This site contains a serialized record of historical fiction of the near-great adventurers of Chief Inspector Erasmus L. Drake and Dr. "Sparky" L. McTrowell. To read their exploits from the beginning in chronological order, click here.
A new entry for The Adventures of Drake and McTrowell is provided each Monday (or so). The latest few entries are provided on this page in reverse chronological order. If you need to read further back than that, see the links below.
It seems like we barely get our “steampunk” attire clean and pressed before we need it again. The weekend after Wild West Fest, we were back in our D&McT duds for the local convention, Gaslight Gathering III. We stopped for a quick photo op under one of the many rose arbors that dot the grounds of the Town & Country Hotel.
It was hot…hot like a western, silver mining ghost town. Oh wait, it WAS a Western, silver mining ghost town. Calico to be precise. We popped up early on a Saturday morning to head out toward Barstow for the inaugural Wild West Fest at the Calico Ghost Town.
On the list of San Diego coolness is the Poway Midland Railroad in Old Poway Park. It’s like honey for steampunk bees. So on a warm, sunny weekend day, we put on our finery and headed east for a choo choo train ride! Who’s still five years old, huh?
If you’ve been following us on Facebook or attending any of our panels at conventions lately, you know that we’ve been talking about Krypton Radio for a few months now. Well, folks, this is the big announcement!
We’ll be interviewed on Event Horizon, Krypton’s on-air science fiction, fantasy and technology discussion panel on Saturday, May 18th at 5:00 PM PDT (8:00 PM EDT). The show repeats that same night at 9:00 PM PDT (midnight EDT) immediately following DJ Willow Leafstorm’s Steam Powered Cabaret, and again on Sunday, May 19th at 4:00 PM PDT (7:00 PM EDT).
But wait, there’s more! The Drake & McTrowell radio show premieres on Monday, May 20th at 3:00 AM PDT (6:00 AM EDT)! This means that our friends across the pond will hear it first (we’re talking to you Ickenham and Linköping). For those of you who keep more civilized hours, tune in at 11:00 AM PDT (2:00 PM EDT) that same day or 5:00 PM PDT (8:00 EDT) on Thursday, May 23rd. Coolest birthday present I ever got…except from Drake who purveys birthday gifts like no one else.
A new show will run in these same time slots for nine weeks until we’ve covered all of “London, Where it All Began.”
Perhaps you’re asking yourself, “Self, why should I tune in?” It will be egoboo for some local San Diego steampunks who lent their voice talents to our little enterprise (and a certain professor from Brunel). But mostly you should listen because it sounds like this!
Click the controls below to listen to the five and a half minute teaser: For details on Krypton Radio shows and air times, see their table of show times.
“I won’t come any faster, no matter how loud you pound.” Lieutenant Collins grabbed the shirt off his bed and shuffled to the door in his stocking feet. He shrugged into it as he progressed across his quarters, wondering what a man had to do to get a little peace with his breakfast. His head was just popping out the neck of the shirt as he opened the door. Damn! He should have recognized that the sharpness of the knocking meant his unexpected visitor was a woman and an unwelcome one at that. “Morning, Henrietta.” He couldn’t bring himself to say, “Good.” He was sure he could predict at least two thirds of the conversation he was about to have. And he was quite certain his breakfast would be stone cold and inedible before it was over. ... Click here to read the entire entry within the cyberserialized story ...
As soon as the rest of the company was out of sight, Fox pointed silently at an open wood grating in the main deck just a few yards ahead of them with a faint glow emanating from it. They approached silently and looked down. They could just barely discern the outlines of stacks of crates below them on the cargo deck. Wordlessly, they crouched down, grabbed the handles on the grating, and pulled as smoothly as they could manage. It was fortunate that no one else was about because the hinges were not well maintained, a fact that didn’t surprise Fox given what Corporal Ickenham had said about smugglers. It had been the sergeant’s experience that sailors of such low moral standing lacked proper respect for their vessels that was consistent with their lack of respect for the laws of civilized society. ... Click here to read the entire entry within the cyberserialized story ...
Needless to say, the commotion had the collateral effect of waking the slumbering commanding officer in the next room. Bleary-eyed and disheveled, he shambled through the adjoining door while wrestling a dressing gown over his nightshirt.
“What is the meaning of this?” he barked.
Sergeant Fox snapped to attention and executed a crisp salute. “Sergeant J.B. Fox, on Her Majesty’s mission, sir!”
Colonel Morris missed the mastery of the sergeant’s martial maneuver because he’d managed to open his eyes enough to see his aide de camp crumpled in a heap, smallish though it was, on the floor.
True confession: I lived in Tucson for a decade and only went to Old Tucson once, and that was the version that burned down in 1995. So everything about the old western set was entirely new to both Drake and me when we arrived for Wild Wild West Con.
As promised in “Oh Hats!,” we premiered our new Drake-and-McTrowell-before-they-were-D&McT costumes. Luckily, Lady Amethyst was there to capture us in our new finery. (Thanks, yet again, for making us look good.)
The Marines led Fox and the two women to the quarters of Colonel Morris, the commanding officer of the Marines stationed at the Portsmouth Royal Dockyards. As the officer in charge, his quarters were relatively luxurious compared to the Spartan accommodations of the men under his command. His was a small, plain cottage immediately adjacent to the barracks. Their Marine escort stepped aside to stand at attention outside the entrance as Sergeant Fox rapped smartly on the front door.
