by Barney Broom
Archie considered Nelson.
“What if I said you would become a very great admiral – your country’s hero?”
“Excuse me, sir. Signal from Theseus.”
Lieutenant Hinton stood by respectfully. Nelson turned to Archie.
“I should say that you were quite possibly the biggest charlatan I ever laid eyes on – or would you have me believe you’re a character of some prescience…?”
Hinton was growing impatient as Nelson and Archie stood looking at each other.
“Sir…”
“Yes, yes Hinton, the workings of the ship. What does Theseus want?”
“Lord Hood wishes an audience with you on board the flagship at your earliest convenience.”
“Signal ‘Acknowledge’.”
“Lord Hood’s aboard Victory sir?”
“Indeed Mr. Light. You know his lordship?”
“No sir.”
“The ship then?”
“Sir. A little.”
“Fine ship. You’re going to tell me I’ll command her and a fleet one day?”
Nelson turned away.
“I think we’d better leave our dreams for now and attend to more immediate concerns.”
Archie continued eyeing the slight figure whose face seemed strangely lit up.
“I believe the captain means ‘duties’, Mister Light.”
Hinton was smiling, but there could be no mistaking his meaning. With a brief acknowledgement, Archie went below.
Stepping down the companionway with Dog at his side, Archie entered the darkness that was Agamemnon’s below-decks underworld. To him, the activity was fascinating – all life living cheek by jowl. Livestock and fowl snorting and crowing; men and some women – maimed and palsied, drunken and dissipated – all shared the cramped and stinking deck.
Reaching another stairwell, Light tripped and fell headlong into the ever-deepening darkness of the orlop. When he regained consciousness, Archie discovered he was slung between his young business partner and Billy Johnson. Laying him on a rough bed, Billy was attentive.
“You all right, sir?”
Touching his head, Archie grunted.
“I would say that I am not all right, Mr Johnson – not all right at all.”
“I’ll leave you then, Doctor.”
Edging his way out of the gloom, Billy’s footsteps died away. Archie sat up.
“Where are we?”
“What they call the hold, I think.”
Dog nudged into his master.
“Bloody animal. Bloody leaking bloody wooden ship. Why is it since I’ve entered this alternative reality, I’ve had a constant bloody headache and seem to always wake up in stinking smelly straw!”
“Thought you liked the historic navy.”
For a second or two neither said anything. Both listened to the sounds of the sea running along Agamemnon’s side.
“Wait a minute. Did that boy call me doctor?”
Podric grunted.
“You told him then.”
In the half-light Archie could just see Podric nod.
“Wha— He couldn’t have believed you.”
“I showed him the earpiece. Then using the chip, ’worked out the most accurate position this ship will ever have.”
Archie sat up.
“So are we real, or unreal?”
“We’re real existing in the game’s world.”
“You can say that again, but it’s not like a game. More like real life. I believe I’ve met Nelson, I’m on his ship. In which case, as I said in the bar, feeling that we’re living in this existence, we might actually have a chance to change history.”
Archie was animated.
“Archie, I’ve told you. However real you feel here, you’re inside the game you wrote!”
“I don’t care. I know I’ve met Nelson. I know he’s going to die in twelve years’ time as Admiral of the Mediterranean fleet aboard Victory at a battle he doesn’t even know he’s going to fight. I also know that Lord Hood is bombarding Toulon and that a young major in the French artillery is going to save the day for the enemy. That man’s name is Napoleon Bonaparte and he is going to change Europe.”
“So what? You’re still in a game.”
Archie scrambled up.
“Okay, we’re in a game – as you say, a masterpiece I created. Let’s have some more adventures then.”
This did have appeal to Podric.
“What have you got in mind?”
“If we stick around here things are likely to get tricky – meeting Foley and so on… We’ll go to London.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to meet William Pitt, the Prime Minister.”
“What do you want to see him for?”
“He can call off the siege.”
“What will that achieve?”
“If he called off the siege, Napoleon would never get started.”
“But it’s a game! It’s only relevant if it’s some game manoeuvre.”
Archie burst out laughing.
“Maybe that’s how to play it in UAR? Live it to our advantage.”
Archie dusted straw off his jacket.
“Come on Podric, indulge me. What have you got to lose? You invented UAR for adventure. We’re having some.”
The sound of distant cannon fire jolted their thoughts and prompted Dog to howl.
Not trusting Archie to manage syncing UAR, Podric took hold of his wrist and right index finger, activating it, then did the same to himself.
“Spool through ‘Options’.”
Moving his finger across his left wrist, Podric highlighted ‘Options’. Various data appeared.
“Now ‘Politics’.”
Podric clicked on the subject. Dates and political events were featured.
“1793.”
He highlighted the year and up came ‘Hostilities with Britain’.
“Check ‘Siege of Toulon’.”
Podric went back to ‘Options’ and ‘Battles’. A lot of information was presented including the protagonists, their leaders, and dates of engagement.
“Highlight the last.”
