Time Travel Adventures of the 1800 Club Book VIII

by Robert P McAuley

  “Well, Mister time traveler,” he said to his image in the mirror, “Are you ready to complete your mission? I mean, it’s been a nice vacation, but now it’s time to work for your pay.” He grinned at his reflection as he tapped his hat down and went down to have his morning meal.

  After a breakfast of soft-boiled eggs and warm, brown bread smothered in butter, he went back to his room, retrieved his valises, paid his bill and sauntered over to the dock. It was a beautiful day with a light breeze coming off the land, and, as usual, people were up and about doing their business. He smiled to himself as he passed a group of young men chatting over mugs of tea in an outside eatery. Wonder if I bumped into any of the Beatle’s ancestors as I toured Liverpool?

  Once at the dock, he looked at the small gathering of people already lined up at the wharf. Wilhelm Boeing wasn’t there yet, so Bill stood back and just watched as the crowd grew. A bobby slowly walked by and looked him over. The lawman walked with his hands behind his back and Bill knew that he held his police stick in them. Finally, sure that he wasn’t a pickpocket; he nodded and went to inspect the crowd on his beat.

  Twenty minutes of eight, a group of people turned the corner carrying luggage and slipping on the damp cobblestones as they hurried to get to the long line of passengers facing the ship. One man suddenly pulled his head down to his shoulders as a seagull deposited some waste on his tall hat. He looked up as he removed it and shouted at the hundreds of birds as they circled and dived in their quest for food. Bill also noticed the young sailors aloft in the ship’s rigging waving the birds off the spars and generally triggering the release of their waste down onto the crowd below. They were having a good time at the crowds’ displeasure and betting on who would receive the next salvo. Bill grinned, as he thought, “No matter what year, ‘boys will be boys.’

  Suddenly, at ten of eight, he saw Wilhelm Boeing turn the corner. He took a picture out of his jacket pocket and double-checked. “Yep, that’s him.” Bill grabbed his valises and stepped out onto the street and maneuvered to get between the man and the sea. He stopped and made-believe he was checking for his ticket, allowing Boeing to walk past him. He then turned and walked behind him, staying far enough back so as not to make Boeing think he was a pickpocket stalking him. Finally, they came to the end of the line and both men put their valises and bags down.

  The time traveler watched as the man removed his hat and wiped his brow with a handkerchief. He just placed his hat back on his head when the ship’s whistle sounded and Boeing quickly picked up his leather bag while at the same time reached inside his jacket, fished out his ticket and slipped on the damp ground. His eyes went wide as he lost his grip on the ticket and it was whipped away by a sudden breeze.

  “My ticket! Please, someone get my ticket.”

  Bill was in the perfect position, but the ticket did a flip past his outstretched hand and he jumped after it.

  “Shoot!” he shouted as the piece of paper sailed over the crowd and headed towards the water between the ship and wharf. Bill saw the ticket glide toward a wagon with luggage piled high on it. He jumped up on the wagon and used the luggage as a springboard to leap into the air and snatch the ticket. As he descended his Navy SEAL training kicked in and he went into a roll, still clutching the ticket. A hoot and applause of approval erupted from the line of passengers as he got up and wiped off his pants. He limped slightly as he returned to his luggage and a smiling Boeing.

  “Here, sir,” he said as he passed the creased ticket to the man. “Sorry if it’s soiled.”

  “Sorry?” answered Boeing with a look of shock on his face. “Ach, mine friend, that was a most magnificent show of, of, how do you say in English, ah, acrobatics.” He startled Bill with a hug that took the wind out of him.

  “Ooooff!” Bill said with a smile, “No problem at all, sir, I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

  “Ach, mine friend,” said Boeing in a thick German accent as he hefted his bag and joined the crowd that edged towards the gangway, “You must join me for a drink one evening, sir. I insist.”

  “Fine,” said Bill as he followed along, thinking, Mission completed! Guess there’s nothing to do now but finish my forced vacation.

  That evening Bill enjoyed dinner at Captain Ned Land’s table with eight other passengers, and when dinner was over Ned pulled him aside.

