A Ripple In Time [A Historical Novel of Survival]

by Zugg, Victor

  Nathan, Toby, and the others remained in camp.

  At Mato’s village, the elders apparently saw the advantage of having a friend with a boat and asked if they could transport more hides on the next trip. Mato suggested he and his braves start transporting hides to the ship that day. It would take a couple of trips considering the village’s relative lack of manpower and the accumulation of skins over the previous months. Mato said they had a total of twenty stacks like the first three they had traded in Charles Town. Also, that many hides at one time gave him considerable bargaining power.

  Mason agreed, of course, and suggested they could probably head out the day after next. That would give them plenty of time to get the ship ready, the hides loaded, and to figure out who would be going.

  While at the village, Mato presented Mason with a new buckskin shirt and long pants. Mato explained they were made by the women in the village specifically for Mason. Mason was fairly sure it had to do with saving Mato from the Lenape warrior, wiping out the Lenape raiding party, or both. Mason accepted without hesitation or comment. He just nodded with gratitude and shook Mato’s hand.

  On the way back to camp, the group gave up all pretense of hunting as each was deep in thought on the coming days.

  “I think we should transport all the remaining silver to Charles Town and exchange a good portion for property, either a building in town or some land outside of town,” Karen said. “I think it’s dangerous to keep that much loot around.”

  Mason nodded and glanced at Dorothy. “What is land going for these days?”

  “Not sure about a working plantation, if one could even be found,” Dorothy said. “Most bare land was acquired via land grant, but there were private sales as well. Twelve pounds or about thirty-six dollars was the price for a hundred acres for a long time. The price didn’t fluctuate that much during this era.”

  “And for something in town?”

  “From what I saw, there’s not much available actually in town. Given the number of taverns, we might be able to wrangle one of those. Something like where we stayed would also provide the room to house those who want to move to Charles Town.”

  “It might be easier to build something just outside the walls,” Mason said. “You said earlier that the walls would be coming down soon to make way for easier trade.” He turned his head to Karen.

  “Whatever’s most practical and timely given the personalities involved,” she said.

  Mason realized she was talking about Nathan and his growing cadre of rebels. Seems like no matter what is to be done, there are always dissenters.

  CHAPTER 19

  Mason had made up his mind to establish a beachhead in Charles Town by implanting a contingent of the survivors. He had discussed the proposition with those he recommended for the first wave and all had agreed. He also spoke to those not included in the first wave and they had understood the logic. Those selected for the first contingent were Dorothy, Karen, Lisa, Jeremy, Tom Green, Mildred, and Lana.

  As the only blacks among the survivors, Travis and Angie didn’t want to chance getting caught up in the slave turmoil that existed in Charles Town. Their transition would be less risky once a home front was established. The same logic applied to Hana, Asumi, and Koji. There was no telling how the town would respond to Asians at this point. Manny would also be staying behind. Given his Spanish appearance and the tension between England and Spain, getting him into town would be a little tricky. Mason wasn’t even sure Manny wanted to live in town. He seemed to have taken a liking to the hunting and camping. Gail, the nurse, was needed in camp until everyone who wanted to leave was gone. Sandy and Toby would also be waiting for the second or third round.

  Mason, Nathan, Tito, and John would man the ship for the trips back and forth.

  At least that was the plan.

  Early the morning they were to depart, all seemed ready. Those going were aboard along with Mato, five of his braves, all armed with flintlocks, and twenty-two stacks of deer skins. Also aboard was the chest of remaining Spanish dollars, around six thousand three hundred of them. Mason wasn’t sure what they would do with the coins in town. Probably they would leave them on the ship and keep the ship well manned until they had a more permanent place.

  Mason, Nathan, Tito, and Jeremy loaded themselves into the jolly boat and began the arduous chore of pulling the ship through the inlet. The outflow was in their favor this time so it was really just a matter of keeping the keel in the middle of the channel.