I’m pretty sure that at some point in my life I uttered the words, “I’m not a hat person.” Wrong-o! I now have one whole shelf at the top of my closet stacked up with hats and hat boxes. Maybe I should put hooks into the ceiling.
For some time now, Drake and I have been talking about developing “Drake & McTrowell before they were Drake & McTrowell” costumes, i.e. costumes for our back stories. If you’re not sure what that might mean, here are a couple of clues.
Other Clues are Hiding in this Pic
If you’re still not sure, I recommend catching up with “The Pecos Incident” and “The Parisian Party.” Failing all else, catch us at Wild Wild West Con next week where we’ll be premiering our new ensembles. Not a hat person, indeed!
Edmond rummaged around in his pockets and produced a small, waxed paper confectionary bag that he subsequently handed to Yin. She wrinkled her brow slightly in mild confusion.
“Jelly babies, for Drake…when you find him. In case he needs to think faster.” He attempted not to sound concerned or flustered, but he mostly failed. He darted forward and planted a small peck on her cheek. This was not how he had planned to spend the afternoon of the Slate-Howgill wedding. ... Click here to read the entire entry within the cyberserialized story ...
…love Saturday night. Surely you didn’t think I could go this long without an SPG post! Notice how this picture looks like we’re way in the back? Not so. We had pretty good seats. The show sold out with 800 attendees, and by the show of hands, about half of them had never seen Steam Powered Giraffe in concert before. In addition to enjoying the fabulous show they put on, we really love that they sold out this bigger venue. We’re looking forward to being able to say, “We knew them when…”
Satisfied that McTrowell had sufficiently regained her composure, Fox began sketching a plan.
“Let’s return to the reception. You can reclaim your discarded belongings. I’ll coordinate with Dr. Young. We’ll rendezvous at the airship port. I believe it’s time to test Her Majesty’s new arrangement with Western & Transatlantic. Commandeer the fastest ship they have and don’t take no for an answer.” ... Click here to read the entire entry within the cyberserialized story ...
We were recently exchanging email with a friend who wasn’t entirely certain of the spelling of “serial,” as in “cyberserial.” She spelled it “cybercereal.” Because Drake and I only have one brain between the two of us after so many years together, we both instantly had the same mental image. But it took Drake’s skill to render it thusly.
Now With Pocket Watches!
We’re thinking of printing greeting cards, but we’re also considering it for the next round of Drake & McTrowell t-shirts.
One of the dangers of my catching up on past bloops before the end of 2012 is that I don’t feel the tremendous weight of the previous backlog. Oooo, I could just go on for pages and pages about our first event of 2013, Her Royal Majesty’s Steampunk Symposium aboard the amazing Queen Mary. I’ll try to restrain myself, but I make no promises. There were pirates.
A Pirate in Blue, Not to Be Confused with Bluebeard (Who Was Also There)
The theme of this year’s Steamcon was “Victorian Monsters.” I have to lead with these guys because it was Girl Genius that got me started with steampunk.
Jägermonsters!
If you are stout of heart, click here to witness the rest of the horror.
Last summer when they had their ever-single-day-in-the-blazing-hot-sun gig at the San Diego Zoo, Steam Powered Giraffe held their Cavalcadium Safari Day for their fans: picnic, crazed photo scavenger hunt through the zoo, watch the band perform a few sets. Let me be completely upfront about our performance. It would not have been possible without our third teammate, Natalie Brodie.
Knowledgeable Natalie
To cavort through the cavalcadium with us, click here.
Every year I grouse about the crowds and lines, but every year I sign up to go back. That’s right. We’re talking Comic Con. Since we started writing and cosplaying D&McT, it’s become a special kind of fun. Even though I get my photo taken if I happen to be walking around by myself, it happens a lot more when the two of us are walking together. I’m still waiting for the day when a total stranger comes up to us and says, “Hey, aren’t you Drake & McTrowell?” A girl can dream.
It’s Them…in Sepia
To see more Comic Con steampunk sightings, click here.
The local San Diego steampunk community acquitted itself with valor by providing the curation and content for the marvelous Steampunk Exhibition at the San Diego Automotive Museum. And, to get it off to a rousing start, the community had a picnic for the grand opening! I think Drake looked particularly dashing in his picknicky best.
As you may recall, we had the honor and delight of serving as extras in the League of S.T.E.A.M. season two episode, “Curses!” In addition to earning ourselves IMDb credits, we also got an invitation to their wrap picnic at the Old Zoo at Griffith Park.
Eat, Drink, and Be Merry
To see if you can spot other familiar faces and places, click here.
As you can tell from our last post, we have finally finished our third story. It was our longest and most ambitious to date.
We’ll be taking a short break from now until the end of January 2013 to catch up on other D&McT business including getting our Facebook page in order, posting all the bloops about 2012 events, and recording a demo for Krypton Radio. In case you haven’t seen it on their web page, Krypton Radio approached us about a radio series (link is here). We are very excited and are in the planning stages of recording voice, music, and background sound effects. Wish us well! This is a real-life adventure!