  “Bill, join me for a glass of wine on the top deck? The stars are simply jumping out at a person up there.”

  “I’d be glad to join you, Ned. Lead the way.”

  The two men went up to the top deck and a waiter followed carrying a tray with two glasses and a bottle of wine on it. The attendant poured them a glass each and then departed leaving the bottle of wine behind.

  The captain proposed a toast, “Here’s to a returning gentleman aboard my ship, and may you return again and again, sir.” He winked and added, “And tell all your friends to journey with us aboard the Delphi.”

  Bill raised his glass, “To a trip as good as the one we had coming east.”

  They took a drink and, looking up, Bill said, “Ned, you are right about the stars up here. They seem to be hanging there just out of reach. Beautiful.”

  “It’s a sight I see on every trip, and never tire of.”

  “Ned, without seeming like an alarmist have you heard about the sea monster supposedly lurking around here?”

  A big grin came on Ned’s tanned face. “Yes, I have. But, I’ve been at sea since I was ten years of age and I’ve never seen one in all of my thirty-two years at sea.”

  “What about reports of missing ships?”

  Ned shook his head, “Many things happen once away from shore, Bill. Men leave a candle burn too long when they ought not to. A fog drops out of nowhere and the ship runs into a reef.” He spread his hands out and shrugged his shoulders, “There’re too many natural reasons a ship does not return, but it makes for good yarn spinnin’ for some folks.”

  “Guess so, Ned. But, the fellow that told me sure seemed to believe it.”

  Ned grinned and replied, “Makes it good for passin’ time and maybe a coin from a tourist, Bill.” He shrugged his shoulders and went on, “But maybe he does believe it. I never met a sailor who was not superstitious.”

  Shortly after, they finished their drinks and Ned looked at his pocket watch by the moonlight. “Got to be up for first watch tomorrow, Bill, so I’d best turn in now. Perhaps, if the weather holds, we’ll finish the bottle tomorrow evening?”

  “Fine with me, Ned. I look forward to it and I’ll bring the cigars.”

  The weather was perfect the next evening, and both men were having a cigar and a glass of wine up top. They were talking politics of the time and Bill was glad he was on top of the subject but watched that he didn’t say anything that might give away a future event.

  “Bill,” said Ned as he did a slight bow at the waist, “I must tell you that I admire your thoughtfulness as, before you speak your mind, you take your time and think it through.”

  “Ha,” laughed the time traveler, “Ned, you mistake my lack of knowledge on the subject as thoughtfulness. Why, . . . “

  His sentence was never finished as a sudden tilt in the ship accompanied by the sound of wood splintering sent both men flying against the railing. As the ship slowly resettled on an even keel, the First Officer in the wheelhouse shouted: “Collision, collision. Captain to the deck, captain to the deck. Attention all hands, collision!”

  Ned and Bill stood and looked at each other.

  Are you hurt, Bill?” asked an alarmed Captain Land.

  “No, no, just a little shook up. What happened?”

  “Don’t know. It is too far from shore for a reef. The night is clear and we can be seen for miles, all lit up as we are. Quick, follow me to the wheel house and we’ll see what it was.”

  Both men went down the short distance to the wheelhouse just below them. The ship had stopped and seemed to be wallowing in the light waves as they ent
ered the room.

  “What hit us, Lieutenant Krebs?”

  “Krebs had a look of bewilderment on his young face as he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, “I dunno capin’ Land. We was jus’ doin’ about ten knots when she shuddered an’ stopped. I got ta’ think we got rammed aft an’ lost our screw an’ rudder. I got Seaman Smithers checkin’ on the rear now.”

  The door flew open and Smithers entered with a look of concern on his face and an oil lamp in his shaking hand.

  “What did you see back there, seaman?” asked the captain taking over the wheelhouse.

  “Sir, the rudder is hangin’ on by a bolt or two, an there’s no sign of another ship. She musta sank quick like, ‘cause I don’t see no lights or survivors swimmin’ ‘round.”

  “Lieutenant Krebs, take charge here,” said the captain as he grabbed the oil lamp out of Smither’s hand, “I’m going aft to see what happened to the ship.”

