“Absolutely, sir.”
Step one, thought Bill.
The chatter around the table was mostly about the war but Bill heard more than once about the articles he inserted into tonight’s newspaper. The dinner was a success and as coffee and tea were served the club members gave Matt and his staff a standing ovation.
It was ten-thirty when dinner ended and the members gathered once again in the great room.
“Captain,” Bill said to McKinnon, “I must make the rounds and chat with a few of the members. Shall we meet at the fireplace after all have left?”
“Fine, sir.”
It took Bill thirty minutes of small talk and hand shaking before he got to Edmund, John and Rocko.
John asked for the three of them “How did it go, Bill?”
“Thumbs up. He’s staying after everyone leaves.”
Rocko quipped, “Hey, are we going to find out about the mission?”
Bill grinned, “If you guys want to have lunch with me tomorrow, I’ll show you the hologram.”
“I’ll be here,” said Rocko and John chimed in, “Me too!”
Matt came to them with four Moser Bohemian Ruby Red Brandy Snifters balanced on a silver tray. “Sirs. I thought that perhaps you all would enjoy a special treat. 1875 Rothschild Extra Fine Brandy, Napoleon, V.S.O.P. 80 proof.”
They each took one of the offered drinks and Bill said as he held his up for a toast, “To Matt. The one and only. For another outstanding evening.”
“To Matt,” said the others as they raised their glasses.
“Did Matt blush?” asked John as Matt walked away.
“No way!” answered Bill.
The club was almost empty by eleven thirty and Bill turned to Edmund. “Edmund, it has been great having you here. I’m going to bring McKinnon up to the den so I think it best that you go up and use the door.”
“I agree, grand . . . uh, Bill.”
“Good catch, Edmund,” said Bill as he put an arm over his future grandson’s shoulders. “Let’s do this again real soon. Okay?”
“Okay with me, Bill. See you soon and good luck with the mission.” Bill, John and Rocko watched the young man leave the room.
“Great guy,” said Rocko.”
“Yeah,” added John as he placed his empty snifter on a table. “Let’s get out of Bill’s hair, Rocko. He still has a long night ahead of him.” He looked at Bill and added, “Good luck, Bill. See you for lunch.”
Rocko put his glass next to John’s and said, “Yeah, good luck, Bill. And if he says no, I’ll take the mission.”
“Oh, no you won’t,” added John quickly. “I’m next.”
Bill solved the problem with, “The next trip I’ll use both of you. Okay?”
Their grins said it all as they walked towards the exit.
As agreed, Dave stood by the big unlit fireplace and Bill went to him. “Have a good time tonight, Captain?”
“Yes sir. Dinner was outstanding.”
“Come on up to my den where we can relax and talk.”
The two men went up the wide staircase and down the long hallway to Bill’s den. At every step he heard Dave say a low ‘Wow’ at the very ornate hand carved stairway banisters, the paintings on the walls, the 1850 Enrico Cassina round iron doorknobs dipped in gold plate and matching brass hinges, and the chandeliers that illuminated the hallway. At the end of the hall Bill opened the door to his den.
“Oh my gosh!” said Dave as he took in the room that looked like a typical den of the 1860s. “President Scott, this-this is fantastic. I mean, it’s natural for the dining room and the room we gather in to be decorated in the Victorian style but you even carried it up into your rooms where club members don’t usually get to appreciate them.”
The clock struck the first of the twelve chimes to announce midnight and Dave turned and asked in a whisper, “Is that an 1830 American Sheraton Tall-Case Grandfather clock?”
Bill shook his head no and Dave said, “A replica. I should have known as they are one of the hardest clocks to get.”
Bill shook his head no again and said, “Sorry, when I said ‘no’ I meant ‘no, it’s not 1830, it’s an 1820 and it’s not a replica, it’s the real thing.”
Dave went up to it and now it was he who shook his head no, as he said, “My gosh! It is real!” He turned to Bill and exclaimed, “President Scott, your offices are beautiful.”