Erasmus couldn’t help himself; he stared. “Sparky, you truly look like a czarina today. You will be the most beautiful woman in attendance.”
The deep dusty rose of her satin dress brought out a warmth in her complexion. Although the low, wide neckline could have been inappropriately revealing for a wedding, the gauze bertha covering here collarbone restored the frock's modesty. The fabric of the wrap over her arm must have been woven by the same mill that produced the gauze for the bertha because both were printed with an identical pattern of pale, English roses. She was even carrying a matching pair of crocheted pink gloves. Erasmus smiled at the idea of her wearing those while piloting an airship.
Mrs. Bingham cleared her throat meaningfully. When she got no response, she resorted to shoving the plate of hot food through the small gap between Edmond and Yin. “Breakfast dearies,” she chirped loudly. Startled out of their affectionate gazing, they sat up straight at the kitchen table. Mrs. Bingham seized the opportunity to slide in the second plate, although she wondered to herself why she bothered. She was fairly certain that the pair would have been just as happy to eat from the same plate. She made a mental note to speak with Miss Esmeralda. Perhaps Dr. Pogue’s more worldly younger sister could instruct her brother in the proper way to proceed. Just staring at his assistant was not going to produce the desired outcome; she was not one of his experiments. ... Click here to read the entire entry within the cyberserialized story ...
Because our trip to London coincided with my birthday, Drake planned an excellent adventure. We took the British Pullman from London Victoria Station to Folkestone. This train is the UK branch of the Orient Express and it’s appropriately posh.
Fine China and Mimosas
To join our adventure to the English seaside, click here.
It’s hard to thoroughly categorize all the awesomeness that is Comic Con, but one of our personal favorites is the opportunity to meet new artists and commission D&McT illustrations. We’ll do a full blown Comic Con bloop later (soon, really), but today I just want to share our two newest commissions.
“Euston Station, please, Virat.” Lord Ashleigh, Drake, McTrowell, and Fox clambered into the coach. It had seemed much more commodious to Sparky when she had first ridden in it from Bloomsbury to Berkeley Square. She was grateful that Ashleigh had left Mr. Cooke and Captain Vaughan behind to oversee matters at the Western & Transatlantic offices. She feared that their inclusion in the next phase of their mission would have resulted in someone having to sit on the floor of the coach or ride on top as baggage.
“Lord Ashleigh, you have yet to tell us where we’re going,” Drake reminded him.
“Aylesbury where the Wallaces have a country home. I suspected that might be his first destination, but I wanted to confirm my surmise to avoid wasting time chasing in the wrong direction.”
Sparky interjected, “Given the circumstances, we could have commandeered an airship and gotten there in less than the two hours this will take, assuming the train schedule is even favorable.”
“True, but I wish to have the element of surprise on our side. An airship landing in the rose garden lacks stealth.” Sparky didn’t reply, but she scowled at the implication that she lacked the aerial skills to land on something as large as the back lawn of an English country manor. ... Click here to read the entire entry within the cyberserialized story ...
Okay, a Civil War re-enactment isn’t exactly a Steampunk event, but the word went out to the Steampunk community because it was held at the Antique Gas & Steam Engine Museum, which had been on our “must visit” list for quite some time.
We Did Our Best to Look a Bit More American
To read further about our visit to the Antique Gas and Steam Engine Museum, click here.
“I’ll explain once we get on board and we’re underway back to London. What is that?”
“I’ll explain once we get on board and we’re underway back to London.” Sparky thought that was a fair and completely vacuous conversational exchange. She waited until Drake had piled his bundle of sticks onto the platform hoist. ... Click here to read the entire entry within the cyberserialized story ...
“Mr. Hepburn, please remain at the ready. Dr. Yin and I are going down on the platform hoist to retrieve casualties. I think the battle is won, but things are still moving about a bit too much for my taste.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am,” echoed from the voicepipe.
“Mr. Jones, lower away.”
Just as the hoist began to budge, Jean Chemiserouge bustled into the hoist’s bay, making his presence known for the first time since the day’s frenetic activities ensued. He was practically flapping his hands like a dodo as he hopped down the few inches to the platform.
Sparky watched the battle unfold in helpless horror. She had to do something to stop it! She had to do something to retrieve the wounded! “Captain Cox, we’re going in low to evacuate casualties.”
“Are you mad? Those monstrosities will fire on Brittania!”
“They’re only firing small rounds and they can’t aim very high. The worst they’ll do is put a few holes in the gondola.” She didn’t bother to mention the mortars; hopefully they wouldn’t be able to “see” the airship. The way Cox flapped his lips and grasped his chest, one would have thought she had suggested allowing the enemy to fire on Her Majesty in the flesh. “Or perhaps you would prefer to tell Her Majesty that you think her gunwales more dear than her Aerial Marines.” Although it was a wholly inappropriate time for humor, it occurred to Sparky that her comment might be interpreted as somewhat bawdy. No matter. Duty called. ... Click here to read the entire entry within the cyberserialized story ...
Sparky spent the flight north observing HMA Brittania’s pilot, Captain Cox. One didn’t need Drake’s deductive skills to determine that he was not pleased with the idea of being relegated to back up once the actual mission was engaged. She stayed out of his way and spent the time profitably assessing his touch on the controls. She wouldn’t have the luxury of learning their feel; one mistake could be fatal to herself and the others on board.
