Nick of Time

by Ted Bell

  Lord Hawke looked at the chest for a long moment, running his hand over it, and then at Nick, and once again Nick had the feeling he was undergoing the careful scrutiny of Hawke’s appraising eye.

  “And you, of course, must be young Nicholas McIver,” Hawke said, pausing before going on. “Although we’ve never met, I’m sure you’ve guessed our common interest in, shall I say, ‘migratory birds,’ Mr. McIver?”

  Once again, a little joke to ease the terrible tension that still filled the room.

  “Were you aware that your father and I were in fact, comrades-in-arms?”

  Nick was both astounded and delighted. To be involved in such an important mission, keeping an eye on the Nazis for Churchill, and to possibly have the help of a famous detective such as Lord Hawke, and Hobbes too—well, it defied belief. “No, sir! What with all the island rumors, Gunner and I, why, we weren’t even sure if you still lived here! Much less that you were one of Father’s fellow birdwatchers!”

  “I expect not! No one did! In fact, until today, Hobbes and I have been one of the best kept secrets in all England!” His face turned suddenly grave, remembering that a serious breach of security had just occurred. Two children and an old navy warhorse had just penetrated his impenetrable fortress. His manner turned deadly serious once more.

  “Sadly, Nick, it’s unfortunate that you’ve come here. This is a top-secret military installation. Our systems are all designed specifically to prevent just such intrusions as yours. But, now that you’re here, you must swear yourselves to solemn secrecy. In the name of His Majesty, King George, I must have your sacred oath that you will reveal nothing of what you have seen or will hear today. Lives are at stake, including that of Commander Hobbes and your own father, Nick.”

  He looked at them each in turn. Katie and Gunner looked as if they had fallen off the planet and landed in a different world. And, in a way, they had. A top-secret naval installation? On an island where nothing ever happened?

  “His lordship is correct. Do you so solemnly swear, upon your sacred honor?” Hobbes asked.

  “Upon our sacred honor, your lordship,” they answered as one.

  “In the name of His Majesty the King,” Kate added, in an awed little whisper. This, she thought, was secret-keeping at its very best!

  “I only allowed Hobbes to bring you up here,” Hawke said, “because there are three issues of grave importance. The first being the appearance, according to what Hobbes tells me, of William Blood on this island. Is this true?” he asked, looking directly at Nick.

  “I’m afraid so,” said Nick. “Although I just met him myself, the fellow has kidnapped my dog, sir.”

  Lord Hawke regarded him in solemn silence for a moment.

  “I’m sorry,” Hawke said. “You must all understand that Blood’s appearance is an event of enormous significance to me personally. I will explain why that is so in due course. However, I understand that your encounter with Blood was preceded by the discovery of this particular chest. An officer’s seagoing chest that would appear to be of the type common in the Navy in the beginning of the nineteenth century, and yet it has the finish of a brand-new one, doesn’t it? Odd, I must say. And, finally, Hobbes and I have seen a dramatic increase in U-boat activity round the island in recent weeks. Apparently, Nick, there’s an Alpha-Class lurking about?”

  “Gunner and I were nearly able to put a clock on an Alpha-Class, sir,” Nick said, with a mixture of excitement and modesty. “We estimate she was doing at least seventeen knots, your lordship. Submerged!”

  “Seventeen submerged!” Hawke’s eyes widened in amazement. “Do you hear that, Hobbes? Nick, I want you to give the commander a complete account of this submarine’s performance. Did you identify her?”

  “U-33, your lordship,” Nick said. “May I borrow a pen to write it all down, sir?”

  “I insist that you do so immediately, while it’s fresh,” Hawke said, handing the boy his own fat black Mont Blanc pen.

  Commander Hobbes drew a sharp breath. “U-33. That’s the one we’ve been looking for, your lordship! I knew she was cruising in these waters, I knew it! Well done, lad, splendid effort!”

  “We’ll need every scrap of information on her, lad,” Hawke said, his eyes gleaming with excitement as Nick scribbled furiously. “And the sooner this new intelligence gets across the Channel to Chartwell the better, eh, Hobbes? Tonight, if that’s at all possible? Uncle Winston will be delighted!”

  “Tonight, sir,” Hobbes said, nodding in agreement. “Thor is fueled and ready.”

