Out of Time: . (Steamside Chroncles Book 1)

by Symon A Sanderson

  Jacob had more questions but Ivy chose that moment to return with an apron full of lemons.

  “I knocked on every door in the square and these are all the lemons there are. A couple of the other girls said they’d go into Kensington to find more.”

  “Find a jug,” said Kate, “and dip it into that boiling water. When you’ve done that help me squeeze the rest of these,” Kate glanced at Jacob, “Are you going to help?”

  “Will it work?”

  “Yes I think so, besides,” said Kate, “what do we have to lose”

  Jacob, desperate for any diminutive piece of hope, nodded, took a knife from the drawer and started cutting.

  When the mixture was completed and had cooled down enough Kate and Jacob went upstairs to Grace’s room where Laura was sitting on the bed.

  “Can you go down to the kitchen and help Ivy?” asked Kate. “We need a constant supply of boiling water.”

  Laura nodded her assent and left.

  Kate poured some of the liquid onto the back of her hand, “Here, take this. It’s cool enough to drink.”

  Jacob took the mug and sat down on the bed, pulling Grace upright he placed the mug to her lips.

  “What if it doesn’t work?”

  “Then we can say we tried everything,” said Kate, “and it won’t do any harm.”

  Jacob poured the liquid into Grace’s mouth. She offered a small cough of protest, but continued to drink. When she had consumed the contents Jacob placed her head back on the pillow and put the mug onto a small bedside table.

  “What now?”

  “We repeat every half hour, and hope for the best.”

  ***

  Kate had gone downstairs and told Laura and Ivy to go to bed and that she would take over. Almost in unison they replied that they would take it in turns and they wouldn’t take no for an answer. Realising that an argument was pointless, Kate gave the pair instructions what to do and went back upstairs.

  Kate, seeing the door was ajar, walked in and saw Jacob laying on the edge of the bed. She looked at her watch and realised how late it was, “Would you prefer it if I left?”

  Jacob looked up, “No. Please stay.”

  Kate looked back towards the bedroom door.

  “Don’t worry about what people think,” said Jacob, “I don’t, and I really don’t think anyone would mind in the circumstances.”

  “Naomi Calthorpe might.”

  Jacob was about to reply but Kate got in first.

  “I just don’t want to cause any problems.”

  “You’re not,” said Jacob, “and Miss Calthorpe is the least of my problems right now.”

  A melancholy smile forced its way onto Kate’s face and she sat on a small chair in the corner of the room.

  “Why did you choose to come and live in London?” she said trying to make some conversation to occupy Jacob’s mind. Jacob knew what Kate was doing and was glad of it. He placed Grace’s hand on the blanket and then his own hand over hers.

  “I studied at the New York School of Medicine,” he said. “My parents had both died and left me what little money they had. I used that to pay the fees but it wasn’t enough so I ended up taking various part-time jobs. I wrote several dissertations regarding autopsies and the examination of victims of criminality, and through those I ended up with a sponsor,” his eyes had never left Grace and Kate wondered if the conversation was as much for Grace as it was for her. “I passed all my examinations, but my sponsor and I disagreed about my future plans. I had no ties so I decided to book passage on a steamer and head for the most exciting city in the world.”

  “More exciting than New York?”

  “Don’t get me wrong I’m as patriotic as the next American, but it’s a young country and still finding its feet. One day, in the future, the United States will be a match for anyone, I’m sure. But back then, as right now, London is the place to be.”

  “How did you exist with no money?”

  “Oh I had money by this time,” said Jacob switching his gaze to Kate. “Before we parted my sponsor helped me to invest the little I had and that small sum became quite a significant one. I found lodgings and with my qualifications was able to set up a practice.”

  Jacob switched his gaze back to Grace.

  “It was shortly after that when I met Alice. It was at a function supporting the widows of police officers killed in the line of duty. Her brother had organised it and it was the kind of thing my parents had always supported. I guess some of that rubbed off on me. That was in 1873. Two years later we were married. Her parents were incredibly supportive, unlike her brother.”

