Book 9 Read online

  He walked over to one of the large windows and stood near the drawn red velvet curtains. He smiled as he remembered when he was just a plain member and knew nothing about the club’s ability to time travel until the evening that Prescott Stevens, the club’s past president, introduced him to it.

  Bill looked around the room and saw the many different styles of clothes worn by the members. While many simply wore the style of clothing of the mid-eighteen hundreds, others wore the same type of clothing that their ancestors had worn over one hundred years ago. Standing near the fireplace was Thomas Madden who wore the uniform of an 1865 New York Policeman just as his great-grandfather had when he patrolled the streets of Brooklyn. He was talking with Lindsey Caine who was dressed in the uniform of a nurse just as her great-grandmother had. Two young women walked over to greet them and Bill noted that they were dressed in 1860s high fashion suits and shoes.

  Bill mumbled to himself, “Jane Misone and Ginger O’Leary. Must remember to introduce the new members to the other members over dinner.” Bill watched as John Brand and Lindsey Caine shook hands with the two new members. All is well in the 1800 Club, Bill thought with a grin.

  Matt appeared holding a silver tray with glasses of red and white wine as well as cigars. “Sir, would you prefer red or white this evening?”

  “Red, Matt. And,” he added lifting a cigar from the tray, “a Cuban.”

  Bill took a glass of red wine as Matt deftly cut the tip off the cigar and produced a wooden match. He scratched it on the bottom of the tray and held the flame as Bill puffed it to life.

  “Sir, Messrs. Brand and Perna are near the fourth window.”

  “Ahh, thanks again, Matt. I’ll join them shortly.” He was about to go when Philip Corouso stepped in front of him and gave a small bow from the waist as he said, “Good evening, President Scott. Wonderful news in this evening’s paper is it not, sir?”

  Bill’s eyebrows knotted momentarily as he searched his memory for the article that Corouso would be interested in. It clicked as Bill spotted the crossed cannons on the lapel of his blue Union Army uniform.

  “Yes, Colonel Corouso. From what I remember the army has allocated more funds for artillery and that indeed is good news. Will your outfit benefit by this transaction?”

  The excitement showed on his face as the colonel puffed deeply on his cigar and some of the gray ash fell into his black and gray beard. He flicked at the embers with his free hand as he answered, “Indeed we will, sir. Indeed we will. Why these new canons could well be a war changer.”

  Bill grinned as he remembered thinking about dropping that article and replacing it with a story of a group of women growing gardens to feed their family during the war. Well, he thought as he smiled at the colonel, I not only made one of the club members happy but I also have an article for the next issue that should be agreeable to the gardening members

  “That could make an interesting topic at tonight’s dinner table, Colonel.”

  “Indeed it will, sir. Indeed it will.”

  “Now, colonel, you must excuse me for I must chat with some of the members.”

  Colonel Corouso clicked the heels of his boots and the slight bow he did had the sound of a wind chime as the medals pinned to his chest clinked against each other.

  John Brand and Rocko Perna were sipping wine and enjoying their cigars as they stood by one of the windows. Both men were dressed in period clothing. John was wearing the blue uniform of a Captain of the Union Balloonist Division as denoted by the silver balloon pin on his breast. It was the same medal his great-great grandfather wore when he was a balloonist for Thaddeus Lowe during the Civil War. Rocko Perna wore the white jacket and blue pants of a 1860s Schooner captain, a white captain’s cap under his arm. John’s six-foot, one hundred and ninety pounds gave him a towering appearance over Rocko’s five-foot eight inches, one hundred and fifty pound frame. John’s blonde hair was also in contrast to Rocko’s dark complexion and black hair. Both men had grown up on the same street in Brooklyn, New York and both had traveled back on a mission for the club.

  “Gentlemen,” Bill said as he greeted the two members who also were his friends.

  “Greetings, President Scott,” they said in unison.

  “Cheers,” said Bill as he offered his drink in a toast. The three friends touched glasses and took a sip.

  “Anything new?” asked John with a slight wink and shrug of his wide shoulders?”

  Knowing that he was asking if there was a trip in time coming up, Bill did a small nod as he looked around. Finding nobody close enough to hear he answered, “I’m on a trip tomorrow morning.”