When Captain Cox wasn’t actively piloting the ship, Sparky distracted herself by watching the countryside pass below. At one point they passed over a small clutch of grazing cows. Although Brittania was a relatively quiet airship, she wasn’t entirely silent. The cows perked up a bit when they heard the approach. One actually looked skyward as the shadow of the envelope passed over it like a fast-moving cloud. Admittedly, cows aren’t the brightest of creatures, but Sparky struggled to stifle a giggle when this particular bovine free-thinker looked at the sky, looked back at the shadow sweeping over it, squinted back up at the sky, then gave up and went back to grazing. Captain Cox was not amused. ... Click here to read the entire entry within the cyberserialized story ...
A major milestone has been reached! Yesterday’s post was our 100th D&McT episode. Well, 100th “actual text” post, not counting the Airship Regatta Broadsheet, or any of our bloops on art or conventions, or announcements of new logbook entries. This has gone well past the “hey, let’s write an on-line story!” and into the “wait-a-minute, how many pages is this entire thing now?” We want to thank all of you readers that have given us feedback (interestingly, much more in face-to-face conversation than in our comment sections), and we also want to thank those of you who wait to receive our upcoming episodes with bated breath. Yeah, you know who you are.
But much like watching the odometer in your airship roll over to an interesting number, it’s a passing transition, a temporary fascination with digit-related repetition. We must continue on, telling the tales that must be told. Perils, in this case, in a postulated past.
How long, you might ask yourself, does it take to write 100 episodes? Well, we normally write an episode a week. By “normally” we mean that sometimes we just don’t always quite make it. Those pesky day jobs that pay the bills seem to get in the way periodically. So, the answer is that it took us 2 years, 1 month, 1 week, and 2 days. We started on July 5th, 2010 and finished yesterday. But that didn’t stop us from celebrating at the 2-year mark. Thanks to all our fan-friends who came out to help us celebrate by eating chocolate…yeah, we know, it’s a rough gig being our fans.
The inaugural meeting of Her Royal Majesty’s Steampunk Symposium (whew, that’s a mouthful!) was the grandest event Drake and I have attended so far this year. It was held on the Queen Mary for four days, and was a non-stop steampunk party. For us, there were two really cool things about the symposium. First, the venue: it was on the Queen Mary(!), which is permanently docked in Long Beach. Perfect for such an event!
McTrowell at the Helm of the Queen Mary
To read further about Her Royal Majesty’s Steampunk Symposium, click here.
“I know just the place,” replied Fox, leading the way. The three abandoned any pretense of stealth. Not only did they expect that their three targets were back at the cottage, but they were too discomfited by the fully clothed wading expedition. At least Drake and McTrowell were. They struggled to keep up with the sergeant who was trained for such privation.
“Good morning, Sergeant Fox. It's amazing how often I see you coincidentally, particularly in and on trains. Where are you going this morning?” She meant for her slight smile to be ironic, suggesting that she didn't think the situation the least bit coincidental.
The subtlety of her facial expression was lost on him, not least because he had expected she would know that they were traveling together. “Carlisle.”
I was looking at the dates for Steamcon IV, planning flights, and then it hit me: I hadn’t pushed out a blog entry on our trip to Steamcom III yet! We did tell you faithful readers about our preparations for it (here & here), though. Well here it is ...
The theme for Steamcon III was “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea” and I was incredibly impressed by how many of the attendees enthusiastically embraced the theme in their costumes.
“Aren’t we forgetting something?” Sparky asked, pointing at the Dragon’s Tooth Style 5 slumbering on its ill-gotten left front leg. They exchanged exhausted looks. None of them was fooled by its seemingly quiescent state or relished the idea of tangling with it again when it inevitably awoke. They all stared blankly at their opponent. A couple of minutes passed during which Pogue gazed wistfully and longingly at the stump of his left arm.
One more perfectly executed hop and the creature blocked Pogue’s exit from the cage, standing on his chain. Not knowing whether it could “hear” or not, Sparky raised her fingers to whistle at it to attract its attention. And then she realized that doing so might have disastrous, unintended consequences given the signaling for Pogue’s arm.
Yin yelled at Drake with an intensity that startled both him and McTrowell, “Open the valves!” Looking at the situation with Pogue and the creature, Drake hesitated. Yin hollered even louder, “Now!” Drake cranked the valve handles as fast as his wrists would rotate. ... Click here to read the entire entry within the cyberserialized story ...
I know it seems like I’m covering a lot of SPG these days, but what can I say? I’m a fan girl.
Just like last year, Steam Powered Giraffe is going to be performing four sets plus a meet & greet photo op daily at the San Diego Zoo starting June 23rd and running through September 3rd. We only managed to catch one of their performances last Summer, but we stuck around and got this epic pic.
D&McT + SPG
We’re hoping to make it out for a few more this Summer, including the day of our Second Anniversary Party.
By the way, check out SPG’s new video, “Automatonic Electronic Harmonics.” The production quality is fantastic. Look for hats/glasses/goggles changes. And even more than usual, the robots are really cranking out their robotic movements!
I can’t help it. All those steampunk shades of brown make me think of chocolate!
