Time Travel Adventures of the 1800 Club, Book 14

by Robert P McAuley

  “Just fine, partner, just fine. And you?”

  “Same. When did you get back?”

  “Just hit town now and thought I might stop here and see if you’re around.” He sat and Paddy came down. “Can I have a bourbon please and would ya pull a drink for my friend here.”

  Paddy brought him a taller than usual glass of the drink and another beer for Bill.

  The two men talked and drank for the next two hours. Finally Mark took out his pocket watch and said as he snapped it closed, “Well partner, I’d best go and get a room. Maybe we’ll get together tomorrow?”

  “Wait, you don’t have a room yet?”

  “Nope! Came here straight away.”

  “Well no problem then. I have a building full of rooms. Come on and we’ll set you up in one.”

  “You sure?” he said with one eye squinted in question.

  “Yep! Let’s go over and check it out.”

  They left and walked, rather wobbly, over to Bill’s building and soon Mark had his small suitcase unpacked while Bill lit the fireplace for him. Twenty minutes later the two men sat in Bill’s den sipping hot coffee and enjoying the heat from the fireplace.

  “So, partner, is that time thing-a-mee fixed?”

  “No. There are times that I even forget trying to send them a message.”

  “Are ya accepting it then?”

  Bill shrugged, “Sort of. I mean what else can I do but accept it.”

  “Hey, this world ain’t so bad, is it? I mean ya got some friends here . . . maybe not as many as in your time, but I bet everyone would like to ditch some of their so-called friends and here you are starting all over as a much wiser man.”

  “Mark, you put a good spin on everything.”

  “Ya got ta have a good outlook on life my friend.”

  “When do you go back?”

  “In two weeks I have a meeting with a book publisher. Dang, but they want me ta change everything I put on paper. Frustrating!”

  “I have a friend in my time that went through all of that so when a new type of publishing came along he embraced it and discovered an outlet for his books.”

  Mark looked at him with a raised his eyebrow and asked, “New type of publishing? Like what?”

  “It’s known as an electronic book or ebook. You write your story and put it up on a network that’s worldwide and then advertise it.”

  “And people buy it?”

  “Not everyone. He writes about time travel and as there are many science fiction loving readers on the network those are his readers.”

  “So, by not using a publishing house, is he considered a writer then?”

  “Sure! He has written fourteen time travel books in one series and has a great rapport with his readers.”

  Mark nodded his head, “A writer lives to write and if they find that there are others who enjoy their art they are thrilled beyond words.”

  Bill grinned, “Mark you will become one of the most read men in the world. You books will be translated into every language you can think of.”

  “Shucks, I better get to bed before I cry.”

  The next two weeks the two men ate with Diamond Jim and Robert Lewis Stevenson. Twain introduced Bill to some of his friends and at night the two sat in front of the fireplace as the writer worked on his new novel, ‘A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court.’

  “It really must be exciting ta be able ta travel in time, my friend.”

  “It really is. Especially when you can return home when you wish.”

  “When your club member Whitey Madden first told me about it I thought he was hit in the head when he was a little boy. But then he showed me his communicating device and I felt like I got hit in the head.”

  Bill reached over to his coffee table, picked up his round, flat pocket communication device and passed it to his friend. “Press down as you twist it.”

  The writer did and it flipped open. “Glory be! Its like a tiny typewriter.”

  “Enter the password, SAMSON and the screen will light up and allow you to write something.”

  He did and the small light gray screen lit up. He looked at Bill then typed, ‘Hello world, it is I, Mark Twain. Can you hear me?’

  “Now,” said Bill as he looked over his shoulder, “press the SEND button and it should go to the 1800 Club in 2016.”

  He pressed the button and nothing happened.

  “As I said, there is no communication with the future. That thing you are holding is nothing better than a paperweight.”

  “Why is the letter ‘B’ blinking?”

  “It just means that the battery is low and needs recharging.”

