Vesper Waits for Steam — Every morning, Vesper polished the brass teaspoon in her coat pocket before ringing the liner’s first-departure bell. Read the full story →
Every morning, Vesper polished the brass teaspoon in her coat pocket before ringing the liner’s first-departure bell. It had belonged to her father, though passengers knew it only as “that silly spoon,” useful for stirring tea and nothing grander. She waited for the engine’s three clean puffs: huff, huff, hooray.
Until one morning, the third puff came out as a squeak. Because of that, the captain blamed the whistle. Because of that, three mechanics climbed the stacks and emerged smelling of coal dust, mint drops, and injured pride. Vesper said nothing. She dipped the teaspoon into the steam gauge’s tiny drain cup and waited while everyone else guessed loudly.
At last, the spoon began to rattle against her palm: tick-tick-tick, exactly the rhythm her father had used for warning of trapped air. Behind a polished panel, they found a cork wedged in the pressure pipe, with a note reading, DELAYED BREAKFAST IS FUNNIER. The captain laughed so hard his hat tipped backward, then rang the bell himself. The liner moved at last, and Vesper polished the brass teaspoon before the engine answered, huff, huff, hooray.