  “Lucky you. Where to?” asked Rocko.

  “England, 1897.”

  “Awww,” said John with a cringe, “Nice time. No war or pirates to disrupt an ocean cruise.” He took a sip of his wine and went on, “I’m jealous.”

  Rocko squinted in thought, “1897. You know I’m pretty sure that the Queen of England had a naval review that year.”

  Bill nodded, “Yes. June 26 at Spithead. They called it the Diamond Jubilee and the entire fleet passed by in review.”

  Now sure of his facts Rocko added, “I’m pretty sure that’s when the Turbinia shocked them all by speeding by all the top navy ships.”

  Bill shook his head, “Rocko, is there anything that you don’t know about naval history?”

  John laughed and patted Rocko on his back as he said, “Nope! He is a walking, talking and swimming encyclopedia on anything that goes on with ships.”

  “I know,” said Bill, “I remember the Ronald Reagan mission.”

  “So,” said Rocko with one eyebrow lifted in mock anger, “how come I’m not going on this mission?”

  “Aw, Rocko, It’s a slam dunk. Nothing to do with boats. He falls off the dock and . . . well, he doesn’t come back up. Someone has to be there to grab him before he falls or jump in and rescue him. My training with the SEALs gives me the edge we need.”

  “Next time?” asked Rocko.

  “Guarantee,” answered Bill.

  John cleared his throat, “Hurumph,”

  “I mean,” said Bill, “both of you guys are on my list to make the next trip back providing both your specialties are needed.”

  Both John and Rocko slapped Bill on his back as John said for them both, “Bill, you know that we’re pulling your chain. We certainly wouldn’t want to just go on any mission. It has to be one that puts the odds in our favor.”

  A door opened at the far end of the room and Matt appeared. He rang a small silver bell and announced, “Dinner is served,” he stepped back into the dining room followed by the club members.

  The dining room was almost a replica of the great room they had just left except the flocked wallpaper was beige and three chandeliers with candles adorning their many branches hung from the high ceiling over the long dining table. The 1845 Herend Porcelain gilded dinnerware was set on a Pink Rose Bud embroidered cross-stitch tablecloth. The pink color reflected off of the 1850 French sterling silver flatware and the 1910 American Brilliant Cut glasses and serving decanters. Seating was not designated and most sat with whomever they had been talking with in the great room. Bill sat at the head of the table with Rocko on his right and John on his left and dinner was served.

  After a dinner of caviar on toast, sliced tomatoes, small cuts of broiled salmon, tenderloin of beef aux champignons, coffee jelly with whipped cream, and three wines, most had coffee and left before midnight.

  Bill sat with John and Rocko enjoying their wine as Bill told them about his upcoming mission.

  “Like you said, Bill,” Rocko said as he swished the wine in his glass, “it looks like an easy one and you are the perfect person for the trip.”

  “I agree,” added John. “Save me a real nice trip.”

  Bill nodded, “You guys will be on one real soon. I promise.”

  The clock struck one and John stood. “Come on, Rocko, let’s give Bill some sleep time before he goes back.”

  Rocko finished his wine and stood. “Right, Johnny Boy. Let’s go home.”

  Bill walked his two friends to the door. “Good night, guys and thanks for lending an ear. I’ll buzz you both when I get back.”

  The next morning Bill was dressed in a tan three-piece suit, white shirt with a starched collar. He wore a dark brown cravat with a small silver stickpin keeping it down. Matt placed a dark brown fedora on his head, as Samson looked at his reflection in Bill’s dark brown shoes. Bill picked up his valise and said with a smile, “Hey Matt, I’m set to go and the ship doesn’t leave until 4 o’clock so why don’t you change and join me in a beer and burger over in Paddy Diamonds?”

  “An excellent idea, sir. I’ll be dressed in a jiffy. However, the hamburger won’t be invented until 1900.”

  “Ouch!” said Bill at his goof. “Right you are my friend. We’ll have to settle for a steak.”

  Matt grinned and said as he walked out the door, “Not a bad second choice, sir.”