  “Let’s turn our attention to this sea chest, shall we?” Hawke said, pulling the chest toward him. “Nick, be so kind as to tell me everything you can remember about the circumstances of its first appearance. Then we’ll find out what’s inside.”

  Nick found himself involuntarily taking a very deep breath.

  I’m going to find out what’s inside the chest, and it’s going to change my life forever.

  He told Lord Hawke about the discovery of the chest. About his shock at seeing his own name on the lid. And how surprised he’d been at its appearance when he’d noticed that, despite it’s age, it was still flawless, shiny, perfect. Or, rather, that it had become so while in his possession.

  “And you say Billy Blood appeared on the very night you discovered the chest?” Hawke asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Nick answered. “He was at the Greybeard Inn when we stopped in to get dry. It was cold and raining something awful and Katie’s timbers were shivering something fierce. We thought Gunner might have a fire going, and he did.”

  “Gunner, you were there last night, you saw Blood when he first appeared?” Hawke asked. Nick noticed that he was making notes as everyone spoke.

  “Appeared is the right word for it, your lordship, which it’s just what they did, all right,” Gunner replied, finally realizing that not only was Hawke not going to shoot them for invading his privacy, it looked like he was actually going to help them get to the bottom of all these strange goings-on! “They just appeared, sir, but I didn’t see ’em do it. Popped-in, sort of thing. Out of thin air, m’lord.”

  “They? What do you mean?” asked Hawke. “They?”

  “Well, there was two of ’em, wasn’t there, m’lord? Plus the bird? See, it was a dark and blowy night, as your lordship will remember. And all my lads as usually likes to lift a pint down at the inn had stayed home with the missus to keep warm and dry. Place was empty as a crypt, nobody there but meself and me old tomcat, Horatio, and wind howlin’ around the windows and down the chimney so I built us a nice fire, I did, sir. Horatio bein’ a cat as likes his nice warm fire.” Gunner stopped and took a look around to see if anyone was listening to his tale. Nick couldn’t remember a time when Gunner’d had this much to say, but he supposed having such a famous audience as Lord Hawke encouraged him to loosen his tongue.

  “Please continue, Gunner,” Lord Hawke said, holding a match to his cigar and sending a stream of smoke from the corner of his mouth. “And please don’t leave anything out, no matter how unimportant you feel it may be.”

  “Well, like I was sayin’, custom was scarce last night on account of the storm, and I stepped out into the kitchen to ladle a dollop of cream into Horatio’s bowl, him bein’ my only patron of the evenin’, and when I steps back, there’s this swervy-looking polecat sittin’ there, starin’ into the fire and smokin’ this long bony pipe. And his mate, lurkin’ back in the shadows, like he didn’t want no one lookin’ at him.”

  Gunner paused and looked at his hands, trying to remember everything. Nick saw Katie shudder at this mention of Blood’s companion and he shuddered himself at the memory of the man’s horribly disfigured face in the firelight as Gunner resumed his tale.

  “I didn’t hear the door bang open or bang shut, nor even the rain blowin’ in or blowin’ out! Or, anythin’ at all! But, there them piratical creatures sat, all cosy by the fire with that bright red parrot perched on the one’s shoulder, whisperin’ in his ea
r and—”

  “Parrot! We didn’t see any parrot, Gunner!” Nick said, leaning forward and grabbing Gunner’s arm. He turned to Hawke. “Your lordship, I forgot to mention that there was a strange parrot guarding the chest when we found it! Bit my sister it did, too!”

  “It doesn’t really hurt anymore,” Katie said, proudly holding up her bandaged finger for all to inspect.

  “On my word, sir,” Gunner said. “Blood had a parrot he did, big, red, nasty-lookin’ bird, too. Shifty-eyed creature perched on his shoulder and talked a blue streak, too, though you couldn’t make out what it was sayin’. Parrot talked right in his master’s ear, he did, like he was tellin’ him secrets!”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Nick said to Hawke. “There was no parrot in the room when we saw Blood. Only a single red feather.”

  “He’s correct, sir,” Gunner said. “Now I recollect it, the parrot was flown from this Blood’s shoulder when the young ones arrived. Never saw that bird again, either. Just disappeared, it did. Popped in, popped out. Blink of a ruddy eye, your lordship, that’s how they navigate, these three.”

