The Fallen Prince That Never Was

by A. G. Higgins

  Chapter 2

  The Birth of a Voyage

  Port of London

  Among the many ships set at port, the Queen Marry by large was the only ship afloat that could truly be described as magnificent. As a vessel it stood large in craft with hull of iron. Two tall steam pipes rose from its stern, and from its side spun a vast wheel; tasked in labour to ferry water to the cooling of its engine. Adding to this, throughout its decks grew a great many sails cast high and proud. Crafted for love of both new and old seafaring ways, its care was set in charge to Captain James Robert Frances. Tall and of rugged charm, he was a strong man with hands worn in callus from many a sail upon a harsh sea.

  Currently, amid the everyday runnings of the port from the view of the ship’s bridge window, Captain J. R. Frances pondered over his latest chartered venture...

  ‘Hell’s Gate?’ he said to himself, seeing his mind of thought through the dim refection of the window, ‘what will the wealthy think of next upon idle days free of honest living? So easily do such pay in kind. So easily should I kneel for want of days far from long and worthless to labour of love? The good lady that is fortune comes finally with ransom, warmth under the lure of her true treacherous shine.’ He took a sip of coffee from his tin cup; a fresh welcome of strength to his weary mind. ‘One last voyage; One last payment... then free, free at last to charter as we dare. But Hell’s Gate, of all places our final price should be this?’

  ‘But for a good life at sea,’ suggested Officer Edward. W. Ellington, Captain J. R. Frances’ First Mate, ‘what more could you ask for, Sir?’

  ‘A ship to call home, some fine wine and the love of a good woman,’ he replied warmly, ‘but I warn you, Hell’s Gate is no water to find yourself foolishly adrift within. Though I must concede, against my better judgment... I am compelled greatly to charter this land–lover’s voyage?’

  ‘And who could be the wiser man, Sir, knowing of the life that we, the common seaman, like to call less worthy,’ said Ellington sincerely, ‘But if I may, Sir, this Professor... what exactly does he require in the way of our service?’

  ‘You may,’ he replied firmly, ‘Professor Clayton wishes to chart our vessel with the sole requirement of setting sail across the Atlantic Ocean. His intention is to voyage to Hell’s Gate. To land–lovers it is known by another name, the Bermuda Triangle. Once there, he intends to have us hold upon its outer rim, observing the un–tamed will of this uncharted sea. All going well we put to port upon the lands of the Americas; paid in full and free to go upon our merry way.’

  ‘It seems straight forward for such a payment in hand,’ suggested Ellington, ‘the outer rim doesn’t sound so bad?’

  ‘The outer rim is like the bite of a snake. Though its venom is what stops your heart, its bite is what delivers your death. If you are not careful to avoided it’s warn of strike, easily will you find yourself adrift upon the heart of its venomous sea.’

  ‘Then why take such a risk for something as simple as mere observation?’ he asked, ‘and for the matter, why charter this vessel above all others?’

  ‘That’s what worries me?’ he thought aloud, ‘Perhaps the Queen Marry has come to grow a reputation? Perhaps it is the only ship this side of the known globe to dare such a risk? But what I do know is this; no seaman of sound mind would attempt such a voyage for fear of pirates, cruel fated weather or shipwrecks and such like alone.’

  ‘And not of myth, Sir?’

  ‘There was a time,’ he replied distantly, ‘once, when good men lost their minds. Old seadog stories of things... unimaginable, to a mind long at sea. They say when the moon is brightest souls can be heard calling out from their murky graves. Some believe that there are creatures in its depths; they roam with ill only to swallow ships whole, never to be seen again. My personal favourite is the whispering lure of maidens, fair in beauty but treacherous in love. But I say that it’s mere piracy or human error that sees ships lost to her sea. And if you ask me, in hand of sound mind she can be no more than a hard sail through freak weather at best.’

  ‘Well Captain,’ began Ellington cheerfully, ‘it seems that you have just answered your own question, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘It appears so, but if we are going to do this I want every seaman armed with a rifle and sidearm – including you – is that clear?’

  ‘Aye, Captain, I shall see to it personally!’

  ‘Good, I don’t want a repeat of that Somalian incident again.’

  When it comes to retaking a ship armed with a butter knife, one neatly folded napkin and a face full of wiry stubble, it’s no easy task!

  ‘Yes, Sir,’ replied Ellington, both seeming to share an embarrassing image of the past, ‘uncharted seas would be enough to deal with without that happening again.’ He paused awkwardly, ‘maybe we should...?’

  ‘Agreed, but leave out the napkins this time...at least the flowery ones,’ replied Captain Frances, ‘Something tells me that we may need them. I have a feeling that this Professor of ours isn’t being entirely truthful?’

