Clockwork Nessie Read online

Clockwork Nessie

  By Claire Gillian

  Copyright 2013 Claire Gillian

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, persons, living or dead, or any other element is entirely coincidental.

  1914 Inverness, Scotland

  AS WAS OUR HABIT OF LATE, my servants and I partook of the briny air and walked the full length of the rocky beach at Inverness. Although the sun struggled to break through the mist and fog, its victory was imminent.

  Despite my urgings to hurry, Thomas and Sarah lollygagged behind, examining the odd seashell or beached jellyfish they discovered. Thomas had insisted on joining us on my scientific expeditions after my father's death a month prior, despite my assurances that we did not require a male's protection. I'd never encountered anything more dangerous than a cantankerous crab.

  I stopped to gauge their progress. "Come, come. It'll be high tide soon; we mustn't tarry!"

  “You go on ahead, Miss Blake. Sarah is tired, but we’ll catch up.”

  I'd rolled up my pant legs to keep the water from soaking the fabric. The scandalmongers were already tittering about my preference for men's attire when at work. Baring a bit of ankle couldn't be that much worse.

  At one and twenty, I had long ago chosen science over matrimony. The anemic attempts by the local gentlemen at persuading me otherwise had only strengthened my resolve.

  With no worries of waterlogging my shoes, I could wade through the shallow water instead of taking the longer route over higher ground. Sarah and Thomas chose that path, putting them even farther behind.

  My father discovered the coastal cave years earlier. Because its entrance faced inland and could only be reached at low tide, I doubted many knew of it. I only discovered its existence after his death by reading his journals and deciphering his encoded entries. Why Papa had felt the need for such secrecy, I found perplexing.

  Resigned to exploring the cave on my own, I broke into an easy jog, and soon reached my destination.

  Beyond the tidal pools and into the winding curves of the cave, nearly one hundred eighty degrees to its entrance, lay a much larger body of water. I had tested its depths enough to know it to be quite deep. Its edges extended beyond the reach of the natural light, but a small aperture in the overhead rocks illuminated its nearest shores.

  A hiss followed by a geyser of water from the usually placid subterranean lake sprayed me where I sat taking measurements of a colony of sea urchins.

  "Darwin's devils!" I scrambled back from the water's edge.

  More water shot straight into the air, dousing the ceiling and squirting through the narrow opening.

  "There must be a fissure beneath the water." I spoke aloud to calm myself.

  The effect dissipated, however, when the surface boiled and churned as massive air bubbles ascended. I chewed my bottom lip as I surmised a logical explanation.

  "Gases from the bottom feeders...that's all it is."

  Until 'all-it-is' suddenly broke the water's surface and stretched its long neck. Higher and higher it rose until the creature's head found the beacon of sunshine in the roof.

  I flattened myself in the shadows of the cavern's wall and held perfectly still. I had never seen the likes of such a creature except in fairy tales.

  The beast's head rose to nearly ten feet. Shiny silver scales, decorated with long dripping strings of seaweed, covered the neck. It reared back in a graceful arch as the creature expelled noisy bursts of water through the hole in the cave's ceiling. The silver head possessed sharp angles where I would have expected smoother, gentler lines. The jaw formed nearly a right angle on either side as it extended upward to the tiny holes that might have been ears or gills. Along the middle of the back, silver and black-tipped bony plates, like the dorsal fins of a shark, paraded the length in ever-increasing size until they disappeared below the water. A few caught and reflected the sun's light. The dimensions of its submerged parts eluded discovery.

  I thought the beast a medieval dragon, one that bore evidence of man's intervention by wearing a suit of armor.

  The creature paused and turned in my direction. From what would have been its nose, two exhales of warm mist told me I'd been sniffed out of my hiding spot. My heart raced as it curled its neck down and extended what I hoped was a curious face toward me.

  I didn't often employ idle flattery, but erring on the side of caution seemed prudent. "H-hello, dear dragon. Have I interrupted your sunbath? I'm sorry to intrude but you're a b-beautiful beastie, aren't you?" The quiver in my voice echoed off the walls in a magnified mockery.

  The creature cocked its head to the side and blew more warm vapor out its nostrils as it moved to an outcropping of bituminous rock. Massive jaws opened and took a bite.

  "Holy extinction! What kind of creature eats rock?" I moved closer to the water's edge.

  The creature continued to mine rock from the wall; massive chunks disappeared inside its fearsome maw. After it consumed perhaps a cubic yard, it blasted what I assumed to be steam from its nostrils.

  "Darwin's devils! Are you a steam-breathing dragon?"

  The creature stopped mining for its dinner, and we stared at each other. Above the sound of the ocean in the far distance, the distinct ticking of clockworks captured my ear.

  "I do wish Papa were here to see this." A dull ache of loneliness spread through my gut as the creature surveyed me and the cave, between nibbles of rock.

  After perhaps fifteen minutes, the beastie found a platform excavated out of the cave’s wall where it rested its head.

  My curiosity, always my greatest undoing, spurred me into action. I glided slowly toward the platform. "Easy... easy. Just want to take a closer look at you."

  Though the creature eyed me, it made no aggressive moves.

  Reaching the ledge, some six feet above my head, would have required a bit of tricky maneuvering had I not discovered the ladder tucked away in small crevasse.

  “Thank you, Papa.”

  After a few minutes of wrestling the dratted thing into position, I managed to pull myself on the ledge. The beast’s head lay still, so I kept my movements slow and silent.

  From two feet away, my eyes confirmed my suspicions. Etched on the side of the beast’s head, just above the hinge for its jaw, was a brass plate that said “Blake-Rankine Automatons”.

  My father had built a clockwork driven, steam-powered, self-feeding plesiosaur!

  But why?