  “So, Hobbes, Bill’s brought old Bones with him this time,” Hawke said. “That’s not good.”

  “Indeed he has, and Snake Eye, too, apparently,” Hobbes added, his face clouded with a dark frown.

  “Yes!” Nick cried. “That’s right! Blood called the fellow hiding in the shadows, Snake Eye! Who is he, Commander?”

  “Someone you never in this life want to meet again,” Hawke said, placing his hand on Nick’s shoulder. “If you can help it. I’m sorry, I must fetch some of our chronological equipment from my laboratory. Will you all excuse me for a few moments?” And with that, the famous detective stepped to the gleaming brass fireman’s pole, leapt onto it, and dropped instantly from sight.

  So much for plump little lords in pinstriped suits, Nick thought with a smile.

  CHAPTER XV

  The Mystery of Time

  · 6 June 1939 ·

  HAWKE CASTLE

  Let’s open the thing up, shall we?” Lord Hawke said. By the time Hawke had returned via the lift with the laboratory equipment, Gunner and Hobbes had moved the sea chest to a curved table next to the westernmost window. The dying rays of the sun caught the gleaming surface of the wooden lid. Nick was amazed to see how the old chest and its brass lock looked, even in this fading light. It looked, well, almost brand-new!

  “The lock works will be left intact, of course, Hobbes?” Lord Hawke said. He was watching Hobbes’s every move. Nick was surprised to see Hobbes’s deft movements with the small precision tools as he proceeded to pick and pry at the shiny lock; it was like watching a master craftsman.

  “Of course, sir,” Hobbes said. “I assume we’ll want to preserve its current chronology for time-dating in the laboratory this evening.”

  “Precisely, Hobbes. A step ahead of me, as usual,” Hawke said, and took another deep puff on his pungent cigar. “I’m sure we’ll find the lock works keeping track with the laboratory chronograph. The lock is attached to the chest, so it is traveling at the same speed, don’t you think?”

  “No question, sir. They’ll be traveling together,” Hobbes said through his clenched teeth. He was chewing on the tortoise-shell amulet that hung from around his neck, lost in concentration.

  “Should we put the spectral chronometer on it, Hobbes—before we open the box, I mean?” Hawke asked, peering more closely at the lock. “Just in case?”

  “Wouldn’t hurt, m’lord,” Hobbes said. He opened a mahogany case Hawke had brought from the laboratory and pulled out an odd-looking contraption. It appeared to be a sophisticated naval chronometer, but featured a number of strange dials, and had many-colored wires dangling from it. These wires were attached to two large brass clock housings with plain white faces and a red sweep second hand. In red type on the left face were the letters GMT. On the right, was the word FLUX. Nick stared at the contraption as Hobbes attached its wires by little clips to both the lock and the sea chest itself.

  “GMT? That’s Greenwich Mean Time, right?” Nick asked, feeling foolish as soon as the question was out of his mouth.

  “Right-ho,” Hobbes said, not even looking up from his work. “The exact time everywhere on earth as measured precisely up in Greenwich. A constant, as it were.”

  “And flux?” Nick asked. He noticed that the sweep second hand on the FLUX face began spinning wildly, too fast to see, the instant Hobbes attached its clip to the sea chest.

  “A bit more complicated,” said Lord Hawke. “Flux is simply movement in time. Backward. Forward. Either direction, actually.”

  “Considerably more complicated, I’d say, m’lord,” said Hobbes with a little laugh, inserting another copper wire into the keyhole of the lock.

  “Excuse me, please, but what in the world is going on here?” Nick said, getting to his feet. The things he was hearing were making him doubt his own sanity. Nothing was making any sense, and it was a bit frightening.

  “The chest has moved forward, Nick. But you just can’t see it,” Lord Hawke said, putting a calming hand on Nick’s shoulder in an attempt to soothe him.

  “It’s moving in another dimension, lad,” Hobbes said.

  “It’s moved forward in time, son,” said Hawke.

  “With respect, sir, it has not moved forward in time!” Nick said, his face reddening. “Because that is not even remotely, with all due respect to you both, not even remotely possible!”