  Bill sat and patted the leather couch for Samson to join him and the beagle was rewarded with a ten-minute belly rub. Matt returned dressed in a snappy gray and white, thin-striped suit and vest. His black pointed shoes were half hidden by the light gray spats. He matched Bill with a white shirt and stiff collar while sporting a black cravat with a small gold stickpin. He placed a black fedora rakishly on his head.

  “Shall we dine, sir?”

  “Yes, Matt. Let’s get the latest news of June 13, 1897 from Paddy Diamond himself.” He opened the door at the rear of his den and after setting the date and time on his Time Frequency Modulator for eleven o’clock, June 13, 1897, he went down the stone stairs. Bill smiled as their footsteps echoed off the red brick walls of the stairwell and mixed with the hissing of the gas lamps. Once in the vestibule at the bottom, he took the key that was around his neck and opened the heavy, steel door to the garden.

  DATELINE: JUNE 13, 1897 PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB’S GARDEN, NEW YORK CITY

  Bill and Matt stepped out to be greeted by the sounds of summer. The garden of the 1800 Club was enclosed by a six-foot high stonewall with an iron gate abutting the sidewalk. The garden was filled with flowers, ferns, vines and various trees and shrubs along with birds, butterflies, frogs, turtles and a small pond located in the corner that had a waterfall feature with goldfish swimming among the Water Lilies and Elephant Ear plants. Both men stopped momentarily to take in the small piece of nature in the city. Bill used the key once again to open the gate and they stepped outside of the garden and onto the gray slate sidewalk of New York. Once outside of the garden the poor quality of the city’s air assailed them.

  “Wow,” Bill said as he covered his nose, “I almost forgot about the smells of the city.”

  They walked two blocks to Diamond’s Bar & Grill and entered. The front and rear doors were open allowing a constant breeze to enter and leave the long bar. There were two groups of men at the end of the bar and Bill and Matt took the corner and sat on two of the high barstools.

  “Bill and Matt!” shouted Paddy Diamond as he walked towards the two time travelers with an outstretched hand. The big man had pure white hair and hands the size of a bear’s. He shook hands with both men and said, “How have ya two guys been doin’?

  “”Great, Paddy,” answered Bill for both of them.”

  “Ya both been outta town or somethin’? I ain’t seen either of ya for at least three weeks.”

  Bill nodded, “Working too hard to get out for lunch but today we decided to get out and eat at Diamonds.”

  “And have a beer too, I hope?”

  “Absolutely! Two tall ones, Paddy.”

  “Comin’ up, gents.” He walked back to the taps and pulled two large beers, came back and placed them in front of Bill and Matt. “What’s yer pleasure, gents?”

  Bill responded and he patted his stomach, “Steak, medium rare with potatoes and onions for me.”

  Matt nodded, “Same here, Paddy, but rare for my liking.”

  They watched as Paddy went down the bar, stepped from behind it and then down a flight of stairs to the kitchen. Within thirty minutes, they were eating and washing it down with a second beer.

  Coffee followed and Bill paid the bill and left a generous tip.

  “Great seein’ ya both, gents. Come back soon.” Paddy said as he shook their hands.

  Once outside it started to rain lightly and they trotted over to a taxi stand. Bill turned to Matt and said as they shook hands, “Take care of the place, Matt and I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  Bill shouted up to the cab driver, “The 32nd street dock, please cabby.”

  The man nodded and pulled a knitted cap down over his ears for protection against the rain. He shouted, “Up Daisy, let’s go now.” He wiggled the harness so it gently caressed the brown horses rump with the result that the horse looked back momentarily and began to walk away from the curb.

  The cabby shouted down to Bill, “Are ya in a hurry, sir?”

  “Nope. I have an hour.”

  “Fine. On account o’ the cobblestones be slippery with the rain an’ I don’t want ‘ol daisy breakin’ a leg.”

  The slow ride gave Bill more time to see the city go by and he alternated between sliding the glass window down to see the sights and back up as the rain increased. The streets were alive with children playing all sorts of games as well as gambling on card games. Cats and a stray dog here and there would get into the refuse left against the sides of buildings and after a short time the sidewalk was covered with trash and the people had to take their chance by stepping into the street with carriages splashing through puddles. Besides the trash and splashing there was the ever-present horse waste that they had to dance around.