  Bill followed him and both arrived at the same time. Passengers were out on the deck asking what happened and the captain ordered all hands to help them into the bulky, cork-filled life jackets as he inspected the damage.

  Captain Land was about to climb down a ladder close to the rudder when Bill put a hand on his shoulder startling the man.

  “Captain, let me help.”

  Ned shook his head, no. “I much appreciate your wanting to help Bill, but one needs training in these matters. I must ask that you return to the deck and don your lifejacket.”

  Bill replied in a firm tone of voice, “Ned, I am trained in these matters. I was an officer in the Navy and had damage control training. At the very least, I can hold the oil lamp so you can check the damage and hold on to the ladder.”

  Ned saw the truth in his eyes and with a nod passed the lamp to Bill.

  Both men inched closer to the dark waters as Bill thought, At least I’m telling him the truth: I have had training in damage control. All Naval officers go through the course in the SEALS. The only difference is that my training is still over one hundred in the future.

  Finally, both men got as close as they could and the light of the oil lamp showed the rudder as Smithers described it: hanging by two bolts. They couldn’t see if the screw was damaged because it was underwater.”

  “Well,” said Ned as they started to climb back up, “at least it doesn’t look like she’s taking on water. But, I got to look below and see from there.”

  Once on deck they ran below and checked the section where the shaft leaves the rear of the ship and is attached to the screw.

  “Bad news here,” said Ned in a low voice as he pointed to the now-bent shaft, “the shaft has to be hammered out straight before we can run the engines or the screw will shatter the ship with its’ vibrations.”

  “Guess we have no forward motion then?”

  Ned shook his head no, “Sails are useless ‘till we fix the rudder, an’ that’s not goin’ to be an easy task. We need daylight to dive to fix her an’ even then its a tough task.”

  “Who does the diving, Ned?”

  “That’d be my maintenance officer’s job, Bill, but he’s just now getting’ over a broken thumb. Guess it’s gonna’ be me, an’ I haven’t dived for three years now.”

  Bill hesitated for a second before saying, “I can do it, Ned. I can go over the side and help you repair the rudder.”

  Ned looked at Bill with eyebrows arched. “You are a man of surprises, Bill. In usual times, I’d shake my head, no, but, as I do need a hand, I’d be happy to have you by my side. And when we dock, rest assured they’ll be a reward for you.”

  “Not looking for a reward, Ned. I just see a fellow sailor in need and know that if the positions were reversed, it’d be you at my side.”

  The night passed slowly and Bill tossed more than he had in a few years.

  Boy, he thought as he saw the sun just coming up over the horizon, hope I don’t screw up, I haven’t dived in over two years myself but as Boeing is a passenger I feel it’s my duty to complete this mission in any way I’m needed.

  After a light breakfast, the crew and passengers watched as the captain and Bill were lowered into the waters aboard a flat, cork raft. Although the water temperature was around fifty-five degrees, it was still chilly and the shorts and cut-off shirts they wore didn’t keep them warm. Tied to the raft by long sections of rope were the tools they needed to reattach the rudder to the ships’ rear and stacked in the center was a set of blankets and a box of nuts and bolts along with a hot pot of tea and two mugs.

  “I’ll dive first,” Bill volunteered, “I’ll get a good idea of what we have to do to reattach it, then we can take turns diving as the other warms up as much as possible. Good?”

  “Sounds good to me, Bill,” answered Ned, the quick movement of his black and gray beard showed he was already shivering in the light sea breeze.

  Bill tied a rope around his waist and jumped into the dark water.

  Oh my God, it’s cold! he thought with a shock as he felt along the rudder for the section that needed to be reattached, his fingers already going numb. This is like SEAL training but if I fail, I don’t just flunk, I don’t get back to the states. Bill went deeper as he felt for the two attachment bolts that were supposed to be at the bottom half of the large wooden rudder. His lungs were telling him to surface as he found one of the bolts. No good, it’s sheared, he thought as he shot to the surface.

  He burst up from the depths and sucked in the cool air.

