The Witch Watch

by Shamus Young

  “Maybe he came down after us,” Simon said worriedly.

  “That would be very foolish, and is therefore very likely. I don’t know what we should do if that’s the case,” she sighed. “Well, we shouldn’t stand here waiting for the sea to rise up over our heads. He might be gone, he might appear later, but we need to find our own way off Callisto.”

  The Callisto held roughly eighty first-class passengers, and the lifeboats had been offered to those people before the other passengers were allowed out of steerage. The crew was directing the passengers to allow women and children on first, followed by couples, followed by single men. The problem was that this was the opposite of the order in which the rooms were arranged. Men were bunked closest to the doors, while women were furthest in. The allowance for married couples before single men was unexpected, and created a sudden new marriage economy where men were offering valuables to shrewd women if they would agree to present themselves as wives. A great many arguments and a great deal of haggling was going on just a few steps from the boat loading. The crewmen noticed the sudden inflation of married folks, but they couldn’t afford to stop loading in order to sort things properly.

  “We’re close to shore,” Simon noted hopefully. There was enough light that they could see the coast just a few miles away.

  Alice glanced over the side of Callisto. The sea seemed alarmingly close. The ship shook and groaned with unseen damage as water filled her belly and she was pulled inevitably towards the bottom.

  “The coast is near, but the ocean is closer still. There are so many people here. I don’t know that we’ll all find boats before Callisto falls.” Her voice was still weak. The cold water and exertion had taken their toll on both of them.

  They walked along the tilting deck, watching the boats being loaded. Alice, still dizzy for her ordeal, stumbled for a moment. Simon caught her. As she stood again, she noticed streaks of red in the water rolling aft.

  “Was someone hurt?” she asked as she steadied herself.

  “Killed,” came a voice from behind. They turned, and found Armstrong on the deck. He looked very out of place outside of his engine room. He continued, “Three or four men came out on deck before the evacuation had even begun. Helped themselves to a lifeboat. One of the watchmen tried to stop them, and got a knife in the belly.

  “What did they look like?” Alice blurted out.

  “It was dark. Witnesses only saw them at a distance. They were men, and not crewmen, but that’s all we know. And if they didn’t have anything to do with this sabotage, then I’m the queen,” Armstrong looked towards the shore. Callisto was now adrift and had turned so that her bow pointed north. Armstrong spoke bitterly, “Their boat will reach shore first, before news of them.” He looked like he might weep.

  Simon actually found it very frightening to see a strong man reduced to tears. He had no idea how to act. It seemed rude to ignore it, but offering comfort would seem like an insult. He took a step away and averted his eyes.

  “But look at me, going on about those villains. We need to get the two of you on a lifeboat.”

  The crowd was thinning. Most of those remaining were single men who weren’t able to bargain for a temporary wife.

  “First-class passengers here!” Armstrong boomed to the officer loading the boats. This drew resentful looks from the remaining passengers.

  “No,” Alice pleaded, “I don’t think it would be fair to-”

  “Married, first-class passengers here!” he shouted. Alice opened her mouth to protest but he again shouted her down, “Young, married, injured, first-class passengers of exceptional character here!”

  The crowd parted more willingly at this, and Alice and Simon were more or less shamed into their seats. They huddled together and tried to warm themselves as the boat was loaded. As the lifeboat was lowered, Simon caught sight of the crewmen working. Their faces were not fearful like those of the passengers, but empty. These were faces without hope. Some of these men were going down with the ship, and they knew it.

  It took another half hour for Callisto to succumb to the sea. Her list grew worse near the end, and the few people left on deck were dumped into the Atlantic. The ship groaned as it rolled sideways, and there was a rumble as her contents shifted inside of her doomed belly. Soon there were loud bangs as parts of the ship broke under the unnatural stress. Suddenly there were two muffled explosions, which startled everyone in the lifeboat.

  Alice looked at Simon, “The hull is probably twisting under the strain. This might wrench open doors on the lower decks.” She dared not say more in front of the other passengers, who didn’t know what to make of her remark.

  Gilbert heard the cargo sliding around below him. He took this to mean that the ship had begun listing, which he couldn’t feel because he was hanging from the ceiling in a net. He could see a tiny bit. The sun was coming up, and a narrow line of daylight slipped through the closed cargo door overhead.

  The cargo was comprised mostly of immense burlap sacks and wooden boxes, but there was also a mix of raw building materials and a section of wooden barrels. The goods had been tied down, but as the ship tilted these ropes began to snap. Occasionally the moving cargo would strike the rope that held him up, and his net would be jerked around.

  His rope-gnawing project had finally produced some slight progress. He was nearly through the first rope. He chewed more vigorously as he neared the end, and finally his teeth stripped away the last few strands of the rope in front of his face. Since he was still cradled in the net face-first, the net opened slightly as he did this, and his head fell through. The hole was too small to allow his shoulders to pass, and now his mouth was too far from the net to continue gnawing.

  After another long stretch of time spent squirming and cursing, he heard the bubbling of water below. The cargo began to move around more freely, and soon there was an avalanche of tumbling goods. His net was yanked violently. A rope snapped, and suddenly he found himself falling.

