by Lia Davis
The river itself seemed to have died for a time after that as no captain or crew would dare the waterway, even if it meant going leagues out of their way to find a different port. The Southeastern shipping hub faced sure extinction if something didn’t change. Eventually, a few brave souls attempted passage up the river again to reach the Savannah port, but only during the daylight hours. Before the sun could reach its perch on the far western horizon beyond the town, every vessel had already made its dash for open water, unwilling to be caught in the twilight or dark hours between the riverbanks.
In mid-January of 1866, half of the inhabitants from along the river’s edge stared as a small frigate stalled out halfway between port and the river’s mouth. Shrieks and cries carried over the choppy water from the crew, who eventually jumped overboard and swam to shore, not wanting to be on board when night finally fell. Stalwart men, each with lifetime’s-worth of experience, were visibly shaken and uncomfortable returning to the vessel the following morning when it was still anchored in the middle of the river as a tug arrived to pull it to shore out of the lane. It was easily early summer before any ship was seen navigating the channel between port and the open sea after dusk had fallen.
These events haunted her waking and dreaming hours. While she could easily explain them as stories told by her family, passed down through the generations, they weren’t stories. They were memories.
She had no way of really knowing if the knowledge had been as pervasive in her last incarnation, she really couldn’t remember much of that life at all. This lifetime though, they were crisp, and clear, and left a damp trickle of perspiration behind that ran her spine every time the thoughts cropped up. In 1865, she knew…she was young, and in love.
The object of her affection, and her unilateral attention, was a young deckhand on one of the mid-sized tugs. He was several years her junior, which made their relationship scandalous. They had tried, unsuccessfully, to keep their affair from becoming common knowledge. Her poorly planned adventure might as well have been an advertisement in the print stories. Stowing away on the tug to surprise him, she had earned them both a public outing when the captain found her aboard and rebuked them both, loudly, from the deck, in full view of the shore. Her love was reassigned to another ship, which seldom made berth in Savannah. She was miserable as she watched for, but never found him, on any boat that passed. It had been mere weeks before the fateful night when so many disappeared, his ship included. It was a century and a half ago, but Esme remembered it now as if it were yesterday.
At nearly 30, she was not considered old by anyone’s standards for 2015. At nearly 30, and still single, more than one eyebrow raised to learn she was not looking for, nor interested in finding anyone. She chuckled to herself often at the double standard. If she were a high-ranking corporate attorney, or a well-to-do business woman, no one would bat an eye. But, as she was “not fulfilling any measurable potential,” her choices were constantly scrutinized by family and friends. She couldn’t explain it, she just knew that change was coming once again to Savannah, and she hoped that this time, for the better for her.
From the western Riverwalk, she watched the channel every spare moment of every day, and into the evening until it was time to retire. From her perch at the front desk, if she looked at just the right angle, she could catch glimpses of the red and green sidelights as the ships navigated the river to and from port. She didn’t actually know that the change would come from the water, but something in the depths of her soul wouldn’t let her look anywhere else.
Chapter 3
Holden heard voices. At first, he thought he might have finally, truly lost his mind as the voices were not the luring whispers that pervaded his dreams. These voices were loud, and unfamiliar. That, and they were interspersed with the most confusing group of sounds he had ever heard. Pinching himself, and shaking his head, he wrestled with the obscure new reality when the sounds did not diminish. Still clad in his nightgown, he rushed to the deck. Looking out over the water, he was stunned, and had to consciously force his mouth to close. He could see land, and people, and a whole host of other things, most of which he did not have names for.
He found himself suddenly ass-planted on the deck as he jerked back from leaning over the rail to keep from being decapitated by the largest sea-faring vessel he had ever encountered. In his mind, he didn’t dare call it a boat, something so large surely had a different name. Remaining where he had landed, Holden craned his neck to see the bow. Though the curtain of mist had parted, try as he might, he could not ascertain the point where the ship before him stopped, or the sky began, as his tug bobbed in the wake. He could not recall ever seeing anything so large other than the open ocean.
He caught himself again gape-mouthed as he watched the ship continue its trek up river toward the Savannah port. Only from the distance could he see where the deck of the large vessel would be. It was piled with long boxes, any one of which could easily swallow his tug. He could have watched it in wonder for hours had he not caught movement from his peripheral vision. Coming up the lane, stacked equally as high as, or higher than the first, was another massive ship. Though once upon a time his helm was considered mid-sized, in comparison with what he was seeing now, he was little more than a dinghy.
Once again left to ride the ripple currents of the large ship’s wake, he returned his gaze to the shore. He knew the waterway itself better than the back of his hand, and he was absolutely certain he had never left the river. Which meant, the bustling, larger than he had ever seen, ‘town,’ must be his beloved Savannah, but there was exceptionally little familiar about what he was observing. Many of the structures themselves were reminiscent of his memories, but they too were out of place, and somewhat unfamiliar now in the landscape that was far more developed than he could have ever imagined it would become. He struggled to give voice to the only question that made sense, even as it sounded wrong on his tongue as he said it aloud. “When is this?”