“I thank you, but most of what you see here have been purchased by the past president, not myself.”
Dave shrugged, “No matter. It is still a beautiful room.”
Bill sat in one of the soft leather easy chairs and said as he pointed at the other, “Please, sir, sit. Would you like a drink?”
Dave sat as he answered, “No, thanks anyway.”
Bill sat forward with his elbows on his knees as he clasped both hands beneath his chin. “Before I tell you about my project, I’d like to waive the club’s rule of ‘not speaking out of club time’.”
“Really? I mean, why?”
“Well, one reason is so that I can call you Dave and you can call me Bill.”
“Call you Bill? Why, because it’s after hours or something?”
Bill grinned, “You have to admit that our way of speaking today is much faster than the way people of the Victorian times spoke. All of those, ‘sirs’ and stuff. Wonderful when we are in the club but time consuming when we are alone.”
Dave shrugged, “True, true. What ever you want to do, President , , ,”
“Bill. Please call me Bill, Dave.”
With another shrug Dave said, “Okay, Bill.”
“That’s great. Now let me ask you a few questions. First off: are you an open-minded guy?”
Dave shrugged and said, “I think I am. I really never gave it much thought. But just being in the club says something. I leave any thoughts of 2015 at the club’s door and easily slide into the 1800s. Now that’s being an open minded guy. And as a Union soldier re-enactor I leave 2015 behind and live in a tent just as they did back in 1862, so I have to say yes, I am an open-minded guy. Right?”
Bill smiled, “Right. And would you believe me if I told you that I have a Dargron & Compagnie mapmaker’s printing case that was designed to be used by government cartographers when working in the field around the 1860s?”
Dave sat forward, his eyes wide, and said, “No way! There’s not one left. I know because I’ve been trying for years to get one and everyone familiar with it believes that they’ve all been discarded years ago.”
“Then you closed your mind to that, correct?”
He nodded, “I have to say yes. There’s simply no way that one exists.”
“Well, what if I tell you that mine has a buckram-covered case that holds sixty-three brass sorts with a selection of numbers and military symbols. And there is an inkpad and twelve glass bottles each with the label of the Paris manufacturer, Dagron & Compagnie and each bottle is full with the original ink?”
Dave suddenly said, “Wait. When I filled out the application to join the club there was one line that said something like, ‘If you wanted one thing from the 1800s what would that be and where would you have purchased it.’ Well that’s the item I put down on the application and I said it could be purchased at Webbly’s Cartographer Supply House on Church and Chambers Streets in Manhattan.”
“What year?” Bill asked.
“I believe that I put 1856 or 1857. I’m not sure but they closed their doors in 1857. And if you did have a complete set why not show it to me?”
Bill got up and went to his desk, picked up a package wrapped in brown wrapping paper and returned to his seat and said as he passed it to Dave, “Here. Check it out.”
Dave took it and read the label on the sticker aloud. “Webbly’s Cartographer Supply House 16 Church Street, Manhattan, New York.”
He looked at Bill as he started to open the string, “Bill, I know the 1800 Club strives to give its members the feeling that they are back in the mid-eightee
n hundreds and this is a fantastic continuation of that theme. I almost expect to see a Dagron & Compagnie set here.” He pulled the string free, removed the wrapping paper and stared wide-eyed at the case in his hands.
“B-But, how? I mean, how, how can this be? It looks real and,” he took out a folded sheet of instructions and after scanning it refolded it and sat back holding the case like he had a new born baby in his hands.
Bill asked, “I assume that you like it?”
Dave shook his head, “Like it? I love it. How much?”
“You mean how much did it cost me?”
“I guess. But also, how much do you want for it?”
Bill removed a slip of paper from his pocket, unfolded it and said as he passed it to Dave, “I paid four dollars and fifty cents. Here’s the receipt.”