  Twain handed it back to him, “Ya just gotta bring me along when the time thing-a-mee is fixed, partner.”

  “If it’s ever fixed, I promise I will.”

  March 10th, 1888

  Bill and Mark Twain shook hands on the steps of the Manhattan Hotel on 41st Street and 8th Avenue. “Thanks for putting me up for so long, partner.”

  “Are you sure that you won’t come back to my place tonight?”

  “Can’t. I got three meetings in the next two days and will be using my room as an office, bedroom, bar and everything else that I might need. I have two speaking engagements as well so best I spend some of my money to make money. But I’ll see ya before I leave New York and hope to buy ya some lunch.”

  “Good luck, my friend and see you before you leave.” Bill turned to see a line of cabs waiting for passengers. “Not today,” he told himself, “it’s sunny and in the 50s so I’m going to walk home.” He peeked at his reflection in the window of the steamship company and quickly sucked in his small gut. “Besides I can use the exercise.”

  It took him thirty minutes to walk home. Well, he thought, now that Mark has left, the apartment is going to feel extra empty. Maybe I’ll have a brew at Paddy Diamonds? He shrugged; Then again maybe I’ll just head home and catch up on some of my reading. He stopped short, Damn it Bill, you are becoming such a slouch! He started walking; Guess I’m just lonely. He walked home and used the garden entrance. Everything was dormant and messy. Definitely not like the old days, he thought as he closed the gate behind him. I really need to find a good gardener. He found himself using the garden entrance more and more and it now dawned on him why: It was where he always began and ended a mission or a trip back in time. Silly, but guess I’m just hoping to bump into someone from my time. He went up to the den and then down to the basement where he emptied the ashes into the steel ash can and added just a small amount of coal and closed the flue to keep the coal burning low. I won’t be needing steam heat soon as the days are definitely warming up. He took a shower and made himself a grilled cheese on the frying pan, washed it down with a glass of milk and read his book.

  The wind rattling the windows woke him around two o’clock in the morning. He pulled back the long floor-to-ceiling red drapes and saw one of the heaviest rainfalls he had ever seen. The fire was low and the room chilly so he banked it and added another log before putting out the oil lamp and falling back asleep on the couch.

  March 11, 1888

  Early the next morning he saw that the rain had increased along with the high winds. From his window he saw hats and other things such as signs and pieces of wood and siding fly by. “Wow! Sure looks dangerous out there.” He saw the iceman coming and decided to stock up. He waved and by now the man knew what he needed and delivered a square of ice.

  “Sure is wild out there today,” he said as he chipped a small piece of ice off for a better fit in the ice compartment. He closed the upper lead-lined door and went on, “If you’re short bread and such, better go get it now because the stores are packed with people emptying the shelves.”

  “Just because of the wind and rain?”

  “Guess you ain’t been out, my friend. The high winds are making the rain freeze over. It might just close some stores up for a time.” He went down the stairs and out the door as Bill decided to check the coal
.

  Bill looked out the window again and saw that the iceman was right, as the rain was becoming slush that slid down the windowpane slower than water would. He went down to the basement and double-checked his coal status. Okay, I’ve got plenty of coal and all I have to do is keep the ash level low and the flame high.

  The S.S. Augusta Victoria

  The big steamship cut through the extremely choppy Atlantic Ocean at half speed because of the high waves created by the winds. Lunch had just been served with less than half of the passengers attending because of seasickness. Although the storm slowed them down, they made such good time crossing that they would still arrive in New York on time.

  Shirley was almost packed and set to leave as soon as possible. She spent most of the trip sitting on deck or in her cabin reading. Because she left England so unexpectedly, she never received a letter back from Bill acknowledging that he had received her letter telling him that she was on her way over. The ship would dock in New York in the morning of March 13 and she hoped to see him on the dock.

