“Did
you see it?” Derek asked softly. Nick
nodded. “What do you think we should
do?”
Nick
shrugged. “Depends why he wants the
meet,” he replied.
“We
won’t know that until we meet with him.”
“Not
necessarily. You got the note. Why don’t you try using that special talent
of yours?”
Derek’s
expression was uneasy. “I have
tried. Several times, in fact.”
Nick
frowned. “And ..?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. It’s as if .. I no longer possess it. And, strangely, I feel as if I’ve been blinded. As if my mind’s been crippled. Maybe .. it’s because I haven’t yet been
born.”
“Or
maybe you left it behind on the Shamrock.
Maybe it doesn’t dimension jump as easily as your body,” Nick suggested,
deliberately light-hearted. “It could
be like a fine wine – doesn’t travel well.”
Derek
smiled at the effort his companion was making.
“Maybe.”
“All
I’m saying is .. maybe, once we get home, you’ll be back to normal.” Nick glanced sideways. “Or as normal as only you can be.”
“Thank
you, Nick, for those kind words,” Derek dryly acknowledged.
“You’re
welcome,” Nick said with a huge grin.
Chances like this came so rarely that he couldn’t not take advantage of
them.
“So,”
he went on, “are we meeting with Paul or not?”
“I
wish I knew why he needs this,” Derek muttered.
“If
you’re that uneasy, you meet with him, I’ll hang loose outside,” Nick offered.
“It’s
an option,” Derek agreed. “I’d prefer
to have you there.”
“Look
.. if he asks you about the future, you don’t tell him. Period.
Lie if it’s the only way to get him off your back. I’ll be right outside an’, if you need me,
signal an’ I’ll come straight in.”
“As
only you know how.”
“Right,”
Nick said, grinning again.
Derek
slowly nodded. “I’d best go then. Right outside?”
“Absolutely,”
Nick confirmed. “I’m armed, ready an’
good to go.”
Friday,
September 28, had dawned hot and, an hour after dawn, was stifling. The air was so still. Heat was rising from the sea in shimmering
waves. The random, erratic breeze had
died totally. Sailors sat around on the
upper deck, sweating, panting for breath.
It was, they felt, like being in the waiting room to Hell.
The
main deck was like the inside of an oven.
The night watch tried to sleep, sprawled half naked in their
hammocks. Flies buzzed around. There was an overpowering stink of rancid
sweat mingled with the stench of the bilge.
What it must be like in the hold, Derek could only guess. A hundred times worse, at the very
least.
“I’ll
be kinda glad when the storm does hit,” Nick remarked. “Few bodies around here could use a good
shower.”
“Us
included,” Derek commented, wrinkling his nose. “Do you think a beard would suit me? Make me look respected and distinguished?”
“Depends
who you’re trying to impress,” Nick said.
“Other Legacy guys .. sure.
Guaranteed. Women .. no way.”
“I
have an appointment with my shaving kit then.”
“Think
I might keep mine,” Nick went on, rubbing both palms over his chin, then
scratching at his new beard.
“And
I think you should ask Peri’s opinion on that,” Derek responded as he
approached the open door to Paul’s cabin.
Nick
halted. “You saying it doesn’t suit
me?” He sounded hurt.
“It
depends who you’re trying to impress,” Derek replied, smiling slightly, getting
his own back. “Wait here.”
Nick
watched him go in. “I’m not trying to
impress anyone,” he muttered to himself.
“I just thought, y’know, a change of image. Grow my hair a little ...
It is California.”
Derek
went to the desk and checked the time.
Paul was pacing, anxiously checking his pocket watch. Derek moved the pencil a little and Paul
halted.
“Are
you here?”
‘Yes,’
Derek wrote.
Paul
quickly moved to shut the door and, his back to Derek, turned the key and
removed it. Nick, outside, was watching
and he frowned at the suddenly stealthy behavior.
Paul
turned back and approached his desk.
“Derek .. I have a grave matter on my conscience,” he began
quietly. “You say this is history to
you but it isn’t to me.”
‘I
cannot do anything to help you change what is my past,’ Derek wrote quickly.
“That’s
as may be, sir,” Paul responded, “but I still need to know. When you found the wreck .. are you sure it
is this ship?”
‘We
saw the name on the stern. Santa
Theresa.’
“And
its condition?”
‘Broken
into three pieces.’
Paul
closed his eyes, swallowing as a wave of physical pain hit him.
“She
died in agony,” he whispered. “Derek ..
tell me, please, I have to know. Do the crew survive?”
‘I
don’t know that,’ Derek wrote after a moment’s consideration.
Paul
read the words. “Is that the truth of
it or are you concealing it to spare yourself and damn me?”
