TimeTravel Adventures of The 1800 Club [Book 12]

by Robert P McAuley

  “I’m glad you said that as I was going to tell you that I would never kill someone.”

  With a nod Bill added, “The reason for the rule is that anyone you might meet back in time has by now had a life of their own which might include a wife and children all of which could have become such an asset to the world that we must not harm them.”

  “Believe me Bill, I understand. Just to go back and be accepted as just an ordinary trooper is enough for me.”

  “And save the general,” added Bill quickly.

  “Of course.”

  Matt stepped forward and handed Dave a leather billfold. “Inside, sir, you will find authentic identification papers plus two hundred dollars and there are another two hundred sewn into your belt for an emergency.”

  “Phew! That’s a lot of money in 1864.”

  Bill nodded, “We found that there are times that extra money can overcome an obstacle.”

  “As for transportation,” said Matt as he opened a manila envelope, “here is a ticket for the New Jersey Rail Road System which runs military trains from New Jersey to Washington. And at 7 p.m. every day there is a military train that leaves Washington’s Union Station and goes as far south as the Union occupied lines allow. With the war it’s usually a three-day trip and you just need to show your identification papers to hop a ride. It’s at the end of the line that you must hop a lift on a supply wagon going south to catch up with General Sherman’s forces.”

  Dave nodded, “I figure that I’ll need five days once I meet Captain Merrill to completely gain his trust. And,” he added holding up the maps, “with these maps I have to believe that I’ll gain it.”

  “That’s what I want to hear,” said Bill as he stood and went to his desk. He handed Dave the hairbrush that every time traveler gets before a mission. “Dave, this is a communicator. Press down,” he said as he showed him, “and twist and a screen and keyboard pop up. Type in the password, which is SAMSON, then your message followed by pressing the send button. An incoming message is a vibrating mode rather than a ringer. Stay in touch and let me know if you need anything but remember that it will take me just as long to get to you as it took for you to get wherever you are. I can get to you immediately but that opens up another can of worms such as me leaving with you when you just start the mission and of course that would un-nerve anyone knowing that I’m going back to save them before they even leave.”

  “I understand,” said Dave as he looked at the screen. “So I just type in my message and press this send button?”

  “First type in the password, SAMSON then the message then the send button. Right now all of our communicators are programmed with SAMSON as the password but you can change it if you want.”

  Dave put it in his grip and said, “Well, I’d like to meet Captain Merrill when he is camped just outside of Cartersville which is a small town about forty miles northwest of Atlanta. It was around there, that Sherman’s army really started to spread out and away from its supply lines. I figure that I’d like to get there by July 18, 1864. That should give me enough time to warn Captain Merrill of the enemy still in the area where the general is about to go.”

  “Whenever you’re set to go, Dave.”

  “I’m set now. I guess I better get changed.”

  Matt took him to a changing room and Bill used the time to put on the suit he had selected for himself. Ten minutes later he looked himself over in the tall mirror. Just wanting to blend in he wore a dark brown lightweight suit with a six-button vest over a white shirt that sported a stiff high collar. A tan silk tie matched his tan socks and spats, which showed off his brown highly polished shoes. Bill selected a pine walking stick and brown fedora with a tan sweatband.

  Twenty minutes later Captain Dave McKinnon stood before the two men dressed in his dress uniform. His riding gloves were folded over his belt and his sword hung just beneath his sash. Seeing Bill dressed in period clothing he asked, “Are you going back too?”

  “For a moment or two. I thought that I’d walk you to a cab stand.”

  Bill took Dave back to his den, opened the door and after both men went down the enclosed stairwell, opened his Time Frequency Modulator. He entered SAMSON, then JULY 12, 1864, 12:00 PM and pressed the activate button. He then opened the security door and they stepped into the club’s garden of 1864.

