53. NIGHTINGALE JOINS TEAM BLUEBIRD

MISSION NIGHTINGALE

REPORT 3 from Donald Campbell

After initial turbulence in her reception of the jawdropping facts about the speeds Bluebirds are capable of, Nightingale was impressed enough to state that it had cemented her resolution to impede the progress of vehicles with her blasted clamps.

I pressed on regardless and put it on the line. I was going to set new land and water speed records for 1844 and needed her assistance with the mathematics, setting the measured mile, timings and finding secuded locations. I didn’t want the Americans to get wind of it, so insisted that at night she would need to park her lamp at home otherwise we’d stick out like Bluebird-Proteus CN7 when she’d had a good polish and wax.

I was winning her over to Team Bluebird until I inserted the No Lamp clause. That threw the gearbox into neutral.

‘This isn’t done for public appeal,’ I said. ‘It isn’t done for entertainment. It’s put on to reach a certain goal to see a British boat first past the magic three hundred mark!’ The jingoism worked wonders and I could sense her metaphorically strapping herself in for the ride of a lifetime.

I could detect from her demeanour that Florence didn’t get this sort of small talk from Richard Monckton Milnes as he ambled across the country lanes of Hampshire atop his old nag. Not for the first time I had taken a lady’s breath away. Nightingale started breathing again in short bursts punctuated by some rapping of her chest with her pristine white gloved hands.

‘I am emboldened to ask,’ she said, ‘what is the reception of your peers. Does it not concern them that you are not employing your time more profitably composing verse, preaching from the pulpit or broadening the horizon of Christianity with a mission on the African continent? Are you not unduly anxious as to their adverse reactions that I vouchsafe must come your way due to your eccentricities and strange mode of attire?’

‘I wouldn’t know and frankly neither do I care,’ I stated emphatically. ‘People will say that I have never grown up. I’m in no hurry. There’s too much time to grow up and grow old.’

Flo was getting back on side so I cranked up the jingoism.

‘To be born British is to have won the best prize in life. We love a challenge. See a mountain and the Frenchie will want to capture it on canvas, the Yankee will want to buy it and the Prussian will want to install a mechanical lift. It’s only the Brit who will want to climb it. If you’re going to succeed you have to put what you’re attempting to achieve first. We’re all playing for a team, old girl. At the moment our national fortunes are at a fairly low ebb. I believe deeply and profoundly that we must redouble our efforts. They’re out to take these records back to America. Well, we’re going to do something about it. Flo, are you on board?’

Nightingale locked into my gaze. She sat herself down upon a garden seat and composed herself, fluffing the furls in her long, cumbersome dress to draw attention away from her noticeable admiration for my spirit. She made it clear that the message was received and understood.

‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘I had intended to press some violets to send to Clarkey in Paris. However, assisting in your endeavours to set speed records seems an even more pressing concern. The violets can wait.’

‘Call me Skipper,’ I announced, welcoming her to the team.

Over

REPORT ENDS