  March 12, 1888

  Bill opened his communicator and after entering his password typed, HI MATT. IT’S ME BILL TRYING FOR THE UMPTEENTH TIME TO CONNECT WITH YOU BEFORE I GO PLAY IN THE SNOW. BILL. He pressed the ‘send’ button and put it on his desk then stood before a long mirror and looked at his reflection. He wore wide suspenders to hold up his thick work pants, a dark blue turtleneck sweater, thick socks and knee high black lumberjack boots with long leather laces. A wide heavy scarf was around his neck and covered most of his face meeting a heavy knitted cap which was pulled down over his ears. His outerwear was a black three-quarter length navy overcoat with a wide collar and lapels and on his hands he wore a pair of heavy knitted gloves. “Well, Mister Scott,” he told his reflection, “time to go to the grocery store.”

  Although he really didn’t need anything it was the little boy inside of him that urged him to go out in the snow. His windows were almost covered with a mixture of ice and snow that left nothing more than a circle in the center of the glass pane to look out of and even that was growing smaller.

  I’m just going to shovel a small path out of the garden and then walk over to Kahane’s grocery store, he thought as he opened the door in the rear of his den. He went down the gaslight illuminated stone steps and at the bottom picked up the shovel he had placed there the night before. Bill had to push harder than he expected in order to open the door. Finally it was wide enough for him to squeeze through and enter the garden. He looked around in amazement. Everything was covered in five or six inches of snow. The evergreen trees were so laden with the wet snow that their limbs were hanging straight down! The fishpond looked like a bump in the snow as it too was completely covered. He used the shovel to make a path the width of the 24-inch blade from the security door to the gate. Out of breath, he paused and looked out to see that the sidewalk and curb were one as snow covered them evenly. A fireman rode a big-wheeled steam rig pulled by four white horses. On the rear were six firemen on patrol rather than being snowed in and the heavy-wet snow made the four strong horses struggle to pull the rig. One thing they all had in common, both men and animals was that they all had their heads down as they faced into the powerful winds. A sudden loud crack made all look to the sound and see a not too thin tree fly past and into a house across from Bill. The firemen dismounted and went to help anyone inside. Bill opened the gate and struggled against the wind to get to the corner where the wind whipped around it blowing him and others over. It was as he sat there it hit him. Damn! I’ve been feeling so bad for myself that I forgot all of my club training! First off I forgot to make notes of everything that happened in this year and by not doing that I forgot and acted just like the millions of others who were lulled into a false sense of security with the early warm weather. I should have remembered that this was the beginning of the blizzard of ’88. The killer storm that ravaged the coast and killed over 400 people and hurt countless more. He got up and started forward only to stop and help an elderly man stand. He then picked up a woman and placed her around the corner out of the heaviest winds. He turned the corner again and quickly joined more people on the ground as the winds increased and they lost traction on the icy sidewalk inches beneath the deep snow. He crawled to an iron fence whose pickets were the only part showing and helped him to stand again. The wind tore off his cap and he snatched it before it was blown away. His right foot felt cold and he figured snow had gotten in his boot. Once more he put his head down and walked almost in a 45-degree angle against the wind driven snow. After three blocks he got to the store and realized that he wouldn’t be able to carry any groceries home in this wind. He opened the door and about fifteen people were huddled inside. They were all looking out the large glass window at the people outside stumbling around in the wind. Bill stomped his feet as the man behind the counter said, “Hello Mr. Scott. This is certainly getting dangerous, is it not?”

  “Hello, Willy. Yes, it’s bad out there. Are you going to close shop?”

  He shrugged and tilted his head towards the people in his store, “I can’t chase them out into that. I’ll probably sleep here tonight, at least its dry.”

  “Well I won’t be able to carry anything home so I’ll just be on my way. See you tomorrow.” Bill left the store and walked with the wind at his back. He passed a slightly higher mound and saw it move. He quickly shoved his hand into it and was shocked to feel an arm. He pulled it up and a man appeared out of the mound of snow. Bill smacked his face and the man shook his head.