‘18th September – 19th December’ came up.
“Incredible detail. I’m better than I thought. Okay, middle of September… now go back to ‘Politics’ and then ‘Capital Cities’.”
Paris, Vienna, London, Moscow, Lisbon, Madrid – the cities flashed into their layered vision.
“‘London’.”
Podric selected it.
“Okay, so 1793, Siege of Toulon, London, programmed.”
“Let’s go then.”
“What about Dog?”
“What about him?”
“Better not leave him here, Archie, just in case.”
“Maybe I should. One way to get rid of the damned animal.”
Aware he was being talked about, Dog licked his master.
“That won’t wash, you old bugger.”
Ensuring Archie depressed his left wrist, Podric did the same.
Whilst he couldn’t speak for his business partner, the sensation Podric experienced this time in UAR felt very much within the game world. Images of eighteenth-century frigates, field cannon, faces of men clad in regimental and naval uniforms, women in bustles and gowns, horses, carriages, banquets, balls and cannon fodder – all comprised the visions of Napoleonic Wars!
3
London Rendezvous
“What a bootiful dog! Ain’t seen one like ’im before. My, my, you’re a handsome one an’ all, darlin’. Few pence for yer girl now.”
Pushing a grimy hand at Archie, the beggar woman smiled her gummed smile, cackling with delight.
Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, Archie took s
ome coins from the pocket of his naval uniform and discovering he still had some American currency, handed several pieces to the woman.
“Wos this? Wot you givin’ me? That ain’t farmer George.”
“It’s all I’ve got and all you’re having. Good day madam.”
“Oh, good day, good day to you – stuck-up sailor.”
Finding themselves in a wynd, Podric, Archie and Dog slowly walked out into Whitehall. Approaching Downing Street amidst the busy thoroughfare, there seemed little or no security, but as Archie reflected, Number 10 was still a relatively new Prime Minister’s residence.
Banging the knocker, the two naval officers and their dog stood waiting on the step. A liveried footman opened the door; his large tummy stretched his waistcoat. Claude Linklater, who Podric knew as the Wendbury School bus driver, stood on the step.
“Yeees?”
“Mr. Linklater. You’re well, I hope.”
Linklater looked nonplussed, then flustered.
“Er…”
“This is my friend Lieutenant Light and this is Dog. He’s quite friendly. We’ve called to see Mr. Pitt. Is he in?”
“Er…”
Linklater tried to recover himself.
“Mister… mister…”
“Moon. Podric Moon.”
Podric, Archie and Dog stepped across the threshold.
“Moon… you, you can’t come in here. You don’t have an appointment – er… do you?”
“The Prime Minister will want to see us, Mr. Linklater. It’s important.”
Podric set off across the lobby.
“Mister Moon. You can’t… You can’t just enter like this!”
Two soldiers suddenly appeared blocking Podric’s way. Archie came up.
“You should let us through. We have news that could change things about the war.”
The guardsmen looked impassively at Archie.
“What’s going on here? Linklater, who are these people and what’s this dog doing here?”
An elderly gentleman came out of an office, his wig slightly askew.
“Sorry, Mr. Fitzgibbon. They’re leaving. A misunderstanding about an appointment.”
“With whom?”
Archie turned on Fitzgibbon condescendingly.
“With the Prime Minister, sir, Mr. Pitt.”
“I’m aware who the Prime Minister is Lieutenant…?”
“Light sir. Late of His Majesty’s ship Zealous.”
“Zealous? Zealous? Zealous is in the Mediterranean.”
“Indeed she is sir, but having had the privilege to fall in with Captain Nelson, we’ve travelled post-haste with dispatches.”
“Nelson? What’s the little upstart meddling in now?”
Archie silently made a mental note of Fitzgibbon’s attitude towards the man who would one day save his country.
“I can see, sir, that we’ve wasted our time.”
Archie turned on his heel.
“One minute. I haven’t dismissed you yet.”
Fitzgibbon approached Archie.
“If you have naval dispatches, why didn’t you present them at the admiralty?”
“Because they are not naval dispatches. As I said, sir, I can only communicate with Mister Pitt. No one else.”
“For a lieutenant, you are an extremely conceited popinjay.”
“And you, sir, are a tired and withered secretary. Good day to you.”
Fitzgibbon made a rapid sign as several more soldiers suddenly appeared, blocking Archie and Podric’s way.
“Seize these men.”
A scrimmage started – Archie shouting protestations and a barking Dog bounding about. It was into this chaos that the Prime Minister entered. Pitt said nothing as he stood watching the fracas before him. Finally, two soldiers fell back and Archie picked himself up from the floor. Pitt turned to his secretary. In low tones, Fitzgibbon began whispering into the Prime Minister’s ear. Making a curt comment, the PM crossed the lobby and walked off down a corridor.
“Against my advice, the Prime Minister has granted you an audience. In my opinion, you deserve nothing less than a night in the cells.”
“Then, sir, it is fortunate there are those who can appreciate wisdom and intelligence, as you clearly cannot.”
