Apparently some things never change!

Charleston now the 4th drunkest city in america

“This is Charles-Town”

Black and white all mix’d together
Inconstant, strange, unhealthful weather
Burning heat and chilling cold
Dangerous both to young and old
Boisterous winds and heavy rains
Fevers and rheumatic pains
Agues plenty without doubt
Sores, boils, the prickling heat and gout
Water bad, past all drinking
Men and women without thinking
Every thing at a high price
But rum, hominy and rice
Many a widow not unwilling
Many a beau not worth a shilling
Many a bargain, if you strike it
This is Charles-town, how do you like it?

Captain Martin, 1769

And ready to roll

 Our intrepid crew members did not use the front entrance however but instead entered the building via a side entrance that was, if anything, even more nondescript than the main entrance. Everyone blinked as they passed from the bright Charleston sunlight into a dimly lit corridor. The main source of illumination came from a barred window (such as one might see in a Post Office or Bank) beside a metal clad door. This was the crew’s destination.

“Hey there” called the woman behind the bars. “Y’all are back little early, ain’t ya? That’s good! Ole Lady Jackson will wanna see ya right away, Captain! Hope yer ship didn’t get all shot-up like last time, did it?”
“Now, now, Janine” answered Captain Willie. “You know we said that we wouldn’t talk about that. Ever again.” He tried to frown sternly but didn’t quite succeed.
Janine chuckled, not a bit abashed. “Here now, let me just unlock this big ole door for you and the rest of you can just sign in here at the window, same as usual. Any receipts or requisitions, just hand them over to me and I’ll take care of everything just like I always do.” Janine prattled on without even pausing for breath. “Then y’all can head home and have a nice rest cuz its att least 2 or 3 weeks before you ship out again.”

Janine, although chatty, was also a very effective secretary and was rapidly putting in order the diverse papers as the various crew members signed and returned time-sheets and receipts for their respective work-related expenses. Janine then opened the heavy, metal-clad door and waved-in the Captain.
“Just let me check on the Ole Lady and see if she can get with you now. I don’t reckon you’ll have to wait very long in any case.

                            ******************************************

Harry, Kennia and Tira each pocket their pay and left the way they came in.
“Catch y’all later!” laughed Kennia. “I’ve got some partying to do!”
“Oh I bet.” muttered Harry.
Tira glared at him but did not speak.
“You are most wholeheartedly welcome to come by and join us,” said Kennia to Tira while pointedly ignoring Harry.
“That’s alright. I may pop in later but for now I want to take a warm bath, read my technical journals, and sleep for a week. In that order preferably!”
“I hear ya!”

CFS Sandflea

A rendering of the Sandflea by my friend and fellow Steampunk artist Nils Härgestam. Nils also has done artwork for the Steampunk band Abney Park.

If anyone is interested in sending me fanart of the airship or its crew, I will gladly upload it with a link to your website!

And now for something completely different

If you scroll down to the bottom of the page you will find a new feature: a button allowing you to use Paypal to gift this blog with money. This is entirely voluntary!!! All content on CFS is free of charge and always shall be.

However, since I have incurred certain costs in bringing you this blog, I would appreciate anyone who wants to chip-in! I have already commissioned (and paid for) 4 pieces of original Steampunk artwork from friend and fellow-artist Nils Härgestam for example.

Note! The button reads "pay now" rather than "donate" because Paypal requires that groups using the "donate" button be registered non-profits (which this blog is not).

Thanks!

Erin

Home again

The airship docks weren’t located in Charleston proper of course, due to the risk of tropical storms and hurricanes. High winds could easily tear the airships from their moorings and toss them willy-nilly into nearby buildings. In addition the thunderstorms so common in the afternoons meant that there was a risk of lightning strikes. The docking towers were mostly made of wood with metal fittings and were the tallest structures in their area. The hydrogen pumping station was a potential danger as well since the gas was highly flammable.  Therefore the Sandflea would be docked several miles inland from Charleston and its crew would take a horse-drawn tram in to town.

There wasn’t much to see at the docks anyway, just storage sheds and mechanic’s workshops. The only sign of comfortable quarters was a little café that was most noted for the strength of its coffee rather than the quality of its food.  The café owners had posted a chalkboard with a schedule of the estimated arrival and departure times of individual vessels. There were also a few warehouses for the goods that needed to be shipped by air rather than rail.

After exiting the Sandflea with their personal belongings, the crew stopped at the café to purchase tickets for the tram. The café owner was an untidy man whose work apron was askew. “You’re early.” he sniffed. “By a couple of days in fact.”
“Well glad to see you, too” answered the Captain. “Ain’t like we’ve got a deadline or nothin’.”
“Or that it’s any of his business” muttered Tira.
“True that,” answered the café owner.
“When is the next tram in to town?”
“Oh, forty minutes or so. Have some coffee and set a spell while you wait for it.”
The Captain paid for everyone’s tickets and then waved them to a table.
“Well y’all, I gotta go and debrief but I reckon the rest of y’all can just check-in at the office and then head home.

The office as it was called was in a nondescript building on a nondescript street behind a nondescript door. The whole point was to avoid calling attention to the business of the people working there. The discreet sign on the door said only “Distribution Office" with no indication of what was being distributed or by whom.

The Life and Times of Congressman Robert Smalls

Robert Smalls:  Robert Smalls was born an enslaved person on April 5, 1839, in a small cottage in Beaufort, SC. By the time he died in 1915, Smalls had served five terms in the United States Congress. Click on his name to go to the "The Life and Times of Congressman Robert Smalls" web site.

This man's real life was an action and adventure tale!