  “Good work, sir. We’ll take it from here.”

  Bill turned to see two policemen come out of the whiteness and take the man by his arms. “This is some bad stuff,” he said to himself. “I think its time to get home.” He was half blown along his route and fell twice. He passed a wagon that was stuck in a mound of snow and helped the driver unhitch the horse so he could ride it home. Back at his garden gate he was shocked to see that the path he had shoveled was completely covered. He unlocked the gate and had a hard time opening and closing it after him. Bill shuffled through the thigh-high snow bank and finding the covered shovel dug the snow away from the door. He opened it and brought the shovel inside. The difference was startling! From the freezing, screaming wind to the warm quiet stairwell.

  It was eleven o’clock P.M. and the fire in his den’s fireplace was roaring. Bill took a sip of his hot chocolate and got off of the couch and opened the long drapes to look downtown. It was as if the buildings had never been there as they were literally covered in snow that was still coming down. In fact the snow was going sideways with the winds that would hit 80 miles-an-hour at times. Bill shivered as he remembered that there were forty-plus inches dumped on New York City in a three-day period and thousands of people were trapped in the city’s elevated train line. Power and telegraph lines were downed while communication between cities was cut. Residents were without electricity and railway and road travel was impossible. Fires burned out of control without the fire departments access to the streets. People died trapped in their houses. Trains were full so only a few people were able to board the trains at each station and when one train got stuck in the snow it stopped the entire line. The temperature plunged with winds over eighty miles per hour and over 400 people lost their lives, 200 in New York City alone. Just then his lights flickered. He quickly got up and lit one of the oil lamps as the electric lights went dead. That’s because all of the power lines are above ground and the wind and ice knocked them down. In fact, he remembered, this storm was the main reason the City of New York buried all of the electric wires under the streets.

  Before he went to bed he went down to the basement and took the ashes out of the unit and added some more coal. It was as he closed the iron door that he thought, Boy! I really have become a homeowner from the Victorian age. I don’t even think about trying to send a message to Matt. I’m doing exactly what any other man from 1888 would be doing: making sure the heat works and there’s ice and food
in the icebox. Bill lit the fire in his bedroom and let it heat up the room before going to sleep.

  The S.S. Augusta Victoria

  It was 11:30 P.M. as the ship approached the dock. Usually the captain would have slowed the ship down so as to time its arrival at ten A.M., but the ocean was so rough that he decided to get to the safety of the port as soon as possible. He sent messengers to all of the cabins to tell the passengers that nobody would be allowed off the ship until daybreak when there was less chance of them having an accident.

  Shirley opened her cabin door to see a worker shoveling the deck, but as fast as he shoveled the snow away the high winds blew it back. She had a terrible time even closing her cabin door with the wind.

  There was no sunrise to speak off rather just a lighter color gray as the clouds and snow joined together. She couldn’t see the buildings that she knew were just blocks away. A small breakfast was served and a spokesman told them the latest news.

  “Ladies and gentlemen the City of New York is completely shut down. There are no carriages, cabs, or trains running. There seems to be many people missing and many more hurt. The captain has ordered the ship to act as a hotel. There will be no extra charge and the usual three meals will be served. If any passenger wishes to leave anyway, go to deck two and you will be allowed to go down the covered gangway to the main arrival hall. However, once there you will be totally on your own and while we wish you all good luck in your endeavor we prefer that you stay aboard until the city officials have transportation up and running. Thank you and please enjoy your meal.”

  Shirley ate and walked back with other passengers all holding onto a thick rope that the crew strung along the inside wall of the deck. She could only see the back of the person in front of her as the winds were driving the still falling snow at 75 miles an hour. Back in her cabin she took off her wet heavy coat and hung it on a chair in front of the small fireplace. She then added more coal to the fire.

  What should I do? If I know Bill he is in a carriage waiting for me just outside the dock.