Shirley nodded and continued, “Of course! An officer would be able to approach the admiral too.”
Bill asked, “So you both believe that an officer aboard a ship of the line could be recruited to do this for us? And you believe that an officer from 1805 would ask Lord Nelson to step aside in the heat of battle? Don’t you think that he would worry about his naval career ending then and there?”
Watson suddenly raised his eyebrows and with a look on his face of someone that has the correct answer said, “Why not recruit someone from a later time? Someone that knows what the consequences of Nelson dying before his time would bring.”
Bill nodded and said, “Someone responsible and who understands the consequences of a failed mission? Someone that was brought up in an era of British dominance of the oceans and would not wish that to change? Someone from, oh, lets say 1898?”
“Exactly!” said Watson with a big grin on his face that slowly changed to a look of understanding and he said, “Ah, Bill. Have you asked me to visit here so that you might have me go back and save Lord Nelson?”
“No, not Lord Nelson, the people of Britain and the many thousands of French and English soldiers that will die if Nelson loses the battle and France invades the British Isles. Them and their children and their children’s children. The many doctors, bankers, nurses, artists, teachers and other professionals besides the everyday person who won’t be born.”
Shirley would tell Watson later that his face became as gray as his hair when he answered Bill, “B-But, I’m no sailor. I-I wouldn’t know what to do aboard a ship.”
“I’m pretty sure that a ship such as the HMS Victory would never turn down a chance to have two surgeons aboard.”
“But Surgeon William Beatty was the ship’s surgeon aboard the Victory. He was one of the best surgeons in the British Navy.”
Bill quipped, “In 1805 he was. And you are a doctor in 1898. That’s a ninety-three year difference. You can’t tell me that a doctor from 1805 is better than a doctor from 1898.”
Watson shrugged in surrender; “I would have to agree with you there.”
Bill sat forward and said, “Watson, as much as I’d like to have you go back and prevent this from happening, I cannot make you do it. It has to come from you, but believe me you will have all the assistance you need.”
Watson stood and paced a circle in the den as both Bill and Shirley watched as he ran through all that had happened to him in the past few hours. He stopped and said, “On the plus side, it would be wonderful to meet Lord Nelson. My colleagues would be envious indeed.”
Bill smiled and said, “Not to discourage you but, they would never believe you.”
The doctor stopped pacing and said, “Mmmm, I hadn’t thought of that. But for my own satisfaction I might bring home a piece of the Victory. Sort of a paper weight.”
“Watson,” asked Shirley in almost a whisper, “does that mean that you are going?”
“Well, with my education in the late 1800s I would be able to impart some medical knowledge to the good surgeon.” He looked at Bill and continued, “Bill, you are going to show me the rest of that letter you sent me. Right?”
“It’s a deal, Watson.”
“Well, as they say, ‘duty calls,’ and one must do their duty.”
Shirley got up and hugged her old friend.
Flustered, Watson said, “Oh, I say, my dear Shirley. Stiff upper lip and all of that stuff. I’m just taking a short trip.” He looked at Bill and went on, “Am I correct, sir?”
“In the scope of things, yes!”
Watson smiled, “Sort of answer I’ve used many times over the years.” He sat and asked, “Must I go back soon or might I get to see a modern day operation?”
“I’ll set that up immediately,” said Bill.
“Bill,” asked Shirley, “might we go along with Watson?”
“Yes, if he wishes.”
“Oh, but I do wish it.” Traveling alone is one thing, but I imagine traveling alone back ninety-something years is quite another. I shall enjoy your company.”
“Would you like to take a walk in 2015 Watson?” asked Bill.
“Oh, yes indeed. Tell me, are bookstores available in this time period?”
“Yes. Would you like to visit one?”
“Absolutely.”
Bill buzzed Matt as he said, “First we have to get you dressed for it.”
Shirley stood, “I’ll change while you two get ready. Is it casual?” At a nod from Bill she left as Matt entered.