  “Sir Edward.”

  “Yes. He was against the marriage from the start. Partly because I wasn’t known in London’s social circles, but also, I think, because I’m American.”

  “He wanted Alice to marry an Englishman?”

  “Not English particularly, just not an American. Alice had many suitors and it was widely thought she would marry into one of the more well-known families of Europe. When our engagement was announced Edward was furious.”

  “She married the man she loved.”

  “And that’s why her parents were happy. Edward, however, didn’t see it that way. He thought responsibility and duty should come first. The fact that my practice had become very successful and I had moved it to Kensington did little to assuage him. He only began to change when Grace was born. Edward and Mary, his wife, have two young boys and I know he cares for them in his own way, but he always wanted a daughter. He doted on Grace and a reconciliation of sorts was underway when…”

  Jacob stared down at the floor before slowly raising his head to look at Kate. He changed the subject, “How about you. What does your husband do?”

  “Oh I’m not married,” said Kate. “Nearly, but it didn’t work out.”

  “I’m sorry. I thought the man on your, err, telephone was your husband.”

  “Dan? No. We were engaged, but I found out he had a fondness for the nurses in the hospital where he works.”

  “I’m sorry. What does he do in the hospital?”

  “He’s a doctor. A good one too, just not good for me,” now it was Kate’s turn to stare at the floor.

  “You ended the engagement?”

  “Yes,” said Kate realising that it was all surprisingly easy to talk about.

  “But you still carry his picture around.”

  “It was only recently that we split up, I haven’t had the chance to delete them yet,” said Kate, thinking about Dan’s appearance at her flat on Saturday night and how her feelings of anger, betrayal and sadness that ran so deep then were now almost completely absent.

  “Any regrets?” asked Jacob.

  “No. None,” said Kate, looking straight at Jacob with a wry smile on her face. She took this as her cue to move the conversation in another direction. For several hours, the two talked about where they had grown up, their childhoods and their parents. Jacob, without even realising it, simply accepted Kate's descriptions of holidays to Florida and Italy and how they had flown there in a matter of hours in something called a ‘jet plane.’ Time passed quickly. Neither Kate nor Jacob could face eating a full meal and picked over sandwiches prepared for them in-between sitting Grace up and feeding her the home made concoction.

  Kate jumped, startled by a sudden noise. Realising she had fallen asleep she looked round the room towards the source of the noise. Jacob was perched on the edge of the bed with Grace, who was sitting up with a look of revulsion on her face.

  “Do I really have to drink all of it? It’s horrid.”

  “Yes you do,” said Jacob. “Kate says it will help you to get better.”

  Grace looked over at Kate with an uncertain smile, “Do I have to drink it every half an hour?”

  “No,” said Kate, “you probably only need to drink it every hour from now on, but you need to do it for the rest of the day or you won’t get better.”

  Grace nodded and reluctantly drank t
he rest of the mixture before Jacob rested her head back on the pillow.

  “What time is it? How long was I asleep?”

  “It’s eight o’clock,” said Jacob, “and you’ve been asleep for about two hours.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

  “That’s fine,” Jacob interrupted her, “you were exhausted,” he looked back at the sleeping form of his daughter, “How did you know how to do that?”

  “It was Dan. He gave a talk about lesser encountered diseases. I’m surprised I remembered any of it.”

  “I’m glad you did. She’s making a remarkable recovery. I thought I’d lost her,” Jacob’s voice trailed off into a whisper.

  “She should make a full recovery,” said Kate. “Just make sure she keeps drinking that mixture regularly over the next couple of days.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “Breakfast would be nice. I’m starving.”

  Jacob smiled at Kate as she left the room and closed the door behind her.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The Dock master threw Amos a quizzical look, “What do you mean you’ve lost your plate?” John Hobson prided himself in knowing every movement that happened on the docks and wasn’t happy with this new information.

