Airborn Read Online Free PDF

cabin boy. But this morning, I smiled and served and yes ma’amed and no sired with the best of them, and I believe I even had an extra spring in my step—for I had high hopes that this was to be my last voyage as cabin boy.
    There were rumors that Tom Bear, our assistant sailmaker, would be signing on with another ship at the end of this journey. Last year, after we’d rescued that hot air balloon, Captain Walken had told me I deserved a promotion, and as soon as there was a suitable position vacant, he would put me in it.
    If Tom Bear was indeed leaving ship, then the next time the Aurora weighed anchor, I would be assistant sailmaker.
    Sailmaker!
    This was my great chance.
    If I could become junior sailmaker, then maybe one day I could become head sailmaker, then rudder man, watch officer—and one day, just maybe, captain of a ship like the Aurora .
    But this was getting ahead of myself.
    Soon I might be assistant sailmaker.
    This morning, however, I was still cabin boy, and table two was wanting more pancakes and I had better go fetch them now. They were eating so furiously their forks were sparking against their knives. You’d think they were eating their last meal instead of sitting down to the first of many delicious meals aboard a luxury airship. If some of them were expecting a tilty meal, with their plates and forks slewing across the table, they were mistaken. The Aurora sailed without a bump or roll. You could stand a fountain pen on its end atop your table, and it would not fall once during the entire meal.
    “They’re eating liked starved apes,” Baz muttered as he swished past me with more food.
    “Haven’t they had enough yet?” he wondered a minute later when we passed again.
    “Keep your hands well clear of their forks,” he warned me as we pirouetted round each other at the dumbwaiter. “I was nearly stabbed clean through. They’ll be eating the cutlery soon!”
    “And us if we’re not quick enough,” I added. Baz guffawed then coughed to cover it up.
    I was in a fine mood. Out the windows I saw the spires of Lionsgate Bridge, the dawn’s light seeping over their peaks and making the lions’ golden manes gleam. It would be an hour before we were over open sea, but my heart was already beating for that moment when I saw the endless horizon and I felt like anything was possible: the whole world unfurling before you.
    “Look at that!” cried one of the passengers, pointing out the window.
    I glanced over and saw an ornithopter passing us on the starboard side, its beating wings ablur as it banked sharply to cut across our bow. Now, this was a cheeky thing to do, and I couldn’t help shaking my head in disgust. What was the pilot about, darting in front of us like that? Ornithopters were ungainly looking contraptions, with their flapping feathered wings, and airshipmen tended to look down on them as a foolish business, as they did on all heavier-than-air craft. Mosquitoes, we called them, on account of their puny size and the noisy whine of their engines.
    The ornithopter buzzed round again, and this time I spotted two passengers behind the pilot, all kitted out with their goggles and leather caps. Again they cut across our bow.
    “What’re they up to?” I mumbled to Baz as he headed toward the kitchen with an armful of dirty plates.
    “Taking pictures maybe.”
    Sometimes you got photographers wanting photographs of the big luxury airships as they came in and out of harbor, and they’d hire ornithopters to take them up for a good shot. But I hadn’t seen anyone holding a camera.
    I wanted to find out what was going on, and since breakfast was winding down, I thought this would be a good time to take coffee and cinnamon rolls to the bridge.
    “Cover for me?” I asked Baz. “I want to find out what’s what.”
    He nodded, curious as I was. Anyway, Baz was used to me disappearing to the control car, even when I was off duty. I loved watching the officers fly the ship, and there was