Changing Yesterday

by Sean McMullen

  ‘You may be disappointed.’

  ‘Let me be the judge of that. What now?’

  ‘We visit the shipping offices and ask about someone answering the description of Barry Porter, also known as Barry the Bag.’

  ‘Do you have a photograph of him?’

  ‘No, but I can show you his face with this little black box. Do not ask what it is or where I obtained it.’

  Madeline proved to be very useful in the shipping

  offices. While Liore would have got what she needed

  by threats, intimidation or armed robbery, Madeline used charm on the clerks. She even persuaded one of them to show her a list of passengers who had boarded the Andromeda at Adelaide. Madeline had made a sketch of Barry from the image on Liore’s radiocomm, and it was this she showed to the clerk.

  ‘The only man who boarded in Adelaide was named Barold Chalmer,’ said Madeline as she and Liore walked out into the street. ‘I showed my sketch to the clerk, but he did not recognise the face. Mr Chalmer wore a straw boater hat pulled right down to his eyebrows, and the clerk never got a clear view of his face.’

  ‘How tall was the clerk?’

  ‘Taller than you. He said that Mr Chalmer was no taller than my shoulder.’

  ‘Which was why he did not get a proper view of his face. Barry is only four feet eleven inches tall. What else did the clerk say?’

  ‘Only that he had an accent better suited to steerage than first class.’

  ‘Then we have him, Madeline. Barold Chalmer is Barry Porter. We need to be aboard the next ship for London.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Yes. If my stolen property is aboard that ship, there is no point in you staying here.’

  By the afternoon Liore and Madeline had booked into a second-class cabin on the Seabird, which was the next ship scheduled to sail for London. Liore chose a hotel near the docks, and they took a double room together. They settled into the room quickly, washed their clothes and dried them by the fire. Madeline let Liore try on a dress, and Liore spent half an hour learning to take short steps like a girl wearing the high heeled slippers that were currently in fashion, rather than striding. The results were promising rather than successful. They went on to training her to flash a winsome smile. This proved to be even harder. Finally Liore began changing back into her own clothes while Madeline looked over some lists that she had compiled.

  ‘The Seabird sails for London via Colombo and Port Said on Monday. Another ship sails later tonight, but that one is not taking passengers.’

  Madeline looked up, caught sight of Liore with most of her clothes off, and gasped.

  ‘Problem?’ asked Liore at once.

  ‘Your body, your – your muscles. How did you come to look stronger than a champion boxer?’

  ‘Training, in Academy, since five.’

  ‘And all those scars and burns?’

  ‘Fighting, did cause.’

  ‘You’re using that strange accent again.’

  ‘By your leave, speaking courtly,’ muttered Liore.

  ‘Liore! What is that meant to mean?’

  ‘Sorry, part of my – my training. It is reflexive, like a man raising his hat to a woman in your society.’

  Once she was dressed as a boy again, Liore began servicing the pistols. Madeline sat on a chair, using her bed as a desk as she studied lists of ships, train timetables and other documents.

  ‘Unless there is a reason to stay awake, we should make sure that we get plenty of sleep,’ said Liore. ‘Tired soldiers make mistakes.’

  ‘Mother says the same about getting sleep, but she says it is to stay beautiful and avoid wrinkles,’ said Madeline. ‘And speaking of feminine matters, tomorrow we must definitely go shopping to buy you a dress, proper underwear, a hat, a parasol –’

  ‘Stealthmode!’ hissed Liore, making a chopping motion with her hand.

  Madeline considered saying something about bad manners, then decided that Liore was incapable of being deliberately rude. A tiny light was flashing on the smooth, flat, black case that lay on the desk. Liore brushed her fingers over various images on the screen. A compass bearing and range was returned a moment later. More brushing of fingers on the screen conjured a little map with a flashing red dot at the centre. Liore blinked with surprise.

  A ship, Liore realised. The radiocomm is on the same ship as the PR-17.

  ‘What is that thing?’ asked Madeline.

  ‘Hard to describe. Someone has activated the only other such unit in the world, and it is aboard the Andromeda, with my other property. Nobody knows how to do that except someone named Fox. From what I know of shipping schedules, he would have arrived in Paris two weeks ago, so it is not him.’

