By Adella Chatelaine
17/10-That tiny stick of dynamite changed everyone’s mood, real quick. I’ve never seen so many loud, A-Type personalities struck so completely dumb that fast before, and I’d be lying if I said I did not enjoy it just a little bit.
Klaudhopper informed us all that he’d lined the interior of the ship’s cargo hold with dynamite he’d found in a shipment heading out from the port of Docryville. It was a claim we were all willing to believe, since the town and many of its sisters in the area had heavy mining interests.
He warned our attackers, whom he called “Cartographer Scumsuckles” (whatever that means), to vacate the vessel or else be blown to hell and gone. And since he wasn’t too keen on Mister Mackay and his men pointing their rifles at him, Klaudhopper ordered them off as well. Which of course would have been very bad for our expedition.
The saving grace of all of this (partially, in any case), was Doctor Trenum. With everyone preoccupied with Klaudhopper, and Klaudhopper preoccupied with the small army below him, no one noticed her make her way up to the roof of the bridge and behind the mad Rommsbachian.
She bonked him over the head with a coal shovel, knocking him down but not unconscious. The situation would have been ended there, except that something completely out of any of our hands occurred, as the dynamite he’d held rolled off of the roof and lodged itself in a wall sconce holding a gas light.
The last thing I remember before Mister Mackay grabbing me by the shoulders and throwing me over board was seeing Doctor Trenum pulling Klaudhopper up by his left arm and jumping.
Mister Mackay and I plunged into the water, along with several others. Even beneath the surface, I heard the deep THUMP of the explosion as the bridge disintegrated into flaming splinters. I broke the surface and found Mackay swimming for the shore, and followed him.
After making land, I turned to see Doctor Trenum hauling Klaudhopper out of the water, alternately laughing and cursing in Rommsbachian. That laughter ended quickly when Mister Mackay set upon the man, demanding to know who he was and who the attackers were. Klaudhopper clammed up, and has not spoken since. I saw no further sign of our attackers.
And that is where I find myself now, dear readers, sitting on the river bank, soaking wet and writing these events down while they are fresh on a sheaf of paper that somehow survived my fate deep within a sealed trunk. I can hear the rapid clop of horses galloping in the distance. Hopefully, they can get us squared away and back on the road to Lelina.