TimeTravel Adventures of The 1800 Club: Book 12

by P McAuley, Robert

  “Water is cold, sir,” he said as he went down the hall. Bill slapped on water and brushed his teeth, skipped shaving and trotted back to his room just as Shirley ran down the hallway to beat another woman heading the same way. We must change this or I shall go off my rocker, she thought as she brushed her teeth, let her hair down and trotted back to her cabin as the doors all seemed to open at once and the passengers all headed towards the dining cabin. Shirley was happy that all of the dresses she brought along were different colors but the same cut and she got dressed in record time.

  Bill and her were the last two to sit.

  “Sleeping late, eh?” said Watson. They nodded as the doctor squinted his eyes and moved closer to Bill and said, “Oh, dear boy, I fear that you cut yourself shaving.”

  Bill felt his neck and knowing that he had not shaved said, “Ah, why do you say that, Watson?”

  “Well you seem to have blood on your collar.”

  Shirley looked and picked up a napkin and rubbed the spot as she looked into his eyes and whispered, “Lipstick, silly. Didn’t change your collar I see.”

  The door opened and once again Leopold entered with the boy who carried a basket of eggs while he pushed a wheeled cart that had a large pewter serving plate with a slab of bacon, sliced cheese a stack of brown bread and two tins of butter spread on it. A pitcher of tea and another of milk were on the bottom and he placed them one on each end of the table.

  Before he left the room Leopold said, “An egg with a drop of candle wax on it is a soft egg compared to the one without the wax which is hard boiled.”

  There was a shifting of chairs as the passengers traded eggs until all were satisfied.

  After breakfast they all strolled the top deck and as the sun beat down upon them, Bill suggested that they take their chairs out on deck and enjoy the day. This, he thought as they set their chairs close to the cabins, could be the beginning of the deck chair. They sat and chatted and soon most of the other passengers joined them with their own deck chairs. All enjoyed the relaxing sound of the ocean slapping against the wooden hull of the ship and got up only when the boy came around to give them a fifteen-minute warning that lunch was to be served.

  After a lunch of German beefsteaks with onion sauce, carrots, brown bread and butter spread, milk and tea most of the passengers went back to their respective cabins and took a nap. But the three time travelers went to Bill’s cabin and read the E-books books they had selected. It was not until they got their fifteen-minute warning that Shirley and Watson went back to their own cabins and all freshened up for dinner.

  This became the normal day for the three time travelers.

  The packet ship hit fog and had to go slow for a few days and docked at London on October 6, 1805 at two o’clock in the afternoon. Captain Whiting shook hands with each passenger as they departed and when Bill shook his hand the captain said, “I hope you had a good trip, Mister Scott and if I remember correctly, you and your two friends will be going back to America soon. Am I right?”

  “Yes, captain. We hope to depart England on or about November 5.”

  “Well, please check and see if perhaps I am in port. If so, I’ll make sure that you three get your cabins back.”

  Pumping his hand, Bill said with a smile, “Captain Whiting, it would be an honor to sail back home aboard the Penquin with you and your fine crew.”

  “And captain,” said Shirley as he kissed her hand, “I was pleased with the chicken dinners and very happy that we had no beef as the cow lived.”

  After goodbyes all around, they went down the gangway and took in the views of London 1805. The sea breeze had a chill in it but kept most of the odors away and the three time travelers drank in the views of a time gone by. There were pushcarts lining the wharf and owned by the hard working class of London who all tried to be heard above each other as they tried to sell their wares. Young children, boys mostly, dodged in and around the crowd playing games and being chased away by the much slower policemen who were on the lookout for pickpockets. The large cobblestoned wharf was wet with the fish oil and sea breeze that always carried a mist in it and gave the stones a slippery shine. Calls from the drivers of the endless line of cabs mingled with the merchants and hundreds of sea birds overhead.

  “It’s beautiful,” said Bill and the other two nodded in agreement as the time traveling bug had bitten them too.

