by John Peel
The Lorenzen brothers popped their heads out of the for’ard hatchway, wondering what was happening. The Captain hurried on deck himself. ‘What is it, man?’
Rubbing the back of his neck, Richardson tried to straighten up. ‘Captain,’ he explained, ‘I found a stowaway, sir. A girl, it was. She... she managed to get away from me.’
‘Stowaway, eh?’ Briggs muttered. ‘A girl, you say?’
‘Aye, sir.’
Firmly, Briggs nodded. ‘All hands amidships,’ he called to the brothers, who nodded, and called below in their turn. Turning back to Richardson , he continued. ‘How did she get away?’
‘I got hit over the head,’ his mate explained, fingering the swelling lump that was there.
‘By her?’
‘No,’ Richardson said slowly. ‘Come to think of it, it couldn’t have been. I was holding her in front of me. I think I saw two more people with her... but I was pretty much out of it, sir.’
‘Then it would seem that we have more than one stowaway aboard.’ He glanced up as the four sailors, the cook and a yawning second mate appeared. Martens looked worried, having caught the last part of this conversation.
‘I don’t like it, Captain,’ he said. ‘We’ve been about the ship too much for there to be room for a single person to hide out let alone two. Maybe they wasn’t people ...’ He crossed himself, fervently. ‘Maybe they was Krakens, or mermaids.’
Briggs looked at him in pity. ‘This is Eighteen Seventy-Two , sailor,’ he snapped, ‘not the Dark Ages! Mythical creatures do not exist. If there’s a woman aboard, it’s a woman and nothing more. Now, we’re going to search the ship and do a thorough job of it.’
The sailors didn’t believe that it was possible for them to have missed seeing a single stowaway, let alone the two or three that the First Mate claimed were about. Still, orders were orders, so they set to with as much enthusiasm as they could muster for the task. As always, the two Lorenzen brothers worked as a team. They headed for’ard, and looked everywhere that they could think of on deck. They found—as they had expected nothing.
‘May as well try below,’ Volkert muttered, and turned to go back. He froze in horror.
Approaching him was some thing made of metal. It had no apparent source of motion, yet it was gliding across the decks towards him and Boy. Volkert managed to get his arm functioning enough to tap his brother on the shoulder. Boy turned, then likewise froze, regarding this impossibility with dread.
‘Where are the time travellers?’ the Dalek grated. It had just emerged from its time machine, and could not see any sign of the TARDIS.
‘Gods of the deep!’ Volkert cursed. How could such things come aboard unless they were spirits? Nothing could induce him to stay on a haunted ship! He regained his power to move, and shot past the creature, not even pausing to see if his brother was following. He skidded to a halt by the cabin, as another of the creatures emerged from a shining box on the mid-deck. Martens ran across to join Volkert.
‘It’s the folk of the sea!’ he howled, in fear. ‘They’ve come to drag us down! We can’t stay on this cursed ship!’
Volkert had worked that out already. He began scrabbling at the fastenings that held the ship’s boat lashed to the mid-hatch. Martens helped him, working as fast as they could. The boat began to lurch free, but not soon enough. One of the creatures had spotted them, and glided across to the two sailors.
‘Stay where you are!’ it ordered. ‘You will provide information. Where are the time travellers?’
This was too much for Volkert. Without waiting for the boat, he screamed, jumped to the rails and then leapt into the sea. As Martens rushed to join him, the Dalek fired. For a second, Martens hung on the ropes, screaming in agony, then his dead body twisted and fell into the sea.
His screams had alerted the rest of the crew. Mrs Briggs, fearing some terrible shipwreck, ran onto deck, holding a wailing Sophia Matilda. As the Daleks began to search the ship, the other sailors panicked, and dived overboard to escape these infernal beings.
Briggs and Richardson tried to finish launching the ship’s lifeboat. Mrs Briggs stood, pale-faced and terrified, by the rail. One of the Daleks saw them, and moved forward. Knowing how fast the humans could dive into the water, the Dalek moved too rapidly itself, trying to prevent their escape. Instead, as their ship rolled slightly, it crashed into the woman and child.