  “I got mixed up in the riot yesterday, it must have come off then.”

  Hobson looked at Amos for several seconds before walking to a tall set of wooden drawers. Amos watched as Hobson withdrew a card punched with a number of small square holes and inserted it into one of two thin slits in the rear wall. Thirty seconds later a brass plaque identical to the one Amos had lost the previous day eased out of a slightly larger hole beneath the first. Hobson took the plaque and offered it to Amos.

  “Lose that and it will come out of your wages.”

  Amos nodded his understanding as he pinned the new plaque onto his lapel, “What do you want me to do today?” he asked.

  Hobson threw a folded piece of paper onto the desk, “Your instructions for the day are in there, now get out.”

  Amos picked up the folded paper and made his way to the dockside.

  A small group of men busied themselves wrapping rope nets around wooden crates. Amos watched as the nets were attached to a large metal hook before the giant steam crane swung round over the steamer, hissing as it lowered the large bundles into the storage hold. He looked along the docks and saw the same sight repeated dozens of times before glancing into the sky to see airships of all shapes and sizes silently hovering waiting to either load or unload cargo and passengers. I wonder how rich the man is who owns all of this thought Amos before switching his concentration back to his own steamer. It was as he gave the order to continue loading that something caught his eye; two men walking into a small unassuming hut just away from the dockside. They were some distance away but Amos instantly recognised both men; Harry Finch and Henry Collins.

  Not wanting to arouse suspicion, Amos took a pipe from an inside pocket and waved it at the crane operator. He sauntered toward a line of stables adjacent to the hut, lighting his pipe as he walked. As he reached the stables he looked back towards the quayside, satisfying himself that everyone was going about their business. A clicking noise made Amos turn. In front of him was a security automaton, identical to the one he had encountered the day before. Amos froze as the smooth glass face silently regarded him. For several seconds nothing happened. Despite the freezing cold, Amos felt a trickle of sweat down the back of his neck. He glanced up at the small hut and knew he had to do something to break the standoff. He put his thumb under his lapel and pushed the brass plaque out towards the automaton. The featureless glass face moved slightly and Amos was sure it was looking at the plaque.

  Without warning the iris on the automatons chest made a whirring sound and opened. Instinctively Amos took a couple of steps back. He had already seen the devastating effect the electrical charge the automaton could fire had on anything it hit. Amos expected the automaton to follow him but, it didn’t move. Instead, when he had put ten yards between them the iris whirred again and closed. He watched as the top part of the automaton slowly rotated away from him before the contraption scuttled towards the stables.

  Amos exhaled. A sigh of relief he thought as he watched his breath dissipate in the cold morning air. He knelt down and was about to tap the tobacco out of his pipe onto the cobbles when he realised his hands were trembling. Amos smiled. It wasn’t the cold and it certainly wasn’t fear, it was the thrill of the chase. An emotion he hadn’t felt for far too long.

  Amos emptied his pipe and made his way to the far side of the hut, out of view of the quayside. He licked his thumb and wiped some of the soot and grime from a small window and looked in. Amos squinted against the poor light in the hut, it looked as though Collins jacket and trousers had burn marks on them and his face was blackened. Amos manoeuvred himself to a small hole in the window to hear the conversation.

  “I wasn’t expecting him to be armed,” said Collins.

  “You were only supposed to scare them away, not kill them,” said Finch, hovering menacingly over Collins.

  “I just thought…”

  “You thought?” Finch bellowed, spittle landing on Collins’ face, “We don’t pay you to think. Remember our agreement and what’s going on out there. The last thing we need is more dead bodies and the docks full of coppers” Finch straightened up and tried to recover his composure. “There’s a time and a place for everything. There are other ways to ensure his compliance should he get too nosy.”

  “What if they get onto the docks and find something?” Collins was persistent. “What if Ashbury finds out?”