The receipt was crispy new, not yellowed and the logo at the top of the small receipt read: Webbly’s Cartographer Supply House 16 Church Street, Manhattan, New York. A hand written notation followed it: Dargron & Compagnie mapmaker’s printing case, utensils and inks . . . . . $4.50 . . . Paid.
Dave shrugged and tried to smile as he said, “Okay, this is a knockoff of what I said that I wished I had on the application. You seem to have had one made up and it is a beauty . . . but why?”
“Now let me ask you a question,” said Bill as he sat forward. “What if I told you that after I read your application I went over to Webbly’s myself and purchased it?”
Dave sat back and said, as he clasped his hands under his chin, “No way! They’ve been out of business for over one hundred years.”
“Well, what if I told you that the club allows me to go back in time to fulfill club members requests?”
Now Dave sat forward, “Time travel? You got to be kidding me, Bill. Is this what you told the other members? Because they never mentioned it to me.”
“Just a handful know. But being we both are dressed for a stroll in 1862, why not take one now?”
“Why not indeed?” answered Dave with a wide grin.
Bill stood, “You can leave the ‘knock off’ on the desk and when we return we can take another look at it.” Bill led him to the door and asked as he took out his Time Frequency Modulator, “Give me a date.”
Dave shook his head, “Well, it would be closed now. It’s after eleven o’clock.”
“No problem. Do you have a date or do we use the date that I used when I traveled back to get the instruments for you?”
“What date did you use?”
“I used October 3, 1856.”
Dave shrugged and with a grin said, “That’s as good as any.”
Bill entered his password then October 3, 1856, 11 a.m. and opened the door to the stairwell. “Follow me, Dave and get ready for the trip of your life.”
Dave followed him out the door and down the stone steps that were illuminated by beautiful brass and glass, hissing gas lamps. At the bottom Bill stopped before the large steel security door and, while it seemed like he was fumbling around with his cell phone to Dave, he pressed the activate button on his TFM, closed it and opened the door.
DATELINE: OCTOBER 3, 1856 11 A.M. PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB’S GARDEN, NEW YORK CITY
Bill swung the door open and the hallway was suddenly flooded in sunlight. Dave squinted in the unexpected glare. He followed Bill into the garden that was in partial bloom.
“H-How did you do that?” asked Dave as he looked around, “Klieg lights?”
“No, not Klieg lights: sunlight. Look up and see.”
Dave had to use his hand pressed against his forehead to block the sunlight from his eyes. “But, this is impossible.” He looked at Bill and went on, “Isn’t it? I mean it is after eleven and if anything, that should be the moon.”
Bill shrugged, “I told you. Should we go back in and forget that you are here in the time that we in the club pretend to be in, or shall we step out and walk the streets of New York City, 1856?”
Dave looked shocked and said, “Oh, Bill, please don’t get me wrong. If you can take me back to the 1800s, I’m with you all the way. Let’s take that walk.”
Using the key attached to the chain around his neck, Bill unlocked the garden gate and when they stepped out of the enclosed garden the aroma of 1856 hit them.
“Whoa!” said Dave as the smell of horse waste, sewage and rotting garbage hit his nose.
As Bill was used to it he came prepared for both of them and passed the new time traveler a scented handkerchief, which he quickly covered his nose with.
“Do you still think this is a trick?”
“If it is, it’s a pretty good one. I remember once reading that there were over 70,000 horses in the city of New York and each one created several pounds of horse waste a day. That added to the garbage that grew in mounds outside of buildings where it was tossed out the windows, plus, each horse also added a couple of gallons of urine to the odor, increased the smells of the city.”
Bill nodded and sighed as he said, “Right and yet we in the 1800 Club yearn to be in these easier times.”
Dave grinned beneath his handkerchief, “Yep! I agree.”
Suddenly a two-horse wagon loaded with barrels of beer came around the corner in a trot. The driver casually held the reins in his huge hands and his big bushy red mustache and thick overgrown sideburns seemed to be on fire as he held a smoking clay pipe tightly between clenched teeth. It was this scene that made Dave stop and lean against a building as he tried to catch his breath.