It’s been two years since we started writing Drake & McTrowell, July 5th to be precise. That sounds like as good an excuse for a party as I can think of (and I can think of lots of reasons to have parties). Drake and I are hosting a chocolate party for the San Diego steampunks and any other SoCal steampunks who feel like making the trip.
On Thursday, July 5th, we’re going to catch Steam Powered Giraffe’s last performance of the evening at the San Diego Zoo at 7:30 PM. We’re members of the San Diego Zoo and huge SPG fans, so what better way to start the evening. Please feel free to join us there if you’re so inclined. Please note: you’ll need to be members of the zoo or pay for daily admission to attend this part of the event.
We will thence decamp to Eclipse Chocolat at 8:30 PM. Our anniversary falls during their annual cupcake extravaganza, so Drake and I will be buying cupcakes and non-alcoholic drinks for all steampunks. Alcoholic drinks are also available for purchase as well as a multitude of amazing chocolate goodies.
Eclipse Chocolat 2121 El Cajon Boulevard San Diego, CA 92104 Ph.# 619.578.2984
Here’s the really important bit: RSVP to sparky@drakeandmctrowell.com so Eclipse can be certain to have enough fresh cupcakes on hand.
Sparky chuckled. “You’re not always funny, Erasmus, but you are always witty. I rather miss Anu’s cooking and Virat’s chai. Might I persuade you to go for a curry?”
Last summer, a business trip took us to Orlando and we decided to go a few days early to spend some time at DisneyWorld. Jonathan Lord Ashleigh, I mean Ashok, has been a huge fan his entire life and has been many times, so he arranged everything. He even booked dinner for the two of us at the very posh Victoria and Albert’s. Super romantic!
On the day we did Epcot, we discovered a silhouette artist in “France.” You may have noticed that silhouettes are making a comeback. I had always thought they sat you between a light and a blank wall, and used the shadow to create the outline. It turns out they have you sit in profile and cut out your silhouette free hand by just looking at you. What’s even more amazing is that we weren’t dressed as D&McT. We showed Bruno, the artist, a couple of pictures from our web page (love the iPhone) and he added all the costume details from that.
Bruno’s Handiwork
I especially love that he made my nose and chin a lot cuter than they really are.
The silhouettes are now featured in our little steampunk gallery at home, beautifully displayed using our victorian spring clips to hold them up.
About every other year I swear I’m not going back to Comic Con because it’s just too crazy and I get tired of sitting in line for hours. And then I realize that practically everyone else in San Diego is going to the party (at least that’s what it seems like when we’re looking for parking). In the end, there are so many amazing things to see, do, and buy, that I give in. How can you resist a steampunk, TARDIS dress?
“No, his highness will be spending the day in bed.”
“His highness?”
“He fancies that being stricken with ‘the disease of kings’ makes him royalty.” She all but sniffed her disdain at her husband’s vanity.
Rich Man’s Disease [Illustration of “The Gout,” by James Gillray, published May 14, 1799 (Wikipedia link)]
“Um, well there is this one bill of lading.” He held out the sheet of paper tentatively. “It requires Mr. Wallace’s signature, and it has no recipient. This is highly irregular. I was hoping Mr. Wallace would know what to do with it.”
Mrs. Wallace took the bill from Littleton’s hand and scanned it. It was as he said; it required Reginald’s signature and lacked a destination or recipient. The contents were identified as 350 pounds of clockwork gears. Why on earth would her husband be engaged in such commerce? And who could possibly need that much clock hardware? ...
Surely you know that we mean Bill Plympton! We’ve been fans of his work for decades, so we seized the opportunity to see his panel at ComicCon last summer. (There will be a bloop devoted to the rest of ComicCon 2011 later.) All joking aside, he’s very animated in person and has lots of interesting stories to tell. He was there showing “Guard Dog Global Jam,” a remake of his Oscar-nominated short “Guard Dog,” but redrawn, shot for shot, by dozens of other animators using their own styles. It’s brilliant! See it if you get the chance.
But, I digress. He was also plugging his new book, Independently Animated: Bill Plympton. The deal was that if you went to his booth and bought a copy, he would sketch a quick cartoon of your choosing inside the front cover. Previous bloops have highlighted some of the drawings we’ve commissioned of D&McT. We couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have one by Bill Plympton, plus we got the awesome book too! I think we look a bit like the grandparents in the original Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
When our buddy, John (who is the inspiration for the various, doomed incarnations of John Redshirt), “bet” us that we would only write about half a dozen episodes of D&McT before giving up, the gauntlet was thrown! We missed a couple of weeks that first year. Okay, we’ve missed a couple of episodes this year too, but who’s counting? But when we got to July 5th, 2011, we had 50 posts and miscellaneous other material on our website, and that sounded like as good a reason for a party as any.
Mad Fondant Skills
To read further about our first anniversary, click here.
“Just keep them coming, Angus. There’s new gettin’ tha sight ou of me head.”