  DATELINE: JULY 12, 1864 12 P.M. PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB’S GARDEN, NEW YORK CITY

  The sun was beating down from the noon position depriving them of a shadow. Dave grinned as he pulled a white handkerchief from his sleeve and covered his nose for a moment. “Well at least I was ready for it this time,” he said in a muffled voice.

  Bill opened the tall gate and they stepped out of the garden and onto the hot, blue slate sidewalk. Suddenly a group of half clad children came running by and both men stopped to see the reason, as did a group of people across the street. The giggling tots stood in a line in the street next to the curb. They all seemed to shake with excitement as a large wagon pulled by two horses approached the end of the street. Bill grinned as he saw the lettering on the side of the very large steel barrel strapped sideways to the bed of the wagon. It told everyone that it was the New York City Sanitation Department Street Cleaning Division. As the slow walking horses got close to their corner the burly driver stopped the horses much to the kid’s chagrin. He teased them by saying to his horses in a booming voice, “Well, I think we should turn back now, Nelly and Clyde. This street looks mighty clean to me.”

  The children shouted, “Noooo, please mister. Our street is the dirtiest street in the city.”

  The big man grinned and wiped his face with the blue sweatband around his neck and said as he released the tension on the horse’s reins, “Well, we might as well do one more street. C’mon Nelly, c’mon Clyde let’s clean up this block.” The children roared their approval as just when the two horses started to slowly pull the heavy wagon forward the driver pulled a long lever next to his seat that opened the fifteen one-inch holes in the side of the barrel that released fifteen streams of water towards the curb and the delighted children. They screamed with joy as they played in the cool streams of water that was designed to clean the streets but was more popular with the children. The driver stopped the horses and joined in watching the children cool themselves off by splashing each other with the unexpected extra spray time.

  The two time travelers resumed their walk and at the corner were three carriages whose horses also enjoyed the flowing water. The driver of a Hansom cab had a makeshift parasol that was attached to his horse’s bridle giving the animal shade in the blistering sun. The driver sat high and behind the carriage and also had a sunshade that he held over his head. As he was first in line Bill waved and asked, “Would you take this gentleman to the ferry for New Jersey, sir?”

  “Certainly, sir. Hop right in, soldier.”

  Bill and Dave shook hands and Bill said, “Dave, stay safe and just act as though you were back in the 1800 Club.”

  Dave grinned and said as they pumped hands, “Bill, I got this. No problem, and thanks for letting me go on this mission. You can tell your friends in the future that it’s in the bag.” He tossed his gear into the carriage and hopped in as though he had been doing this all his life. He turned and waved to Bill as the carriage started to roll through the cobblestone streets of old New York.

  The drive through the streets of 1864 Manhattan was a fantastic experience for Dave as all that he saw was in living color rather than the old black and white grainy photos he was used to. Plus the noise of the streets made him realize that it was not the roar of busses and blaring horns from cars and trucks, rather it was the laughter and shouts of kids as well as adults calling them in for lunch. And not to be out done, the shouting by cab drivers trying to get through the small traffic jams created because of the lack of stop signs and red lights echoed off of the sides of buildings. It all added to the noise that told him no matter what year it was everyone still had the same problems, the same f
un and the same habits and all wanted to just be left alone.

  Dave thought that the carriage wheels were going to break any moment as the cobblestones made the steel rimmed wheels slip and slide from side-to-side. Something else that he never read in his history books was that the large amount of horse waste that got stuck in between the cobblestones contained oats and seeds that dried up and were a favorite of the hundreds of thousands of pigeons that dwelled in the city. They covered the streets and pecked at the seeds despite the humans that walked across the street in no particular order, as there were no white lines to show a crossing lane. However the birds do move quickly when a carriage speeds towards them and Dave found out the hard way that it was better to ride in an enclosed cab as the when the birds took off it was like the cab drove through a cloud of flapping wings. Another lesson he learned fast was that frightened birds tend to quickly eliminate their waste in a form of white blobs that have no respect for his blue uniform.