  Bill selected a four-seat cab pulled by two horses. The driver climbed down from his high perch and tipped his tall black hat and said as he took Shirley’s valise, “Please, m’am, allow me.” He placed it on the roof and placed Bill and Watson’s next to them. He then took a length of rope and tied them down. Next he hopped down and with another tip of his hat opened the door for her as he asked Bill, “Where to, sir?”

  “The Green Heart on Seeley Street.”

  “Step in, m’lord and we’ll be there ‘afore ya know it.”

  Bill knew they were back in time by the poor quality of the air thanks to the thousands of horses in the great city and being by the docks did not help at all. Cats and rats fought over days old dead fish in broad daylight and even they had to duck as trash came raining down from open windows of the three storied buildings. Many people walked around holding a cloth to their nose and eyes as the smoke coming from the chimneys of the coal burning stoves thickened the natural fog. Still, the three time travelers craned their necks to see everything they could.

  It was the children who told anyone who wanted to know how far they were from the docks as the ones in the dock area wore no shoes and most of their activities consisted of begging as ships docked or worse, picking pockets of the unsuspecting travelers. A few short blocks away from the waterfront children wore shoes, shabby, but still shoes and their games resembled children’s games that the time travelers all knew. Further away and the children were dressed in well manufactured clothing, clean and pressed. The girls pushed baby carriages and played with their dolls while the boys played sailor or soldier all dreaming of being heroes like the ones they either read about or were read by their nanny. Another clue as to how far they were from the docks were the streets. At the dock area the streets were cobblestoned and had all sorts of debris jammed between the individual stone with plenty of flies flying around. Dead fish, fish oil, rats and seagulls were the most prominent which made walking a slippery chore and the smart fishmonger usually had a plank of wood in front of their cart to entice people to stand safely and shop at their cart. The streets less cluttered with fish and other debris were in the better sections and were less foul smelling.

  Seeley Street just happened to be one of the better streets and they exited the cab in front of the Green Heart Hotel. A young boy dressed in a red uniform climbed up on top of the cab and brought down the valises as Bill paid the cab driver.

  Once inside Bill marveled at how the owner had put together the look of a modern hotel. There were generously stuffed, red and black easy chairs placed throughout the lobby. Each chair had a brass standing ashtray next to it and there were brass spittoons strategically placed throughout the large room. Thick red drapes with a black fringe were tied back from the ten long windows to allow the morning sun to fill the room. Brass oil lamps were hanging from the tin ceiling and a dark brown rug covered most of the floor. There were paintings that depicted ships sailing with full sails and coaches with fast moving horses pulling them across a beautiful countryside all in hand rubbed gold frames. Deep potted plants were placed throughout and the round black marble tables held smaller plants. Bill knew that the plants were there not only to beautify the lobby but also to help mask the city’s poor air quality and the lack of personal deodorants.

  A young boy ran from behind the oak desk and took Shirley’s valise as they signed in.

  “Will ya be here long, sir?” asked a tall slim man with black slicked back hair and a thin mustache as he opened the register book on top of the large cherry wood desk.

  “Three or four weeks, sir,” answered Bill
as he entered his name in the book the man had turned towards him. “I’ll be paying for the three of us. I’ll pay one week in advance if that is good with this fine establishment.”

  “One week in advance is fine with us, sir. Leave your luggage here and the boy will bring them up. You will find that the Green Heart has the latest in comforts for the traveler, sir. At the end of the hallway on your floor is a water closet for all of the roomers.” He passed Bill three keys all on the second floor and said to the boy with Shirley’s valise, “Jethrow, rooms, 206, 207 and 208.”

  The boy ran up the carpeted stairs and ran back down as the three time travelers were still going up. He flew past them once again carrying two more valises and by the time the three had reached their doors he appeared out of breath, but carrying the last of their luggage.

  He bowed and said between short breaths, “All-of-your-luggage-is-accounted-for-and-should-ya-be-in-need-of-anything-please-ask-for-Jethrow”.