  At the same time, the rest of those on board raised the main sail but left it slack in the light breeze until the ship was well offshore. At that point they secured the jolly boat, set the sails, and gave a final wave to Manny and the others as they passed the camp.

  The trip to Charles Town took twelve hours. The sun was less than an hour off the horizon when they made the turn into the harbor. By the time they dropped anchor, a hundred yards out from the wharfs, it was well into dusk. They would wait until morning to maneuver the ship up to one of the wharfs so they could off load the deerskins. John thought it best to hire a couple of hands and another jolly boat for the task. For the night, everyone would sleep on board. Mato volunteered his braves to keep watch. Mason was up most of the night as well.

  ◆◆◆

  “Charles Town isn’t ready for tight jeans,” Mason said to Lisa, as they stood on the deck in the early morning. “I think Dorothy and I should first try to secure something for everyone to wear.”

  “Just make it quick so I can get off this boat,” Lisa said.

  Mason scrunched his face. “You do look a little pale.”

  Lisa exhaled. “Uh-huh.”

  “She could wear my buckskins,” Dorothy said.

  “And Jeremy could wear mine,” Mason said. He turned to Karen standing beside him. “We should be able to get you into town later this afternoon.”

  Karen nodded.

  They loaded one stack of the skins into the jolly boat and then Mato, one of his braves, Mason, Dorothy, Lisa, and Jeremy rowed to the wharf.

  As they separated from Mato, who was off to negotiate for the skins, Mason’s first stop was the clothier.

  Mason and Dorothy left Jeremy and Lisa with Francois and headed off to survey the town. They were both dressed in their ‘town’ clothes, and Mason carried a buckskin pouch containing his Glock, the extra magazines, and enough of the Spanish dollars to take care of Francois and any other incidentals.

  They visited the fourteen taverns in town, gauging each for its ability to house twenty people. There were only two with enough rooms and even then they’d have to put four or five people in each.

  “This is going to be a rough transition,” Dorothy said, as they walked down Broad Street toward the wharf.

  “An impossible transition I’m afraid,” Mason responded. “Can you see Mildred and Lana living here, not to mention Travis and Angie.”

  Just as Mason and Dorothy turned down an alley in the direction of the clothier’s shop, they came face to face with two large men. Both were dressed like many of those he had seen working on the docks. Both men stepped out of the way to let Dorothy and Mason pass. When Mason was slightly past the two men, he saw a blur of movement, heard a whap, and immediately felt a sharp pain on the back of his head. Suddenly everything went gray. He was seriously dazed but not unconscious. He heard scuffling, a muffled scream, and then all went dark.

  He regained consciousness a few seconds later. One of the men had Mason under the armpits and was dragging him down the alley. He blinked his eyes open and saw the marks in the gravel left by his heels all the way back to the street where the assault had occurred. He was still a bit dazed and the back of his head ached. He closed his eyes trying to regain his full senses.

  Just when he was about to make a move, the man let go plopping Mason to the gravel on his back.

  “Check the pouch,” one of the men said in a gruff voice.

  The pouch contained the Glock, Mason reminded himself. There
was no way he could let that out of his control.

  Mason heard the crunch of boots on the gravel near his head and felt a tug on the pouch strap. He blinked his eyes open and saw the man’s ugly face bent over only a couple of feet above his own.

  The man’s eyes went wide at Mason’s sudden consciousness.

  Mason twisted his torso, raised his shoulders off the ground, and struck with his closed fist. Four knuckles caught the man square in the throat. The strike was not full force, but it was enough.

  The man’s eyes bulged as he clutched his throat with both hands and staggered back. He dropped to his knees as he tried to take a breath. The wispy sound of air indicated his throat was partially closed. It would get worse as the soft tissue swelled.

  Mason knew the man would be out of action, possibly forever, so he immediately rolled to his knees and locked eyes on the other man.

  The man had his right arm around Dorothy’s waist. He reached behind with his left and whipped out a fixed blade knife.

