As a steam carriage rumbled past, one of its wheels momentarily passed through one of the many puddles, sending a wash of water in Connelly’s direction. He just managed to step out of the way in time. The big machine trundled away, thick black smoke spewing from its funnel, driver and passengers oblivious to what had just happened. Connolly cursed the recent downpour that had left the gutters awash and he knew a pedestrian ventured out at his peril. By the light of the gas lamps, the liquid pools shone darkly against the macadam, like treacherous tar pits ready to engulf the unwary.

Necessity made Connolly ignore the possible soaking he could get as he headed for Paddington Station. He was anxious not to miss his train. But as he proceeded, the near miss made him watchful of the passing traffic so he was not really paying much attention to where he was going when, as he breasted a junction, a youth charged into him. “What the...” he exclaimed as the lad bounced off him while at the same time nearly knocking him off his feet. The urchin tried to dash off but Connolly’s hand was too quick and he grabbed the boy by the shoulder. “Why you little…”

At this point, a portly man appeared, huffing and puffing mightily, who angrily asked, “Is he yours?”

“What business is it of yours?” Connolly curtly replied, all the while keeping a tight grip on the boy so he could not run off.

“Stole a bun, he did,” the man answered gruffly. Connolly looked at the spindly youth who said nothing. Now able to take stock of the lad, he immediately noticed he was poorly dressed in an ill-fitting shirt that clearly had seen better days and patched corduroys. The boy was obviously undernourished as he was unnaturally thin. Connolly knew his type as they were quite common in London and other cities. He was one of the underclass and likely as not was the son of very down and out parents or a stray, waif or orphan who subsisted on what scraps others discarded. Connolly surmised he may have swiped the food in desperation. He was not about to surrender such a sorry-looking lad to the harsh treatment of a petty shopkeeper.

“Here,” Connolly announced, taking a coin from one of his waistcoat pockets and flicking it in the man’s direction, “this will pay for what he took.”

The man attempted to catch the piece but it spun out of his hand and into the gutter. Grunting crossly, he turned to find it, bending down as he did so.

Seeing the man was distracted, Connolly half pulled the youth while at the same time he breathed loudly into his ear, “You will come with me.” The lad attempted to drag behind so Connolly spoke to him again. “Would you rather I left you to the shopkeeper?” The boy looked wide-eyed and ceased to pull away. “That’s better,” Connolly added in a gentler tone. “When we are well clear of that petty man, I’ll let you go.” They continued in silence for a while and Connolly gradually relaxed his grip. “What’s your name, boy?” he demanded.

“Vernon,” the youth replied.

“Well, Vernon,” Connolly intoned, “where are your parents?”

“Dunno,” he mumbled.

“So who looks after you?” Connolly went on.

“Be in the poor house, ain’t I,” Vernon admitted.

At first Connolly said nothing then, when he saw a shop selling hot food, changing the subject, he announced, “I’m hungry. We’ll get something to eat here.” The man behind the counter was only too pleased to sell them two hot pies, a loaf of bread and a bottle of beer. Taking these, Connolly led the two of them back out and towards Paddington. “Here,” he said, passing one of the pies to Vernon, “who, taking the pie, began to devour it. After he had finished the first pie, Connolly offered him the second one.

“Ain’t want it, do yah?” Vernon asked incredulously.

Connolly smiled inwardly having got the measure of the boy, “No. It would be a pity to waste it, so do eat it.” With that settled, Vernon demolished the second pie in no time at all. “Would you like the bread as well?” Connolly then asked.

“Sure, if you think it’s alright with yah?” Vernon replied, looking at the loaf in Connolly’s hand like a dog waiting for a treat. Connolly passed over the bread, which was immediately consumed. As their exchange had been going on, they had arrived at the entrance to Paddington Station. But before they could enter, great drops started to fall from the night sky, turning the many puddles into boiling cauldrons and threatening to soak them both. They hurried under the arches and out of the rain.

“Well this is goodbye,” Connolly announced, as they stood just inside out of the rain, “I have a train to catch”. He looked at the boy who seemed very crestfallen at parting. “Where will you go? Back to the orphanage?”

“Dunno.” Vernon answered somewhat timidly. Then after a pause he admitted, “Not been to the phage in weeks. Funny things ‘appen there.” He looked up at Connolly as if expecting something.

Seeing this, Connolly was initially at a loss as to what to do. He considered offering the boy a bit of money, but realised this would only be a short term solution. Then something that he had in the back of his mind made him say, “I am the captain of an aether ship. As it happens, we need an engineer’s mate. The last one left suddenly.” He was not about to explain the reasons for the unexpected departure. “If you are willing, I will take you on.” He looked at the boy to see his reaction before adding, “Think about it.” He took out his pocket watch from his waistcoat, clicked it open and looked at the time. “I’ve got five minutes to get to the train. So be quick.”

Vernon stood there eyes wide as the import of what Connolly had said began to sink in. “I…I…” he stammered.

“Well, will you or won’t you?” Connolly urged.

“Yes,” the lad replied ardently. “When we leave?”

“We must make the train, which leaves very shortly. Come.”

He led Vernon through the crowds into the heart of the station. As they went, Connolly smelled the coal smoke that always pervaded the building and lingered in the air. Because passengers and porters ferrying luggage were milling around them, as they made their way to or from the platforms, progress was erratic. To add to it all was the noise of the people shouting to each other and that of the steam engines. To get to the platform destination, Connolly had to push through groups of people. He wondered whether the lad would get lost but decided against looking back or seeking to take his hand. Connolly decided that he had to let the lad learn to stand on his two feet. Where he came from, he reflected bitterly, there were a million more poor wretches.

He spotted his train announcement and made for the platform. The rear red light of the Great Western express stood out in the dim light of the gas lamps and the last of the passengers were embarking. But a barrier blocked his way. He had to wait in line as two groups ahead of him, an old couple and a trio of old ladies presented their tickets and were admitted. He fumbled in his pocket for his ticket and after a moment’s search, impeded by the presence of the book he had inserted earlier, he managed to retrieve it. He was about to present it, when he remembered about Vernon and looked around to see if the lad was still with him. He was pleased but took care not to show it when the lad signalled his presence at his side by pulling on his coat.

Getting Vernon through the barrier and onto the train took some time as the guard wrote out a ticket. Eventually, they were through and made for one of the coaches. Even as they clambered into the carriage, the guard blew his whistle and with a chug-chug, and a screeching of steel-on-steel, the train slowly left the platform, picking up speed as it went.

“Settle in lad,” Connolly told Vernon as the two of them made themselves comfortable in the compartment, which to his great relief was unoccupied. “We’ve a bit of a journey ahead of us.”

“Never been in one of these before,” Vernon informed him.

Hearing this, Connolly doubted whether he had been right to bring the lad with him. He wondered how the youth would cope with the strangeness of an aethership. Not for the first time, he reflected on his own propensity to act without thinking through all the consequences. Inwardly, he shrugged his shoulders. Sometimes you had to act according to your heart and not your head.