The Time Corps Chronicles (Complete Series)

by Heather Blackwood

  A price agreed upon, the monkeys came on shore to load the crates while Hazel went into Celia’s house to collect whatever small amount of money she had agreed to take. Later, Celia waved to them from the pier as they sailed out to sea. Once they were near a reef, they dropped anchor for the night.

  A few low-ceilinged rooms were below deck, most of them used for cargo and one at the front for the few monkeys who did not like to sleep up in the rigging. At the stern of the ship was the captain’s quarters, which Neil shared with Hazel. She insisted on hanging a thick red and gold Chinese rug to bisect the space and called the two sides separate rooms. It was improper for an unmarried couple to share a room, and though Neil thought it was silly, he knew that Hazel did not. Each of them had a hammock, a trunk of their own things and a shelf with a brass railing around it to keep the items from falling off. Hazel’s shelf held a little black jackal toy and a few shells and oddments she liked. Neil’s held only books, which Hazel often borrowed.

  He changed into his nightshirt and climbed into his hammock which swayed with the movement of the ship. Three rows of square glass panes, half of which were in Neil’s room, gave a view behind the ship. From outside the ship, one could not see the window. It was one of many strange things about the ship.

  He watched the water glittering outside in the moonlight. He probably wouldn’t sleep much, and would spend most of the night reading, but for now, he was content to just relax. Hazel moved about in her room, and he heard the snick of the latch on her violin case. She no longer bothered to ask if it would bother him to play, because his answer was always the same.

  She tuned the violin for a minute and then played, and Neil closed his eyes, the sound of the violin mingling with the gentle low creaking of the hammock’s fastenings and the groan of the ship’s boards. After she played, Hazel turned off her lamp. Neil picked up a book. This ship could have been his, if he hadn’t given it to Hazel when it was still in the bottle. He would have been captain. The thought had its appeal, that was for certain, but in the end, he supposed it was for the best. Hazel loved the ship and their life at sea, and he wondered how long he would stay with her. He would like to stay a long time, maybe forever, but if Mr. March appeared to be on his trail, he would have to abandon her for her own safety. He would be a hunted man for the rest of his life.

  The Chinese carpet moved aside.

  “Are you awake?” she asked. She was in her nightdress and her long brown hair was loose over her shoulders.

  “Yeah.”

  “Can I talk to you?”

  He sat up. Hazel was still on her side of the curtain and she would not step onto his side. She wanted him to walk out on deck, or go into the cargo hold, but one was far more pleasant than the other, especially on a summer night such as this.

  “Sure,” he said and threw on his coat over his nightshirt. He didn’t bother with shoes. Hazel didn’t either, but he had learned not to stare at her hairless apelike feet. She was so sprightly and petite, and the feet were out of place on her body. But then, to her, his must seem deformed.

  They walked down the deck, toward the prow where the dragon head watched the sea in its silent vigil. The monkeys were all wrapped up in the rigging, some snuggled in groups and others by themselves. Slumbering and nonverbal, they were adorable, their little faces serene and sweet. He knew better than to try to pet one.

  Once at the foremost point of the deck, far from any monkeys, Hazel leaned on the railing and looked down into the water.

  “I want to find the Professor,” she said. “I don’t know how, but I want to try.”

  “That’s assuming they’re still in this world at all.”

  She sighed. “I wish the Professor had left more information. All I have to go on are guesses.”

  He leaned over beside her, their shoulders touching. The water sloshed against the side of the ship and a cold breeze blew in, making her shiver. Neil was not affected by it. Hazel leaned against him, just a little, and the wind caught her hair and blew a few strands across his face. He did not brush them away.

  “Your guesses tend to be pretty good,” he said. “Remember Norfolk?”

  They had barely missed being boarded off the coast of Virginia, and it was only Hazel’s gut instinct that had led them to flee just before being caught. She shook her head and smiled. “That was dumb luck.”

