Time Travel Adventures of the 1800 Club, Book 14

by Robert P McAuley

  Time Travel Adventures of

  The 1800 Club

  BOOK 14

  Robert P. McAuley

  Published By

  Robert P. McAuley and Smashwords

  Copyright 2016 by Robert P. McAuley

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which has been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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  Contents

  The Premise

  Foreword

  Story One: Hunting Down the Time Travelers

  Story Two: The Gentleman From 1887

  Author’s Note

  Other books by Robert P. McAuley

  The Premise

  The 1800 Club is a 21st Century haven for people seeking to escape New York City’s frantic pace. Dressed in clothes their ancestors might have worn during the 1800s, members enjoy foods of the period and read periodicals featuring news of a particular date in the 1800s. However, the 1800 Club also has an astounding secret . . . Time Travel. Members travel back in time nudging famous persons and key events just enough to ensure history unfolds, as it should. Guardians-of-the-past, living in the future, send robotic probes back through the ages, discovered that, at critical time-junctures, pivotal figures stray from vital tasks and actions. These Time Watchers of the past can’t go back and fix the glitch in the timeline because the atmosphere they breathe has been cleaned up over the years and the air of the past is almost unbreathable for them. Then an 1800 Club member from the 2000s are sent back to guarantee that events get back on track. The 1800 Club’s members aid Lincoln, Roosevelt, Bat Masterson, Mark Twain and many others. Without subtle interventions by these unknown agents, the famous might have been only footnotes, rather than giants of history.

  Foreword

  Dear reader, I once read a time travel book where the main character went back over one hundred years in the past to retrieve an object from a house. He entered the house, picked up the object and brought it back to his time. To me it was upsetting that he took us back in time and never once said anything about the house! Never described anything! He might as well have just gone back to a park where things never change. That is why I try to bring the reader along with me as I travel through time. RPM

  A peek Inside Story One: Hunting Down The Time Travelers

  The crooked policeman had their diamonds in his hand and the time travelers in his sights. He needed to be rid of them before the rest of the police come up to the roof and see them with their hands up.

  A Peek Inside Story Two: The Gentleman From 1887

  Good to be home, Bill thought. He inserted the key into the keyhole and turned it only to feel no resistance. He took it out and looked at it before inserting it again only to get the same result. Bill stepped back and shook his head. “Phew. Take your time, Billy, take your time,” he advised himself as he slowly inserted the key again only to get the same result. What’s going on?m I stuck in 1887?

  Story One

  Hunting Down The Time Travelers

  DATELINE: JANUARY 10, 2016 PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB, NEW YORK CITY

  Bill Scott opened the drawer of his very ornate 1867 mahogany desk and took out the small leather bound notebook labeled, Bill Scott President of The 1800 Club. In it was a list of New York City firsts, which he secretly called his ‘Bucket list’. While there was a bunch crossed off the list, there were still a lot to go. His finger moved down the list as he let his mind wander at the ones he had already done. First over the Brooklyn Bridge. Rode in the first subway train in New York City. Ate pizza from New York’s first pizza parlor. Rode in the first electric taxi. Now his finger stopped at one line of copy that read, The Nassau: Brooklyn, New York’s first scheduled steam ferryboat to commute between downtown Manhattan and Brooklyn, May 10, 1814.

  Mmmm, he thought. Maybe that’s next? Let me check up on that. He opened his laptop and entered, ‘First scheduled steam ferry to commute between Manhattan and Brooklyn New York.’ Up came a page on the first scheduled ferryboat between lower Manhattan and Brooklyn New York.

  America’s First Commuter?

  The steam powered ferry, Nassau left Fulton Street in downtown Brooklyn on May 10, 1814. It made its way across the East River and docked in the Fulton Street slip in lower Manhattan. It completed the trip in fifteen minutes. The reason the Nassau made such great time was the fact that unlike the many sail powered boats that were at the mercy of the currents and winds in their commute from Brooklyn to Manhattan, the Nassau offered the commuters a regularly scheduled, steam powered trip to and from the office and home.

  Captained by Peter Coffee the twin-hulled boat carried 549 passengers, one wagon and three horses. What is unknown however is the name of the first passenger — the man who on May 10, 1814, boarded the first regularly scheduled steam-powered ferry from Brooklyn to Manhattan. Whoever he was, he can justly be called America’s first commuter.

  Bill grinned as he closed the small book. “I have a feeling that I’m going to take a trip across the East River.”

  He went up to the top floor of the Townhouse, entered the wardroom and went to the 1800s section. Bill walked down the aisle that went from 1810 to 1820 and stopped in the 1814 section.

  The club’s manager and Bill’s right hand man, Matt Worthington had taken the time to research almost every outfit and attach a picture or drawing of it to the item. It helped the time traveling person to get it right as they dressed in the period clothing.

