“Say what you will Mr. Campbell,” she said, determination in her voice, “but a few months from now when the Redcoats are handing over their swords you’ll wish you had been there to earn it with the rest of them.”
Campbell felt the urge to turn to the girl and berate her. He wanted to wake her up from her little fantasy and tell her what the future held in store for her countrymen’s dreams of glory and independence. Partially because of the horrors of war and partially because he was pissed at the prospect of his country not existing. He probably would have too if he hadn’t been distracted by what he saw in the clearing smoke.
Across the river the muskets had stopped firing and the gun smoke had cleared and there standing amidst the soldiers looking across at them, was Hans Richter. He was the man in the pristine uniform, commanding the young soldiers through their drill. A shining, polished saber was in his hand and he lifted, the hilt in front of his face, it in salute to Mary who gave him a smile and a wave in return.
“I’ll have to bid you adieu, my lady,” Campbell said with a bow and began a hasty retreat. He didn’t know if Richter had recognized him but he couldn’t risk it, not yet. This was not the time, nor the place, to confront him. He needed time to think out his strategy.
Mary called something after him as he walked away but he ignored it and kept facing forward. He walked between a few houses to the next street over and made a left. Near the waterfront on the north end of the peninsula on which the town sat there was a place called the Green Dragon Tavern which had rooms and that was where he planned to stay until he figured out what to do about Richter. He made his way there with relative haste, keeping his head down and trying not to gather any attention.
When he reached the inn he found that there were a few vacancies and he had no trouble getting a room. It was a little less expensive than he had been anticipating, which relieved him a little since he didn’t have much money at this point. He paid in advance for three nights, hoping he wouldn’t need more than that.
The room was little more than four walls and an uncomfortable-looking bed, but after the cabin on the ship it seemed like paradise. He had his duffel bag with him. It was canvas and didn’t look out of place enough to draw any attention. He needed something to carry his things in since he wasn’t really willing to loose any of them. There was a little gold left in his pouch, along with the time machine, his notebooks, a couple knick-knacks he wanted to bring home with him from his travels, and what money he had left from the thirties, fifties and ancient Rome. He stuffed the bag under the bed, kept the pouch with him and headed over to the tavern to get a drink. He needed to think.
There was a wooden bar at one end of the large room where a man was serving drinks, but all the patrons were all seated at various tables throughout the place. A staircase in the back led to the second story, where the Sons of Liberty held their secret meetings prior to the Declaration of Independence.
Campbell felt a thrill that almost made him forget his problems for a moment as he walked in. This was where the Boston tea party was planned. This was the place where Paul Revere started his famous midnight ride a year ago, warning the locals of the British landing and raising the minutemen to prepare for battle.
He ordered a pint of ale and sat down at an empty table. He spent the next few minutes scanning the room and just soaking in the atmosphere. He was here for a purpose but that didn’t have to stop him from taking delight in where and when he was. He was an archaeologist after all.
Behind the bar there was a rack of long clay tavern pipes and the barkeep had a jar of tobacco on the counter. Campbell had asked for a pipe and for a few pennies he got a full bowl and a light and he was starting to enjoy himself a bit. It didn’t take him long to pin the short, pudgy, bespectacled man in the corner as Benjamin Franklin and his tall white-wigged companion as Samuel Adams. He wished he was close enough to hear what they were saying, but they were speaking quietly.
Making friends with those two would probably be helpful in getting in with the higher ups of the army and stopping Richter, he thought. But, he couldn’t very well just walk right up to Ben Franklin and say, ‘hey I’m from the future, here’s the deal’. No, he was probably going to have to do this one on his own.
Alright, he thought, what do I do? I suppose the easiest way to stop the Nazi shithead is just to kill him. I could try to get him into the woods and shoot him, and then just immediately travel back to 2011 and everything should be ok, right? Well, that would require getting a gun. I could stab him but I don’t really think I could stab someone to death, and how would I get that close to him anyway? If I’m that close to him maybe I can just activate the machine and take him with me to the future, then he wouldn’t have a chance to screw anything up back in this time. But then I would have brought a Nazi mad scientist into the future and who knows what kind of a mess that would cause.
Three pints and an hour later he had decided shooting the guy was the best way to go. Now he needed to get a hold of a gun, preferably a pistol, and somehow get Richter into the woods.
“Is this seat taken?” Campbell heard a voice say. He looked up and saw Mary standing on the other side of the table, resting one hand on the back of a chair and holding a goblet of wine in the other.
“Um,” he said. He had no idea to react to this and before he came up with anything she had pulled the chair out.
She sat down, set her wine in front of her and leaned forward on crossed arms, staring into his eyes.
“Now what on earth made you run off in such a hurry, Mr. Campbell?”
“I, uh, had some, uh, urgent business to attend to,” he stammered out.
“I see. Would that be the same business that brought you in to Boston on an imaginary ship two weeks ago?” She was doing that sensual biting her lower lip thing again and he was having trouble thinking up an answer.
“Why are you really here Mr. Campbell? And why did you run when you saw my fiancé?”