“You called, sir?”
“Yes, Matt. Would you show Watson the 2015 wardrobe?”
“Yes sir. Casual?”
“Yep. We’re just going to take a short walk. And how hard would it be to have Doctor Watson attend an medical operation?”
“Ms. Jennine Vescovi is a club member and is a Physician’s Assistant in charge of patient operations scheduling at Cornell Hospitsl. I shall call her after outfitting Doctor Watson.” He smiled and said to Watson, “This way, sir.” They left the room and Bill went and got dressed.
Twenty minutes later Watson reentered the den. He was obviously flustered as he stood and said, “I was assured by Matt that this is casual attire. Is he correct?”
He wore a black three-button jacket over a blue shirt open at the collar with no tie, tan slacks, socks and black loafers.
“Watson, you look as though you were born and raised right here in New York City.”
There was a tap on the door and Shirley entered and Watson seemed to collapse into his seat rather than sit. He stared then quickly looked away only to stare again as he said, “My dear! What is it that you are wearing? Why-why, if our friends should see you dressed like that . . . well, I don’t know what they would say.”
“If my friends saw me now, my dear Watson, they would say, ‘Let me stay in this time and dress as we women should; not as store dummies but as we like!’” She twirled around as she looked in the full-length mirror. She wore a short, zippered red leather jacket over a black turtleneck sweater and low-rise, stone washed straight-leg blue jeans tucked into her calf high red leather boots. In her hand she carried a small black leather grip. She had removed the pins that held her long brown hair up and pulled it back into a ponytail with bangs that accentuated her big brown eyes. Her lips had a pout to them that showed up well with her red lipstick.
Bill smiled and realized that he wore the same outfit as Watson except that he wore a pair of low black boots. “Well, shall we take a stroll?”
A nervous Watson stood as Shirley held out a hand and said, “Doctor Watson, come stroll in a world that is full of surprises at every turn.”
Bill took them down the main stairway and onto the marble main floor that took them to the vestibule with a white tile floor. Set into the white tiles were the words, ‘1800 CLUB’ in red tiles.
“I say,” asked Watson, “is this a club as well as your home?”
“Yes. I’ll explain it to you over dinner this evening.”
Bill opened the door and they walked down the stone steps of the club’s stoop and onto the blue slate sidewalk. The sidewalk in front of the club was in the shade of a large, thick maple tree whose roots actually lifted the slate slabs in spots, although this was common and ignored by the average New Yorker.
The sudden ringing of a bell caused Watson to jump as a young man on a bike delivering food sped by. He quickly jumped back the opposite way as a boy on a skateboard whizzed by.
“Shirley,” Bill said with a grin as Watson looked around nervously, “perhaps you should hold Watson’s arm.”
“May I?” she asked and Watson offered his arm as they started to walk down the street.
Bill grinned as he watched the two people from the past trying to look at everything at once. Just as I do when I take a trip back, he thought as they reached the corner. A city bus stopped and opened its door for two women standing at the bus stop. It closed its doors after they boarded and took off with a roar and a clo
ud of blue gray exhaust smoke from its diesel engine that brought Watson to tears.
The three walked to the East Village Books store on St. Marks Place, went down the four steps and opened the door. A small bell at the top of the door told the proprietor that he had visitors. Both Watson and Shirley stood in awe of the seemingly endless supply of books as every inch of the wall was used as a bookcase and there were bins full of books of every genre they might be interested in.
“May I help you?” said the tall slim storeowner who wore a leather apron over his blue suit. But it was his yellow bowtie and glasses that hung around his neck by a yellow ribbon that told anyone that he was the owner.
Bill turned to Watson and said, “Whatever books you want, Watson, just ask. This bookstore has them all.”
The man grinned and asked, “Would you be any relation to Doctor John Watson?”
Watson looked at Bill with a questioning look on his face.
Bill quickly helped him out by saying with a laugh, “Watson gets that question wherever he goes. Right Watson?”