  Professor Clayton stepped out from the comfort of his automobile. Placing his foot onto the fresh walkways of the Port of London, he eyed that of his chosen destination... the Queen Marry. This had been the day that he had longed for. It had been a long stretch from first discovering the mysterious crystal some four years earlier while on a small expedition of the coast of Greece. Four years of research. Four years trying to discover its true meaning. Though now, scenting the crisp air of the open sea before him, he intended this day of all to be joyous. No more wishful theory. Not this time. His heart willed to prove times worth. It willed to distinguishing the flames of theory that had burned him so many times before. As too, did it will to discard with the Board of Trusties and their faceless investors, ‘thank you, Jeffry,’ he began, ‘if you would be so kind now as to see to my luggage, it would be most appreciated. I must make waves, so to speak, in introducing myself to the Captain of this fine seafaring vessel.’

  ‘Certainly, Sir,’ replied his manservant while holding the door open.

  ‘Oh, and one more thing, Jeffry,’ he added politely, ‘could you check to see that the University’s cargo has arrived safely, too?’

  ‘But of course, though I trust that everything should be in order Sir.’

  ‘Quite right, but we cannot be too careful these days, now can we?’

  ‘Of course not, Sir.’

  As the Professor began to make his way aboard the Queen Marry, he unknowingly passed a shadow of secrecy? From its fall it seemed that someone, hidden beneath the cover of cargo, was waiting for a particular opportunity, ‘we’re almost there,’ said the voice of a young boy quietly, ‘just a little further...’

  ‘Are you sure that this is going to work?’ said another, though she was less quiet.

  ‘We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?’ he replied, trying to move aside some of the cargo’s netting for a clearer view, ‘all we need to do now is stowaway on the right ship?’

  ‘But what if someone should catch us?’ asked his friend worriedly, ‘It’s bound to happen sooner or later, Zack.’

  ‘Would you keep it down back there,’ he replied, ‘once we’re on board it won’t matter. They’ll be too far from port to turn around; they’ll have to take us with them.’

  ‘They could throw us overboard, you know,’ she ventured, ‘or at any rate they’re bound to turn us over to the authorities – we could get arrested, then what?!’

  ‘Well, we’ll just have to take our chances and worry about that later, I guess?’ he tried, ‘besides Suzie, you don’t want Miss Clancy to catch us again. We’ll be sent back to the Orphanage for sure, then what do you think will happen? You’ll have no choice but to go to her office and you know what happens there!’

  ‘That Miss Clancy is a nasty one isn’t she,’ she replied bitterly, ‘I’ll never go back there again... never!’ They fell silent as a lone dock worker strode by. ‘Zack,’ she hissed once more, hoping that the coas
t was clear, ‘how do we know which ship is the right one?’

  He paused for a long moment before replying, ‘that one, I heard some of the Dockers saying that it’s due to set sail soon.’

  ‘Which one...?’

  ‘The Queen Marry,’ said Zack firmly, ‘it’s big too, with lots of cargo to hide in.’

  ‘Lucky for us,’ she replied wearily, ‘are you sure you’re not just picking the biggest one here to make me feel better? You know how much I don’t like the water.’

  ‘Sure I am,’ he replied not so innocently, ‘after all this time that we have been on the run together, I think I know what I’m doing... trust me!’

  ‘Trust you,’ she gasped, ‘we’ve only been on the run since breakfast?’

  ‘Captain James Robert Frances; please allow me to introduce myself,’ began the Professor with a charming smile and tilt of his hat, ‘my name is Professor Clayton, William .S. Clayton. The man I fear that you may soon hold responsible for your sudden wealth... should our voyage be successful?’

  ‘Professor,’ replied Captain Frances, his care for polite introductory just as rugged as the stubble that carved the lines of his face, ‘I’ll get straight to the point; this ship sets sail for the fine waters of nowhere if you are not entirely truthful with me.’

  But Professor Clayton remained unmoved, ‘why whatever do you mean, Captain?’ he asked.

  ‘If I am to understand correctly, Professor, your influence with the University has somehow managed to charter you a vessel – my vessel to be precise – headed for none other than that of Hell’s Gate...’

  ‘I think you will find that it is the Bermuda Triangle which is clearly printed on your shipping mandate. It is but a mere observationally expedition in which I intend to...’

  ‘Don’t bore me with the details, Professor,’ said Captain Frances sternly, ‘I couldn’t care less for your experiments and such nonsense alike.’ He leaned closer, his eyes narrow with warn, ‘my point is this; I don’t like surprises... if you understand my meaning?!’