  Bill selected the outfit and changed in front of the large mirrors. The jacket of the outfit was dark brown heavy cotton with wide lapels and a double-breasted front with two sets of four buttons. The collar was high in the rear and allowed the frilly white shirt to be seen easily. The frills went up to the neck negating the need of a cravat. The trousers were darker brown wool that stopped at the knees and tied above the calf. The wearer had the option of using either riding boots or high white stockings and low cut shoes. Bill sat on one of the bench seats and put on the well-shined brown leather, riding boots. With his jeans and tee shirt under his arm he grabbed his flip-flops and started to leave when he saw the hat that went with the outfit. He put the tall brown hat with a black sweatband on his head and walked over to a heavy wooden door with a combination lock on it. Bill entered the combination and the door popped open. He entered and the motion sensor automatically put the overhead lights on. There were rows of shelves on the far wall along with nine different size safes beneath them. The shelves were full of strong boxes and he went to the one marked CURRENCY / AMERICAN / 1800 – 1840. He opened it and withdrew two hundred dollars in
paper money and coins. Before Bill closed the box he wrote the amount he took into a ledger in the box and then closed and locked it. Next he went to a safe, opened it and took out a tray, which he placed on a table next to the safes. He opened it and took out three small diamonds and inserted them into his hidden money belt. Once again he entered the amount taken into the ledger and put it back in the safe with the tray. He locked the safe and the door behind him and stepped into the elevator. He patted the money belt as he thought, Nothing like having a few diamonds along for insurance. If something goes wrong diamonds are a universal currency. The time traveler shivered as he recalled John Brand being trapped back in the 1930s with just paper money along with some coins. Boy we quickly added diamonds to the list of things a time traveler must bring along with them.

  Back downstairs he put his twenty-first century clothing in his bedroom and went to his desk in the den. He took a yellow 3” X 5” notepaper out of the holder and wrote, Matt. I’m stepping back to May 10, 1814, and will take the ferryboat from Brooklyn to lower Manhattan. See you in a few hours. Bill. He placed the yellow paper in the center of the dark brown desk and put a glass paperweight on it. It can be seen but not blown away. Both Bill and Matt started this practice a few months back when Matt was out and Bill thought he was in the club. They both agreed that it was the best place to put a time travel note as in order to go back one must use the door in the den and the door was just past the desk.

  Bill took out his Time Frequency Modulator and after entering his password, SAMSON, entered MAY 10, 1814, 8:00 A.M. and opened the door at the rear of his den.

  The stone steps and red brick walls echoed his leather-soled boot steps that he felt blended in perfectly with the soft hiss of the brass glass-covered gas lamps. Bill stopped and knowing that nobody could see him, put his two hands together and by placing them in front of a gas lamp created a shadow of a bird in flight on the opposite wall. He laughed a satisfied laugh knowing that his antics would not be found out . . . but he still crossed his fingers.

  Once at the bottom of the stairway he took out the Time Frequency Modulator and pressed the activate button. Bill knew that the building that housed the 1800 Club was built in 1820 and because this was 1814 when he opened the door if anyone saw him it would seem as though he stepped out of thin air.

  DATELINE: MAY 10, 1814, 8:00 A.M. PLACE: STAND OF TREES, NEW YORK

  He opened the door slowly and then peeked out to see the small clearing in the center of a stand of trees. Hearing birds sing he knew he was alone and when he stepped out of the doorway they stopped singing and flew away. He casually kicked three small stones into the shape of a triangle, which pointed at the time portal door between two trees. He then set off for the city south of where he stood. After walking for five minutes he stepped out of the tree line and onto a large grassy hill. In the distance he could see black smoke rising in the morning light blue sky and he knew he was approaching a small cluster of homes and farms. The smoke came from their chimneys and once over the hill he saw them. These were owned by the wealthier that moved north, away from the hustle of the growing city. Soon he was walking on a hard-packed dirt road and spotted a carriage dropping off a fare. Bill quickly waved him down.

  “Where to sir,” asked the driver who was happy to have picked up a fare on his usually empty return trip to the city.

  “I’d like to go to the ferry slip.”

  The man shook his head and his thick black muttonchops seemed to float around his head. “Sir there is about twenty ferry stations. Do ya have a particular one in mind?”

  “Yes, the Fulton Street station.”

  “Then climb up sir an off we go.”