Mrs Briggs screamed once as she fell. The Dalek keeled forward, dropping after her. The three of them hit the water together, but only the mother and child resurfaced. The Dalek, weighed down by all of its metal, sank swiftly from sight.
Richardson abandoned his efforts with the lifeboat, now almost free, and ran with Briggs to glance over the side of the ship. Sarah Briggs was desperately trying to reach her daughter. Briggs dived into the water to help. Richardson hesitated for a second. The ship rolled again, and the lifeboat, now completely unlashed, slid across the deck and slammed into the Mate’s legs. Richardson fell over the side, swiftly followed by the boat, still upside-down, as it had been stored. It hit the water, rolled, and sank.
As the sailors, Sarah Briggs and the child tried to stay afloat, they saw their ship moving swiftly away from them. It would only be a matter of time before they followed that evil creature down to the depths. They were better than seven miles from land, and there was no chance that any of them could swim that far...
On the ship, the Daleks were totally uninterested. They completed their search, and then reported back to their squad leader. ‘There is no one on the vessel.’
‘Then our enemies have escaped us again. We will continue the pursuit.’ It led the way back into the time machine. After a moment, the metal box vanished, leaving the decks completely clear.
The wind was full, and the sails caught the breezes. The ship moved on, with no hand on the wheel. The decks creaked, the sails filled, the wheel spun. It would be found on 4 December, floating like this, by a sister ship, the Dei Gratia . The Dei Gratia had left New York eight days behind this vessel. They had been in the same dock area. Their captains had taken dinner together. They would never do so again. Midway between the Azores and Portugal, the Mary Celeste was sighted, and then boarded.
No one was aboard. The mystery had begun.
Within the TARDIS, Ian had just about recovered, and was suffering Barbara’s ministrations. She had bathed the lump on his skull, which was already starting to subside. ‘That better?’ she asked.
‘Somewhat,’ Ian agreed. ‘Did you see the name of that ship?’
Barbara nodded. ‘The Mary Celeste ,’ she answered, troubled. ‘Ian, you know what must have happened after we left, don’t you? I mean, we all know that the Mary Celeste was found abandoned, her crew vanished. The Daleks must have gotten them somehow.’
‘I don’t know.’ Ian looked at her, gently. ‘That must be the answer to the mystery. But it’s an answer no one would believe.’
‘That’s not what worries me.’ She began to tidy up the medical supplies, returning them to their cabinets in the tiny infirmary that the TARDIS possessed. She was working just to keep occupied, while she tried to quell her troubled heart. ‘Ian, whichever way I look at it, I can’t help feeling that we killed those people. If we hadn’t landed there, the Daleks would never have found them and killed them. It’s our fault.’
Ian shook his head, firmly. It hurt, and he tried to fight down the pain. ‘It isn’t, you know. Butwell, we learned about the Mary Celeste when we were just children. It is a fact of history, Barbara. One thing we should have learned in all our years of travelling is that, whatever we do, we can’t change history.’ He smiled at her, tenderly. ‘You tried that with the Aztecs, and failed.’
‘I know.’ Barbara managed a feeble smile. ‘Yet it doesn’t help me much. Maybe you’re right, and maybe it was inevitable that those poor sailors had to die. I still can’t help feeling that it’s still partly our fault. We led the Daleks there, you know.’
‘All right,’ Ian su
ggested. ‘Think about this. Suppose we had never travelled with the Doctor. Suppose he alone had landed on the Mary Celeste , unaware of what she was. Would it then have been his fault?’
‘Well...’ Barbara began to weaken. ‘I don’t think so. It would have been an accident.’
‘Then why is it our fault? Just because we happened to know what the ship was?’
Barbara tried to express what she was feeling. ‘We... well, we did know. And we did nothing.’
‘And what could we do?’ Ian asked reasonably. ‘Should we have told the crew that there were Daleks arriving any minute, and invited them into the TARDIS? Do you seriously think that they would have come?’
The idea was rather ludicrous. ‘They’d probably have made us walk the plank.’
Ian stood up and put a hand on her shoulder. ‘I think that there was nothing that we could really have done. In one sense, yes, it was our fault that the Daleks found the ship. On the other hand, we know that if they hadn’t, then something would still have had to happen to kill the crew. They were fated to die, I’m afraid.’ He sighed. ‘Come on, let’s see how the Doctor’s doing.’