  Without saying a word he lifted the knife to Dorothy’s throat, locked eyes with Mason, and smiled.

  Mason was fast, but he wasn’t fast enough to reach the man’s arm if he decided to slice. In his mind’s eye he imagined Dorothy’s throat opening up, blood gushing, and her sinking to the ground.

  The man’s eyes shot to his friend who was on the ground struggling to breathe.

  Mason figured it was fifty-fifty whether he would survive.

  The man with the knife must have come to the same conclusion. He took a step back dragging Dorothy with him. He stopped, eyed Mason’s pouch, and motioned with his knife. “The pouch, toss it over here,” he said. His accent was barely understandable.

  Mason got to his feet and raised both hands, palms out, as if surrendering to the man’s will.

  The man smiled with black and missing teeth and motioned with the knife at the pouch.

  Mason had a move in mind but it would risk Dorothy’s tender, young throat. Or he could give up the pouch. Mason didn’t care about the money, but he did care about the Glock. There was no telling what mayhem the man could cause with ninety-eight rounds of high pressure 9mm, but even worse, there was no telling what impact the gun would have on history. Maybe none, but maybe a lot. Still, was any of that worth risking Dorothy’s life?

  Mason took hold of the pouch as he searched Dorothy’s face. He expected to see fear, but surprisingly there was none. He saw determined and angry eyes. That’s when he realized that Dorothy wasn’t a delicate flower with a head full of information. She was much more than that.

  Mason lifted the pouch’s strap over his head, gathered the strap and the pouch into a ball, and took a step forward.

  The man took another step back and fully extended his knife arm as he shook his head back and forth.

  Mason nodded, wadded the pouch a little more, and went to toss the pouch at the man’s feet. Instead he gave it a little extra effort.

  The pouch flew directly for the man’s face.

  The man did exactly what Mason hoped. He released his hold on Dorothy in order to catch the pouch.

  Dorothy immediately dropped.

  With the man’s eyes on the pouch, Mason got to his knife hand at about the same time the man clutched the pouch in the other hand. Mason grabbed the man’s wrist, locked down with as much pressure as he could muster, and twisted hard.

  The knife flew into the air as the man bent over at the waist and screamed in agony.

  Mason knew that a tad more pressure would snap the man’s forearm, but he decided not to do that. Instead he kicked the man in the solar plexus. As all the air expelled from his lungs, Mason grabbed the man by the throat, lifted slightly, and slammed the man’s back against the ground. He went limp.

  Dorothy got to her feet and hurried over. She knelt. “Is he dead?” she asked, as she placed a hand on the man’s chest.

  “He’ll live,” Mason said. He stood up and gazed down at the other man, still struggling to breathe, but breathing nonetheless. He retrieved the pouch from the ground and lifted Dorothy by the arm. “We need to get out of here,” he said, as he hurried her toward the other end of the alley. “We’re just lucky no one came along.”

  “We’re lucky we’re not dead,” Dorothy said.

  Mason massaged the back of his head and felt a large lump.

  As they approached the main street, Mason slowed their pace and released Dorothy. “Act as if we’re simply out for a stroll.”

  Dorothy glanced over her shoulder.

  Mason followed her gaze and saw the two men still on the ground about half way down the alley.

  “I’m guessing the word has gotten out about our silver coins,” Dorothy said.

  “It would appear.”

  “What do we do now?” Dorothy asked, as she settled into a normal gait.

  “We gather up Lisa and Jeremy, find Mato, and head back to the ship. We may need to rethink this whole idea.”

  They found Lisa and Jeremy still at the clothier’s shop. Both were dressed in clothes very similar to those Mason and Dorothy wore.

  Mason settled up with Francois, took the clothes altered for Nathan and John, and the four of them headed straight to the jolly boat.

  “What’s going on?” Jeremy asked.

  “We were assaulted,” Dorothy said, as they walked.