“Ah . . . yes, yes indeed.”
“English too,” the man quipped. “I bet you were the envy of your class in school.”
Watson smiled back and said, “Not really.”
“What book is it that you are looking for?”
“If it were allowable, sir, I would love to browse through your medical section.”
“Come this way,” he said as he led the doctor to a small section of wall near the door.
“Sir,” asked Shirley, “is there a section on police forensics?”
“Right this way, m’am,” he said as he led her to a set of bins.
Bill browsed looking at nothing in particular and fifteen minutes later Shirley was by his side with a book, ‘Techniques of Crime Scene Investigation, Eighth Edition by Barry A. J. Fisher and David R. Fisher.’
Bill grinned and said, “This is one book that you probably don’t need.” Watson joined them and said as he held out his large paper money and some coins, “Bill do you think he will take English money?”
“Yes, but not from 1898. I have the correct amount so please allow me.”
“Quite embarrassing,” Watson said in a low tone.
“No, not at all. Right now you are on a mission for the club and everything is covered.” He looked at the book and read the title, ‘Medical Breakthroughs of the Past 100 Years by Doctor B. Mandell.’ Boy, he thought, I wonder where this is going? He’s going to want to bring this book back with him and that might change lots of things. I wonder what the folks upline will think? Oh well, the mission is the most important thing.
They left the bookstore and Bill asked, “Would you like a cup of tea?”
Watson nodded, “That would be outstanding!” he turned to Shirley and asked, “Shirley? A cuppa?”
“Yes, that would be nice.” She turned to Bill, “The Coffeebean?”
“Yes, It will give Watson a feel of the old country.”
After walking another few blocks with Bill watching that they don’t step in front of a vehicle coming from the other direction, they arrived at the Coffeebean. The coffee shop was half empty and Bill and Shirley sat at a table near the large window. The blinds were up and Watson, and even Shirley at times, watched as a whole new and very different world passed by the coffee shop.
“Might I suggest the Lady Grey,” said Shirley, Mosley usually has it in stock.”
Watson nodded, “Then Lady Grey it is.”
The waiter came over and said as he took out a note pad, “Good afternoon, folks. Can I take your order?”
Bill ordered, “Two cups of Lady Grey and I’ll have a cup of Queen Anne.”
The waiter left as the owner came out of the kitchen and went to their table.
“Greeting, Shirley and Bill. Here to enjoy England’s best tea?”
“Hello, Mister Mosley,” said Shirley offering her hand. “Yes we are here to enjoy England’s best.”
Bill shook hands with the owner, “Nice to see you again, Mosley, and this is Doctor John Watson,” he turned to Watson and went on, “Watson, Tim Mosley, expat and owner of this fine establishment.”
“Good to make your acquaintance,” said Watson as they shook hands.
Mosley said, “Doctor Watson and with an English tongue; London I would think. You do know that Doctor John Watson was the fictional character in the Sherlock Holmes books?”
Bill and Shirley grinned as Watson started to play with his mustache, a sure sign that he was fuming.
“I do,” he said with a warm smile. “In fact that is why I choose to become a doctor. I already had the name.”
“Well,” said Mosley as the waiter came to their table with their order, “please enjoy yourselves and come back soon.”
The waiter put the cups of hot water onto the table with a teabag on separate small dishes and left.
“What is this?” asked Watson as he held up his teabag. “Are my tealeaves in this-this pouch?”
“Oh,” said Shirley as she covered her mouth to stifle a laugh at the perplexed look on Watson’s face. “I forgot that teabags are not yet available in 1898. They were invented in 1908.”
Before the other two could explain the process, Watson tore open the paper bag and poured the leaves into the hot water. It immediately started to turn a deep black and he nodded, “Done. Now, this is how an Englishman drinks his tea.” He grimaced as the other two dropped their teabag into their cups of hot water.
“May I see the book you purchased, Watson?” asked Bill as they enjoyed their drink.