‘It
is the truth,’ Derek replied. ‘When we
set out to investigate the reports, we didn’t know the name of the ship. Therefore, we couldn’t investigate anything
about her, or her crew and officers, or what happened to them after the
wreck. When Nick and I found this ship
on the seabed, it was in three pieces.
We went into this part, the stern.
We found one skeleton and that’s all.
No others. No wreckage of
boats. Just this ship and one
skeleton.’
Paul
nodded. “What of the cargo? The passengers, in the hold?”
‘We
were unaware of any passengers until we came here.’
“That
doesn’t answer my question!” Paul hissed.
“The door is locked, Derek. I
will not release you until you tell me what I must know.” He pulled his
pistol from his belt. “I will shoot if
I have to.”
Derek’s
head reared up and he looked over Paul’s shoulder to Nick who was standing
alert by the door.
“Can
you hear me?” he called.
“Five
by five,” Nick replied, frowning. The
muscle along his jaw was jumping.
“He
has a gun aimed more or less in my general direction,” Derek reported.
“Door’s
locked. You want me to bust it?”
“Not
yet. The situation has .. deteriorated
but it isn’t yet lost completely. Be
ready though.”
Derek
picked up the pencil again. ‘What do
you want to know? If I can tell you, I
will. If you are honest with me about
your reasons for knowing, I will do what I can. If you shoot me, Nick will tell you nothing and I will be unable
to cooperate further.’
The
First Officer lowered his pistol but didn’t put it away. “I was against this from the very start,” he
murmured. “I should have objected. I didn’t.
Carrying passengers in the hold .. it was what they wanted. We didn’t
force it upon them. Sealing them in
down there .. that’s wrong. The Captain
won’t order a change of course. We are
unlikely to reach Monterey .. and, if what you say is true, we are facing
disaster in less than one week.”
He
hesitated, shaking his head. “I don’t
want to die, Derek. I don’t want my
crew to die. Most of all, I do not want
the passengers to die. We are free men,
able to come and go as we will. We can
take to the boats and escape. We can
swim if we must. Those souls down below
are trapped and I will not stand by
and let them drown. Now I ask you
again, what is their fate?”
Although
Paul couldn’t see him, Derek was frowning.
Maybe this was the reason for
a century of haunting the Central Coast.
Passengers – demonic or otherwise – smuggled onto the Santa Theresa for
a vast sum of money, then abandoned to die trapped in the hold. It would fit the requirements for haunting –
concealed information, a need for justice, unfinished business, and violent,
unexpected death.
But
Derek couldn’t answer Paul’s question.
‘I
don’t know,’ he repeated and, from the corner of his eye, he saw the pistol
start to rise. He continued to write
quickly. ‘The keel and the hold were
embedded in sand. The lower deck was
clear and accessible but we could go no farther. That is the truth, Paul.
I do not know what happened to the passengers. I would tell you if I did.’
“Then
I am still ignorant,” Paul muttered.
Derek
thought back to the dive. It seemed a
lifetime ago, not five days. He
remembered seeing the stateroom, finding one china plate. The table tossed to one side. He remembered the cannon. The benches and tables. The lower deck had been empty.
‘The
hatches were open,’ he wrote suddenly.
Paul
stared at these words. “Open? Are you sure?”
‘Yes. I remember we thought at the time it was
strange. In a storm of that severity,
the hatches would be closed. They
weren’t.’
“Then
they escape.” Paul felt a weight slide
from his shoulders. “If it has happened
in your past, it will happen in my future.
Thank you, Derek.” He put the
pistol on the desk and took the key from his pocket. “Forgive me, I did not want to threaten. I am a desperate man, fast running out of
time and options.”
‘I
understand.’
Paul
unlocked the door. Nick immediately
opened it and came in. “You okay?”
“I’m
fine,” Derek replied as Paul closed the door again. “Diplomacy and some straight talking saved the day.”
“Bullet
wound from that at close quarters, that’d be nasty,” Nick commented, coming to
his side. He glanced out the porthole,
squinting thru the impossibly bright glare.
He stiffened. “Derek!”
Derek
turned sharply. “What is it?”
“Alex!” Nick was pointing, his hand trembling.
They
stared down at the motor launch. It was
ghostly, shimmering, and just ahead of them.
They could see Alex on the top deck, pointing back at them, her eyes
wide. Her other hand was beckoning to
someone, and she was shouting.
“We
gotta go!” Nick urged, racing for the door.
Derek was right on his heels.
Behind
them, Paul felt the tiniest breath of breeze, and watched the pencil roll from
the desk onto the frayed rug beneath.