  ‘This is the Queen Marry, is it not?’ asked Professor Clayton, playful in his tone.

  ‘There is no other like Her,’ replied Captain Frances with an air of curiosity.

  ‘And that would make you, Captain James Robert Frances – though well respected – a mere thug as far as I can see? A man, who if need be, would take on thirty pirates armed with a mere butter knife to save ship and crew; Would that, Captain, describe your reputation?’ But Captain Frances would not reply, staring coldly somewhere beyond Professor Clayton’s word of mock. ‘Understand this, Captain,’ he continued, ‘you will find that I – a mere old man happy in the comfort of his trusted armchair by the warmth of a good fire – am not, Sir, the kind to coward so easily as seems others do?’

  ‘Are you implying that I...’

  ‘I am implying, Captain, that if you are not capable of the needs I require, then I shall have no option but to find someone else who is!’ said Professor Clayton, ‘I do not have the patients to stand here lowering myself to bicker with you. We are on a precise time frame that waits for no man. Now, do you wish beyond the mere fish–gut life you rise to see here every morn... or shall I find some else who does, Captain?’

  ‘Oh I wish, Professor,’ replied Captain Frances with equal measure, ‘more than you’ll ever know. But let’s get one thing perfectly clear… this is my vessel, I run things atop of these decks, not you! This may well be the University’s expedition, but when it comes to the ways of seafaring craft, you hold least authority than the fish–gut you will so humbly eat for supper upon this voyage.’

  ‘Then it is with all due respect that I say; permission to come aboard, Captain?’

  ‘As long as we understand each other, Professor,’ replied Captain Frances, ‘then as we like to say around here... the birth of a voyage is agreed.’

  ‘Very good, Captain, I welcome your decision with a sense of curiosity for what may unfold upon our sea–legged days together? Now if you will excuse me, I must attend to the University’s cargo before we set sail.’ Professor Clayton turned to make leave for the dock before pausing, adding with a hint of mischief, ‘if that is alright with you, of course?’

  His reply came only as a deep frown for boyish mockery. However, Professor Clayton simply cast a hint of smile. And daring to continue his leave, he began to playfully whistle about the morning’s air much to the annoyance of Captain J. R. Frances.

  But why, Captain Frances would ask while eyeing the Professor’s carefree motion... why did he suddenly get a feeling that he wasn’t carrying enough butter knifes on board?

  ‘The University’s cargo has all been accounted for, Sir,’ stated Professor Clayton’s manservant, ‘however I feel that the crew may become somewhat suspicious as to its weight?’

  ‘Excellent,’ he replied while approaching, ‘nevertheless, have the crew prepare to ship it aboard. We set sail not before too long, now that matters of charge have been duly concluded.’

  ‘I am delighted to hear that the Captain has agreed, Sir.’

  ‘Yes, though I fear he may lay a tad bit on the old stubborn side. However, I dare say he has more than exceeded his reputation, if truth be told.’

  ‘No doubt he may well be thinking the same of you, Sir,’ replied Jeffery, ‘but I will never understand why you won’t just hire someone more... obedient, Sir?’

  ‘How your youth reminds me. If only I were cast with such good sense that you seemed to be enriched with,’ replied Professor Clayton amusedly, ‘I make it a point to hire those of strong mind, for mere yes–men are a dime a dozen in this world. And with the nature of our voyage, we could use the best that there is to be found on these fair shores.’

  ‘Quite right, Sir.’

  ‘If I wanted to take a sudden trip to the heavens, I would have simply hired someone who did as I asked without question.’

  ‘Yes, sir, but it’s a good thing you had that shipping mandate all the same.’

  ‘And Sir Griffins’ signature was all too easy. As for our cargo, the only thing of value is the University’s crest stamped across its side,’ he replied before tapping his pocket with a smile, ‘luckily for us, however, everything that I require upon this voyage is on my person.’

  ‘But the cargo, Sir, you really should have tried to find something to put in them,’ said Jeffry, ‘if just to make it a little more convincing? If the Captain’s crew discover that they are empty whilst shipping them on board, they are bound to realize that the Board refused funding for your expedition.’

  ‘I’m afraid that time was of short,’ replied Professor Clayton, ‘the Queen Marry must departed at noon or all else fails. With or without such cargo, it will not take the Board long before they discover what has happed. Our only hope is to take our chances as best we can. And let us pray, Jeffery, that the Captain’s crew aren’t as wise as we credit them to be...‘

  Just then, Professor Clayton felt a rather strange nudge to the lower side of his left leg? Glancing down, he first came to hear two young voices whispering in argument. Apparently, neither of the two cared to take the blame for their sudden misfortune in failing to remain hidden? But now, under the watchful gaze of Professor Clayton’s curious sight, a young boy lay somewhat snared in the netting of cargo?