  ‘Could someone else turn it on by accident?’

  ‘No. It must be held in the hand at a certain angle, then the activation stud must be pressed and a keyword spoken before a message can be transmitted, but . . . but what am I thinking? A radiocomm can be activated but not enabled. Activation does not need a password. Once active, the radiocomm puts out a polling signal, looking for the nearest British unit.’

  ‘Are you speaking that funny language again?’ asked Madeline.

  ‘No, no, I am thinking aloud. Anyone can merely turn the unit on, but why just turn it on?’

  ‘My father attended a very sad incident in Ballarat last year,’ said Madeline. ‘A little boy of three had found his father’s revolver, and was playing with it. He had gripped it by the barrel and was using it as a toy hammer when it went off. He died.’

  ‘You are saying that Barry Porter is playing with the radiocomm without knowing what he is doing?’

  ‘Perhaps. Is he intelligent enough to work it out?’

  ‘Barry is cunning beyond belief, but not well educated. He knows that the radiocomm can also record sound and motion pictures, then play them back. He may be trying to learn how to use it so he can impress important people when he reaches London. He may also play about with my other property, and that could be very dangerous. The Seabird does not sail until Monday, and that is too long to wait. You said that there is a ship sailing tonight?’

  ‘Yes, but it is not taking passengers.’

  ‘No matter, I can stow away. You will follow on the Seabird. When does the other ship sail, and what is the name?’

  ‘Just before midnight tonight. It’s called the Millennium –’

  ‘The Millennium?’ exclaimed Liore, suddenly leaping across the room to Madeline, twisting her arm and pinning her down. ‘Full details, present! Now!’

  ‘Liore! Stop it, you’re frightening me.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Liore, standing back, mortified, with her hands held apart and her fingers splayed. ‘By your leave, speaking courtly. Please accept my sincerest apologies.’

  ‘Of course. Just try to remember that I am on your side.’

  ‘Thank you. Now may I ask what you know of the Millennium? It is a very, very important ship. I should have realised that it might be in Australian waters because of – but never mind. Please tell me of it.’

  ‘Here are the notes I made at the shipping office. Seven thousand tons, twin quadruple expansion engines, can cruise at nineteen knots, launched two years ago. It arrived in late April from Colombo, but has been lying at anchor because of some legal dispute.’

  ‘And now it sails before midnight. I must get aboard that ship, for more reasons than I can possibly explain. Time for me to go.’

  ‘But Liore, remember that the Millennium is not taking passengers.’

  ‘It is taking me.’

  ‘What about me?’

  ‘As I said, you must follow on the Seabird. It will be too dangerous aboard the Millennium.’

  ‘So you may have to fight your way aboard?’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘Yet you want the Millennium to carry you in pursuit of the Andromeda?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, London is five or six weeks away, and you cannot run a ship all by yourself.
You need officers, sailors, stokers, engineers and other people like that. You will have to sneak aboard, and that is where I can help.’

  Chapter 5

  ENGINEER

  On the second night after leaving Adelaide there was a music hall concert for the first and second-class passengers on the Andromeda. Some of the maids, waiters and stewards were also musicians and singers, and knew the latest popular songs and dances from around the world. Items ranged from ‘A bird in a gilded cage’, to ‘O solo mio’, to ‘Hello! Ma baby’. It was the first music hall concert that both Daniel and Barry had attended.

  After the show they went out on the promenade deck. For a time they chatted, looking out into the blackness of the ocean. With the surface calm and the stars gleaming brightly, it seemed like the Andromeda was steaming through the sky itself, like some enormous flying machine.

  ‘So wot’s all the fuss I’ve heard about seasickness?’ asked Barry. ‘Bein’ on the ship’s no problem for me.’

  After his first bout of nausea Daniel had recovered quickly, then learned to tolerate the ship’s motion. He was secretly disappointed that Barry had not suffered as he had.

  ‘I can’t say either,’ he replied casually. ‘Some people must have very delicate stomachs.’