They returned to the main control room, where the Doctor was still struggling with his instrumentation.
‘Any change, Doctor?’ Barbara asked, not really expecting any news.
‘I’ve altered the time curve we were following,’ the Doctor said, without enthusiasm. It had taken all of his ingenuity to manage that without his manuals and notes. ‘For a moment, I dared hope that we had lost them—then they must have detected the change and altered their own course again. They’re still right behind us.’
The way he said this worried Barbara. ‘We still have our twelve-minute lead, surely?’
The Doctor shook his head. ‘I’m afraid that’s down to eight minutes now... and it’ll be reduced even further after our next landing. The Daleks are catching up with us.’
All four of them turned to look at the path indicator. It seemed to pulse brighter and bleep louder—the signal of impending doom...
Chapter 8
Journey into Terror
It was not a place to be comfortable. The hallway was huge, made of stones and mortar dating back to the seventeenth century. It had lasted three hundred years or more without obvious change, and would last the same again with ease. Grey stones of immense size and strength laid out the large foyer. In the background stood a staircase of immense size. Each step was almost ten feet wide, and all were carved from a solid block of granite. This led to upper storeys that were deeply shadowed.
The hall and foyer themselves were shrouded in gloom. Pictures, faded and covered in dust and cobwebs; had long since given up trying to brighten the place. Now, they were content to hide in the darkness and hope to be overlooked. Large windows, filled with expensive stained-glass decorations, probably hadn’t been cleaned for centuries. Outside, lightning flashed, but even that could make little impact on the blackness within. The crash of thunder echoed about the empty rooms.
Nothing moved—no rodents, no insects. The shadows alone seemed to creep about, scurrying from patch to patch of blackness. Yet, even without any signs of life, there was something eerie about the whole place. It was more than the mystique that old things possess. It was as if there were some brooding evil that had, centuries past, settled into those cold stones and somehow animated them.
It was not a place to be comfortable.
If there were any strangers bold enough to cross the oaken threshold, they would peer about, sensing eyes in the gloom, eyes that watched and hungered—desiring the vitality of the still-living to feed their dead, yet undying, needs. Even where nothing lived, there was still that terrible sense of intelligence—watching, patiently, for its prey...
The TARDIS materialized near the door. For a moment, the light atop the time machine cast fresh, clean rays across the aeons of dust. Then the light cut out, and the darkness settled back down to wait again. After a moment, the door of the TARDIS opened, and—first as ever—Barbara peered out.
She looked at the hallway, and shuddered. ‘I’m not wild about this place,’ she muttered. It felt like a tomb. Her tomb.
As she moved out, her three companions followed. Ian glanced about, examining the place from a tactical point of view. ‘I don’t know,’ he commented. ‘It might be an ideal spot to wait for the Daleks.’ He slapped a stone. ‘Thick, stout walls.’ He gestured up the stairs. ‘An upper storey. The Daleks aren’t too good on stairs, don’t forget.’ He moved over to the staircase, to check that the steps were still navigable. He rested his hand on the carved wooden handrail as he did so.
Instantly, there was the sound of fluttering, as something came to life in the huge, arched rafters of the room. Vicki gave a squeal, and they all tried to peer through the gloom to see what was making the noise. Whatever it was, it was getting louder. Outside, another jagged fork of lightning split the sky. The little illumination it provided helped the travellers to see just dimly. Hundreds of furry shapes, with outstretched wings and fanged faces... Eyes gleamed redly in the light. As the lightning faded, the thunder crashed, drowning for a second only the beating of hundreds of tiny wings.
‘Bats!’ Barbara shuddered. ‘They’re bats!’
The wings beat on, as the bats flocked out. One of the windows over the stairs had a section missing near the top. The four friends could see the cloud-like mass of bats fluttering through this opening, and then they were gone.
Vicki opened her eyes again, and looked about the room. ‘Probably vampire bats,’ she said, in a hollow voice.
Ian glanced down at her, and raised an eyebrow. ‘Charming.’
