Time Ship (Book One): A Time Travel Romantic Adventure: The ideal Beach Book for reading on Holiday!

by IAN C. P. IRVINE

  As they watched, it moved steadily across the sky, and the eyes of the pirates followed it eagerly.

  When it disappeared from sight, the conversation between the pirates grew very excited. "What on Earth is it, Mr Tyler? You're an educated man! Surely you can tell us what it is? That's the twenty-eighth flashing bird that we have seen since the sun went down. They're popping up every few minutes."

  "Aye, Mr Tyler? What say you?" another of the pirates asked, and the others joined in loudly with a chorus of "Tell us, Mr Tyler, sir," and "What is it, Mr Tyler?"

  "I'll be dammed if I know. I haven't ever seen anything of the like, have I!" the accountant replied.

  "I say it is a devil's bird. Sent here to spy on us, like. And then they disappear back to their master and tell him just where we are, and next thing Lucifer himself will appear and claim all our souls, he will!", one of the riggers chimed in.

  "Aye, Billie, you're right, man. Never said a truer word, have you! I say we ask the Captain to put us ashore as quick as he likes, so that we can hide amongst the trees and the bushes!"

  Another voice spoke up. This time it was the voice of one of the powder monkies, one of the youngest men in the ship, whose role it was to make sure that all the cannon crews had enough gunpowder during a battle, running up and down the ladders during a battle, back and forward to the gunpowder store.

  "I'm scared. I think we have been cursed! Ever since we stole the booty from Captain Kidd..."

  "Hush, now boy. There'll be no more talk of curses and bad luck onboard my ship." The voice of Captain Rob surprised them all. "So long as a sailor has a few cannons, a good seaman makes his own luck. And we've got lots, so from now let's be more bloody positive! Do y'hear!"

  "Aye, aye, Cap'n Rob," they all chimed in, surprised and shocked to see the Captain on deck at this time.

  "...And besides," the Captain continued. "Whatever these things are, they are so high up and far away, that they have no power to see and take any heed of us. We're safe from whatever they are!"

  James Silver joined the group.

  "Evening Cap'n... I couldn't help overhear what the lads were saying. I'm with the lads on this one. I think we should put ashore as soon as we can, and hide from these birds until we know what they are and who their masters are!"

  "Well, Mr Silver. I for one am certainly not running and hiding from anything in the sky which is smaller than a fly? Are you?"

  The others laughed. Then the Captain continued: "... But I am of the mind to go ashore as soon as we pass land to bring aboard new provisions and some water. Mr Silver, wake Mr Tanner, and accompany him to my cabin please."

  As soon as the Sailing Master entered the Captain's Cabin, he was sent aloft to take readings from the stars and to work out their position as best he could. He returned, beaming, the first time he had smiled in days.

  " 'Tis good news, Cap'n Rob. 'Tis a clear night, and I am able to see the stars. They are strangely dimmer than normal, in spite of the complete lack of cloud. But I was still able to plot a position. By my reckoning we should be sighting the coast of Puerto Rico soon. We have to pass it on our way west to Florida. Staying well clear of San Juan, I suggest we make our way along the coast and go ashore in or near the town of Arecibo. If this wind keeps up, we should be there just before dawn."

  Almost as if the watchman up in the Crow's Nest had been listening to the conversation, a shout went up : "Ahoy, land ho!", and a few moments later there was a knock on the cabin door, a seaman bringing the news to the Captain and to wake him if he were asleep.

  Captain McGregor asked the men in his cabin to sit down at his table and agree a plan. He included Richard Tyler in the conversation, a man he had grown to respect and like, and whose counsel he appreciated.

  James Silver coughed nervously as he realised that Richard Tyler would yet again be remaining for conversations which until now had largely been the preserve of himself, the Captain, the Sailing Master and the Boatswain. Unfortunately Mr Peters had been taken ill that evening and was now confined to his bunk with fever, headache, chills and sweating, another of the crew to fall sick with the mysterious illness that Mr Bones had reported yesterday.