Ferguson’s Public House had been in Angus’ family for seven generations and Angus himself had learned the art of listening at his father’s elbow while perfecting his glass washing skills. Angus could wash, rinse, and dry a pint glass without ever taking his eye off a patron. And he could put three glasses back on the shelf with one hand while tapping a fresh pint with the other. He topped up a fourth pint for his old friend and faithful customer, Tavis Haversham. It wasn’t like Tavis to drink more than two at a go. He was one of those fellows who would make a big show of drinking with his lads on a Friday night, but he paced himself. The only time Angus had seen him drink as many as three was the morning after Mrs. Haversham had given birth to their first healthy child. She’d already miscarried one and the birth had been a long, hard one. Haversham was a solid sort and liked others to think him a proper, stoic Scot, but Angus knew that the only thing Tavis had feared more than the loss of his child was the loss of his beloved Moira. Whatever Haversham had seen at his mother’s cottage had frightened him even more than that. ...
As we’re busily making preparations for the second Gaslight Gathering, we thought we would take a moment to reflect on last year’s Gathering, a wildly successful event right here in our own backyard, figuratively speaking. We don’t call San Diego “America’s Finest City” for nothing!
With two and a half days of events, we got to try out a few costumes (although I confess to devolving to my limited-edition D&McT t-shirt for the end of the last day out of sheer exhaustion from wearing multiple layers). Like this one where I’m wearing my John Bull topper and the cool, purple leaf vest my mom made me, but no leather duster. (It gets really hot!) Drake proves that he has more fortitude than I by wearing his.
Oooo, McTrowell loves Drake
To read further about Gaslight Gathering 2011, click here.
“Just hold you trews on! I’m not as spry as I used to be,” the lady hollered as she made her way from the kitchen to the front door, wiping the flour from her hands onto her apron. She looked the visitor on her stoop up and down. His face was fortified with the expression that boys on the verge of manhood wear when they’re attempting to be serious and authoritative beyond their years. “Good day, young sir. What can I do for you?”
“I have a important message for Mr. McTrowell.”
“Oh dearie, you’re a wee tad too late. Mr. McTrowell has been dead and gone more than ten years now.” ...
Surely all of our readers are familiar with League of S.T.E.A.M. We’ve been following them since McTrowell got to wind up the Crackitus Potts’ plunger launcher at Steamcon II. So when the League of S.T.E.A.M. put out a call for local-ish steampunks to work as extras in a webisode for season two, we jumped at the chance! We packed the Dr. Sparky-mobile full of costume bits and headed up to South Pasadena early one Saturday morning. They provided coffee and bagels, and we provided our photogenic selves.
To read further about our being extras for “Curses!”, click here.
Just about the time Drake said, “We shouldn’t let this thing take over our lives,” we strolled into our favorite jeweler’s, Charles Koll, and Drake asked one of the jewelry designers, David Armstrong, to make us a couple of lapel pins with our logo. Thinking such a design task would take quite a bit of time, we left and went on our merry way. David Armstrong is a jewelry design geek…and a steampunk fan. He called a week later, “Oo, oo, oo, you guys have to come in and see the design.” We were thinking it would just be a sketch or maybe the CAD.
Okay, he had the CAD. But he also had the wax parts fabricated from their 3D printer. (Seriously, these guys are amazing designers!) Including, wait for it, the actual gears. The center of the gear with our faces is stabilized by the pin on the back. The outside of the gear turns…which turns three, tiny, gold gears in the back which counter rotate the bezel on the front holding the diamond!
And here are the results!
Mine, on the left, also has a fold-down bail so I can wear it on a chain. And then I had to have matching earrings. Too. Cute! I just have to remember to wear them in the correct ears so we’re not backwards.
Many thanks to Charles Koll Jewelers and their incredible designers.
Photo credit to The League of Gentleman Adventurers - May 2011
Inexplicably, we didn’t win. I think the fix was in. However, my wounded pride was considerably assuaged by the scrumptious repast and the perfectly executed kir royale. Oh yeah, I also got a story idea out of the whole affair. The tournament was the inspiration for an episode of D&McT, Pall Mall.
Drake was wiping the last of the shaving soap off the square corner of his jaw when he heard a knock on his door. Ah, that would be his breakfast right on time. The day was likely to be frightfully busy, so he had asked James to send up some victuals once he had finished his morning regimen with the dressmaker’s dummies. He knew old Crocker could hear him when there was no one in the pub, so the timing wasn’t that miraculous. He whipped open the door with one hand and fetched a farthing out of his pocket with the other to tip the pub boy. ...
McTrowell split the end of the new bandage lengthwise and tied it neatly around Pogue’s stump and the protruding cleats. “There you are. The healing is progressing nicely. I’ll go to the apothecary tomorrow and get you some salve to rub around the bases of the anchors. It will help with the healing and reduce the itching. I know you don’t care for how the bromide makes you feel, but it’s very important at this stage for you to get plenty of sleep.” ... Click here to read the entire entry within the cyberserialized story ... Click here to read the entire blog post and the accompanying comments ...
“Good morning, Dr. McTrowell. What can I do for you today?”
“I need to pop up to Stirling for a day or two. Do you have a ship going to either Edinburgh or Glasgow?”
“The Aelian is departing for Glasgow tomorrow morning at 9 am and Abercromby still needs a co-pilot. I can’t pay you a full pilot’s wages, but all the paying seats are full.”
“Abercromby’s a fine pilot, so I won’t have to do much but keep him company. And get paid for the pleasure. That will do nicely. Thank you.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t have a returning ship for another week.”