  “They won’t find anything and even if they did Lord Ashbury would be the least of our problems.”

  The sound of clicking and whirring made Amos forget about the conversation between Finch and Collins. He turned to see the automaton had returned from the stables and was scanning him, the head rotating from side to side in small, jerky movements. He was about to run when he was grabbed by the collar and thrown into the wall. Dazed, Amos looked around in time to find the man he had fought when he first came to the docks grab his arm and draw his fist back.

  Amos tried to evade the oncoming punch, but his assailant’s fist caught him above the eye, sending Amos reeling backwards, crashing into a number of empty, wooden barrels. Amos picked himself up and saw out of the corner of his eye Finch coming out of the hut. He was surprised when Finch leaned back on the wall of the hut and started to light a cigar but realised why when his adversary charged.

  The man’s hulking form lumbered towards Amos, who rolled towards him and into his shins. The man fell forward, straight into the same barrels Amos had just emerged from. Amos was about to confront Finch when a howl of fury from the giant made his blood run cold.

  The beast sprung to his feet with a speed and agility which belied his size. He twisted to face Amos, his arm lashing around like a whip. Amos managed to duck under the blow and, grabbing the man’s lapel he landed a hard punch into his side. It had no effect. His opponent launched another punch, connecting with Amos’s temple. He reeled back and before he could retaliate another punch landed on Amos’s face. The blow flattened his nose and blood spurted out in several directions. Another punch to the face caused his legs to give way and Amos fell to the floor next to the edge of the quay.

  Amos managed to raise his head to see Finch and a couple of others walking towards the quayside, laughing as they came. The giant stood over Amos and cracked his knuckles as he too started to laugh. At the same instant both Amos and his adversary heard the now familiar sound of whirring emanating from an automaton. Amos moved onto his side as the entire length of his body was scanned. The automaton switched its attention to the huge man standing on the quayside who started to laugh as the expressionless mechanoid whirred and clicked.

  His laugh began to falter as the hole in the automaton’s body began to spin making a dull, grinding noise. Within seconds the spin w
as a blur and the sound had become a high pitched whine. A loud crackle of static came from the main body and the giant looked down in confusion at Amos.

  Amos forced a weak smile onto his lips before showing him the brass plate he had ripped from his coat. The giant moved his hand to his lapel but as he did a loud burst of electrical energy burst from the main body of the automaton and burned into the huge man’s chest. There was a moment’s silence before he toppled over and into the water.

  Amos looked back towards the crowd who were now running towards him, all reaching into their coats or waistbands. He knew what was coming, but this time took a deep breath before rolling to the edge of the quay and over, following his assailant into the water.

  The pain from his nose combined with the freezing water almost convinced Amos that someone was pulling out his top set of teeth. He swam as deeply as he could as quickly as he could. His fears were confirmed when the first bullet passed just to his left, the density of the water slowing down the velocity. Satisfied he was safe from the gunfire, Amos swam under a nearby tug and surfaced on the far side from the docks. A small rowboat was moored to the tug and Amos climbed in, untied the rope and carefully rowed between the tugboats and steamers until he had made his way to the relative safety of the nearly abandoned London Docks.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Over the course of the morning Grace had steadily improved to the point where she was sat up in bed and laughing with Kate and the stories she was telling her. Both Kate and Jacob had eventually retired to their rooms and managed to get a couple of hours sleep before meeting up again in Jacob’s study. The search for the coconut yard had been interrupted the day before with only one left to investigate in the area. After eating a quickly prepared meal they agreed to get a cab and go to the last yard, if only to satisfy their curiosity.

  The cab stopped in the middle of a maze of terraced houses blackened with soot. From one grimy window, a woman wearing a filthy white apron looked down suspiciously on the new arrivals. Kate looked up to see a seemingly endless array of chimneys pouring out smoke into the gathering gloom and pulled her cape tightly around her.