Fitzgibbon’s face went a strange colour and it was only with the greatest difficulty that he managed to restrain himself.
“You will present yourself here at four o’clock. Whilst you will be punctual, be prepared to wait.”
He turned icily to Linklater.
“Show these gentlemen out.”
Fitzgibbon’s enunciation was so loaded no one could be in any doubt as to the secretary’s real appraisal of Archie and Podric’s standing.
Outside on the street, Archie burst out laughing. Podric was more subdued.
“I’m not sure inventing UAR is such a good thing for you.”
“Oh? Why’s that?”
“Because you could become even more of a pain, knowing you’ll always be able to escape.”
“Ha! Don’t worry yourself. No change there; I’ve always known I’d escape from anything.”
Reaching the end of Downing Street, Archie turned to Podric. He was more serious.
“Sometimes, Podric, it takes an arrogant bastard like me to recognise another arrogant bastard like him. We’ve got a meeting –that’s all that matters. Don’t look so glum.”
Archie stared across a heaving eighteenth-century Whitehall.
“Architecturally not so different, but so much more bustle. You don’t know London – even twenty-first-century London, do you Podric?”
“It was on the west side where I saw Fred S. Chiswick, wasn’t it?”
“Chiswick. Ha! There won’t be anything like Pasaro, let alone the building that houses the computer giant, in 1793 Chiswick! There’s half a dozen miles of fields and meadows between here and that little hamlet. But this London is different, and it’s time you, Mister Moon, had some experience of it. Come, we’ll walk up to the Garden.”
“I hate gardens.”
Archie laughed.
“Come along, Dog. I need to find a place that sells port of a superior kind.”
He must be in a good mood, thought Podric, as they strolled across The Strand into St. James’s. Arriving at a shop, Archie uttered a satisfying ‘Ah’ and turned to his young business partner.
“I’m going in here.”
He took some coins from Saul Prendergast’s money pouch, and put several into his young friend’s hands.
“Amuse yourself. What with one thing and another, I may be some time. There’s an ale house, a pub – the Rose Tavern off Drury Lane. They’ll look after you.”
Archie turned and entered the premises of Berry Bros & Rudd.
Podric studied the American money. Left with Dog, the giant animal’s big eyes looked up at him.
“You look lost, young sir.”
Norris Widget, aka ‘The Widge’, Podric’s classmate at Wendbury High, stood beside him.
“It’s a dream. It’s all just a dream.”
The Widge looked at Podric.
“If you say so, mate.”
He began to move away. Podric spun him around.
“I do say so, Norris Widget!”
The Widge was stunned.
“Get off!”
“I’m Podric Moon. Podric Moon!”
“You could be the man in the moon for all I care. You ain’t no mate of mine, least I…”
Like Billy Johnson before him, Norris Widget looked a little disconcerted.
“Oh Widge, I don’t know what I’ve invented. It’s doing my head in.”
“You don’t ’alf ’ave some strange words, mister midshipman.”
Vaguely troubled, t
he Widge kicked pebbles across the dirt street with his wooden clog-like shoes.
“Come along ’a me. Young gentleman like you needs cheering up. I know just the thing.”
Following the Widge’s skinny back, Podric stumbled down Piccadilly.
Arriving at Covent Garden, the opera house and church were recognisable to modern eyes, but the piazza was much livelier; farm animals – goats, sheep and cattle – roamed, and were slaughtered on the spot. The Widge led Podric through the crowd towards the theatre.
“I’ll be leavin’ yer now, mate. Enjoy; it’ll do yer good.”
Podric looked around but the friend he knew from school had disappeared.
Podric and Dog entered a vast auditorium. In semi-darkness, several people were rehearsing on a large stage lit by candlelight. As his eyes got accustomed to the shadowy dimness, Podric edged forward into the pit. Hearing voices, he vaguely made out some rooms along its periphery; sounds of a conversation came from one of them.
“You know he’s keeping her in the country. They have children. I don’t know how she can possibly show herself in London.”
“She’s not showing herself in London. She’s working. She’s doing what she was born to do.”
“No woman’s born for anything, except propagation.”
“What a reactionary beast you are, Brinsley!”
“And no man’s born to be compromised.”
“Reactionary’s too mild. Philistine’s more appropriate. When the new play is ready, you’re going to want her in it, you mark my words.”
“There are others.”
“There is no one, Mrs. Siddons included, that can touch her right now. Besides, the scandal you spoke of…”
The speaker paused.
“What of it?”
“Such… things never harm the box office. Might even add to the play’s success.”
The two men laughed. Podric stole silently by.
On stage two actresses were at work. One was in her thirties, and a beautiful woman. The other was a teenage girl who Podric couldn’t take his eyes off. The girl was speaking.
“No? When Nature hath made a fair creature, may she not by Fortune fall into the fire? Though Nature hath given us wit to flout Fortune, hath not Fortune sent in this fool to cut off the argument?”
The older woman replied, her voice lilting.