  In his spare time, my father had built many automatons. At first they were mostly to amuse my mother and me, but toward the end of his life, he’d progressed to a much larger and complex scale with his creations. I had no idea he had gone so much farther. To my chagrin, Papa did not approve of my following in his footsteps. In his oft-voiced opinion, women were ill-suited for any sciences other than the domestic sort.

  “Did he give you a name?” I leaned in for closer inspection, but found nothing more on the brass plate or the creature’s head, but rivets, bolts and metallic scales.

  I sat back on my heels. “Think, Lizzie, think.” If Papa had built this automaton, he’d have had blueprints and plans. Where had he kept them?

  “Ewan Blake! What have you made this time?” I imitated the admonishment my mother often delivered.

  The creature lifted its head and opened its jaws. Uh-oh.

  “Oh, great balls of evolution! Please don’t eat me!” I scrambled in reverse to the rock face of the ledge where it angled back and opened into a recess not visible from below.

  The creature continued to eye me, but shut its jaws with a low groan.

  Inside the small space, I f
ound a slip of paper tucked into an eye-level crevasse in the wall.

  “To Do:

  1. Remind Robert: Nessie needs to have her points oiled and a good cleaning to remove seaweed and brine buildup.

  2. Bring new schematic to the Dog Island lab.”

  It looked like Papa’s handwriting, but who was Robert?

  The creature named Nessie withdrew from the ledge, bit off and swallowed a large piece of rock, then slipped silently into the water. Did it wait for high tide to take it out to sea or did it reside in the watery depths of the cave?

  Descending the ladder, I noticed the tide had encroached to within a few yards; time to go.

  Near the mouth of the cave, Sarah and Thomas stood in an embrace, kissing. I backed out of sight and coughed loudly before I emerged the second time.

  “We were about to come fetch you, Miss, what with the tide coming in,” Thomas said. He did sport some evidence of concern on his face, but Sarah’s blush told a different tale.

  “I appreciate your concern. I'm ready to bid this place farewell. Thank you both for your indulgence.”

  On the trip home, I pondered the amazement that was the sea monster automaton. Why did Papa build it? Who was Robert? Who or what was Rankine? Why was the aquatic automaton in the caverns?

  Sarah and Thomas flirted and teased each other, but I barely heard them. I needed to search Papa’s study again. Surely I would find some sort of clue in his effects, something I had missed before.

  “… she saw it herself, she did, that monster in Loch Ness.” Thomas shook his head as he sought to convince Sarah of a tall tale. “Said it were just off the western shore of Dog Island.”

  “That’s crazy talk. T’ain’t no such thing, Thomas. You’ve a mind to hoodwink me, I can tell from that dimple in your cheek, right there.” She touched the betraying tic.

  Wait a minute. I jumped into their banter. “A monster in Loch Ness? Near Dog Island? Who saw this creature, Thomas?”

  “’Twere Mrs. Fairfax, the baker’s sister. She said she were out early on her way to the bakery, and as she passed by Dog Island, she saw the monster lift its terrible head. It stopped and looked right through her, then slipped back under. Never made a sound, almost like it were a shade.”

  “Don’t believe him, Miss, he’s full of fables, this one.” Sarah gave Thomas a friendly nudge in the arm that elicited a sly smile from the man.

  Had I overheard their conversation on the way to the shore, I’d have dismissed it as the idle chatter of a man trying to impress his girl. The note had mentioned Dog Island, one of two small islands in Loch Ness. Had Papa made more than one creature?

  “I think I’d like to visit Dog Island. Do you think you could arrange it for me, Thomas?”

  He regarded me with new interest. “Aye, I can row you over today if you like, but why would you want to go there, Miss? It’s naught but an old hunting lodge, only used in early Fall.”

  “And don’t forget the monster lying in wait to eat you if you get too close.” Sarah lifted a coquettish brow.

  “I’ll take my chances. Very well, then. After tea, I’d like you to row me to the island.” I wanted to find the mysterious lab my father had mentioned in his note.

  “Yes, Miss. Be glad to.”

  Once home, I tore from the carriage, and threw open the front door. As I approached the stairs, I heard my mother’s voice in the parlor where she entertained callers.

  “She should be home soon. She went to the shore to collect a few marine specimens. She is her father’s daughter, but these excursions are really more of a hobby.”

  I tiptoed along the wall to the open doorway to discern the identity of her visitor without being pressed upon to join them.

  Blazes! Sir John Munroe sat taking tea with my mother. He had been a frequent caller since Papa’s passing, and had begun dropping hints we might be a perfect match. I had done my best to dissuade him, but my mother undermined my assertions. John was pleasant enough, but dull. His most serious character flaw, however, was his refusal to appreciate that a woman could be interested in science. I knew he and my parents had always assumed more domestic pursuits would crowd out my so-called hobby, and endeavored at every opportunity to distract me with such.

  I sneaked out the front door, and ran around to the back. I had no desire to witness the curl of John’s lip were he to spy me in my soggy-bottomed pants. The detour through the kitchen would also allow me to grab a morsel to eat before heading out with Thomas.

  I found a wedge of cheese, two apples, and a generous slice of bread. I wrapped up the apples, devoured the cheese and bread as I waited for Thomas to return.

  The scraping of boots in the back doorway announced his arrival. “Oh, Miss. You’re here. I noticed a carriage out front and assumed you’d be entertaining for a while. Appears to be Sir Munroe’s.”

  “Yes, yes…are you ready to go, Thomas?” I motioned to the opening behind him.

  “Aye, Miss. I’ve just come from the dock and the old rowboat is still seaworthy.”

  “I’m ready now.” I marched out the door.

  The parlor window faced path to the loch. I ran the entire distance and hoped neither John nor my mother observed my escape.