  Although he had originally found the man amusing, Silver had now begun to dislike Mr Tyler: he didn't like the way Captain McGregor was taking him into his confidence, or how the men had also taken to him: they knew that it was thanks to him that they were all soon to become rich, and since the raid on the Fort in Puerto Bello de la Cruz, tales had been spreading below decks of how Tyler had single-handedly faced the garrison of the fort and persuaded them to open their gates.

  "So, Mr Silver, what say you to Mr Tanner's suggestion of landing at the town of Arecibo?"

  "Are we going to attack it or seek to trade with the locals?" Silver replied.

  "A good question. I personally know little of the town, but is it not true that you once spent some time in the fort of San Juan, as the guest of the Spanish Governor there?"

  Richard Tyler and Mr Tanner laughed.

  "'Twas no laughing matter. A month of hell, it was, before I escaped, and found a berth with a merchantman headed for Jamaica. I have no desire to go back there, I can tell you. But I also know little of Arecibo. However, we have a man aboard who probably does. Mister Felipe Aznar, one of the gunners, is Spanish. He can act as a guide and translator."

  "Good idea, Mr Silver. Please fetch him here, so that he can give us counsel."

  Over the next hour, a plan came together. The Sea Dancer would stay well out to sea, running parallel with the island until it was sure that it had passed by the Spanish stronghold of San Juan. Further along the coast it would make for land, and track the coast until it found the inlet to the harbor of Arecibo. They would enter the port under cover of darkness, and send a single pinnace ashore under the command of Mister Aznar. He had agreed to play the part of quartermaster of the Sea Dancer, a merchantman seeking fresh provisions. Richard Tyler had offered to go with him, as one of the landing party, but feeling immediately threatened, Silver had argued against it, and volunteered in his place: an action he had immediately regretted and which caused him to dislike Richard Tyler even more.

  When the landing party returned, using the intelligence that they had gained, they would decide whether or not to trade with the town's merchants, or to attack the town and take what they needed and desired. The consensus was that if possible, it would be best to buy what they could, instead of risking a battle in which more men could die, and their ship, now full of treasure, could be damaged or captured if the battle was lost.

  If the landing party did not return by midday, they would bombard the town with their cannon, and send men ashore.

  There was a small risk, but Mister Aznar had been to the town many times, knew it well, and was sure that the inhabitants would be keen to trade. Being so close to the heavily defended Fort of San Juan, they would not be expecting an attack. As long as the Sea Dancer posed no threat, their trade would be welcomed. In theory.

  Under normal circumstances the taste of blood and battle would excite most of the crew and spur them onto a more physical and violent solution to their needs, but the knowledge that their holds were full of treasure tempered even the most hot-headed of them aboard.

  For today at least, diplomacy and trade would be the order of the day.

  It was 5 a.m. when the Sailing Master turned the Sea Dancer towards the island. As they came closer inland, Mister Aznar recognised the silhouette of the land and congratulated Mr Tanner for bringing them within three leagues of the harbor entrance.

  At 5.40 a.m. Captain McGregor ordered the raising of a Flemish flag, captured from a Dutch merchantman several years before.

  They were sailing closer to the island now, able to make out the coast clearly. Mister Aznar was standing alongside Silver, Richard and Captain McGregor on the Quarterdeck, and Mr Tanner was manning the tiller.

  They were sailing in silence. No man spoke, the only sounds being the wind i
n the sails, the creaking of the ropes, and the ship plowing through the waves.

  All eyes were on the shoreline.

  Strange lights glowed like fireflies along the coast and above the small cliffs and outcrops of rocks. As they neared the headland where Mister Aznar indicated the entrance to the harbor at Arecibo would be, the glowing lights started to group together into clusters, or form lines of lights along the shore.

  The lights glowed so brightly, and so constantly that they struck fear into the men who were watching from the Sea Dancer.