Bill quickly turned and grabbed him, “Dave, are you okay?”
The newest time traveler held his head and said, “I-I think I’m okay.” He looked around and went on in a shaky voice, “This, this is simply overwhelming! I-I mean: time travel? We all know that’s impossible, and yet, and yet, here we are. It’s-it’s just so incredible.” He looked Bill in the eyes, “How long has this been going on? I mean have people been traveling around in time for years? Then again what are ‘years’ now that time travel is possible? Just a word, that’s all.”
“Dave, I’m sorry. Maybe I brought you along too fast. Let’s go back to the club.”
Dave took a deep breath and stood away from the building. He shook his head and with a smile said, “Bill I think we should move away from the building because as you know people of this time period just open their windows and empty their bed pans.”
Bill grinned, “Welcome to the 1800s, Dave. Shall we take a short walk?”
The two men walked around a bit before returning to the rear of the 1800 Club.
“I noticed that you stopped using the handkerchief a few blocks ago,” said Bill. ”My guess is that you are completely at ease with this time travel thing. Am I right?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry about that hesitation before.”
“Hey, everyone takes it in their own way. It’s good to see that you just slid into character as we did our walk.”
Dave nodded, “That’s club training. I do feel that I fit in.”
Bill opened the gate and then the security door, entered the date into his TFM and after pressing the activate button went up the stairs with the newest time traveler following.
DATELINE: OCTOBER 4, 2015 1:30 A.M. PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB, NEW YORK CITY
Back in the den the two men sat and on the coffee table was a tray with two mugs, a pot of coffee, another with hot chocolate and sugar and cream.
Bill rubbed his hands together; “Looks like Matt paid us a visit while we were out.” He asked, “Coffee, hot chocolate or brandy?”
“Coffee is fine.”
Bill poured Dave a coffee and a hot chocolate for himself. They sat back and after taking a sip Bill said, “Dave, you must have a thousand questions. I know I did when I was first told of the time travel capability.”
“Well, besides the time travel aspect, my question is: why me?”
“I’m going to give you the short answer and then you’ll have another thousand questions. Ready?”
Dave sat back and answered, “Ready.”
“There are a group of history trackers who live in our future and when the time machine was invented they naturally went back in time only to find that because of the terrible environment of their past they had a hard time breathing our air. They settled by sending back mechanical probes to make holograms of the past and especially of historic happenings. When they viewed the holograms they discovered that at times there is what they call ‘a hiccup’ in history where, what was supposed to happen according to their history books, did not happen. They used a super computer to give them the probable outcome of this hiccup and many times it would be catastrophic, changing the world, as they knew it. So they started a History Tracking Group dedicated to finding these hiccups and fixing them by sending back one of their members. However, the foul air they encountered severely limited their time in the past and it sometimes took five or more trips back to fix it before it became a reality. So they decided to recruit someone from the 1800s who had no problem with the air he encountered as he was born into it. He was past president Prescott Stevens who recruited me. He developed the 1800 Club and after a short time had members who felt right at home in the 1800s. When he got a mission from the History Trackers of the future he would go over the list of club members to see which one would be best to go back in time and fix the problem before it gained traction. Well, now I’m the president of the 1800 Club and I was handed a mission so I went through all of the club member’s bios and found out that you are a cartographer who also happens to be a Union soldier re-enactor of the War Between the States. Perfect for the mission . . . should you decide to go.” Bill sat back and watched as Dave just sat there. “Dave, if you wish to skip going back to 1862 and join General Sherman as he marches south, I will understand.”
It was as though someone snapped their fingers and Dave came out of a trance.
“What? General Sherman? Do you think that I would skip anything like that? Never! I’m in!” He stood and said as he looked around, “What do I do? Do we go out that door again? Do I have to join the army and what about my papers? Won’t there be identification papers needed? Mine all say that I was born in 1988.”
TimeTravel Adventures of The 1800 Club [Book 12] Page 20