  “It still saved us.”

  “We’re developing a reputation,” she said. “People are noticing us. A few people have seen the ship, and we’ve had a few too many tight scrapes.”

  “Goes with the territory.”

  “You don’t mind it?”

  “Sailing the seas, wind in my face, doing as I please, getting out of scrapes alongside my best friend? I don’t mind it, no.”

  He saw her smile in the dark and he moved his hand to take hers, but she moved it away, just a few inches. It was a tiny rejection, and it hurt.

  “Do you know what bothers me, a little?” she said. “I barely miss home. I miss Mrs. Washington. And I miss my friend Cassandra. But I barely miss Mr. Ross. We were good friends, but I don’t miss him as much as I should.”

  “People come and people go, and sometimes it’s just time for them to go.” It sounded so stupid and trite when he said it, but he didn’t take it back.

  “And when will you go?”

  “Go? Did you want me to go?”

  “No. No. I just wasn’t sure how long you’d want to stay on my ship. I’m happy here, except I’d like to find the Professor. But once I find him and know he’s all right, I’ll head back to sea. I think I was meant for this ship.”

  “I’ll stay as long as you like,” he said. “Mr. De Leon is training me to take his place as bosun.”

  “He’ll be leaving us when their contract is up, won’t he?”

  “Yes, he wants to retire.”

  “I’ve been thinking,” she said. “About finding the Professor. We’re becoming too well-known, and we know the Professor is on land somewhere. Might not our efforts be better spent in looking for him in cities? Miss Sanchez was from Los Angeles. We could fold up the ship and hide her for a while.”

  “What about the crew?”

  “We’d have to take them home to Panama and sail back slowly, with just us two. We could do it.”

  “How long would it take?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll have to ask Mr. Escobar.”

  “Or you could ask me,” said a low, creaking voice from the front of the ship.

  “Oh, you’re up,” said Hazel. Apparently she was unsurprised that the dragon had spoken. It still looked out to sea, and Neil watched its lower jaw move as it spoke.

  “I would awaken if you asked me,” said Skidbladnir.

  “I thought you didn’t like me,” Hazel said.

  “I do not. I do not like a filthy skraeling as my captain. But I must follow my captain’s orders.”

  “Then I order you to tell me how long it would take to go through the Gulf of Mexico, overland through Panama and then to Los Angeles.”

  “Months,” the dragon said. “I cannot say precisely as there could be delays.”

  “Thanks,” said Hazel and then jerked her head toward the back of the ship. “She’s a real delight,” muttered Hazel as they climbed down the steps and opened the door to their quarters.

  “You’ve spoken to her before?”

  “Once, and she told me she slept most of the time, so I shouldn’t bother her. She was not at all happy to have me as captain, as you can tell. Thinks I’m a skraeling.”

  “And what is that?”

  “An Indian. But since I was born in America, I suppose she doesn’t make any distinction.”

  She glanced over her shoulder where her lamp still burned. It was wasteful to leave it on and use the oil
. Neil had a lamp on his own side of the room, though his night vision was so good that he only needed it for reading. But since he hardly slept, he did a lot of that.

  “Did you mean it?” she said. “That we’re best friends?”

  “Yeah.”

  She touched his hand, only for a moment. And then she was gone, and the light shining around the edges of the Chinese carpet went out.

  Chapter 26

  July 12, 1864

  Beaumont, Texas

  Hub world

  “Pirate Queen Eludes Local Law Enforcement,” read McCullen. “That’s the headline.”

  “Why are you reading that to me?” said Seamus, irritated at the interruption. He and McCullen shared a room in a hotel in Beaumont, Texas. With battles and blockades, they had been allowed to travel that far and no farther. They hoped the rail lines to Houston would open shortly, but it was a guessing game. McCullen had already made inquiries about getting a ship to take them through the gulf to Mexico, where they could reach Los Angeles from the south.