  Daniel began humming the tune of ‘Hello! Ma baby’ to fix it in his mind.

  ‘So what ya think of the music, Danny boy?’ asked Barry.

  ‘I liked the ragtime songs and piano pieces. They have lots of energy.’

  ‘They’re not like the stuff that yer family sings.’

  ‘Music has to be boring and dead before my family likes it,’ said Daniel. ‘I must take the opportunity to learn some ragtime piano on the voyage. What about you?’

  ‘Ya know, I really liked the song that tart with all the lace and frontage were singin’,’ said Barry wistfully.

  ‘She sang six songs.’

  ‘The one about the girl wot was like a bird in a cage, ’cause she was married to some rich cove wot she didn’t love.’

  ‘“A bird in a gilded cage”?’

  ‘Yeah. That’s a bit like me, I reckon. Caught by me circumstantials.’

  ‘You’re not in a gilded cage. You’re not in any sort of cage.’

  ‘Yeah I am. I got no prospectives.’

  Daniel was at once suspicious. If Liore had put Barry aboard the Andromeda, then he was being trusted with very important work. Now he was complaining about having poor circumstances and no prospects. It did not make sense.

  ‘Liore got you a position with prospects,’ said Daniel guardedly, ‘but you gave up on the third day.’

  ‘Danny boy, that was too . . . er . . . intersomething. Not the rude word, the other one.’

  ‘Intellectual?’

  ‘Yeah. That was too intellectual for me.’

  ‘Apprentice fireman on the Sandridge steam train is hardly intellectual.’

  ‘Yeah, but I had to study stuff.’

  ‘One night a week at the Mechanics Institute?’

  ‘Well, I’m more of a practical cove. Where would it get me?’

  ‘In five years you could have been an engine driver. If you worked really hard you could have been a goods yard manager by the time you were your dad’s age.’

  At the mention of his father Barry fell silent. Daniel decided not to prompt him.

  ‘That’s not me style,’ said Barry eventually.

  ‘Well, that’s probably why Liore has made you a spy.’

  ‘Whaddaya mean, spy? I – oh, yeah. She did. That’s more like wot I’m good for.’

  Daniel was glad of the darkness, because Barry could not see him frown. There was definitely a lie in there somewhere, he was sure of it.

  ‘So, you are going to do some spying in London while you seek your fortune.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. I might even get made mayor.’

  ‘Mayor of London?’ exclaimed Daniel. ‘You?’

  ‘Yeah, like that Dick Whittington cove, the one wot had a hat.’

  ‘He had a cat, Barry, and . . . look, the only way you are going to make your fortune in London is to steal it from someone else.’

  ‘Yeah, well, why not? I saved the world when them Lionheart coves tried to bomb parlyment and wot did I get? An afternoon gettin’ yelled at by your batty sister, twenty pounds from sellin’ some stolen dynamite, an’ a job shovellin’ friggin’ coal on a train. I deserve better, an’ I’m gonna get it. I reckon the king will be more generous when he knows wot I done.’

  Suddenly a whole collection of fragments began to sort themselves into a very alarming mosaic for Daniel. Liore would not have sent Barry first class. Liore would never have changed his name to Barold Chalmer. Barry could only make his fortune by stealing it from someone else. Barry talking about meeting the king. Most suspiciously of all, Barry was currently without his bag. Why? Perhaps is was now too heavy to carry everywhere. Heavy with what?

  ‘Well, there are a few privileges for travelling first class,’ said Daniel. ‘Have you discovered the smoking saloon yet?’

  ‘The wot?’

  ‘It’s a place where gentlemen from first class can go to smoke their pipes and cigars, and drink port wine from Madeira.’

  ‘Wot’s it cost?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Nothin’?’ gasped Barry.

  ‘Well we are meant to be rich gentlemen. You are, anyway. I’m just registered as a schoolboy.’

  ‘Where abouts is it?’

  ‘I’ll show you.’