‘Nonsense!’ the Doctor snorted. ‘Vampire bats are only to be found in South America.’
Vicki moved closer to him, and he put an arm about her, protectively. ‘Perhaps that’s where we are?’ she suggested, with a shudder.
‘Mmm... I doubt it.’ The Doctor gestured at the walls with his cane. ‘Judging by the style of architecture, it’s more likely to be Central Europe.’
‘Well, wherever we are,’ Ian said firmly, ‘I’m with Barbara. I don’t like it here. I think we should go.’
‘In normal circumstances, I would agree with you,’ the Doctor answered. ‘But with the Daleks to face, it’s essential that we have a look around. Come along, Chesterton—let’s see what’s upstairs.’
That was definitely too much for Barbara. ‘Well, you can go if you want to, but I’m staying right here.’
‘Me too,’ Vicki added. The closer she was to the TARDIS, the safer she felt. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being observed. The Doctor evidently didn’t share this impression.
‘Very well, very well,’ he agreed. ‘We won’t be long.’ He gestured to Ian, who nodded, and they walked off up the stairs.
Watching them leave, Vicki and Barbara drew closer to one another, both seeking reassurance. Glancing down at Vicki’s ashen face, Barbara realized that the young girl was really frightened. Coming from so far in the future, she’d probably never been in a stately home even. Poor thing, and here she was a grown woman—acting like a nervous child. It was up to her to set an example.
‘You know, Vicki,’ she said, with a bravery she didn’t really feel, ‘there really isn’t anything to be scared about. I mean, it’s just an old house. We’re letting our imaginations run away with us.’
Even as she spoke, there was another blast of lightning, and tremendous crash of thunder. Without thinking, they clutched one another in panic. Then, ashamed, they released their grip again.
‘We’ve got to stop this,’ Barbara said, firmly. ‘We’re just being silly. We need something to occupy our minds. Let’s help the Doctor, and look around for anything that might help us fight the Daleks down here.’
Though none too enthusiastic about the idea, Vicki nodded. She made sure, however, that she stayed close to Barbara when they began their search of the room. This was one time when she had no intenti
ons at all of striking out alone!
Close by the TARDIS was a shadowed niche. In it was a large wooden chest, amply covered with dust and cobwebs. This was about six feet long, and three feet high and deep. Barbara brushed at the cobwebs, uncovering deeply carved reliefs in the dark wood. Vicki shuddered, as most of the carvings depicted scenes of torture.
‘I wonder what’s in it?’ she said, not sounding as if she cared at all. ‘Someone has horrible taste in home decor.’
‘It’s probably empty,’ Barbara replied, ‘but we can’t pass up anything so obvious, can we?’ She reached out to try and open the lid, then hesitated. Maybe she was wrong; in a house like this, there could be almost anything inside. As if to echo her gloomy fears, there came another blast of lightning, and a deep-throated rumble of thunder. Determined, Barbara tried to lift the lid. It was heavier than she thought, and she had to apply both arms and a good deal of straining to move it at all.
Naturally, it creaked terribly as it swung open. Inside, there was a gleam of white in the low light and, with a shudder, Barbara realized that she had opened a coffin. A skeleton lay within, partially clad in decayed garments. Even as she was repulsed, one of the bony arms jerked.
The thing sat up slightly, turned its head and then the jaw fell open. Peals of demonic laughter echoed about the room. With a shriek, Barbara let the lid drop down. Clutching Vicki, Barbara retreated back to the TARDIS. Both of them kept their eyes firmly fixed on the coffin, waiting to see if the spectre would follow.
Things were a trifle calmer at that moment for the Doctor and Ian. They had climbed the stairs and, after an obligatory rest for the Doctor to get his wind back, moved on down the corridor towards a set of double doors. The dark walls were lined with more paintings, draperies, and several suits of armour, all needing a good polish to restore them to showcase quality.
As the two figures passed by, several helmets swivelled to follow their progress. Ian paused to grimace at one particularly macabre painting. From the draperies behind him, a thin gauze-wrapped arm groped outwards towards his neck. Without even noticing, Ian continued after the Doctor. The arm wavered for a second or two more, then withdrew.