The Dark Design by Phillip Jose Farmer

“You are full of doubts,” Oskas said. “That is bad for the liver. However, if the stories are true, then the great boat will be coming along some day. I would like to have such a boat.”

“You and millions more. But if such a boat can be made, then its maker could have iron weapons, perhaps firearms. You have never seen these though you do have some gunpowder bombs. Firearms, however, are metal tubes which can shoot metal projectiles to a great distance. Some of these can fire so fast that a man could not shoot one arrow before he was hit ten times. And then there are cannons. These are giant tubes which shoot large bombs farther than, the mountains.

“So, you can assume that others have tried to take this boat away from its owners and have died before they could get within arrow range. Besides, what would you do with it if you did get it? It takes highly trained people to operate such a boat.”

“Those could be gotten,” Oskas said. “You, for instance. Could you operate it?”

“Probably.”

“Would you be interested in helping me take it? I would be grateful. You would be first among my subchiefs.”

“I am not a warlike man,” Burton said. “Nor am I greedy. However, just for the sake of conversation, let us say that I was interested. Here is what I would do.”

Oskas was fascinated by the intricate but fantastic plan that Burton proposed. When he left he said that he would send Burton more whiskey. They must talk about this some more. Smiling broadly, Oskas staggered away.

Burton thought the chief was very gullible. He did not mind stringing him along, however. It would keep him happy.

The truth was that Burton had some plans of his own.

If the stories were true, then the boat was a means for traveling much faster than by sail. Somehow, he was going to get on it. Not by force but by cunning. The main trouble was that he had no idea as yet how he could accomplish that.

For one thing, the boat might not, probably would not, stop at this area. For another, it might not have room for more people. Also, why should its captain want to take him and his crew on?

The rest of the day, he was silent, absorbed in his thoughts. After he had gone to bed, he lay a long time considering every possibility. One of the things he considered was that of going along with Oskas’ plan. Then, at the last moment, he could betray him. That might get him into the good graces of the boat’s captain.

He rejected that almost instantly. In the first place, even if Oskas was rapacious and treacherous, he, Burton, would feel dishonored if he deceived him. Secondly, it was inevitable that many of Oskas’ people would be killed and wounded. He did not wish to be respon­sible for that.

No, there had to be another way.

Finally, he found it. Its success depended upon stopping the boat or at least getting the attention of those aboard it. How he would do it if it passed during the night, he did not know. Somehow, he would.

Smiling, he fell asleep.

Two months passed. In another week, the Snark would be launched. In the meantime, details about the approaching paddle-wheeler had come in piecemeal. These had arrived by drum, smoke, fire, and mica-mirror signals. Putting the items together, Burton had built a picture of the vessel. It was probably larger than any Mississippi riverboat of his time. It was undoubtedly of metal, and it traveled at least 15 miles an hour or a little over 24 kilometers per hour. Sometimes, it had been seen going twice as fast. The calcula­tions were crude, of course, since none of the observers had a stopwatch. But seconds could be counted as it passed from one grailstone to the next.

Burton had presumed from the first reports that the boat was a steamer. However, later messages said that the vessel seldom took in wood. This was for a boiler which heated water for showers and made steam for machine guns. Burton could not understand how steam propelled bullets. Monat suggested that the weapon used a synchronizing system to drop projectiles into the barrel, through which steam at considerable pressure was shot at regular intervals.