Esmeralda Pogue was keeping up most of the conversation as she and Sarah Slate crossed over the Thames via the New London Bridge to High Street and wound their way through Bermondsey to Rotherhithe. “Mr. Charles Howgill is a self made man. Although he has no title, his banker’s wife, who is a dear friend of mine, assures me that he has quite a tidy fortune. He lives in Hatton Garden,” not that Sarah had any idea what that implied, “but he can certainly afford a more stylish, up and coming neighborhood. All he lacks is the right sort of wife to raise him to the station which his good fortune affords him.” Sarah was quite certain she knew what that implied. ... Click here to read the entire entry within the cyberserialized story ... Click here to read the entire blog post and the accompanying comments ...
Esmeralda Pogue lacked the stalwart, charitable disposition of the society matrons who contributed their time and energies to improving conditions for the ailing by volunteering at hospitals. She could not even remember the last time she had set foot in a hospital. She would dearly have loved to retreat back the way she had come and gone for tea with a friend, but there was no conscionable way of shirking her duty to care for her brother in his time of need. ... Click here to read the entire entry within the cyberserialized story ... Click here to read the entire blog post and the accompanying comments ...
Sparky felt as if she were trapped in a permanent nightmare state or the world had stopped turning, but the night dragged on forever. Every time she opened her eyes again, it seemed as if no time had passed. When she opened them for what she judged must have been the twentieth time, she was relieved to see that neither of her fears were to realized; the light was starting to change. Unfortunately, it meant she would be facing a busy day with almost no sleep.
As Lord Ashleigh’s coach approached the curb outside his townhouse, McTrowell spotted a carter unloading several trunks, her trunks, the ones she had stored at Western & Transatlantic before departing for the inimitably eventful regatta. How did he do that? She was certain they had taken the most direct route from the airship port and that Virat hadn’t tarried. Logically, he could only have managed such timing if he had arranged for the trunks to be delivered in anticipation of her need for new lodging and her acceptance of his offer. She was beginning to feel rather like a pawn in a multi-layered game of chess. Although, the moves always seemed to land her in a more advantageous position, so she wasn’t sure she had grounds for complaint. ... Click here to read the entire entry within the cyberserialized story ... Click here to read the entire blog post and the accompanying comments ...
Sparky gently steered the Burke & Hare toward tower 3 as the lack of power caused the air ship to lose momentum. The ship’s crew threw the mooring lines down to the tower crew who efficiently lashed them down. She waited for the slight tug back against the mooring lines that would tell her that the ship was held fast. The ship gradually inched closer to the tower as the tower crew winched in the mooring lines so the gangplank would reach. ... Click here to read the entire entry within the cyberserialized story ... Click here to read the entire blog post and the accompanying comments ...
McTrowell’s heels snapped out the staccato rhythm of her excitement as she shifted from foot to foot on the bridge. Although she heard the echo of her footsteps, she felt like she was actually floating over the deck. She shook Mr. Krasnayarubashka’s hand crisply and snapped her goggles down over her eyes as the Burke & Hare floated free of its moorings. ...
Since she was still a bit wobbly, Sparky spent the rest of Saturday on the Burke & Hare, checking and rechecking its state of preparedness. She was grateful for the lack of public duties and not just because she was a tad unsteady. Unfortunately, Sunday was quite different. ...
What was it with all these infernal headaches? Sparky felt like she had a fence post sticking out of the back of her head. She gingerly opened her eyes one at a time, wincing as the light coming in through the porthole assaulted her light-starved pupils. ...
“Edmond!? Edmond, dearest?! We have company for dinner.” Dr. Edmond Pogue emerged from behind an enormous book that hid his presence in the large and well-used wing chair by the fireplace.
In the hustle and bustle of the London airship port, she was hardly noticed. The ground-sweeping leather duster would look out of place on the Marleybone high street. It was only slightly unusual among the international air travelers owing to its being worn by a woman and a slight one at that. ...
Toting only her commodious flight surgeon’s bag, Dr. McTrowell headed toward the line of hansom cabs. While such a mode of transportation was unseemly and “racy” for a lady of quality, it wouldn’t be her most inappropriate activity of the day. As she approached the first cab in the line, the driver gave her attire a quizzical look. Surely a woman wasn’t going to hire his cab alone. ...
The scene inside was even more chaotic than outside. Dr. McTrowell was thankful she hadn’t removed her duster when she entered the building because it protected her from getting poked by elbows, wildly gesticulating hands, and various pointed protuberances from the inventions of other attendees. She was so busy wading through the crowd that she very nearly knocked over a colleague she hadn’t seen in some time, the French mathematician, Jean-Michel Petit of the Université Toulouse. ...
“Kulachniy boy. Russian fist fighting.” She turned her attention back to Jean-Michel. “Are you all right? What was that about?” The look on his face was pure horror, although McTrowell couldn’t divine whether it was from being assaulted himself or from seeing her beat his abuser into unconsciousness. “Mon dieu! It is a scandal!” “I’m terribly sorry Jean-Michel, but I feared that he would do you real harm.” “My apologies, Dr. McTrowell. I did not intend to insult your actions, although I am unaccustomed to being protected by a woman. I meant it is a scandal that this oaf is allowed to remain a member of this respectable Society.” ...