  He landed with a splash in a swamp of debris, seawater, oil, floating papers, and chunks of shattered containers. The ship was rolling quickly now. He wrestled with the net and the tumbling cargo, narrowly managing to escape being crushed by a wall of water-logged sacks. Once he was free, he spent several minutes trying to climb over the cargo faster than it was falling on him. He escaped to the upper side of the room, away from the water.

  The screaming and yelling had stopped. Maybe the ship had been evacuated. Maybe people were just holding their breath in anticipation of the coming swim.

  The roll continued, and The Callisto went fully sideways. There were more explosions. The immense cargo doors burst open and the Atlantic flowed in. For a moment the space was lit with brilliant daylight, and then the room rapidly grew dark as the ocean swallowed everything.

  Once the crushing flow of water relented, Gilbert found himself floating in the middle of the room. Everything was eerily quiet now. To his surprise, rivulets of tiny bubbles were flowing out of the cracks in his skin. They came out of his clothes, and out of his face. The air that had rested beneath his dead skin was now escaping with urgency. He hovered for a moment, watching the sparkling flow and marveling at the sudden end of the furious tumult The Callisto had created in her death throes. The bubbles were a strange and alarming sight, and produced a mild tickling sensation.

  Swimming vigorously, Gilbert passed through the yawning doors and escaped the hold, but he found he was not floating as he expected. He swam for the surface, but it grew ever more remote and dark. He was no more buoyant than the iron ship, and he was destined for the same grave.

  He fought fiercely against gravity, waving his arms as fast as they could move. He was falling more slowly than The Callisto, but he was still falling.

  The sea itself shook when The Callisto struck bottom. There was a roar so loud that it seemed to shove him away. A cloud of silt blossomed. It was pitch black against the deep blue around him. Helplessly, he plunged into the expanding cloud and cam
e to rest at the bottom of the Atlantic.

  Mr. Brooks,

  Once again I must thank you for your continuing support. I’m afraid I must beg a special favor of you.

  Over the past three or four years, we’ve collected an unusually high number of contraband books and sorcery supplies. Over time, our investigation has revealed a curious pattern. A notable portion of these items were in the hands of people - mostly commoners - who had recently had dealings with Viscount Mordaunt of Ravenstead, or who had been located somewhere near Ravenstead when captured.

  Although it is not widely known, I am aware of the special friendship that exists between Lord Mordaunt and Albert Prince-Consort. I am not making any accusations against the viscount, but the fact remains that I simply must speak with the man in order to continue my investigation. I admit that I have ignored this matter longer than I should have, hoping to discover some other thread that would lead us away from Ravenstead. I do not wish to make trouble for a man who is a dear friend of both yourself and the prince.

  Would you be willing to speak to His Lordship on my behalf, for the purpose of arranging a meeting? Please let him know that I would meet with him privately, without the usual military escort. I understand that my men can be imposing, and their presence can draw unwanted attention. It’s entirely possible that this mischief is the work of someone in his employ, or some other party only loosely connected with Ravenstead.

  In friendship,

  Sir Donovan White

  Director, Ministry of Ethereal Affairs

  September 2, 1882

  Woodbridge

  VII

  Alice barked at the passengers to disembark from the boat as she and Simon struggled to haul it onto the beach proper. The boat was filled mostly with women, who seemed absolutely oblivious as to what they should be doing and who were very reluctant to put their feet in the ocean. Perhaps they would have been content to sit in the boat as Alice and Simon pulled it overland all the way to New York. Even when Callisto sank, many of the women sat with their bags in their laps with their eyes transfixed on the shore, waiting for someone to take them there. It took a great deal of cajoling to find enough hands to put all of the oars to use.

  Callisto had fallen just beyond the mouth of the Hudson River, some three miles east of the barren coast where Alice and Simon had landed. A small number of the boats seemed to be of a mind to sail upriver to the port, which would be more than double that distance. Alice shielded her eyes with one hand and looked out into the brilliant sunrise. She could see a few boats traversing the cold glittering waves, heading north. The rest of the boats were heading for this spot. The ship had carried thirty or forty lifeboats, with a capacity of about thirty passengers each. Alice cursed herself for not talking a more careful count. She was curious how many had gone down with the ship.

  They were on a sandy bit of coast. There were already perhaps a dozen or so boats scattered along the beach, extending for about a mile north and south. Some of the passengers had set out for the city the moment they disembarked. Others paced up and down the beach, hoping to reunite with friends or relatives. Others looked out to the open sea and wept quietly.

  “Do we have tools for making a fire?” Simon asked quietly.

  “None besides witchcraft,” Alice replied in a whisper. “But I desperately need to warm myself. We’ve been soaking wet for almost three hours. Never a good idea this late in October.”

  They walked a bit inland. The trees were sparse, but they managed to find a few handfuls of leaves and sticks. They brought these back to the beach and arranged them into a pile.

  “Simon, would you shield my fire with your jacket so the wind doesn’t put it out?” Alice asked innocently.