  Miss Sanchez occupied an adjoining room, and since she was of Mexican ancestry, he had returned to the old routine they had used in New Orleans of claiming she was Seamus’s Castilian cousin. McCullen, being white and Irish, easily passed for another cousin. It was unseemly for a single woman to be traveling with two men, but if they were all cousins and kept separate rooms, no one seemed to mind.

  “Did you plan on asking this pirate queen to take us to California by sea?” Seamus asked, only half paying attention.

  “Now, that’s not a bad idea,” said McCullen. “Her ship is reportedly very fast. But no, I merely found it amusing.”

  Seamus was struggling with his prototype of the prosthetic leg. Creating one was much more difficult than he had anticipated, and he was developing a healthy respect for the complexities of balance and musculature that the human body possessed. He was also becoming exceedingly frustrated.

  “You could amuse yourself by helping me fasten these joints together,” Seamus said.

  “And interrupt your fun? Never. You’re insufferable if you don’t have a project to keep you occupied.”

  “At least I’m being useful.”

  “I’m being useful as well. See here. This woman supposedly sails a ship with a dragon’s head and a red and white striped sail and has been smuggling escaped slaves north. I don’t see her attacking any ships though, so I’m not sure where they get the idea of calling her a pirate. Or a queen for that matter.”

  “Sells more newspaper copies,” Seamus said.

  “Most likely. But can you imagine? A ship like that in this day and age?”

  “The people in this world seem more superstitious than in my world,” said Seamus around a long pin he held in his teeth. “They believe in spirits and all sorts of things.”

  “I noticed that too.”

  “So they’re probably making this person and her ship out to be something fantastical.”

  Miss Sanchez knocked at the door and McCullen and Seamus called out simultaneously for her to enter.

  “Excellent news,” she said. “The train lines through Texas should be opened up by the end of this month!”

  Seamus set down the ankle joint with a sigh. It would be impossible to have a final, functional version in fewer than three weeks. But though he might not have a final version, he might have a working prototype by that time. He might be able to send it to one of the men at a nearby hospital who had lost his leg above the knee. It wouldn’t be pretty, true, but it would be a good sight better than hobbling around on a wooden leg or with no leg at all.

  “That is excellent news,” said McCullen.

  “Oh, yes. Excellent,” said Seamus and turned over the joint to work on the other side.

  “Have you ever considered a job in piracy, Miss Sanchez?” asked McCullen. “It seems that women in this time are able to make quite a fortune smuggling slaves. Smuggling the slaves out of, not into, the South.”

  “Very funny. But how would slave smuggling pay anything? The slaves don’t have money.”

  “A fine question! And one the article does not address.” He handed the paper to Miss Sanchez who read it over. “And you may wish to see this. While our boy Seamus has been fiddling with mechanical body parts, I have made progress on finding us a ship, in case the train lines do not open up as planned. Also, I have been working on the time map. I have a good number of coordinates worked out for this universe. You and I won’t need them, gods willing, but if there is any sort of difficulty, or if we can’t reach California in time, we may find them of value.”

  “Don’t even say that!” cried Miss Sanchez. “We’re getting to California, and we’re both going home.”

  The sharpness of her voice made Seamus glance up. Miss Sanchez was looking at McCullen’s notebook, but he knew she was doing it out of courtesy. The numbers wouldn’t mean much to anyone but McCullen and himself. Once they had clear coordinates and could list the dial settings, then the information would be useful to others. She handed the notebook and the newspaper back to McCullen and then came over to see what Seamus was doing.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll get you home, lass,” he said. “Come what may.”

  Chapter 27

  July 18, 1864

  Savannah, Georgia

  Hub world

  Hazel lost her footing on a loose section of earth and fell forward, knees and palms scraping the ground. She froze and listened. Nothing. The moon was new, and it was so dark that without a lantern, it was impossible to see much of anything. Mr. Escobar and Mr. Grey were not having as much trouble. Mr. Escobar was close to the ground to begin with and had keen eyesight. Mr. Grey had excellent night vision as well.