Holden hastily changed from his gown to more appropriate clothing when he saw the next ship approaching. It was smaller, and well off in the distance when he noticed it. It was still in the distance when he reemerged to the deck, but his assessment changed as it reached him. The oncoming ship might well be smaller than the last two, but he came to realize it easily dwarfed him as it pulled alongside, and nearly overran the tug to allow a southbound vessel to pass. He scrambled trying to weigh anchor and get out of the way, even as he belatedly understood that it would easily pass through his ship without ever knowing it was there, or being affected by the encounter.
Something had changed, but not everything had changed.
Chapter 4
Esme spat her tea across the table. It would have mattered little, except she was sitting on the balcony watching the river and the action sent a spray of tea over the rails to rain on the crowd below. The squeals and cries that reached her ears a moment later were not from delight. She would surely hear about it from the manager when she reported for work, if she didn’t hear about it before.
She blinked her eyes rapidly trying to clear her vision. In the fraction of a second after her first decadent sip of the hot liquid gold, a small tug had appeared across the river as if it had been there all along. She knew it hadn’t been there when she sat down, so where did it come from? As if her memories and dreams were mocking her while her eyes were wide open, and as though it were yesterday, Captain Henry appeared on the deck clad in a nightgown. He hadn’t aged a day. She was still trying to make sense of what she was seeing when he, and his ship, were obscured for a time as a large, heavily loaded barge passed between them on its way to port.
After so many years living along the back river, she was surprised to realize that she had never noticed how long it actually took a barge to travel the distance from the river’s mouth up to port. Even more so, how long it took for one to pass her perch. By the time it finally eased through, and she was able to see beyond it once again, she was even more shocked th
at the small tug was still there. She didn’t know when she had gotten up, but had to ease back from the spot where she now found herself, white – knuckled, clutching the rail, squinting to focus on the far side of the river near the shore.
Captain Henry was still there in his nightgown, though somewhere between her first glimpse of him and the one now, he had sat down. Why, was anyone’s guess. His expression was colored with confusion as his gaze followed the barge up river. Esme noticed as he scanned back across the western bank, still obviously perplexed. She chuckled to herself to notice his slight jump as the next barge came through. Knowing this time that it would take more than a few long moments, she refilled her tea and sat back down to see what would happen next.
When the second barge cleared, she was curious as the captain was no longer on deck. He reemerged rather quickly, this time more appropriately dressed. She couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking. If she had to guess, based on his earlier nightgown, and the very dated outfit he had donned in between, where ever he had been since 1865, it had not been alongside the same timeline she had experienced. She had to set her teacup down and clutch her sides for the next few moments as she watched him. The frantic scramble was laughable.
The 1812 Overture blared from her phone where it rested on the table. Grabbing it, she absently noticed the time. She was late. She had been so caught up in the developments on the water that she forgot she had picked up the morning shift at the desk. Huffing, she connected the call and composed herself before answering.
“I apologize. I forgot. I’ll be downstairs in 10 minutes.” She announced as calmly as she could manage before the questions could be posed.
She knew without much thought that she would not be able to see the tug from the front desk. The angle was too sharp. She could only hope that it would still be there when she got a chance to step outside and have a look. It was going to be a very long day.
Chapter 5
Holden weighed anchor and moved to the wheelhouse. He tried to rudder the tug to a small inlet that he knew, hoping to stay out of the way of the larger ships as they passed. Knowing that a collision course with any of them would affect nothing for him, his tug, or the other ship, did not make it a proposition he wanted to entertain. He wanted desperately to understand what was happening, and be free to observe without the distractions. It would be just his luck that he would bank on his continued transparency, only to find out that he was mistaken. He had a lot of questions, not the least of which still being when this time was.
Reaching the shallows, he lowered the weight and moved back out to the deck. The scene on the far side of the water was newly amazing as he took it in a second time. Some of the structures were familiar, but even those had changed. There were also significantly more than he ever remembered there being. Testing his theory, he called out across the water and waved when no other ships were in the lane. No one on the far side so much as flinched, never mind turned to see who called.
Looking up and down the river, the waterway appeared wider than he remembered it to be. There was also an expansive structure that crossed from one side to the other. That had never been there before. The noise on the far shore grew with the rising light. The crowd multiplied as well. He shook his head in absolute confusion. Women were walking around in short pants instead of ankle-length dresses and nearly none of them wore a head cover. Men too, were dressed in what might have passed for children’s play clothes instead of suits, ascots, and an appropriate hat. He rationalized that if he were to walk among them and be seen, he would just as surely look as out of place to them as they did to him.