“Pardon me, Dr. McTrowell, but is the chai not to your liking?”
“Oh, no, it’s delightful. The newspaper headline startled me. My mother’s place of business is on Sansome Street. It’s a small street and this is the second time this year that a miner has died suddenly on the street. Miners aren’t known for having the finest of health, but they don’t usually die suddenly in the middle of the street.”
“I was not aware that you originated in the California territory.” ...
Dr. McTrowell rang the bell and the door was answered very promptly. So promptly that she had the sense that the matron of the establishment had been loitering near the peephole, spying on Dr. McTrowell’s arrival which was almost certainly the case. Mrs. McCreary precisely looked the part of a woman who would run such a self-righteous establishment: middle-aged, matronly, plain, and overwhelmingly stern. ...
From another trunk she withdrew a small brass teakettle with its matching alcohol burner, the latter more elaborately scrolled than Dr. McTrowell would have purchased for herself, but it had been a gift from her mother when she first left home, so it was sentimentally dear. Besides, it had proven to be quite durable and reliable; excellent qualities considering all the times it had been abused in the pursuit of adventure and science. ...
There was an intolerably foul taste in her mouth. Where had she tasted that before? Oh yes, the tisane she brewed. When was that? She struggled to sit up on the bed. Where was she? When was she? Her eyes fell on her open notebook beside her on the bed. The last thing she had written, if you could call it that and if she could believe she had actually written it, was followed by a large blot of black ink. ...
McTrowell hauled herself up off the floor. It seemed that today was going to be as eventful as yesterday, unfortunately. The recently vanquished headache had returned, accompanied by a sore elbow and hip from where she’d hit the ground during the blast. There’s only so much from which a leather coat can protect you. She turned toward the melee into which her would-be protector had charged. Interesting fellow; where others run away, he rushes in. Others were now rushing toward the chaos in the next room, everyone except for a single workman who was staring at her. ...
Anu handed her a small, colorful tin just as she was stepping out the door. Sparky opened it in the coach. Amazing! Lord Ashleigh thought of everything. There was no way he could have known that she had eaten nothing all day except for the stale biscuit, but here in her lap was a perfect little snack to revive her: a few slices of bread with sharp cheese, a small jar of something that appeared to be pickled, and some nuts dusted with pungent spices. ...
McTrowell and Ashleigh were already at the gang plank of the Burke & Hare when Drake arrived promptly at 9 am the next morning as arranged. And they were already engaged in a lively debate, the same one that had resulted in a draw the previous evening.
For once, Lord Ashleigh appeared discomfited, struggling internally with a course of action. Drake and McTrowell waited patiently for their friend to collect his thoughts.
McTrowell popped up out of her seat, rounded up the three of the five balls dropped by the unicyclist, and began performing a simple, but seemingly effortless, three-ball cascade. The prone juggler stared in amazement for a moment before collecting his wits and his unicycle, standing up, and dusting himself off. Sparky passed the balls to him one at a time and he instinctively formed his own cascade with the balls. After a couple of rounds, he stowed them one after the other into a small pouch tucked behind his back. ... Click here to read the entire entry within the cyberserialized story ... Click here to read the entire blog post and the accompanying comments ...
McTrowell wiped her hands on a rag and stuffed it in the pocket of her work apron. Her final checks and preparations for the crossing to Paris were complete. She climbed the ladder out of the mechanical compartment up into the bridge and closed the hatch in the floor. The sun was still high in the sky despite the late afternoon hour. She loved being far north as midsummer approached. It gave one the sense that the endless day had endless possibilities, and today was definitely one of those days. ... Click here to read the entire entry within the cyberserialized story ... Click here to read the entire blog post and the accompanying comments ...
Sparky was feeling terribly dazed as she stumbled out of the Crystal Palace and made her way to Oxford Street. She had saved a man’s life today. She had nearly died today. She had avenged the death of her dear friend today. ...
Sparky slipped her fingers into the controllers for the outer arms and stepped on the left foot pedal, rotating the left arm around so it was close to the chest wound with a large pair of forceps. She switched feet and rotated the right arm around to brace the workman by his right shoulder with a padded clamp. She slipped her fingers out of the controllers and reached up to loosen the winged screws at her elbows, releasing the inner arms which she also swung into place over the chest wound. ...
By the time she stumbled back to the table, Jean-Michel was lying on the floor clutching his hands to his chest. The other patrons were ignoring him, probably interpreting his fall as mere drunkenness. She clouted the nearest large patron in the shoulder with her fist. “This man needs to get to the hospital! Help me get him to the street!” ...
McTrowell was quite certain it was time for a bite of food and something refreshing to wash it down. She glanced at the ornate street clock in the center of the airship port. She marveled at both its beauty and its accuracy; she stood for several minutes, watching the hands click around the face. When she came out of her reverie, she remembered her need for sustenance. It was half past noon. If history were any indication, Jean-Michel would be having a light lunch and a pint at The Olde Cheshire Cheese in about half an hour. ...
Back in May, we had the good fortune to find ourselves in London on business. We took the opportunity to visit most of the sites in London where we staged many of our episodes. They don’t look quite like they did in 1851, but most of the buildings have been there since then and many of them a lot longer. Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese has been there since 1666!