  She gasped when a person loomed in front of her and reached out, but then realized it was Mr. Grey. He was so silent on his feet that she felt like a lumbering oaf in comparison. She took his hand and allowed him to help her up, then brushed the dirt from her clothing and hands.

  Mr. Grey had insisted that she start calling him Neil. He had not made any sort of fuss over it previously, but he said that using his surname had an element of formality that he did not like, especially from a friend. The crew still called him Mr. Grey, of course, but Hazel was learning to adapt. If she went about in men’s clothing, then keeping to the formality of names was indeed unnecessary. He, in turn, called her Hazel except when addressing her in front of the crew when she was Captain Dubois.

  He leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “Over that hill.” He pointed.

  She knew they would find Alma and the “conductor” who had brought her there in an abandoned cabin. They would take the young woman to a remote part of the coast seven miles south of Savannah. Once on the beach, Hazel would remove the folded cloth that was Skidbladnir from its place in her pocket. She had decided not to leave the ship docked, and though the monkeys could be folded up with the ship, all of them were leery of being trapped again. Hazel had agreed to let them have a few hours of shore leave to cavort in the wilderness, smoke, play dice or cards or simply relax. Once Alma and the crew were aboard, they would set sail for Long Island.

  They crested the hill and saw the little cabin, a dim light glowing in the front room. Of course, the place probably only had one room, but the light appeared to be near the front window. It had no glass panes, as those were costly, but had slatted wooden shutters through which small horizontal bars of light shone forth.

  “Shouldn’t that light be off?” Hazel whispered. She did it so softly, that most people would not have been able to hear her, but she knew Mr. Escobar and Neil would. Most of the time when they approached a “station” the lights were off and it appeared to be abandoned. If any random person came by, they would pass by, none the wiser.

  “Perhaps it’s a new conductor,” whispered Mr. Grey. “Hold on.” He
spun around, and Mr. Escobar did the same. Hazel had heard nothing, but she turned with them.

  A line of lights appeared in the distance, then extended around them, the flames of lanterns being lit one by one. Within moments, men began to shout.

  “Soldiers,” growled Mr. Escobar.

  Neil grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the cabin, away from the advancing soldiers who came running forward, lights bobbing. But the door of the cabin crashed open and three more soldiers emerged.

  “This way,” Neil said and pulled her in the direction of the only dark part of the landscape, a copse of trees. But three lights bloomed there also. They were completely surrounded.

  “The ship!” cried Mr. Escobar, either oblivious to the fact that regular people would hear him speaking, or else not caring. “Give me the ship. I’ll see to its safety.”

  Hazel pulled out the folded cloth and gave it to him. He tucked it into an inner pocket of his vest and then turned, teeth bared at the jumping lights of the advancing men.

  “Run, Mr. Escobar!” Hazel said.

  “In good time,” he said, and if she had not known better, she would have thought he was smiling. “For now, I stay with my captain.”

  “I’ll get as many as I can,” said Neil. “You run. Okay?”

  “I’m not going to leave you behind,” she said.

  “We’ll both get arrested if you don’t. Now at the first chance, go!”

  But the men had already advanced too far, and even if they had run at the first indication of trouble, it would have been too late. The lanterns were closer, showing a good twenty men, most with muskets. Why so many? There were only three of them and one, to their eyes, was nothing more than a pet monkey.

  Neil broke toward a smaller group, only three men, and Hazel watched in amazement as two of them fell within moments and the third bent over double. Their compatriots rushed Neil, and he had two more on the ground before three others managed to hold him for a few moments. Mr. Escobar leapt forward, letting out an unholy shriek, and savaged the largest man’s arm and neck. Hazel, refusing to allow her fear to petrify her, grabbed onto the man Mr. Escobar was attacking, kicking at the back of his knees until he lost his balance and crashed to the ground.