Nick
didn’t care about sidestepping or taking avoiding action; he pushed past
people, shouldering them out of his path, took the steps fast and hurtled
across the upper deck to the rail.
Derek, coming along behind, saw men pick themselves up, frowning,
muttering darkly, and looking around with wary, scared eyes. He didn’t particularly care either. He was about to leave this ship and return
to his life.
Nick
was climbing onto the rail, preparing to dive overboard, when Derek arrived.
“Nick! Wait!” he cried, grabbing wildly at the
younger man’s arm and hauling him back to safety.
“But
– ” Nick began.
“It’s
gone.”
Nick
swung back, staring. The launch had
vanished, shimmered back into the twenty first century.
“No!”
Nick yelled, his voice as tortured as his face. He pounded a fist on the railing and turned away. “Dammit!
We were so close!”
“Yes,
we were. But .. let’s be positive about
this.”
“Positive,”
Nick repeated flatly. “Yeah, okay, why
don’t we be positive? Gee, I can’t see
anything to be positive about!”
“I
can.”
Nick’s
outburst simmered slowly into resentment.
Derek’s calmness was like a smothering foam on a fire.
“One,
Alex has figured it out. She is
shadowing the course of the ghost ship.
Exactly what we need her to do, and exactly where we need her to be. More than that, did you see the launch?”
“Yes. I saw the launch,” Nick confirmed in a flat,
strained voice which indicated his temper was only just under control.
“Ah,
but did you see it? It’s the Shamrock, Nick. The launch we were on when we were hit and
taken,” Derek continued. “Alex has been
to Morro Bay, investigated, talked with Zeke Jordan, examined the launch. It is a link to us, and one she is
using.” Derek nodded. “Well done, Alex! Excellent work.”
“So
what?” Nick demanded belligerently.
“We’re still stuck a century in the past! If you hadn’t taken so long talking with Paul, we could’ve been
on our way home!”
Derek
could have rightly risen to that challenge.
It was unfair of Nick to react by accusing his Precept but Derek knew it
came from disappointment and frustration rather than genuine if misplaced
anger.
“Possibly,
yes, that is true,” Derek agreed. “But
we don’t know that, not for a fact. The
launch may only just have appeared when you saw it. And .. even though it was there, we might not have been able to
actually return to it. We might have
dived overboard and swum with all our strength, and even reached it, only to
find it is, at this moment, only a ghost. An apparition. One we can see but cannot touch.
What then? Swim after the Santa
Theresa? Try to find a way to get back
on board? Nick, I know you are
disappointed. So am I. But .. I really do think there is a reason
for us to be here. Why were we taken in
the first place? Think about it,” Derek
invited.
“Wrong
place at the right time,” Nick replied, his voice almost back to normal. Now it just sounded a little dull and
subdued.
“We’ve
seen true ghosts but we’ve never been able to physically interact with them
before. And it is this ship which is
the ghost, not necessarily the people on board. The ship is real to us.
The people .. are like phantoms.
They look real but they can’t see us.
We can .. walk on the deck, we have to open the doors, we consume the
supplies. But we can’t speak directly
to the people.”
“We
can push ’em out the way,” Nick recalled.
“Yes,”
Derek agreed heavily. “And that, I
believe, has caused some considerable damage.
There will be rumors circulating about what you did, and tension is
already high. To return to the point
I’m making – I believe we were in the right
place at the right time. We were taken
for a reason, Nick. It wasn’t until I
was .. speaking with Paul that I discovered what it might be.”
“Does
it mean .. we have to stay here till the end?”
Derek
thought then nodded slowly. “I believe
it will. We are here to .. learn or do
something and, once we have learned or done, our purpose will be over. Until that time, we will not be released
from this trap. So .. we may see Alex
many times between today and the end but we will not be permitted to leave and
return to our lives. We can jump and
swim, and still be trapped a century from home. If we commit ourselves to seeing this thru – and when have
members of the Legacy ever done otherwise – I believe we will be in the right
place at the right time again. The ship
will let us go.”
“Or
we could die.”
“We
could,” Derek conceded, “but I choose to be positive.”
Nick
nodded and sighed. “I’m glad you pulled
me back.”
“So
am I. I have no one else to talk to,
argue with, bounce ideas off, and act as my bodyguard.”
Nick
hesitated. “I’m sorry I tore into
you. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t deserve it.”
Derek
put a hand on Nick’s shoulder.
“Accepted. Disappointment can be
overwhelming and can crush the most resilient spirit, and they do not come more
resilient than yours.”
Nick
hesitated again while he dealt with his emotions and got them straightened
away.
“Okay,”
he said at last, “so .. why are we here?
What did Paul tell you?”