  The rig was a lightweight pulled by one horse with the driver in front. The cab itself was open with a folded top pushed back and Bill enjoyed being able to have a 360-degree view of the area. Although he loved traveling back in time more than anything, it had its drawbacks and the quality of air was one of them. Because horsepower was all they had it seemed that everyone owned a horse. The horses ate and their waste was mostly left where it fell for long periods of time. Not so bad in the winter, he thought as he covered his nose with a handkerchief, but in the heat of summer it reeks! Parts of the road were muddy telling him that there had been a shower not to long ago. The leaves of the trees also showed evidence of an early morning shower. Small round rivulets of water sat serenely upon them as they gladly shrunk from the evaporation that would return them to the sky above so they may start their trip down over again. The rain had helped clear the air somewhat and he smiled as children played in the puddles that dogs used as watering holes. A man stood looking up at one of the many open windows of a three-story apartment house. He shook his fist as he brushed some refuse off his shoulder and hat. It was obvious that a tenant had tossed garbage out the window and caught him by surprise as he walked by . . . a little too close to the building which proved that he was not from the city. Whoever it was stayed inside lest he actually spot them and do the bodily harm he was promising them. Life in the city, Bill thought as others simply walked by the everyday event.

  Bill could see that they were close to the docks as the tall masts of the great cargo sailing ships rose up behind the smaller buildings. The cabby turned a corner and pulled up next to a group of cabs all dropping off or picking up fares.

  “Here we are, sir. Five cents, please.”

  “Thanks,” said Bill as he gave him double the fare and hopped down.

  The cabby tipped his hat and said with a wink, “If ya gonna cross, sir, ya would be better ta take Tommy Winslow’s boat. Best sailor about.” He tilted his head towards a small light sailboat with three men aboard one of which had a white captain’s cap on. Bill winked back and said, “Thanks friend. I’ll tell Tommy you said hello.”

  With a nod he called out as he turned the carriage, “Calvin’s me name, sir. Have a safe trip.”

  The time traveler walked over to the red and white sailboat that bobbed in the choppy waters. Catching the man’s attention he called out, “Are you Tommy Winslow?”

  The short heavyset man sporting a full white beard and mustache nodded as he watched a possible fare approach. “Are ya seeking ta cross?”

  “I am.”

  “Then yes, I am Tommy Winslow. The fare be a five cents and if ya agree step aboard and we’ll be pushin’ off as soon as ya do.”

  Bill stepped easily from the slippery dock and onto the boat’s deck. He passed the captain the fare and said, “Calvin said to say hello to you captain.”

  The man’s white mustache curled as he grinned. “Calvin’s a good friend. He steers me fares whenever he can an’ at day’s end I take him across ta Brooklyn where he lives with two cats and a dog.”

  The other two men were dressed in what Bill considered ‘business clothes’ and one of them asked, “Captain we have waited twenty minutes. My companion and me have business appointments. When will we leave?”

  “Right now sir as we are now at our maximum weight. Please sit and I might add hold on to your hats as it tends to get windy and duck yer heads when I call out ‘duck’.”

  Bill joined the other men on a bench type seat as the captain cast off the single rope that kept them tied to the dock. At the same time he pulled on the rope that quickly raised the sail, tied it tight and sat at the rear with his arm wrapped around the tiller. The breeze quickly filled the sail and the small boat shot away from the pier and sailed out into the busy waterway. The three men held onto their hats with one hand and their seat with the other.

  “Get ready ta duck gents,” called out the captain and one minute later he shouted, “Duck!”

  The three men ducked as the boom swung from the right side of the boat to the left and the captain pulled the tiller onto a new course. A moan came from one of the men as his hat flew off and into the water.

  “Got it,” called the captain as he held up the soaking hat. A sudden blast of a whistle quickly got his attention as a rather large barge carryi
ng coal headed right at them. “Duck,” was called again as the captain skirted the threat only to call out “Duck,” again as he came back on course.

  Bill counted twenty-three ‘ducks’ before the captain finally docked in Brooklyn. The fifteen minute trip took thirty-six minutes as more than once the boat got caught in a fast moving current going the opposite way.

  Although there are many ferryboats working the waters between Manhattan and Brooklyn, Bill thought as he stood, the Nassau not only offered the commuter a powerful steam engine that wasn’t affected by the currents and wind, but a regularly scheduled departure and arrival time. That’s the main reason they knocked the others out of business.

  As he tossed a line to a young man on the dock the captain said, “Careful stepping out gents, it be slippery on the dock.”

  “Might I ask you which way is Fulton Street?” Bill asked.

  “Eight blocks that way,” he answered as he pointed north.

  Bill thanked him and started the short walk north. The shoreline was full with fishermen returning from their early morning outings and the many Brooklynites waiting to buy their catch. Others sat and repaired their nets or set their crab traps all the while telling wild or made-up sea stories. He passed two more ferry businesses with boats large enough to ferry a few horse and wagons across. Each had a line of wagons waiting their turn. The time traveler grinned as he saw the wagon drivers as they tried to inch in ahead of one another and heard more than one argument. More ferry service companies had nothing more than a flat wooden hulled raft with a single sail and no seats. The passengers stood as close to the center as possible and there was no way that a wagon could be ferried across. And like the one Bill had taken over, other ferry companies were nothing more than a single man who owned nothing more than a small sailboat. No matter what size of craft they own, Bill thought, these are true businessmen.