Portland 1889

Hell Hath No Fury...

As we came out of the sewers we spotted the Little Edison slowly pulling away, that dasterdly character John Scott standing ever so proud on the mid deck. My friend of the orient exchanged some minor pleasentries across the docks then I beheld a true Princess. My eyes may not be what they used to be but I would swear on a stack of bibles that she looked like a small dark haired angel in such serien distress, if there could be such a thing. John Scott man handled her into the cabin and anger rose in not only myself but Wang which forced his hand into a running attempt for the boat which he soon checked as not to end up in the river, not quite as fast as the Ol’ Miss but fast enough to pull a man to his death.

Our dear Miss Maggie also attempted to hold conversation with Scott for which he just replied she would have to read about him in the paper, yea the funny paper if I have my way.
There was poor Putterbolt up at the stearage with some man in a long coat pushing buttons which seemd to make Putterbolt twitch and accelerate the boat off ino the deeper currents. They were gone.

Shots rang out further up the docks from a few ruffians and what looked like a gentleman. Soon they stopped as we approached for parly. It was Widow Kingsworth and Wang who negotiated with this english German who turned out to be one of the Train barens, seemed he has a few bones to pick with Scott.

Everyone seemed to now know where this Hell is except really for me, didn’t look for it on a map, just wanted the biggest cities to play cardsin. We caught a ride with this fellow who I really didn’t care for, reminded me too much of that Confederate officer who I kilt. Knowing I got a bone of his for my knife handle always makes me smile. With not much to say and no one to play cards with I just snoozed while we road the rails in that English-German’s steam contraption. It was quite the invention, we moved off the rails a few times as not to collide with one of the Iron Horses and continued to ride along ground. Quite something, with all these new contraptions the thought War scares me more than it did when I was just as tall as the Confederate 20 Pounder I serviced. Maybe the thought of war with these things will finally scare us enough to not do anything like the War I survived.

Finally after the driver dispatched some red skins with a Lightn’ Gun, well there goes any hope for peace, we arived at this one horse town. Leaving the horseless carage hidden we mosied into town to be greated with polite hostilities. We were where we should be.

Bored out of their minds I was able to persuade a game of cards and some wiskey, well they called it as such, hell my uncle’s green moonshine was better than that turpintine. A few hands ensued and it looked like Miss Maggie had a bevey of woman starved hired guns at her beck and call. Mrs. Killingsworth didn’t seem to fair as well with the bar keep. Wang found another of his ilk and began speaking in some singsong high pitched language I take was Chineese, it was a bit more upity sounding than the words I heard in China town and around the rail workers. The ‘sharif’ broke the two up and Wang seemed to drift around the bar after exchanging some words with Javier who I was teaching the fine art of holding ones cards close to his vest, something he seems to lack, ah youth. A new hand was delt so my attetion became focused.

A rucuse clatered from up stairs yet my card table did not seem to notice. Out of the corner of my eye the sherif made his way to up stairs, this time a much loader rucuse and colapse of body reverbirated through the bar. The gun men justsat ther for a minuite, I did not.

I was able to get my new deringer out, with one in each hand I kilt one of my advesaries then downed the other with another shot. Luck was on my side, as it seemed on my friends as well. Clearing the bar Mrs. Killingsworth used her deadly parasol on the bar keep felling him in one blow, oh Lord may I never vex that woman. Maggie seemed to have a bit more problems as well as Javier yet with quick thinking on Mrs. Kingsworth Maggie had had things back in hand. Wang showed in time to down the last gun man as he gave Javier a rather nasty shot. Tending to his wounds Mrs. Killingsworth staunched the bleeding and Javier was up and full of fight and epitaphs.

Again Mrs. Killingsworth came through with valuable information, my personal investigation of the Knights of the Golden ring seemed a dead end. The warehouse and off in the distance we saw it with bright flashes of a searing light on occassions. Off we trecked again finding the doors not looked from the inside as one would to keep some one out but rahter chained to keep someone or something in. Once inside, a crude lock on the door, we found a plethera of machining tools, I quickly appriated items of use. As we climbed to the top of the building the sound of a flying contraption came from the West. I sumized Scott would be joining us soon.

On the top floor we found two barrals with flying rigs and a man, a very disheaveld man with a beaten look in his eyes, how I pray I will never look as such. This man though was the very man who had been declared dead and whose wife thought there was foul play. Alas there was faoul play but we will be able to reunite that forlorn woman with htis shade of a man. I hope that will restore his pallor.

With the aproach of John Scott looming we began to ask about the barrals and other mechinations about the room, we will need all our facities and the grace of God to pull this off.


So many great lines! ‘Polite Hostilities’, ‘…may I never vex that woman’, ‘…beaten look in his eys, how I pray I will never look as such.’ Thank you Dennis, a joy to read, great job!

Hell Hath No Fury...

I agree that’s a great summary and will be very useful when we resume this great adventure (who knows when but hopefully sooner than later).

Hell Hath No Fury...

thanks all, loved doing the write up through Sparks’ eyes. I to look forward to resuming this adventure to free the Princess.
PS. Sorry about the spelling and typos, just reread it on a larger screen as I wrote it on my lap top using the Library’s internet connection last night, but then again Sparks is from the South and his English isn’t always what others might think it should be.

Hell Hath No Fury...

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