To one and all. This writ is to grant Surgeon John Watson, a graduate of the Royal Naval Institute, entry onto the HMS Pickle with the purpose of transferring him to the HMS Victory for the job of seeing to the morale of the average sailor. He is to observe men under all and any conditions he feels necessary. He has recently returned from Australia where he was attached to the Royal Australian Navy as a surgeon where his job was to guide their new medical division to have them ready to man their ships when their navy is activated shortly. Surgeon Watson is not to replace another surgeon but may assist if needed.
By the order of William Marsden, Secretary of the Navy. October 7, 1805.
Watson nodded as he read it. “Well, I must say it does look authentic.”
“I do believe that we should see you in your uniform, Watson,” said Shirley. “In case a button has come off during our trip we still have time to sew it back on.”
“Good idea,” agreed Bill.
Ten minutes later Doctor John Watson of 1898 was transformed into British Naval Surgeon John Watson of 1805. He stood before them wearing the uniform of a British Naval Surgeon. His dark blue bicorne hat matched the blue frock coat and the gold piping on the hat matched the frock’s double row of gleaming brass buttons. The frock’s high stiff collar almost hid the collar of his white linen shirt and high ascot. His pantaloons were blue as well and tucked into his knee-high white stockings where they met and were tied with blue cords. Black low cut shoes finished his outfit.
Watson smiled as he took off his hat and bowed deeply to Shirley, “Madam, I am Surgeon John Watson and am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
She clasped her hands at her breasts and said, “Oh, John, you do look like a surgeon of that period.”
“Ah,” interrupted Bill, “This is ‘that’ period. From now on we must stay in character. We must eat, sleep, talk and act as though we know nothing else but this time period.”
Both nodded in agreement.
Bill continued, “Watson, have you given any thought as to how you are going to get the admiral to move as the shot flies down the middle of the ship?”
“As a matter of fact that has been on my mind since I first found out that it might be me that must make him duck or simply step to the right or left.”
“And have you decided?”
Watson removed his hat and said as he placed it on the bed, “Yes! I’ve decided that to plan anything would be a mistake, as one never knows what will take place to make the plan not work. No, better to get the feel of the situation and watch for the right move to make. Does he walk the ship alone, or just with the captain or perhaps five or more officers? I must react rather than rehearse.”
Bill nodded, “Well said, my friend, well said. Now the ship sails at ten o’clock tomorrow morning and I thought it best to sit with us in a cab until she starts to remove the gangway then you jump out and board the ship.”
Watson shook his head and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Is something wrong? Bill asked.
Watson looked up with a look of surprise on his face. “Wrong? Sir, you take a man who believes that he is living in a normal world where everything he sees is real. Then you bring him out of it and into another world over one hundred years in his future, tell him that the world he comes from is nothing more than a moment that may be visited whenever a person from his future decides to have a cup of tea in a tea house they like, but just happens to be one hundred years in their past, which is my time! Then you tell me that the history I grew up on is going to change unless I, a typical doctor from 1898, go back 90 years in time and fix it! Then, should I survive the cannons and other flying debris that occurs during a sea battle, I can go back to living my, no longer normal life, in my own time. And you ask me: is anything wrong?”
Both Bill and Shirley sat stunned. Bill said, “You’re right. I should have taken this mission myself. It’s not too late for us to return to my time and send you back to your time and then come back and board the Victory myself.”
“What?” said Watson suddenly standing. “Why, you would be tossed overboard immediately! The British seamen of 1805 were tough, no nonsense professionals who would laugh when you try to pass as an Englishman. The moment that you speak your first sentence would be the moment that the mission fails. No, it is I and I alone who can prevent this from happening. True, I’ve had my doubts about impersonating a British Naval officer, but I do have the skill to help the wounded and many times I’ve had to pretend to be someone else in my work for the Yard. That and the fact that I was born and raised in England and can answer any questions they might test me on.” He shook his head and went on, “I am sorry if I gave you the impression that I was not going to take this mission on, but Shirley Holmes has taught me to dissect every problem or crime and in doing so I realized that while your time machine gives you so many opportunities to come and go on a whim, at least your group uses it for good. And as I am chosen to be one of your time traveling agents, I will do my best to fix the problem. That and the fact that I get to meet Britain’s greatest naval hero.”
Bill smiled and said, “Thank you.”
“Now, off to bed,” Watson said as he walked to the cabin door, “I would like a sizable breakfast before I sail as I’m sure the navy food will not even match the food we had on the way over.”
Bill grinned and said, “I’m sure you are right. I suggest we eat in the hotel in the morning at eight o’clock and leave at nine-fifteen for the dock.”
Tipping his hat Watson opened the door and said as he left, “I bid you both good evening. I shall be ready at eight sharp.”
Shirley said, “I shall finish my tea and then I too shall call it a day.” Watson closed the cabin door behind him and Shirley said, “Will you excuse me, Bill, I must get something from my room.” She left and came back in ten minutes carrying her clothes for the next day. “So I don’t have to leave your room and do a quick change in mine tomorrow morning.”