  No man had ever seen such a sight before.

  It was still dark as the Sea Dancer approached the entrance to Arecibo.

  Such was the alarm that the crew felt at the strange lights they saw on the shoreline, that Captain McGregor ordered Mr Tanner to keep the Sea Dancer a league off shore as they passed the entrance to the harbor. He was keen that they should not commit themselves to entering the harbor before they were first able to survey it on passing by.

  Mr Aznar was clearly anxious.

  "I do not understand this," he said, almost apologetically. "This is the entrance to the port, I swear it, but the town is very different. It is awash with unnatural lights...what devil of mischief are the Spanish up to now? The town burns with fires, yet it is not consumed! There is no smoke, but the fires burn brighter than the sun!"

  As they passed the entrance to the port, their field of view into the town suddenly became alive with light. Hundreds, maybe thousands of lights, of all different colors, burned in the town and along the water's edge.

  Weird sounds, like music, but loud and very alien to anything the men had ever heard before, carried across on the water.

  Occasionally, there was a loud 'beep', like a hunting horn being blown loudly and quickly, ... and the occasional dull roar, which sounded nothing like anything the men had ever heard before.

  As they passed the entrance to the harbor mouth, McGregor studied the port with his spyglass. He stared in disbelief at what he saw.

  They were too far offshore to make out great detail, but through his spyglass he saw tall towers that held great fires at their top, the light flooding the harbor beneath, and making it possible to see as if it were daytime, even though it were night.

  There were 'ships' floating on the water in the harbor too. The tallest and biggest ships he had ever seen. Or perhaps they were not ships at all, because they were of a design and construction that would never be able to float or cross the oceans. Yet, they sat on top of the water, and clearly floated. It made no sense!

  For a second he considered passing the spyglass to Mister Aznar or Mr Tanner, but then quickly decided against it.

  Even if this was the port of Arecibo, Captain McGregor was not going to take his ship into such a harbor. And if the others were to see what he saw, their fear would rise beyond all calming. What would it profit the Captain to share such sights with the others?

  Instead, he ordered Mr Tanner to sail straight on.

  They would find somewhere else to go ashore.

  Chapter 14

  Room 3B18

  The Pentagon

  Arlington

  Monday

  Virginia

  5 p.m.

  Professor Derek Martin shook the hand of Colonel Patterson at the security gate on the third level, then stepped into the elevator and rode it down to the parking lot.

  Ten minutes after leaving the Pentagon he parked his rental by the banks of the Potomac River, and got out and started to walk along the river's edge.

  He needed to walk. And to think.

  The events of the past few days were weighing on him hard. He could not stop thinking of Kate. It was only this morning that her plane had gone missing. It was hard to believe that the last time he had seen Kate was only a few days ago, over a high-definition video-conferencing link, when they had briefed the NOAA team.

  Memories of their shared past flooded his mind, - her smiles, their shared kisses, her laughter - , and the grief threatened to overwhelm him.

  He shook his head, and forced himself to focus on other thoughts, refusing to allow himself to think the worst. He switched his thoughts back to his laboratory.

  If the Colonel had not insisted that Derek Martin make his way to the Pentagon, Derek would still be back at the laboratory immersing himself in his work. Although they had perhaps lost the Stormchaser, with Kate on board, the effort the Bush Institute had put into observing the collision of the four superstorms, had been well rewarded. They would spend the next few years analyzing the information that had been gathered yesterday, and Derek wanted to start today.

  When he received the phone call earlier that morning, he had at first refused to come to the Pentagon, but the Colonel had insisted. He had promised to explain everything upon his arrival. Derek had argued that he needed to go back to the laboratory to commence the work of understanding just what had happened last night.

  "That can wait until another day. You need a break. Come to the Pentagon. I promise you, Professor Martin. You will want to hear what I have to say!"

