The Chase of the Saltire IV

Jock sat on the bank casting his fly rod as Stefania sat nearby her sketch pad in hand her hands busy as she roughed out another sketch of Jock fishing.

“I hope you have moved onto a more fitting subject,” Jock joked as he placed his fly just where he wanted it.

Stefania smiled. “My grandfather would say the same thing when I would visit him at Lake Como,” she smiled her cheeks dimpling as she continued to draw.

Jock grinned and continued on with his fishing.

“Any sign of Steede and Peele?” John asked as he set down a large hamper overflowing with food and drink.

“Saw them out earlier nosing around the shore near the ruins,” Rebecca said. “They were acting like a couple on holiday.”

“Really? Are they still using that cover? I think every agency on the continent is aware of that ruse,” John replied as he spread a large wool blanket over the ground.

“It seems a bit odd to be having a picnic this time of year,” Rebecca smiled as she knelt down.

“It is a bit chilly I admit, but,” John deftly removed the cork from a bottle of champagne. “I know that Skye is not the destination of The Saltire.”

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. ‘And you know this how?”

John grinned. “ I charted the currents from North America to here, they will make landfall in a day or two just to the north. Jock being close at hand was just a bonus.”

Maureen adjusted her camera’s lense and snapped pictures in rapid succession of Steede and Peele.

“Smile for the camera Miss Peele,” Steede said grinning, we seem to have attracted company.”

“One of the lady’s I see, he does have quite the industrious little harem.”

“Why MIss Peele, do I detect a hint of moral outrage?”

“What ever gave you that Idea?” Miss Peele smiled her eyes twinkling. “Trying to cover your hidden desire’s for your own?”

“Miss Peele! I would never desire,” Steede paused and looked down the glen, ‘Such an outmoded and barbarous institution!”

Maureen shook her head chuckling as the exchange carried across the glen. “John wishes he had a harem too,” she said softly too herself as she began to pack up the large camera. It took several minutes to break down the large camera and its components, placing them in their slot in the large carrying box.

“Grant!” The loud firm voice of Captain Panache traveled the length of the the airship The Saltire. “Report to the bridge!”

Grant set down his wrench and adjusted his golden flowing locks. He took his time working his way up from the bowels of the airship until he stood upon the open bridge.

“Reporting as ordered Captain,” he said standing there before Panache.

“Yes, Grant, have you been sending off those misleading reports as I requested?” Panache gave his crewman a stony gaze as he absently flicked his fly whisk about.

“Of course Captain, I always follow orders don’t I?” Grant said gazing at Panache.

“Except when you don’t,” came a rumble followed by laughter further down the bridge.

Grant shot daggers in the general direction of the laughter. Panache raised his hand and the laughter stopped abruptly.

“Good, we make landfall on the morrow. I expect you to have done your job well and that we shall be met by officials of Alba’s government so we can quickly go about our business. “

“Of course Captain,” Grant said staring ahead.

“Hmmm, yes,” Panache eyed Grant. “Crew, break out your number one kilt uniform, we must make a favorable impression after all. Grant, you may return to your duties.” Panache turned and took the wheel of The Saltire.