  “Ferry station, sir, right ahead,” said the driver as he pulled over to the curb. Dave got out, paid him and followed the small line of people that entered the large building next to the docks of lower Manhattan. The wide ferryboat sat in the slip with a ribbon of black smoke coming from its single stack. Three young men stood on the dock and collected the two-cent fare as another two sold apples to the passengers. Dave saw that above the high entranceway of the ferry was a large sign on the left and right hand side. The one on the right read in two-foot tall letters, ‘LADIES’ and the one on the left read ‘MEN’. Wow! He thought, Are they segregated? He followed the crowd and was puzzled when he saw women enter on the side that clearly said, ‘MEN’. It was as he stepped onto the ferry’s deck that he saw a door that said MEN’S ROOM and heard a little girl tell her mother that she had to use the toilet.

  “Ingrid,” her mother said sternly, “you should have told me before we stepped aboard. Now we must walk cross the road to get to the other side.”

  The road, Dave thought, was the center that was loading wagons and carriages. The ferry company, not wanting people crossing the road placed the signs above the ferry so women might go aboard the side with the ladies room and the men the side with the men’s room. This, Dave remembered, was the way they kept possible accidents from happening.

  The trip was twenty-five minutes long and on the crossing Dave and many others stood at the open front of the ferry.

  They took advantage of the cool fresh air that the waterway between New York and New Jersey provided as it flowed through the open ferry deck. They docked and according to the lettering and arrow painted on the sidewalk most of the passengers seemed to go to the New Jersey Central Railways. The Central Railroad of New Jersey was a group of large buildings. While some were administration, others housed repair shops, paint and inspection shops but the heart of the complex was the huge ticket, arrivals and departures building where Dave and the crowd headed.

  The room was large and running down its middle were long wooden benches on both sides of a common high back with more against the walls. The benches were more than half full with people sitting as they waited for their train to be called. The newest time traveler noted that the wooden seats were all worn smooth from constant use and he grinned as he saw a stern looking woman watching over three little children that were napping on the smooth seats. Against a wall was a large blackboard and a rolling ladder that ran on a brass rail close to the ceiling much like a library. A clerk dressed in a white shirt and brown trousers with wide suspenders sat on the bottom rung of the ladder reading a newspaper.

  There was a line of windows with clerks selling tickets and giving out information and Dave headed towards one that had just two people on line. A few minutes later the clerk said with a slight salute, “Good afternoon, captain. What can I do for ya?”

  “Just checking where I can get the next train to Washington?”

  The man scratched his thick brown beard and said, “2:15. That’s in ten minutes on track five. Do ya have a ticket?”

  “Yep!” Dave answered as he produced it.

  “Looks good to me. I suggest that ya go through gate five. And should ya be in battle, don’t forget ta stay low.”

  Dave smiled, “I will, thank you.” He picked up his leather grip and headed towards gate five just as he saw the clerk on the ladder tuck his newspaper in his back pocket, climb up the ladder and with a piece of chalk wrote on the blackboard, New Jersey to Washington, gate five departs at 2:15 p.m.

  Dave went out the gate as other passengers started to rise and get their luggage. He passed the last car of the train as he headed towards the front and after counting eight cars hopped into the ninth car, which was closest to the engine.

  Dave’s mouth dropped as he saw the plush interior of the car. A quick count told him that on each side there were seven double seats that shared a common back with the seat behind it allowing twenty-eight passengers to a side. The seats were extremely plush as they were filled with cotton and horsehair and covered with a deep red corduroy material and each of the aisle-side seats had an ornate wooden armrest.

  Running down the length of the car was a deep red carpet with brass tacks running along its edge to prevent it from moving. Above the seats and running down the length on both sides of the car were ornate overhead baggage compartments made of dark brown mahogany.

  The ceiling had a series of rectangular wooden framed geometrical designs. Nine wooden stringers arched across the aisle and ended on either side in a flower design. Besides the windows, lighting was provided by a series of small horizontal windows that ran down both sides of the car just above the overhead storage compartments and the six gaslights that hung from the ceiling.

