Imperial Lifeblood
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Travel in the Royal Airship was a very grand affair, albeit a rather old-fashioned one. It was clear - to the feminine eye, at least - that the furnishings, although of the finest quality, had been selected by, or at least for, an old woman. Still, it was more than comfortable enough, with quite enough space for every class of person aboard. The Brittania was not the largest airship, nor the fastest - the grand liners more recently introduced for the transatlantic routes could carry many times more passengers and cruise at more than a hundred miles an hour - but the old vessel could put on a very impressive show with her flags and pennants flying. I had already discovered over two formal dinners in my own home that the diplomatic party headed by Sir Richard Talkney were to a man - and of course they were all men - the kind of self-opinionated old buffers one would expect to find cluttering up the finest gentlemen's clubs in London, including of course the Houses of Parliament. Oh, no doubt they considered themselves 'men of the world', although they did exhibit a worrying number of ill-formed and narrow-minded opinions. Over two consecutive evenings, I listened with polite patience to their blustering pronouncements and wondered privately whether the proposed diplomacy stood any chance at all of achieving its desired outcome. Sir Douglas Kirbright’s demeanour was a strange mixture, I thought: unctuous civility when Sir Richard was in the room, alternating with overbearing criticism of staff and junior civil servants. At least my presence, when he noticed it, served to moderate his haughty rudeness, which may have prevented more serious problems. Now that we were properly under way, I limited my social interactions to dinner at the Captain's table and regular promenades on the starboard-side semi-enclosed deck which afforded the best view of the coast and inland areas as we passed. Our course followed the coastline more or less due south, a route which the Captain assured me had been specially selected by Sir Richard to 'survey moorings and the like', although I caught no glimpse of him or anyone else taking an interest in the geography. In the morning of the third day, we approached Maputo Bay. As requested, the Captain brought the Brittania to a stop in mid-air using, I imagine, just enough engine power to counteract the modest offshore breeze. Sir Richard and a few of his cohorts did deign to emerge briefly, although they did not seem to be particularly interested and soon left me alone to inspect the scene. Maputo Bay was a large muddy estuary, not entirely dissimilar to Mombasa creek although without the island: bounded in many places by mangrove swamps although with a surprisingly large and bustling seaport on the northern shore. More ships could be seen at anchor in deeper waters in the creek and further offshore. Behind the port was a mass of iron tracks which formed the rail terminus, and a cluster of the kind of buildings that steam locomotives seem to require, and it was just possible to make out the course of the railway itself, snaking towards the highlands of the interior. At a respectable distance from the port and railway - it does not do to be too close to grubby industrial facilities, after all - was a grand square set with equally grand buildings in the colonial style, no doubt government ministries and meeting halls and all the other facilities the processes of government seem to require. Beyond the square, a mish-mash of buildings could be seen, interspersed with undeveloped plots joined by roads which, for the most part, could have done with a healthy treatment of tarmacadam. (more coming soon)
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Part 2