  “Sit down, Nick,” Lord Hawke said kindly. “Sit down for a moment, and Hobbes and I will try to explain it to you.”

  “Do you know what the word ‘flux’ actually means, Nick?” asked Hobbes, gently placing the instrument on the table before Nick. The thin red needle was a spinning blur.

  “I—I think so, sir,” said Nick, taking a deep breath. “Change. Isn’t that it, change?”

  “Exactly,” said Hobbes. “Change. It means change, and also, continuous movement. A constant state of movement. Along a sort of track, for want of a better word, called the fourth dimension, or, non-Euclidean space-time. Does that make sense?”

  “That’s what time is, Nick, flux. A constant state of movement,” Hawke said, pointing at the spinning FLUX dial. “Where is the needle now? When you say ‘now,’ what does that really mean, Nick?”

  Nick looked at him, then at the red blur of the spinning second hand.

  “It means now,” Nick said, “It means right now, doesn’t it? I think all this is—is just too—I don’t know what to think. I’m sorry.” The boy rested his chin in both hands and stared sullenly at the spinning dial.

  “I know how you feel, Nicholas,” Lord Hawke said kindly. “I had precisely the same reaction the first time Hobbes explained the notion to me. Perfectly natural reaction. It is difficult to grasp.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Nick said, straining to get his emotions under control. “I am terribly sorry. Hobbes, won’t you continue?”

  “Now is just a point in time, isn’t it?” said Hobbes, hardly missing a beat. “And, as soon as you’ve said it, it’s gone, laddie. It’s long gone, boy. It’s moved. It’s somewhere else on the track. And the track has no end. Only points back there, here, and up ahead. And you can only see the point where you are, but that doesn’t mean the others don’t exist, does it? They’re there, laddie, but you can only see them if you move! Here, let me try and show you—”

  Hobbes pulled a scrap of paper from the drawer and extracted a black fountain pen from his pocket. He drew a line from left to right across the page and marked each end.

  “Time is that line, Nick,” Hobbes said. “From ‘D’ the ‘dawn of time’ to ‘E,’ not the end, but ‘eternity.’ And ‘x’ is now. You can put an ‘x’ anywhere on the line, but the line stays constant. Each moment reaches backward and forward to all other moments. You can’t see the time line, but everybody knows it’s there. For centuries, men have known this, but it took Leonardo da Vinci’s genius to enable man to move along th
e line, backward or forward. Do you begin to see that, Nick?”

  “Or allow the objects to move to you,” Hawke added, “like this chest you found on the beach, lad, like this chest sitting right here. It has moved along the track to you. That’s how you came to find it there on the beach. Even as you so rightly said, it could not have washed ashore. It didn’t, lad. It moved along the track. That’s why we call it a ‘traveler.’ It’s traveling through time. This traveler is a wooden box. But human beings can travel, too.”

  “But, that’s not possible, is it? That’s just not p-possible, is it?” Nick stammered, but he really didn’t know what to believe anymore. He buried his face in his hands. He had the bewildering feeling he didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t anymore.

  Hawke sat down and took Nick’s hand in his, looking into his eyes with a depth of feeling Nick had not seen in them before. Even when the name Billy Blood had hung in the air above the table like a dreadful curse.

  “Oh, it’s possible, my boy,” Hawke said. “Believe me, it is more than possible. It is real. Hobbes and I have been delving into the notion of time travel for years. But, until today, we simply didn’t have the proper equipment. There is an entire laboratory in my cellar, filled with our complex and utterly failed experiments. But, don’t worry, lad. It’s all right. After a while, this notion of traveling in time will become as real to you as sailing your boat around the island.”

  “How?” Nick cried, feeling the frustration welling up inside. “How can that be? Please tell me how that can be!” Time travel? It was unthinkable. Wasn’t it?

  The two men looked at each other and back at Nick.

  “The answer is inside the chest, laddie,” Hobbes said, gently, with real compassion for Nick’s confusion and frustration. It was a frustration he and Lord Hawke had been living with for five long years. They could hardly expect the boy to just accept what they were saying at face value. Hawke put a consoling hand on Nick’s troubled head. Nick lifted his head and looked into Hawke’s eyes, which were clear and blue like a child’s, and with a child’s large, unblinking gaze.