  Derek had immediately called Mick, who was just leaving for the lab. "The timing is not brilliant, but I say go. I've got it covered for today. You need some time to think about Kate, by yourself. The trip might do you some good." He had a point, but it was when Mick had reminded him that a new round of funding would soon need to be negotiated, that Derek had finally consented to visit their most important benefactor at such short notice.

  Now the visit was over, it was hard to take in everything that the Colonel had just told him, and yet there was no real reason to disbelieve any of it.

  According to the Colonel, they had already succeeded in conducting experiments in their laboratories to transport physical matter from one location to another: teleportation.

  The Colonel had not given away any detail on how their work had been completed, or even said much about what had been achieved, but he had said enough. Enough to share with Professor Martin the importance and essence of the work that they had been conducting.

  According to the Colonel, the first successful teleportation experiment had been conducted in 2002, although it had not been classified as a success for the following reason: the object used in the experiment, a small cube of copper, had spontaneously disappeared and the scientists conducting the experiment had no idea where it had gone to. If indeed it had gone anywhere.

  There was a body of thought within their group that the object had 'gone nowhere', i.e. that it still occupied the same place in space, but at another time coordinate. In other words, that it had somehow traveled through time.

  Others believed that it had indeed been transported from one place to another.

  In the following years, the scientists in the Colonel's laboratories had formed into two distinct camps. One group who believed that the cube had traveled 'spatially' and the other which believed that it had traveled 'temporally'. Each group had pursued independent tracks of research, developing new theories and experiments to explain, predict and ultimately be able to replicate such teleportation experiments at will.

  Until 2009, success had been elusive. At least a billion dollars spent, with no other significant achievements.

  Until 2009.

  In April 2009, the team developing the concept of temporal teleportation had succeeded in transporting a small copper ball about a half-inch in diameter from one point in time to another. They had been experimenting with creating large magnetic fields around the copper ball, when it had spontaneously disappeared. What made the experiment a success, was that it reappeared in the same place, twenty-seven days later. The scientists had hoped to transport it only a few hours into the future, and at first the experiment had been considered another partial failure, - a repeat of 2002 -, but when it had suddenly materialized again in exactly the space place it had been in, prior to the magnetic field being initiated, everything changed.

  After the initial euphoria of the experiment had subsided, a l
ot of work had been spent understanding why 'several hours' had become twenty-seven days. Painstakingly, the formulas had been refined, the experiments repeated and repeated, and through blood, sweat and even a few tears, great progress had been made.

  Exactly what level of progress, the Colonel declined to elaborate on.

  In contrast, Team 'B', the group focusing on the theory of spatial teleportation had not had any significant success. They had been able to repeat the experiment of 2002, and each time they were successful in making the copper cube disappear. Yet, they were never able to discover where the cube went to.

  Spatial teleportation would only become real 'tele-portation' when the object could be enticed to disappear from one place and then re-appear in another, preferably in a location that was predictable and measurable. The 'trick' would be in discovering how to transport matter from an initial to a final set of predetermined coordinates. The science would be in how to make that happen, particularly in coaxing the matter to reappear exactly where you wanted it to go, at the time you wanted it to arrive.

  In other words, you needed to build a 'transmitter' and a 'receiver'. So far, Team B had been good at 'transmitting', but spectacularly unsuccessful at 'receiving'. After five hundred million dollars spent on that particular line of research, the Government was considering pulling the plug.

  Colonel Patterson had been following Professor Martin's work for a long time. Derek already knew that, as they had met several times before in the lead up to funding being agreed, and up until now the U.S. military, via Colonel Patterson, was the chief source of their funding.

  What Derek hadn't realised was exactly why they were being funded. It turned out that his Institute was pursuing a course of research, which although different from the Colonel's, ultimately could have the same outcome. The Colonel had realised that early on. And rather than build another team internally to replicate Professor Martin's works, he had effectively 'outsourced' the research to independent minds who could potentially realise the Colonel's goal faster.