  Bill peeled off two bills and stuck them into his hand, “Jethrow, we thank you very much for your help and should we be in need of anything it is you that we shall call.” The young boy quickly pocketed his large tip and ran off.

  “It’s two-fifty. I say we have an early dinner and take a stroll down Wapping Lane and see HMS Pickle at her dock and take a look at Watson’s ride to Lord Nelson. Agree?”

  Watson answered first, “It would be a treat to have a dish of beef again. So, I’m all for it.”

  “I also agree,” said Shirley, “While the food aboard the Penquin was good, after three weeks I look forward to a different menu.”

  “Great,” said Bill as he opened his cabin door, “See you both right here in thirty minutes?”

  Both nodded in agreement and turned to their cabin doors.

  Shirley entered her room and smiled as she quietly thanked Matt for finding this hotel more than one hundred and fifty years in his past. The room was just one large bedroom with a double bed centered on the wall facing the door. A white linen bed cover that had light blue silk flowers sewn on it covered the bed while the two pillowcases were light blue with white silk flowers sewn on them. The walls were papered with five-inch wide vertical light blue and white stripes. A square table was against the wall to the right of the door and it had two straight back chairs tucked beneath it. The floor was made of wood slat and a round dark blue rug was centered in the room. An oil lamp was attached to the wall over the table while a portable lamp sat on a small round desk next to the bed. Finally, a three-drawer dresser with a round mirror over it was situated next to the room’s single window that had light cotton curtains. An eighteen-inch wide linen storage unit with a single door stood near the window and had a porcelain water bowl and pitcher on the top. Attached to the side was a brass towel bar and folded over it was a fluffy white towel. In the corner stood a French Giltwood and silk damask three-panel dressing screen.

  Knowing that the bathroom was down the hall, Shirley looked under the bed and saw a porcelain potty. She left the room, walked to the end of the hall and opened the door marked, WC. She sighed as she saw a modern, for the time, toilet. A small bathtub was also in the small room. Thank you Matt.

  Thirty minutes later the three time travelers met in the small hallway and went down to the lobby. “Sir,” asked Bill as he addressed the man behind the counter, “Could you recommend a good place to eat?”

  “The Devil’s Tavern,” he said as he pointed to the front door, “Step out an’ turn right on Wapping Lane. Five blocks will bring ya to the pub with the best ta eat for ya money.”

  After thanking him the trio stepped out onto the small stone sidewalk and turned right.

  “The Devil’s Tavern,” said Watson with a grin. Why I have had lunch there many a time.”

  “As have I,” added Shirley. It is quite exciting seeing buildings and places that are brand new now and know that we have visited them almost one hundred years from now.”

  Bill agreed, “The fun of time travel.”

  However as it was almost one hundred years in their past, some of the streets were paved with cobblestone while others had red brick, wood or hard packed dirt with muddy puddles where wagon wheels had created deep ruts and rain water collected. The streets were filled with people going about their business as children played in the streets while their mothers or nannies shouted for them to watch the wagons. There were wagons going both ways and all seemed to have their own rules as they simply stopped to pick up or drop off all sorts of merchandise forcing traffic to jam up followed by loud shouts from the other drivers. It seemed that every woman had a reddish brown line around the bottom of their dress, as the style of the day was to just skim the ground.

  The small sidewalks were jammed with people and baby carriages push carts and wheelbarrels. And even though many men were walking arm and arm with a woman, they took a moment to tip their hat at Shirley who grinned at Bill’s failed attempt to hide his discomfort.

  The Devil’s Tavern was an open type pub with no booths and single tables with straight back seats. The main supports for the building were real masts and Union Jacks were pinned to the ceiling while old barrels and ship’s wheels were part of the decorations. On the balcony above the bar was a swinging noose.

  The bar was full as were most of the tables but the three got a table near the window as for some reason most of the customers seemed to prefer the darker parts of the pub. Bill went to the bar and a huge man with a shock of red hair, beard and mustache said with a smile that showed his missing teeth and a lip that had a few stitches in it.