“Certainly,” he said as he removed it from the paper bag and passed it to him.
Bill flipped through the pages of the heavily illustrated book and said, “Whew! This is heavy reading.” He looked up at the doctor and asked, “This book could revolutionize the medical field of Great Britain. Can’t it?”
Watson nodded, “From the few pages I’ve glanced at I would have to agree to that statement.”
Shirley knew what Bill was thinking: this book arriving in England of 1898 could change history drastically.
Watson shook his head as Bill passed it back to him, “My Lord,” he said as he flipped it open to a section with the heading: Medical Illustrations of Appendix Image Collection. “This little book holds more knowledge than a roomful of the best medical minds of my time.”
The three time travelers finished their tea and went back to the club.
“Sir,” said Matt to Watson. “Our friend at the hospital says that an operation is set for this three-thirty this afternoon and if you still wish, she will fit you into the viewing section.”
Bill shrugged and said, “Watson, if you wish we could be there in fifteen minutes.”
“That would be wonderful,” answered Watson.
“Then,” said Matt, “I shall call her back and tell her to expect you.”
The three left the club and hailed a cab that took them to the upper east side of the city and they entered the hospital.
They entered Cornell and Physician’s Assistant Jennine Vescovi stood by the reception desk. She was dressed in green scrubs and had a plastic hat over her hair. “Hello, President Scott, nice to see you outside of the club.”
“Same here, Jennine. This is Shirley Holmes and John Watson.”
She put out her hand and said jokingly as they shook hands, “Any relation to Sherlock and Doctor Watson?”
Both Watson and Shirley looked at Bill who grinned and answered, “As I told them what a coincidence.”
“We are doing a hernia operation and there is a small group of interns going to watch so I’ll just slip John in. But first, we have to get you washed and into scrubs. Follow me, John.”
Bill and Shirley took a seat in the waiting area as John followed Jennine. He washed and changed into green scrubs and joined the small group of interns in a raised theater with a large closed circuit screen that gave them the option of watching the operation on the screen or first hand. Watson
was shocked by the television screen and the fact that all of the interns watched it on screen while him and Jennine watched in first hand.
After the operation was finished Jennine slapped him on his shoulder and said, “I’ll take you over those kids any time, John. I’ve never seen someone so engrossed in an operation as you. You’ll make a good surgeon,”
He was ecstatic by the compliment and couldn’t stop talking about the ‘simple operation’ he had watched.
After a dinner of roast beef and potatoes, onions, carrots and finished with Sticky toffee pudding with vanilla ice cream and toffee sauce they retired to the den where Matt brought in after-dinner drinks.
“Matt,” said Watson, “Was it your idea to serve the pudding?”
“Yes, sir. Did you enjoy the small bit of England?”
“I did! And I do hope that you had some as well.”
“I had to taste it before serving it so, yes, I did have a portion.”
Matt left and Bill got to the point and brought up the mission. “The facts on this mission are this: We all agree that a doctor would be welcomed aboard a fighting ship and would be treated as a gentleman and as a gentleman he would probably be carrying a pocket watch.” He looked at both of them, “Right?” Both nodded in agreement.
“From the naval records we know that the HMS Victory’s surgeon was Surgeon William Beatty, a well-respected Irishman who rose to become Physician of the Fleet. Now the trick is to get you aboard the HMS Victory from the HMS Pickle, a fast schooner that delivered mail to Admiral Nelson. It leaves London on October 5 and arrives at the fleet October 19, 1805, two days before the battle. We have the ability to write you a set of orders that are absolutely beyond suspicion. In order to skip any double-checking we want you to get to the Pickle at the very moment that she casts off. Your orders will state that you are there to observe life of the average seaman aboard a man-of-war, recommend ways to better their environment and report them back to the Sick and Hurt Board of the Admiralty.”
TimeTravel Adventures of The 1800 Club: Book 12 Page 9