  Simon understood her meaning and took off his jacket. He held it so that nobody could see how the fire was being created. Alice pantomimed lighting a fire with tools and then set the leaves to burning with a flash of wizard flame. The burst was stronger than she intended, and she set Simon’s jacket on fire.

  “I’m so sorry!” she cried.

  Simon dropped it in a panic, tried to pick it up again, dropped it again, and then came to his senses and kicked sand over it. He lifted it up to see that the garment was ruined. He threw it onto the fire with a sigh.

  Alice was even weaker after making the fire, and she lay down on the beach as close to the flames as she dared. Simon rubbed his hands back to life over the flames. The heat was invigorating, and the color began returning to their faces.

  The fire began to burn low, much to the disappointment of the people who had gathered to share the warmth. Finally Simon walked down the beach and began pulling on their lifeboat. The weight was too much for him alone, but a few of the other passengers saw his thinking and joined him. They pulled the boat over the fire and let the flames lick at its hull. Eventually it caught, and grew into an immense blaze. Alice was obliged to lift herself and move further back.

  The fire quickly became a beacon and a meeting place for new arrivals. People seemed to shake off the terror of the morning as they warmed themselves. Soon they began talking and making plans. For a few hours the normal class divisions were eased slightly, and they related to each other as peers from the common class of people who had not drowned that morning.

  The last of the lifeboats rolled in. Groups that were reunited headed north. Those that were still missing members continued standing on the beach, hoping against hope. By late morning news of the sinking had reached the city, and ships had come out to offer help. They sailed around where Callisto had vanished. Although it was impossible to tell at this distance, Alice hoped they were rescuing those who hadn’t made it to the lifeboats in time.

  “Perhaps we should head inland and try to stop the headmaster ourselves,” suggested Simon. “I know we don’t have much of a chance against them without Gilbert, but I’d like to try. For his sake.”

  “I’m not against it,” said Alice, “But he never told us how to find his family. I don’t even know where to begin looking. We have no money. The purse was in our room, and that was taken.”

  Afternoon came and the beach was largely cleared. They burned more boats to keep warm. The heavy rains for the last few days had visited here as well, and there was a good bit of fresh water to be found a ways inland.

  “We should go and find food,” Alice suggested. “We need to keep our strength up.”

  “I know,” said Simon. “But I don’t feel like eating.”

  The sun set and the rescue ships stopped their circling to return north. The last few stragglers left the fire and headed for the city. Alice and Simon had silently agreed that this would be the last boat on the fire, and when it burned down they would follow. They talked about how they might earn money to keep themselves fed. Neither one had many skills that they might market to decent people. Alice spoke of working as a mechanic or perhaps repairing watches, but it seemed more a dream than a plan. Few people would be inclined to hire a young woman with no tools. Again they fell silent.

  As the fire ran low they gathered themselves and prepared to head for the city. Simon gave one last look out over the ocean.

  “Look!” he shouted.

  A small black shape was rising out of the water. Its movements were slow and lurching. As it drew near the fire they could see the shape of a man.

  “Gilbert!” Alice shouted.

  There was no answer. Instead Gilbert drew close to the fire and gargled at them. His movements were plodding, as if he was carrying a great weight. He seemed to have swelled. He leaned forward and expelled a great deal of seawater. More was flowing from the cracks in his skin. He looked like a sopping wet sponge, suddenly squeezed. After more gurgling and coughing, he seemed to settle down.

  “I’m glad the fire belonged to you,” he said at last. There was a still a wet, bubbling quality to his voice. “I wasn’t sure who I would find when I came out of the water.”

  “Gilbert!” Alice said again. “We’ve stood here all day expect
ing some sign of you, and now that I see you I’m still shocked. I take it you walked along the bottom?”

  “I did,” he admitted. “The bottom of the ocean is a bewildering place. I was most afraid of losing my bearings and heading out to sea. Where are we?” Gilbert looked anxiously over the water as he said this.

  “Richmond County, according to the other passengers,” Simon answered.

  Gilbert nodded, “Good. We’re close to New Jersey, where Mother lives. If the ship had gone down just a bit further north, we would have wound up on the other side of the river in Brooklyn City.”

  “Gilbert,” Alice said gently, “The headmaster was probably one of the first people ashore. He’s had all day to...”

  “I know,” Gilbert said curtly. “I’ve had nothing to do all day but crawl along the ocean floor and dream of revenge.”

  Gilbert stormed off to the west. Alice and Simon followed, doing their best not to stumble in the dark. Along the way he explained how he’d been goaded into leaving their room and chasing after Soot.

  “That was very foolish of you,” said Alice. Her eyes were on the ground in front of her. It was soft and grassy, but also uneven and seasoned with stones. She was weary and would have found keeping pace with Gilbert to be a challenge even on the open road. Here in the dark it was both exhausting and dangerous.

  “I don’t think so,” he said, “I was under the impression that they wouldn’t take any action against me. I thought they wanted to take me alive, as it were. For the vigor.”

  “I’m not talking about our foes. I’m talking about the passengers. What would people think when they saw a supposedly old man sprinting all over the ship and getting into brawls? People were already curious about you in your mysterious hood.”

  “Yes, that was foolish,” he grumbled.

  They entered a small village called Grasmere.