son is still on those docks! He's only ten, we can't leave him!' Douglas almost shouted, the captains refusal to go back had taken him by surprise, and Mary was starting to quiver, it wouldn't be long before her demure broke.
The captain sighed and rubbed his hands across his eyes. 'I know sir, I am well aware that you don't want to leave him, but I can't turn back now, there is a storm brewing, and I have to get past it before it hits. It's a big one, I mean, I haven't heard of one this side in all my years of sailing, and if I turn back now, we will not make it past it, and we'll be stuck here for months possibly. A lot of these people don't have homes anymore, 'cause they've sold them, where will they stay? I can't turn back.' his voice softened, 'I know it's hard. I'll tell you what I can do, I'll send a message back to shore, they'll find your son, and look after him. No more can I do. I'm sorry.'
Douglas sighed heavily. 'You're right, I know. I'm sorry for sounding harsh before, I'm just worried about him.'
'No apologies needed. You've every right to act like you did. And I'm truly sorry I can't do more to help.' The captain offered a forced smile, as he turned to the man beside him. 'Sparks, got a note for you to send to shore.'

John started. 'What time is it?' He spun around, the ship was gone. He panicked. 'Where are my parents? Mum? Dad?' he yelled.
Peter jumped slightly at the sound of his voice. 'What be the problem Johnny boy?'
'The ship! It's gone, and my parents, they left me behind!' he wailed.
'Now now, no need to fret lad, the ship's prolly still there, yer prolly just gettin' them mixed up. Come on, we'll go have a look eh?' He smiled encouragingly at John.
John frowned. 'I know which ship it was, it was the one berthed right over there.' He pointed to an empty section of dock. 'I'm not entirely stupid you know.'
Pete raised an eyebrow as they stood. 'Now, I don't recall ever havin' said nothin' about nobody bein' stupid. Now come on, we'll go see what's happened.'
He strode off toward where the ship had been docked. John almost had to run to keep up.

When they got there, there was no ship, just as John had said. He told Pete as much, 'I said it was gone, they forgot about me and left.' His lip trembled slightly.
This drew a very worried look from Pete, who was starting to feel a bit out of his league in dealing with ten year old boys. 'Erm... They probably didn't forget you, somethin' musta happened and they got distracted, happens a lot, I should know.' He nodded.
John glared at him. 'If they left me, they forgot me, doesn't matter what distracted them, they forgot.'
Pete coughed. 'Well, yes. I suppose.' He coughed again to stop himself from saying anything like: "Well, they might not have forgotten you, just left you..."
They stood in silence for a moment. Pete staring out to sea, wondering what to do with John. And John staring at Pete wondering what Pete was going to do with him.
'Ah! I'll sail you to them!' Pete grinned triumphantly at his brain wave.
'You would do that for me?' asked John, trying to sound as if the thought had not struck him first.
'Sure, I figures I was part ta blame in you forgettin' what with tellin' you about them cranes and all.
John didn't say anything, but the same thoughts had been running through his mind as well, he said this instead, 'Oh gosh, that's so kind of you. How can I ever thank you?'
'Err, well...' Pete thought for a moment, 'Ye can thank me by being my first mate. I needs one you see.'
John's face lit up, as he smiled in the sort of, he's-a-nice-chap-better-make-him-happy-after-all-I'm-stuck-here-if-I-don't. 'Make me first mate? Wow, I've never been a first mate, I'd love to be.'
Pete grinned happily. 'Sure, you can be my first mate, tis a privilege to have ye aboard matey. Now lets go, before this storm hits.' His smile faded as he stared at the sky.
Pete nodded, the storm did look nasty, and he was eager to be back with his parents. 'Where's your ship then? I don't have any bags, my parents have them, so if you got some spare clothes that'd be real nice, if not, I'm going to have to buy some more.'
'Not to worry, I gots plenty of clothes you can use.' Pete said, 'Now com on, lets go.' He made his way to the right hand side of the docks, away from the cranes. John stood and thought for a moment, then followed.

No sooner had they left then two men arrived at the spot. 'Ahh, he's not here, I don't know where's he's gotten off too, we've looked everyone,' said the first.
'Aye, but we have to find him, Captain Doupree will have our heads if any harm comes to the lad,' said the second
'Yeah, and he means it too. Let's try by the cranes, that sort of thing might interest a young lad.'
The second nodded in agreement, and they hurried off to the cranes.