Diary Entry
Dear Diary,
I must sheepishly confess that over the past month or so of our journey, as I have grown to know the “blossoms” better and better, that my concern over their wellbeing once they are out of my care has been steadily increasing. For, after all, in what way is this transport of them not that most abhorrent of practices, the trading in flesh? Cloris in particularly has gained the most language and I finally spoke to her of my concern that the fate that awaits them is at best the life of a courtesan and at worst as whores. She took my concerns most lightly, however, and explained her belief that she and her sistren would be choosing husbands upon establishing themselves in London, facilitated secretly by the Company! At first I took this to be a delusion, but I grow more and more convinced that she is correct and it is my own naivete and assumptions that have kept me from realizing the truth.
I write this from the deck of the Queen of the Horizon as the coast of Sweden hoves into view. The dawn sky is golden, tinged with pink, and the towering clouds look nearly like the tall bluffs of red sandstone that line the Tsang Valley. We will be docking in Copenhagen for a few days for repairs but I shall not be joining the crew on their brief furlough; I shall stay behind with the “blossoms” and administer the necessary treatments to them, and to serve as their guard, though in truth knowing what I do now, I doubt that any marauder who might happen onto the ship with ill intent would leave again alive.
The reason for our repairs is the pirate attack we repelled over the Baltic Sea. Our watch first spotted a brigantine dirigible and took it for a friendly Hungarian air-navy representative, then lost it in the clouds. By the time we heard the rattle of her propellers it was too late to flee and a boarding party came at us on gliders. Fortunately for us, our long cannon took out their main lift cells and only a few of them made it on board before their retreat. One of these marauders, however, breached our hull not far from the Blossoms’ makeshift cabin.
I needn’t have worried, as by the time I hurried to their “rescue” they had quite handily despatched the intruder using no weapon other than their bare hands! This, more than anything, convinces me that my preconceived notions of what the feminine form is capable of have been shaped by a lack of data and—it must be admitted— bias. The same is true of my underestimation of the ambition and character of the Blossoms, and it now seems to me impossible that any man should be capable of impressing his will upon them without their agreement.
I am certain I will not be the last man to underestimate them, but my hopes for their prospects only rise along with my esteem. Indeed, I must at this point expect that they will be taking my home country by storm.