A single voice carried across the water, drawing his attention. It seemed to be coming from the rolling box that was easily carrying a dozen or more people. The speaker was quite animated, and he caught the word “tour.” Soon enough, the sound faded as the large carriage moved beyond his vision. What he had heard, was something akin to an accounting of different times in Savannah. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to note the years being mentioned. At least, he had been able to affirm that it was in fact, Savannah.
He was newly surprised as the day wore on to see how busy the back river had become through the years. He had easily lost count of how many ships had traversed the channel long before the sun crested. One thing he noted that hadn’t changed, was the oppressive heat and humidity in the region, and the soft breeze across the water that did little to diminish it.
By nightfall, when he thought he could not be shocked further, he was newly aghast to see the river traffic picking up instead of decreasing. Up and down the west side bank, lines of peculiar light came on one by one as the light of day diminished. Brighter than the gas lanterns he knew, he sat on the deck and wondered at each new reality they revealed. The sounds from of the crowd changed, but was in no way lessened. A raised, wide walkway bustled with people traveling up and down the way to various establishments that were still open, and full to brimming, late into the night. He scratched his head in confusion, thinking everyone should have been tucked into their homes hours before. He amended his lingering question to add ‘what’ to ‘when’ was this.
Chapter 6
Esme was flustered as she went about her duties attending patrons. It was hours into the day, and well past lunch before she could take a step outside to check on Captain Henry and his ship. When she finally exited the back doors into the wall of oppressive heat, she was instantly dismayed to see that he was gone. Had she imagined it?
Of all the days to pick up an extra shift and be working a double, this was the worst possible one. Just before dinner time, the new guests mostly checked in, she finally took a longer break. Once again, checking out the back doors and scanning the river, she was upset to see that the tug had not returned. She retreated back indoors, and made her way up to her suite of rooms. She was melancholy as she put together a salad and poured a glass of sweet tea, electing to eat inside instead of out on the balcony.
Glancing out the sliders before returning to her post, she nearly jumped out of her skin to notice the tug upriver, tucked into a small inlet on the far side of the water. It hadn’t occurred to her earlier that he might have moved, she had just assumed that he had vanished as quickly as he had shown up. Unfortunately, she didn’t have time to linger, or really ponder the implications. She was due back at the desk, and would be there until 10:30 when the night shift arrived.
If the clocks could turn backwards, she was fairly certain that they were. The hours from dinner until she could clock out for the day took three times as long as the morning and early afternoon had together. At 10:31 she raced around the edge of the front reception desk, and made a beeline for the back door. For October, it was still sweltering, even so late in the evening. She reached the rail on the water side of the Riverwalk quickly, scanning up and down stream for the ship as she approached. It still hadn’t moved, which was a relief. Why? She had no idea.
From her position near the edge she could make out the red port-side light of the tug in the distance. With most of the primary lighting being on this side of the river though, she couldn’t make out much more. She could barely see the outline of the prow. The rest of the boat, and the captain, if he was on deck, were all but invisible against the sloping hills along the east side. Her heart was racing, and her breath was short. Was it anticipation? Or, was it something else altogether?
Unable to focus, she resigned herself to the truth that she could not see more. She retreated back indoors and went up to her suite for the evening. Changing quickly, she stepped out onto the balcony, hoping to catch a better glimpse of the tug, and the captain. A glimpse would be all she would get as the line of barges coming up river were backed up for miles, and stacked higher than her eyes could see. Only during the brief buffer zones between them could she attempt to see more. It was ridiculously frustrating.
Back inside, she tried to settle herself for the evening, and sleep if it would come. It was as elusive as ever. Her mind was plagued
with the ramifications of what the appearance of Captain Henry’s tug might mean. Would all the ships return? Have they already? If they had, or would still, would they all show up on the river? If they did, what would that mean? Most importantly, how was the ship back?
She certainly was not as she had been in 1865. Were they? Recounting her brief observations from this morning, she had to resign herself to the notion that, though returned, they might not be exactly the same as they once were either, but just how much would be different?
Esme drifted in and out of restless sleep. Her mind took her back through decades in her dreams. At one point she awoke shuddering, feeling the oppressive stares from the shore as Captain Henry rebuked her for being aboard his ship. At another point, she sat bolt upright in bed, hearing the screams from the stranded frigate as though she were once again there. Only after her mind’s eye showed her the normal traffic along the river, did she finally settle into a moderately restful sleep. When she awoke, blotchy cheeks, and deeply shadowed eyes, greeted her in the mirror.
Putting the kettle on, she remembered that it was now Tuesday. Normally, this would have meant nothing, but this week, it was her reward. Her good deed yesterday pulling a double, meant today was her day off. She was hopeful to see the small tug along the river when she reached the balcony, but steeled herself to the possibility that it may not be there. Today, she would remember not to spit her tea, whatever her scan of the eastern shore revealed.