  “The word is out about the silver we have,” Mason said. “I’m not sure how safe any of us are in town.” Mason increased his pace. “Right now I just want to get back to the ship and make sure everything is okay.”

  CHAPTER 20

  They arranged for a second rowboat to help pull the sloop to the dock, met up with Mato, and returned to the ship.

  Karen met Mason as soon as he stepped aboard. “What’s wrong?” she asked, reading the serious nature of Mason’s expression.

  “Everything okay on board?” he asked. “Anyone approach the ship?”

  “Everything is fine,” Karen said. “What happened?”

  “Dorothy and I were assaulted in an alley.”

  “And?”

  “He was clocked on the back of the head and was out for a few seconds,” Dorothy said. “They wanted the pouch.”

  Karen felt the back of Mason’s head. “You must have a headache from that.”

  “I think the word is out about the silver,” Mason said.

  John, within earshot, stepped closer. “Sure it wasn’t random.”

  Mason thought for a moment. “Could have been I suppose.”

  “The two men didn’t say anything about silver during the assault,” Dorothy said.

  Karen turned to Dorothy. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. Mason recovered and took out both men before anything serious happened.”

  Karen turned back to Mason. “They’re dead?”

  “No,” Mason replied. “But they’ll be sore for a few days.”

  “We should be extra vigilant just in case,” Jeremy said. “Probably need a twenty-four-hour watch on the boat especially if we remain at the dock.”

  “Speaking of that,” John said, as he saw two men in a dory approaching the sloop.

  “I hired an extra tug,” Mason said.

  “Good idea,” John said, “let’s get them tied off and get the anchor up.”

  Mason, Nathan, Jeremy, and Tito manned their jolly boat, maneuvered around to the bow, and waited for John to toss them a line.

  With the anchor up and the lines secured, the men in both boats began rowing until the sloop slowly began to move. An hour later the sloop was secured to the very last dock which was completely empty of any other ships.

  Mato, his braves, Tito, and Jeremy began removing the deerskins and loading them on a hand-drawn cart.

  “We might as well get you dressed,” Mason said, as he extended his hand to Karen.

  “Most men want the opposite,” she said.

  Mason raised an eyebrow and smiled.

  Karen changed into Dorothy’s buckskin dress and accompan
ied Mason and Dorothy to Francois’ shop.

  After leaving Karen in Francois’ capable hands, Mason and Dorothy went in search of someone whom might be able to provide information about securing a piece of property. Someone like Captain Darby, Mister Worthington, or even Colonel Rhett would be ideal. But none of those individuals were about.

  “Perhaps we should go straight to the source,” Dorothy said.

  Mason raised his chin.

  “The surveyor general’s office plats all properties,” she said. “That office would certainly know what’s available.”

  “Seems logical,” Mason said. “Where do we find the surveyor general?”

  Dorothy took in a deep breath and exhaled. “I don’t know.” She thought for a few moments. “Who’s the only other person we know in this town?”

  “Francois,” Mason said.

  They returned to the clothier’s shop and found Karen draped with various garments as Francois inserted pins.

  “Francois, where would we find the surveyor general’s office?” Mason asked.

  Francois removed several pins from his mouth. “At the end of Broad Street near the wharf.”

  “Thank you,” Mason said, as he turned to leave.

  “But it’s closed,” Francois continued.

  Mason stopped and turned back.

  “Been closed since December, by order of the lord’s council.”

  “December of 19?” Dorothy asked.

  “Yep.”

  “So who conducts land surveys?” Dorothy asked.

  “Oh we still have surveyors, but we don’t have a surveyor general,” Francois replied.

  “So who do we see about buying some land?” Mason asked.

  Francois stopped what he was doing and stood up straight. “Buy land? Why would you need to buy land?”

  “In all the turmoil,” Dorothy said, “a grant is not likely.”

  “True,” Francois said, as he bent down to continue his work on Karen’s petticoat. “I’d talk to John Bayly. He does most of the surveying in this area.”