  With Barry safely settled in an armchair, listening to the captain telling shipwreck stories to other first-time passengers, Daniel returned to his cabin. He opened a copy of Treasure Island which he had borrowed from the ship’s library, and left his door open as he began reading. He had read just over fifty pages when he heard distant cries of outrage. This was Daniel’s cue to hurry down the corridor to the first-class infirmary. Moments later the master-at-arms appeared carrying Barry, who was trying to sing something about a ratcatcher’s daughter and was smelling of port wine and vomit.

  ‘I say, Master Lang,’ said the master-at-arms.

  ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘Do you know this young wretch? I have seen you speaking with him.’

  ‘I, ah, met him when he boarded the ship in Adelaide. His family is newly wealthy, so I was trying to coach him in polite behaviour.’

  ‘Well he certainly needs it. He got himself beastly drunk in the smoking room and was sick over himself, a costly Persian rug, a rosewood table, and a box of the captain’s best cigars. He is going to spend the night in the infirmary. When next you see him, tell him the captain said that one more display of such revolting conduct will see him spending the rest of the voyage in steerage – if they will have him.’

  ‘Yes, sir, I’ll be sure to.’

  Daniel held Barry upright while the officer got out his keys and opened the door. Barry was dragged inside and put on a bed.

  ‘Should I stay with him while you fetch the nurse?’ Daniel asked.

  ‘Thank you, but don’t bother. He’s not going anywhere.’

  While Daniel did not know one end of a pickwire from the other, it had taken no real skill to remove the key to Barry’s cabin from his coat pocket while the master-at-arms opened the infirmary door. Daniel now went straight to the cabin and let himself in. Barry’s bag was chained to the bed and held shut by a single padlock. Daniel noticed that the lock appeared to be solid inside, and there was something waxy around the keyhole.

  Beeswax, thought Daniel. He’s filled the lock with wax to deter other thieves with picklocks.

  A search of the cabin yielded several candles and a silver case of matches engraved with the name Barold Chalmer. There were also several sets of electroplated knives, forks and spoons, stolen in the belief that they were real silver, and three stolen milk jugs featuring the ship’s name. Daniel returned to the bag and examined it again, then took out his pocketknife.

  Why break the door down when the wind
ow is open? he thought as he slit a side seam of the bag. Putting his hand inside, Daniel encountered the unmistakable shape of Liore’s plasma lance rifle.

  ‘You little worm, Barry Porter,’ muttered Daniel as he drew out the weapon. ‘You despicable, greedy, devious little worm.’

  The weapon appeared to be undamaged, but no lights were glowing. Liore had said that only an authorised person could turn it on. Daniel pressed his thumb against the security pad. Nothing happened. Why did Barry steal it? he wondered. Does he have a means of switching it on?

  The very tricky question of what to do next now presented itself. If Daniel were to keep the weapon it would certainly be in safe hands, but that would also imply that he had plotted with Barry to steal it. If Liore caught up with them, she would think the worst. He thought about presenting it to the ship’s purser, but that would involve a lot of impossibly improbable explanations. There had to be another way.

  Daniel left the cabin with the contents of Barry’s bag in a pillowcase. Back in his own cabin, he thought about what to do as he laid out the contents of the bag on his bed. There were two uniforms, both with battle damage from a fight a century in the future. There was also Liore’s weapon, Fox’s radiocomm, a clasp knife, a strange pen, some coins from the 1990s and 2000s, a German pistol called a Bergmann, a little medical kit, and some notes in code. Barry’s own possessions included two gold coins, fifteen keys, eleven rubber prophylactic devices, two dozen postcards featuring women wearing very little or nothing at all with captions in French, two tins of tobacco salvage from discarded cigarette butts, a silver whiskey flask, a gold tooth, a rather battered copy of A Scientific Guide to Human Reproductive Biology, a false moustache, a pair of spectacles with plain glass lenses, a pair of grubby silk gloves, and a sketch of Muriel by Fox that Barry had somehow contrived to steal. At the bottom of the sketch was a smudge where Barry had tried to erase Fox’s signature. Across the smudge was written ‘Dar Vinchy 1650’, in an attempt to make it seem like an old masterpiece.

  ‘Oh, Muriel, Leonardo da Vinci would have made your image into a greater work of art than the Mona Lisa,’ sighed Daniel as he gazed at the sketch.