  Boy, thought Bill as he watched New York of 1897 go by, these are sights that are not shown in the history books.

  In a short time the words, “Dock ahead, sir,” was shouted down to him. The cabby pulled up as close to the admittance area as he could and as Bill popped out of the cab he pulled his hat off and said, “Hope ya enjoyed yer trip, sir. That’ll be thirty-five cents.”

  Bill handed him a dollar and said, “I truly did enjoy the trip and I commend you on the good treatment you show your horse.” He held up his hand as the cabby fished for change, “Keep the change, sir and have a good day.”

  The cab driver’s mustache curled up as he smiled and pocketed the dollar. He gently stroked Daisy to a walk as Bill hefted his valise and headed towards the steamship line.

  The building was painted a gloss white and the words; WHITE STAR LINES were painted in a glossy blue. Bill entered the double doors and shook some rainwater off his hat. A young man dressed in a white jacket and blue pants fixed his blue bow tie and almost lost his white cap as he rushed to take Bill’s valise.

  “Please sir, allow me,” he said taking it.

  “Thank you, sir.” Bill followed him and saw the line of passengers entering through a wide door in the side of the building. They all stopped at a large desk and allowed another man dressed in blue and white to inspect their passenger tickets. The young man stopped in front of the desk and tipped his hat as he returned the valise to Bill. “Have a nice trip, sir.”

  Bill nodded his thanks and passed the ticket-master his ticket. The man smiled as he ran his chubby finger down a list of names, stopped and after checking the serial number, ran a line through it with a stubby pencil.

  “You may board, Mister Scott. Your cabin is 109. Have a good trip, sir.”

  Bill thanked him and went up the enclosed walkway and entered the ship. As he stepped into the interior a group of officers greeted him. The four of them were dressed in white uniforms that enhanced their deep tans.

  “Greetings, sir,” said the youngest of the group as he pointed to an older man with a white beard and mustache. “Please allow me to introduce Captain Edward Smith.”

  The captain offered his hand and said, “We of the White Star Line wish you a pleasurable trip, sir.”

  Bill was dumbfounded. First at the officers that seemed to greet all of the passengers and secondly that he met Captain Edward Smith who would be the captain of the Titanic. He walked to his cabin almost in a trance, as he knew he couldn’t say a word about the Titanic.

  Bill’s cabin was the ninth one from the bow of the ship on the port side. He opened the door and thought as he stepped in, Boy they went overboard with the decor back in these times. Then again, he pondered as he placed his valise on the high bed, the thought back then was to make each cabin as good or better than any of the most expensive hotels available for the rich. He made a mental picture of the cabin to tell Matt, John and Rocko about. The large, over-sized bed was the main piece of furniture in the cabin and it was flanked by two writing tables, one of which had ink, pen and paper on it while the other had newspapers and brochures on it. Over each table was a swivel oil lamp fixed in the wall. A closet was to the right of the bed and the door after that led to a small, but very ornate, washroom complete with toilet and running hot and cold water. The walls of both rooms were tastefully covered in flocked wallpaper depicting flowers and birds, but it was the wood trim that captured the feel of an expensive hotel room. It was painted white and had gold edging throughout. While the washroom had white and blue tile flooring, the main room had hardwood with two, deep blue rugs: one to the right of the bed and the other in the corner of the room anchoring a white rattan table and four wicker chairs with deep soft cushions. Against one wall was a large white rattan six-drawer dresser. The room was lit with the summer sun, as the window was large and open with the linen curtains pulled back.

  The time traveler locked the door behind him and put his clothes away. He then pulled the curtains closed and gently took the hairbrush and sat at the writing table. Bill pushed down on the wooden handle and it swung open to reveal a small communicator with keyboard. He typed in:

  HI MATT. ALL’S WELL. I’M ABOARD THE MAJESTIC AND IT IS MAJESTIC INDEED! SEND ME A MESSAGE TO INSURE THAT THE COMMUNICATOR WORKS AS ADVERTISED. REGARDS, BILL. He pressed the send button and got a green light.