“Your fiancé?” Her showing up here caught him off guard, but that one really threw him for a loop.
“Colonel Richter, the man you were watching by the river.”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, ma’am. I was merely observing a military drill,” he recovered.
“Uh, huh,” she uttered, clearly believing there was more to his story. “Well, he is a fine man and a fine soldier. You know he was a lieutenant in the German army?”
“You don’t say,” Campbell replied, his tone giving something away.
“Does he have something to do with your mysterious appearance?” she asked.
“I’m sorry ma’am, but I really am rather busy.”
“Obviously. Drinking by yourself in a tavern in the middle of the day is certainly rather taxing work.”
“Yes,” he replied, “and I’ve nearly a pint left to go so you’d best leave me to it.”
Mary stood up and drained the rest of her wine.
“I will figure out what you’re up to Mr. Campbell,” she said, her expression a mix of curiosity and mischief. “I assume I’ll be seeing you at the ball this evening?”
“I thought you hated balls Ms. Richter,” he answered. “And besides, I haven’t received an invitation.”
“It’s still McCormick for the moment, Mr. Campbell.” The curiosity had left her face, leaving just the look of mischief. “And I’ll make sure you’re on the guest list.”
Campbell watched the edges of her skirt swirl around her legs as she walked out the door. When she was gone he sat back in his chair and took a long sip of his ale.
“Now, what am I going to wear?” he said to himself.
The walls of the ballroom were decorated with crimson curtains and golden weaved tapestries. Long tables lined the edges of the hall and they were topped with all types of food piled onto silver plates. Campbell suddenly felt very underdressed.
As he walked in there was a man next to the entrance who announced his arrival as John Campbell. There were about
fifty people in the hall and every one turned to look at him, in his brown trousers and relatively cheap frock coat, with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. How could they let a vagabond-looking guy like that in?
He gave a little smile and a nod and walked straight for the end of the buffet table which was stacked with bottles of rum and wine. A Negro waiter, most likely a slave, was standing by the bottles and when Campbell approached he offered to fill a glass. Campbell chose a bottle of wine at random and the waiter poured him a tall glass. Tastes alright, he thought to himself. Campbell wasn’t much of a wine guy.
He stood there for a few minutes looking around the room. Most of the people in attendance were obviously well to do. There were elaborate gowns in vibrant colors adorning plump ladies. The men were dressed in whites and blues, many of them in colonial military uniforms, and most of them stood to one side of the hall. He spotted Franklin and Adams among them.
The people were all talking in small groups here and there. There was a band setting up on a raised area that lined one side of the hall. Campbell tried to spot anyone else he may recognize from the history books but he was drawing blanks. He downed his wine and held out the glass to be refilled.
“So,” Campbell said to the waiter, “slavery. That’s gotta suck.” He was never much of a conversationalist.
The man just gave him a look somewhere between anger and curiosity. Campbell turned around and went back to watching the crowd. As he turned he almost bumped into Mary, who had just walked up with another young girl.
“You actually came,” she said after taking a glass of wine from the waiter. “I’m a little surprised they let you in.”
“My name was on the guest list,” he replied.
“Yes, but looking like that?”
“I didn’t know the dress code.”
“Well, I’m glad you came Mister Campbell,” she with a little smile. Then she gestured to the young lady with her and said, “This is Elizabeth. Elizabeth, Mister Campbell. He’s from out of town.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mister Campbell,” the young lady said, and gave a curtsy. She had a pretty smile, Campbell thought.
“Where are you visiting from, Mister Campbell,” Elizabeth asked.
“He hasn’t said,” Mary interjected.
“Somewhere far away,” Campbell said. He tried to sound flirty, but it just came out as though he was trying to hide something.
“Come Elizabeth,” a young man said as he walked over and took Elizabeth’s arm. “The dance is starting.”
The man looked as though he couldn’t have been more than sixteen and he was a bit shorter than the girl. She smiled, and even giggled a little when he led her away.
“It seems I must be going,” Elizabeth said, waving as the boy dragged her away.
“Thank god,” Mary said when her friend was out of earshot.
“You don’t like the girl?” Campbell asked. “You seemed chummy.”
“I love Elizabeth to death,” Mary answered. “But she can be almost as boring as these dreadful balls sometimes. I’m glad she left me with someone entertaining to talk to.”
“But what will people say when they see you chatting alone with some underdressed commoner,” he said with a mocking sarcasm.
“There is nothing common about you, Mister Campbell,” she was still smiling and he thought she might be trying to flirt with him.
“Like I said before Miss McCormick, call me John,” he said, returning her smile.
“Then I’m Mary to you.”
Just then the band started to play. There twenty musicians, most of them with string instruments and one on the piano, and they began playing a lively tune. All the people in the hall gathered around the open space in front of the raised platform, which seemed to be intended as a dance floor. A dozen men lined up on one side of the floor, facing a dozen women and they all bowed to each other. Elizabeth was on the far side, across from the boy, though most of the dancers seemed much older.