Bill smiled and stepped towards her but was stopped by her outstretched hand. “One must learn patience, my love. I shall be right out.” She stepped behind his three-panel dressing screen and changed her clothes as Bill wondered if she knew that the light from the oil lamp behind her gave him a shadow show of a beautiful woman changing her clothes. He decided not to tell her.
Finally she stepped out to allow him to see what she had sneaked in from the club’s 2015 clothing rack.
“Do-Do you like it?” she asked as she posed. She wore a deep V-front, long red night gown cut from smooth satin that allowed a silhouette of the real her. It had Chantilly lace and a sheer lace racerback with slim straps and a side slit.
Bill stood speechless and his lack of an answer caused the beautiful woman from 1898 to blush and almost match the color of the red nightgown.
Bill’s answer was to step forward and embrace her.
They woke to the sound of his pocket watch as it chimed lightly. “Bill,” she asked in a whisper, “will you please get that for me?” He followed her gaze to see the item she wanted. The sun’s early morning rays poured in through the window and settled on the puddle of the red, liquid looking silk and lace nightgown where it had dropped onto the floor the night before.
Bill scooped it up and she wrapped it around herself as she slipped behind the screen and changed into her clothes of the day.
“Now, I must run and wash up before Watson gets suspicious.” She pecked his cheek and was gone.
Thirty minutes later they met in the hallway and went down to breakfast. Watson was in his uniform and many of the other guests and hotel workers tipped their hat to him. They sat near a wide window and went over the hand printed menu. Bill was surprised at the food a hotel of 1805 served.
Breakfast
Fresh milk.
Fried kingfish.
Frankfort sausages. Horseradish sauce.
Dried Sausage.
Hard Cheese.
Beefsteaks broiled and fried.
Ham.
Bacon.
Eggs to order.
Smoked ham.
Round rolls. Marmalade.
Tea. Coffee.
The three time travelers ate well and once again Bill was surprised as many of the men smoked an after meal cigar that filled the room with a thick gray fog. Before they left the room Watson took a few dried sausages and hard cheese, wrapped them in a napkin and put the package in his valise. Once outside of the hotel a carriage pulled up and they climbed in.
“The docks at the foot of Wapping Lane, please.” Bill asked and the man nodded and took off. The cab was swift and they were there at nine forty-five. The driver looked down and said, “Wapping Lane and the Wapping Lane dock, lady and gents.”
Bill called back, “Sir, we need to go over some papers before we get out. The extra time will be taken care in the fare.”
“Fine wi’ me, sir.”
Seeing Watson in his usual calm and sure self, Shirley said, “Dear John, please take care of yourself and come back as fast as you can. Take no extra trips in your guise as a Surgeon in the Admiralty.”
“What shall I say should they wish to promote me?” he asked half kidding.
She scolded him with a smile, “I know you, doctor! You are like a little boy on his birthday: you have already become a naval officer and will wear that identity so well that nobody would ever think that you are something else. You tell them that you are needed by Scotland Yard and your friends back home.”
He smiled and patted her arm, “Never fear, my sweet Shirley. I shall perform this job well and return home with you and Bill. Have no fear, for while I will become Surgeon John Watson straight to the core, I shall step out of character when the mission has been completed.”
Bill put out his hand and said, “It’s time, Watson. Best of luck and please stay in touch.”
They shook hands and Watson said, “Thank you, Bill. Please take good care of our lady.” He stepped out of the cab and they watched as he carried his valise down the cobblestone street as two seamen started to untie the gangway from the dock.
“Hello!” the officer shouted, as the two seamen were just about to toss the thick rope that held the gangway to the dock. The man stopped at the foot of the gangway and called out to the men as a young officer watched what was going on.
“I am Surgeon Watson with orders to come aboard your ship.”
“You have orders, sir?” the officer called out.
“I do, sir. Right here,” Watson waved the manila envelope with the admiralty seal on it.
The officer said something to the two men who shrugged and slid the gangway back out and held it tight as the officer walked up and stepped onto the deck.
“Thank you, sir. Might I see Captain Lapenotiere as my orders are for his eyes only?”
“Very well, sir, follow me.” He led the way to the rear of the ship, down three steps and knocked on a thick wooden door.
“Yes, enter.”
The officer opened the door to the captain’s cabin and entered followed by Watson.
Captain Lapenotiere looked at both men and said, “Well, what is it Renyolds?”
“This officer has special orders for your eyes only, sir.”
Lapenotiere’s looked up at both men and said, “Have we cast off the gangway yet?”
“Just about to, sir, until this gentleman arrived and I thought it better to stay awhile.”
“Very good, Renyolds. Give me five minutes alone with this man.” Renyolds closed the door behind him as the captain studied Watson with his wide brown eyes. “Surgeon, I see.”
“Yes sir. Surgeon John Watson with special orders.”
“May I see them, Surgeon?”
Watson passed him the orders and waited as he went over them.
Captain Lapenotiere refolded them and said, “Just what is a morale officer?”