  “What’ll ya have, mate?”

  “I heard that this is the best place to get a beef dinner?” said Bill.

  “Yep! Cut up potatoes too?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “You from the colonies?” the big man asked.

  “Yes. But as you know they don’t call it the colonies any more.”

  The man nodded and said with a grin, “Most men agree with Billy. Not you. I like that, yank. Are ya drinkin’?”

  “Yes, Billy. Can I have three dishes of beef and potatoes and four mugs of ale.”

  He cocked his head and said as he poured the first in a pewter mug, “Four it is but I see only three of ya. Someone else comin’?

  “Nope. One is for you.”

  The big man smiled and said, “Ah, a gentleman. I’ll drink ta that. Go and sit, my friend and Molly will bring ya your food an’ drink along with some thick bread for wipein’ up the gravy.”

  The dinner was served on pewter dishes and both Watson and Shirley were right: the roast beef was a welcomed difference from the last two weeks aboard the ship.

  Watson was the first to admit that he was finished. “That was outstanding! Perhaps even better than from our time, eh, Shirley?”

  Bill cringed and looked around as Shirley said, “Shhh! We are supposed to be from now and the last thing we need is for someone to tell the police that we are daft.”

  Watson covered his mouth and whispered, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to give up the game.”

  Ten minutes later the three left the pub and started to walk down Wapping Lane at a leisurely pace as they took in sights that they had just read about or were familiar with.

  Twice Watson had to he hauled back as he approached buildings he was familiar with in his time. “I know a chap who runs the hat shop,” he said as he turned to enter a men’s hat shop. Another was when they entered a cigar store and he said to the young man behind the counter, “Is Donald around?”

  “I am he,” answered the man adding, “Do I know you, sir?”

  Watson suddenly realized that he was talking to his friend’s father years before his friend was born.

  “Come, John,” said Shirley taking him by the arm. They left the store and as it was close to dinnertime the streets were almost empty. As they reached the last street before the dock Bill took out a white handkerchief and said to Watson, “Watson, perhaps you should take this and hold it up to your face as we don’t
want anyone here to recognize you tomorrow as the man who was hanging .”

  “Good idea, Bill. I shall pretend to have a cold.” He covered his mouth, nose and chin as they strolled along.

  Finally the masts of many ships appeared above the roofs of the businesses that lined the London Dock. They turned the corner and saw immediately the Topsail Schooner HMS Pickle tied up where history said she’d be.

  Bill kept the conversation as casual as possible as he said, “Launched in 1799 she was named Sting, then renamed the Pickle in 1802.” They looked at the red and black ship as Bill went on, “She is 73 feet long with a beam of slightly over 27 feet. She carries about 40 sailors and is armed with 8 12 pounder cannonades. Not enough firepower to fight at Trafalgar, but fast enough to get the honor of sailing back to England with news of the victory along with the sad news that Admiral Nelson was dead”

  They walked past as Captain John Richards Lapenotiere watched as the ship’s crew was helping load food and water for the trip. After the three time travelers turned the corner they went back to the hotel.

  The three sipped tea in Bill’s room as he went over the plan. “With that fog that slowed us down, we are lucky to have arrived when we did with just one day to spare.”

  Both Watson and Shirley nodded in agreement. Bill handed Watson a pocket watch that, while it looked like a typical 1805 type, was really from the History Watchers upline. It was waterproof, shockproof and had an alarm that could ring, vibrate or do both at the same time. It also had an internal calendar that Bill set at October 21, 1805, 11:54 a.m., a moment before the cannonball would strike Lord Nelson. They went over the letter that Matt had provided along with a replica of the hot wax stamp that the British Lord High Admiral used to seal a writ. Watson took a manila envelope from his inside jacket pocket, opened it and laid it flat on the table. Matt had tracked down a writ from William Marsden, Secretary of the Navy of 1805 and used it as a model for Watson to use. It read,