  ‘Er… excuse me, Sir,’ he tried, ‘how’s about a shoeshine, eh?’

  It was an amusing accent, but far from convincing.

  ‘Get your paper?’

  Professor Clayton’s gaze told him to drop it. He took his advice.

  ‘Well, what is it that we have here?’ he began, ‘If I were none the wiser I would have to say that you, my boy, were in fact an attempted stowaway than that of a shiner? Though not a very good one it would seem?’

  The young boy rose unsteadily to his feet, his cheeks a glow of embarrassment, ‘sorry, Sir?’

  ‘Come now, out with it for you know only too well of what I am implying,’ said Professor Clayton sternly, ‘you can start
by telling me your name, if you would? – Your real name that is.’

  ‘Zackary, Sir,’ replied the young boy, ‘but everyone calls me Zack.’

  ‘Well Zackary – or Zack if you prefer – would you be so kind as to ask your little friend hiding behind those crates to come out too? I may be considerably old compared to you, but my wits are as sharp as ever I can assure you.’

  Zack felt that he had no choice, signaling to his friend to come out. Reluctantly she revealed herself.

  ‘Now then... this would be?’

  ‘Suzan, Sir,’ she replied quietly, her eyes full of scorn for Zack, ‘but Zack calls me Suzie.’

  Silently he tried to protest his innocents. She wasn’t interested.

  ‘Suzie, eh?’ began Professor Clayton, leaning forward with a sense of curiosity, ‘And would Suzie – according to Zackary – like to tell me what exactly you two were up to down there?’

  ‘Well, Sir,’ she began unsurely, ‘we were trying to...?’

  ‘To stowaway on a ship, perhaps...?’

  ‘Yes, Sir,’ she conceded, ‘only...’

  ‘Only you were foiled in the act, as it were,’ finished Professor Clayton, ‘now why on earth would two children want to stowaway on a ship?’

  Suzan glanced down at her palms, Professor Clayton noting the distinctive lines of a cane that had crossed them so harshly.

  ‘People don’t care much for orphans, worst of all Sister Clancy...’ said Zack, ‘me and Suzie are all we’ve got. From now on we’ll take care of each other.’

  ‘I think you will find that it is Suzie and I?’ corrected Professor Clayton, ‘so to be free of ill hearts you hitch a plan to runaway? But to where upon this shore, or other, would such innocents find their rightful place?’

  However, they could not find it in their hearts to reply. In truth, the answer was anywhere... anywhere but here.

  ‘Oh please don’t turn us in, Sir,’ pleaded Suzan desperately, ‘please, Sir... Sister Clancy would surely...’

  ‘Never mind those self proclaimed Sisters,’ he interrupted firmly, his eyes a flare of anger for such like, ‘and it won’t do you much good hiding in those crates either.’

  ‘How so, Sir?’ asked Zack.

  Professor Clayton allowed a moment for thought. Soon his sight drifted a far, setting firmly upon a rather unsuspecting Captain J. R. Frances. He smiled artfully before crafting his next thought of word, ‘because the Dockers make sure to check all cargo for stowaways before they even board. You would be far wiser to try your hand at those crates over there...’ He pointed to a reasonably modest size cargo to his right, ‘now those on the other hand, well, your chances would be far greater I should think?’

  Jeffry felt the need to protest. He didn’t get far.

  ‘Why?’ asked Zack.

  ‘Because that is my cargo,’ whispered Professor Clayton with a devilish wink of his eye, ‘and no one but me has permission to rummage through it, I can promise you. Not even the ill forked tongues of the Sisters of the Blessed.’

  ‘And just how are we supposed to do that,’ asked Zack wearily, ‘surely you would tell the Captain as soon as we hid there?’

  ‘Though all my dreams may lie not upon a sure path, I must believe,’ he replied warmly, ‘In other words; there is only one way to find out. Besides, I would be much too frightened to cross paths with fugitives such as you.’ He reached for his pocket watch, flicking its lid open with that of a calculated manner, ‘the only ship westbound of this week sets sail to the fair wind at noon. It is precisely ten to the hour and I must take my leave of you both. However, I shall leave you with this final thought,’ he leaned close, whispering, ‘I won’t tell anyone... if you don’t.’

  Again Jeffry felt the need to protest. Surely this was not a wise decision, was it? But apparently, as far as Professor Clayton was concerned, if these young orphans were intent on stowing away up a ship, then who was he to stop them. Besides, the University’s cargo was very spacious, wasn’t it?