“Sir, it is a new program to see how the average British seaman reacts under certain pressures. They wish to be ahead of a possible insurrection whenever possible.”
“And,” the captain asked with a raised eyebrow, “you can tell how a man will react?”
“Hopefully, yes. They wish to avoid the problems they had in Spithead and Nore in 1797.”
Captain Lapenotiere frowned, “That was a fluke! A few bad apples, that’s all.”
“Would it not be better to find out why those few bad apples became bad apples? Better we find out what makes a man lose his way and embrace mutiny.”
The captain nodded, “True. And you wish to be transferred to the HMS Victory?
“It is not my wish, captain, but rather the admiralty’s orders to do so.”
“You do know that Captain Hardy has Lord Nelson aboard his ship the Victory?”
“I do. But my work is with the men.”
“Well, Surgeon Watson, your orders are from the very top of the admiralty and as I am on my way to the Victory, I have no recourse but to carry them out and as we carry no surgeon you are a plus. Now, I will have Lieutenant Renyolds find you a place to bed down.” he looked up and added, “Should we be in need of your help would you give it?”
“Yes, of course. However I have no instruments with me.”
“My ship has a small hole of an medical office with instruments which you may use at any time you wish.” He stood and offered his hand, “Welcome aboard the HMS Pickle.”
Both men shook hands as Watson thought, Step one complete.
The captain called Renyolds back in and said, “Renyolds will you introduce the surgeon to Acting Lieutenant Barnes and tell him that the surgeon has my blessing?”
Renyolds took him to Acting Lieutenant Barnes and told him the captain’s wishes.
“Aye, sir,” he answered and when Renyolds left he said to Watson, “Welcome aboard, surgeon. Let me show you our medical section.” He escorted Watson to a small room that was no more than a closet. Opening the door he pointed out a fold-down 18-inch platform like an ironing board which when unlocked folded down to a horizontal position. For removing limbs only, not a recovery room, Watson thought as he inspected the small work area. And, he continued with his thoughts as he opened a wooden box marked, ‘Surgeon Only’, the instruments to remove them. He looked them over and checked them against a list tacked to the inside of the box, He shook his head, Lord, I pray that I do not have to perform this duty.
“Shall I take you to your quarters, Surgeon Watson?” asked the Lieutenant.
“Please do, sir.”
He followed the young man down a short flight of stairs and once below the main deck they walked to the front of the ship. Finally they stood in a twenty-inch space where two hooks showed where a hammock would be hung.
“Here it is, Surgeon. The hammocks are tied on the railings of the main deck and will be brought down at sunset unless we spot a ship.”
Watson was glad that as a young boy he and his friends read stories about the British naval ships and remembered that during the daylight hours the hammocks were tied to the rails on the main deck not only to air them out, but as protection against shot during a battle.
Back on deck he watched along with the rest of the men as they left the dock and set sail for a rendezvous with the HMS Victory. While Captain Lapenotiere didn’t know exactly where the British fleet would be, the captain knew the line that it sailed along in its search for the enemy fleet and all he had to do was intersect it and wait for the fleet to pass by again.
As surgeon, Watson didn’t have to stand any watches and he pretty much had the days to himself, which gave him plenty of time to think.
To think that here I am aboard a British fighting ship on the way to seeing Lord Nelson in his final battle, the battle that every British boy dreams of as he plays with a small ship model. Am I blessed to have the dream of thousands of boys come true or damned to die in the famous battle along with Nelson. He suddenly broke out in a cold sweat and quickly answered his own thoughts, Watson, stop this train of thought immediately! Get on with your job and make sure you retur
n to 1898!
As Surgeon his rank was higher than the seaman but lower than the ship’s officers and he was not invited to dine with the ship’s three officers nor the sailors. He ate alone and usually stood with his pewter plate and mug by the small fold down medical bench as he studied the instruments. He knew them by heart, as when he was in medical school they were part of the curriculum of ‘How medical instruments evolved over the years’. He noticed that they were dull and getting rusty so he took to cleaning and sharpening them much to the horror of the passing sailor. If they must be used they must be at their very best and kept sharp, he thought as he rubbed down a long saw as he ate a bowl of beef and gravy.
It was on day eleven when a scream was heard and the Acting Lieutenant ran to Watson. “Surgeon, one of the men has crushed his foot between the anchor and its chain. Come quickly.” He followed the man and once on deck saw right away that he had to amputate and his training as a doctor took over. “Lie him flat and send me seaman Graham.” He ran to the medical station and returned with some of the instruments he needed.
“You need me?” asked Graham, a huge hulk of a man.
“Yes, will you help me with him?”
“Yes. He is my friend but I know nothing of mending.”
Watson whispered in his ear and the big man nodded in agreement. Watson removed his white ascot from around his neck, looked at the Lieutenant and said, “Please remove your ascot, sir.” With a shrug he removed his white ascot and handed it to him.
“What happened here?” It was the captain who pushed his way through the crowd of men as the man with the crushed foot screamed. He watched as one of the seamen told him what had happened.
TimeTravel Adventures of The 1800 Club [Book 12] Page 14