“Would you care to dance, John?” Mary said, holding her elbow out to him.
“I’m afraid I don’t know the steps,” he replied.
“It’s simple. Just do what the other men do.”
“Right, simple. And you really want to be seen dancing with me, like this?” he was trying desperately to get out of this.
“Certainly,” she said, smiling brighter. “It would drive my father absolutely mad.”
Well crap, he thought to himself, rolling his eyes a bit as she dragged him by the arm to the dance floor. He did find it amusing though, him in his cheap clothes being dragged along through this gathering of high society by this beautiful young woman in her flowing blue silk dress that made him look even less worthy.
She stopped at the end of the line of ladies and half flung him to the other side. He barely managed to compose himself when the lines started to move. The men stepped in towards the ladies, Campbell half a step behind, then back. The ladies copied them. Then the lines moved towards each other, the ladies took the men’s arms and the couples twisted around each other. Mary was hiding a chuckle at Campbell’s missteps as he struggled to keep up.
When the lines formed again the men were on the opposite side and the couple on the other end from Campbell and Mary stepped to the center, took each other’s hands and side stepped all the way to the other end. Then the next couple did the same, then the next couple. When it was Campbell and Mary’s turn she took his arms and he bumped into her and the two nearly fell to the ground but recovered. Both of them were giggling as they slipped back into their places.
The dance continued for five minutes or so, the men and women weaving and bowing and spinning and the whole time the two of them never lost eye contact. The dance ended with a bow and a curtsy and a few people in the watching crowd clapped, though it felt like the applause should have been much more enthusiastic.
Mary leaned against Campbell’s arm as they walked back to the wine table laughing together. Everyone they passed as they walked gave them evil or disgusted looks, or simply turned away. As they approached the table a tall man blocked their path. He was dressed in a dark blue coat trimmed with white, a white powdered wig adorned his head and he wore a highly polished pair of buckled shoes.
“Good evening doctor Campbell,” Hans Richter said. He wasn’t smiling.
The laughing stopped instantly and Campbell stood up straight and looked Richter clear in the eye. The man had aged a bit since they last met, not much but you could see it.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Campbell said.
“Hello darling,” Mary grabbed Richter’s arm and stepped up on her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek.
“You look lovely my dear,” he said to her, and then looked back up at Campbell. “You, however, shouldn’t be here.”
“Well, I know I’m a little underdressed,” Campbell said, looking down at his clothes.
“I wasn’t referring to your clothing, Doctor.”
“You’re a doctor, John?” Mary chimed in.
“A professor,” Campbell said to Mary, then back to Richter, “And I belong here just as much as you do, Hans. Which, by the way is, uh, how?”
“It would seem,” That stern look never left Richter’s face. “That you and I have some things to discuss.”
A dozen scenarios were running through Campbell’s head. He had worked out a plan to kill this man to put history right again, but now that he was talking to him face to face he was questioning himself. Could he really do it?
Just then a young man in a continental army uniform ran up to Richter and stood at attention.
“The patrol has found something you need to see, sir,” the young man said. He was panting a little, catching his breath.
“We’ll continue this soon, Doctor Campbell,” Richter said, then turned and followed the young soldier out of the hall in a hurry.
Saved by the bell, Campbell thought, and he gave a little sigh. He turned back to the waiter and picked up a wine
glass from the table and held it out. The waiter filled the glass, which Campbell drained in one swallow. He held the glass out again.
“What, pray, was that all about, then?” Mary was staring at him, her arms crossed.
Campbell waited until he had finished his second glass to answer. “Would you care to take a walk with me?”
“I don’t know, Doctor,” she put an emphasis on Doctor. “Is that really a good idea? Going on a private walk with a stranger who is on some form of odd terms with my soon to be husband?”
“You have a point. But I assure you, I am not the bad guy here,” he said as he took the bottle from the waiter and started to walk towards the door. Mary followed close behind.
There were five blue uniformed soldiers standing in a circle in the middle of the woods. They were looking down at something in the grass as Richter and the other young soldier walked up. The men were all armed with flintlock muskets and one of them had a saber hanging from his belt.
The men looked up as Richter approached and the older man, the one with the saber, walked over to meet him.
“Colonel,” the man said. “We’ve found something odd. The boys thought it might be an artillery blast or something, but it doesn’t look like any artillery I’ve ever seen.”
“Show me lieutenant,” Richter said.
Richter waved the men away as they got closer. What they had been staring at was a scorch mark. It was in the shape of a circle, a few yards wide. The grass was burnt and some of the sand below it turned to glass. There was a similar scorch mark in a tree only a few feet away.
“No British arms did this, lieutenant,” Richter told his companion. “Did you find anything else out of the ordinary?”
“No, sir, just this.”
So that’s it, Richter thought to himself. Campbell has a device just like mine. And his machine is obviously functional.
“Do have any idea of what it is?” the soldier asked.
“I need to get back to the ball gentlemen,” he said to the soldiers. “Keep your eyes peeled for anything else that seems odd.”
Out of Time: A story of archaeology... sort of Page 11