  Hearing more passengers behind him, Dave opened the overhead compartment, placed his grip in it and took his seat. Holy smoke, he thought as he felt the give in his seat, these people knew what they were doing! This is now a lost art in my time. Everything is plastic, stainless steel or composites.

  A short blast of the train’s whistle told all that she was ready to depart and one minute later there was a sudden movement as the engine’s big steel wheels got traction. After a minute or two she was up to speed and Dave felt the gentle side to side sway as he settled in. In a short time the car’s front door opened and in stepped a portly, white haired conductor wearing the traditional blue uniform and round hat with a flat top. He looked at his pocket watch over the small eyeglasses that sat on the tip of his nose and called out, “If anyone here is going to anywhere but Washington, you got on the wrong train. We stop to pick up some mail in ten minutes so you need to get off and catch the next train back to Jersey Central. All others please have your tickets ready.” He walked down the aisle in a shuffle to keep his balance as the train’s sway increased. He punched Dave’s ticket and placed it in the small slot of the seat. As he moved on, Dave realized that he had been holding his breath. Dave, he thought as he exhaled, what’s the problem? You thought that he was going to know that you don’t belong here, right? Just act as though you were back in the club.

  The rest of the trip went smoothly and he even took a little nap.

  At 6:30 p.m. the train emptied at Washington and Dave quickly went to the window marked, MILITARY INFORMATION. There was a sergeant behind the window that smiled politely as Dave handed him his orders and said, “I’m told that there is a train going south that I could catch a ride on.”

  “Sure is, Cap’n. That is if ya don’t mind riden’ along with some generals.”

  Dave shrugged, “Guess I’ll have to.”

  The sergeant stamped a ticket then passed it to Dave and said, “Gate nine. She leaves at seven sharp, sir.”

  Dave checked his pocket watch, picked up his grip and went out the open gate. Like the Jersey Central it was massive as trains from all over the country stopped to transfer goods and mail as well as troops. It was very busy and in order to be heard over the sounds of shuffling feet, steam engines, people calling out to friends and relatives, a y
oung man used a megaphone to announce that a certain train was departing or entering the hub. Another thing that Dave learned was that at times the noise frightened the thousands of pigeons that lived in the overhead steel rafters causing a sudden deluge of white sloppy blobs of bird waste.

  Dave went to track nine and had to pretend that it was an everyday experience to see an 1864 steam engine puffing away as a crewmember oiled parts of the huge steel wheels and connecting points. Steam pulsed through the boiler seeking to escape and the pressure relief valves allowed it to do just that encircling the entire engine in white steam.

  “Captain,” said the crewman over the loud hiss of steam, “Best ya step away from the engine as the steam is gonna make yer nice uniform saggy with the moisture.”

  Dave nodded, “Thank you, sir. Just admiring your engine. One can feel the power she holds in her belly.”

  “Yep!” He winked as he said knowingly, “Sounds ta me like ya got the bug yerself. Maybe after the war ya might find yerself oiling one down too.”

  “Could be. Just could be.” Dave waved and saw that the first two cars after the engine were closed off so he entered the third car. It wasn’t near as plush as the last train he was on but he tossed his bag up on the overhead and sat back. The seats were on the hard side and single strands of horsehair stuck out of the dark green upholstery to stick him in his thigh as he shifted about. There were neither decoration on the ceiling nor any enclosed overhead bins. In place of the enclosed bins there was a flat shelf that ran down the length of the car on each side. The windows were etched with sand constantly bouncing off them as it traveled the west. There were three overhead gas lamps but just two that hissed and gave off a feeble light. He noticed that the wooden armrests and backs of the seats were carved with initials and other sayings. This has to be a military train. If it were plusher the troops would respect it more. He shook his head; The government in their time is just as lame as ours when it came to taking care of the fighting man.