And his mind drifted upwards to meet the thuds of his tree-branch, all the way into the starry night as he drifted gently to sleep.

Far up in that sky and far East, where the sun was still shining, Procul held a dulled, brass compass in his left hand, his deep, red overcoat flapping in the high winds above the soft, peach-colored clouds. He gazed at his compass, turning his body slightly and watching the compass adjust itself. He stood proudly, his chest in the air, pivoting his body back and forth.
"Permission, sir?" a short man with a gruff beard asked. Procul nodded. "Why aren't we going anywhere?"
"We're waiting."
"For what, sir?"
"It's a surprise." The gruff man cleared his throat far too loudly to be socially acceptable. With the engines turned off, the deck of the ship was almost silent except for the hiss of steam from deeper in the ship's body. A shrill caw echoed through the air, and a large white bird emerged from the orange sky, and drifted gracefully onto the brass yolk of the ship, right next to the short, gruff man, who eyed the bird cautiously. Procul snapped the compass shut, putting in the breast pocket of his overcoat.

Suddenly, a sharp hiss sounded from the distance. A large aerocraft, much larger than Procul's, drifted a few hundred yards away. The Spanish flag flapped vigorously on the side of the ship.
"Smithen, release the aft valve," he said calmly.
"Sir?"
"Release the valve /please/, Smithen," he corrected himself. The gruff man pulled (with some effort) a lever next to him, causing the bird to ruffle her feathers. Smoke began to pour out the side of the airship. Procul quickly wiped one of his blonde locks out of his face, grabbed a long tube with a tin cone at the end, and placed the cone to his mouth. He cleared his throat.
"Your attention pleaze! Ze Glorious Nashion of France humbly requests asiztance from her Majesty's most powerful Spain! Pleaze azzist our vessel!" His voice was projected tinnily across the air.
"Sir, you speak French?"
"That was not actually French, Smithen," replied Procul. A moment passed. A horn sounded from the distant vessel, and steam ceased emanating from one of its two rear valves. It's starboard engine stopped, and the ship began to slowly rotate. "Smithen, go grab a gun and tell the crew to get ready."