  “Are you fit, Bill?” asked Ned.

  Bill nodded and blew his nose in his hand. “Found the top bolt, Ned. It’s sheared off. I’m going back down to see if the bottom one is sheared too, then we’ll see about putting new bolts in place.”

  He went under again and followed the rudder down, this time almost to its’ bottom before he found a hole for the bolt. The bolt was gone. He surfaced, sucked in air and climbed aboard the raft. Ned quickly untied Bill’s rope, put a blanket around him and shoved a mug of the hot tea in his shaking hand.

  Bill shivered and wrapped both hands around the hot mug. It took a minute before he could take a sip and report his findings.

  “G-Good news, Ned. The bolt is sheared off and not jammed in the hole so we can just slide a new bolt in place. The top bolt, however, is jammed in the hole and we’ll have to hammer it out before placing a new one in.”

  Ned nodded, picked up the rope and was about to tie it around his waist when suddenly a huge surge of white, frothing water engulfed the raft, throwing both men into the water. Bill felt Ned grab his shirt and pull him towards the surface. Both sucked in air and looked around as they tried to find the source of the disturbance. The raft was gone and in its place were two yellow eyes gleaming at them.

  Ned screamed, “The monster! My God, man, swim away, it’s the sea monster they speak of.”

  Bill’s eyes bulged, . . . but, just for a moment until his half frozen brain started to function. What the . . . that’s not a sea monster. That’s a-a, that’s a submarine! But, that can’t be. Those are not eyes they’re viewing ports. But, this is 1868 and the submarine isn’t perfected until1900 by John Holland in the U.S. This simply cannot be!

  Slowly, the waters started to calm down and the sub floated about ten feet away from both men as they shivered and treaded water. A metallic clank told Bill that a hatch had just been opened, and a few seconds later a group of men appeared and tossed them a line. Bill grabbed his as Ned just stared open-mouthed at the behemoth.

  “Ned,” Bill shouted, “Grab the line.”

  The captain was pulled back to reality and did as he was told. The ropes were pulled towards the sub and both men were soon aboard. The sailors were dressed in red and white tee shirts and blue work pants. All wore black berets over their close-cropped heads. A tall man dressed in black draped a blanket over both of them and guided them towards the open hatch.

  “Sir,” Ned started, “I protest. Your vessel is much too close to my ship for safety reasons. Are you th
e captain?” The man didn’t answer as he ushered them to the opening, just pointed to the steel ladder descending into the interior.

  “Please, allow me to enter first, Ned,” said Bill as he stepped in front. Ned’s answer was a nod and Bill grabbed the ladder and went down.

  This can’t be! he thought as he looked around the conning tower with its’ crew manning the 1950s-type levers and gauges. I’ve been in many submarines during my service career, and this is very typical of them. Something’s very wrong here.

  “Step lively, sir.” Bill turned to see a man of average height sporting shoulder length black and silver curly hair that matched his trimmed beard and mustache. His eyes were the deepest color blue Bill had ever seen and they seemed to glow against his tanned face. The man was dressed in a black naval-type jacket and pants. On his head was a typical naval cap with gold braids etched on the cap’s visor. The man gently ushered Bill away from the bottom of the ladder as Ned stepped off the last rung.

  “Bill, what’s going on here?”

  “Not sure, Ned. But I think we’re going to find out right now,” he said as the man eyed them both, his legs slightly spread and his hands clasped behind his back.

  “Gentlemen, allow me to introduce myself, I’m . . . “

  Bill smiled as he cut him off in mid-sentence, “Captain Nemo and your ship is the submersible, Nautilus. Correct, sir?”

  The man was startled and his eyebrows arched as his eyes rested on Bill as if trying to place him. “Correct you are, sir. Do I know you?”

  “No,” Bill said as he shook his head, “but I’ve heard of you and your steed.” He turned to Ned who stood with an open mouth. “This,” Bill continued, “is Ned Land, the captain of the ship we were trying to repair, and I am Bill Scott, a passenger helping him. We had a collision last night. Would you know anything about that, Captain Nemo?”