“The
passengers, the cargo. No one knows who
they are, or what they are, or, more importantly, what happened to them. The wreck we found was deserted. We only saw one skeleton. The hold is buried in the sand. Are they still in there? Did they drown? Were they left there deliberately when everyone else
escaped? Paul wanted to know their fate
and I couldn’t tell him. He is
concerned for them, Nick, when the storm strikes. All I could tell him was that we found the hatches open. He is relieved because he now thinks they
will have a chance to escape the wreck.
But they may not have done that.
We have to find out about them.”
Derek
squeezed Nick’s shoulder again. “Come
on. We have some damage to assess below
and reparations to make.”
Nick
nodded. “Should be interesting.”
*****
Nate
Tucker was scared and furious. He’d
spent much of the preceding day, evening and night talking down rumors, and
failing. It was tough to tell men there
was nothing to be scared about when the fear came thru in your voice. He’d talked and talked. They didn’t believe him. Now he was in the First Officer’s cabin and
walking up and down. Only seven steps,
not even strides, took him from porthole to door.
“Nate
– ”
“Sir,
we have big problems on this ship! I
don’t know how much longer I can control these men. Ghosts on the lower deck .. that’s bad enough, but no one goes
down there. But they’re up here now,
walking among the crew!”
“I
know.”
Nate
continued walking and muttering, and then halted. He turned to stare. “You know ..?”
Paul
looked embarrassed and shrugged uneasily.
“I’ve seen them. Spoken with
them.”
“What?”
Nate was horrified at how Paul Delacroix could be so calm.
“Nate,
I’ll tell you but it stays between us, all right? No further than these four walls. Not even the Captain knows what I shall tell you.”
Mutely,
the First Mate nodded.
Paul
took a deep breath. “They came from the
.. ghost ship the lookouts saw. We
thought as much, the other day. Their
names are Derek and Nick. They say they
aren’t ghosts, but – and I find this difficult to repeat – they are from a
century in the future.”
Nate’s
mouth sagged open. “And you believe
them?”
“At
first, no, I didn’t. Later .. yes. They’re sorry they caused panic yesterday
but they saw their boat and were trying to get back to it. They were in a hurry.”
“Sorry
...” Nate echoed. “Did you say a
century in the future?”
Paul nodded. “I know, it sounds outlandish.
Listen, Nate, the reason I don’t want this spread around .. is they’ve
told me certain things which make a lot of sense. Things I’ve heard from others.
There’s a storm going to hit us tomorrow. It’s going to be very bad.
Mr Farnham has said the same thing.
In fact, this storm is a killer.
The Santa Theresa is going to sink on October 4. They’ve seen the wreck, Nate!” he went on
sharply as Nate began to shake his head and open his mouth to argue. “They’ve been to the seabed and seen this
ship in three pieces. But they didn’t
find any wreckage of the boats and .. only one skeleton on the lower deck. I’m assuming we all manage to get away, even
the passengers .. except for one poor soul who goes down with the ship.”
Nate
stood in silence, unable to believe what he’d just heard.
“I
don’t mean to scare you,” Paul continued.
“Mr Farnham has quietly checked all the boats and they are ready. The men are all excellent swimmers. We stand a chance of making it to
shore. It is better to be prepared in
advance, isn’t it, than to be taken by surprise?”
“Yes,”
Nate agreed in a small, distant voice.
He roused himself. “You’ve seen
them?”
“Just
once. Strangely dressed, true, but men
much the same as us.”
“And
spoken with them?”
Paul
nodded. “I cannot hear them but they
can hear us. They tell me the ship is
real to them, and we appear real as well.
They don’t know why we can’t see or hear them.”
“How
did they .. tell you?” Nate frowned.
“I
speak and Derek writes his words.” Paul
went to his journal and removed the sheets of paper. “Here, read for yourself.”
Nate
was reluctant and backed away. “How did
they get here?” he asked.
Paul
hesitated. “We know what happened from
our point of view, Nate. A boat
appeared from nowhere and we hit it. If
you hear it from their side, it’s remarkably similar. Apparently, the Santa Theresa is a ghost ship. She appears to relive the last eleven days
of her life. They were in their boat,
hoping to see the ghost, when it appeared and crashed into them. Next thing they knew, they were on board, a
century in their past. They’re trying
to find a way to return to their own time and place. Here, read it for yourself.”
Nate
took the paper as warily as it were coated with plague and squinted at the
words.
‘Nick
and I are extremely sorry for causing such a disturbance today. While we were in here, we saw our friends
and their boat just a few hundred yards away.
We believed there was a good chance we could go home. We were in an understandable hurry to get to
the upper deck and we didn’t think of the effect our actions would have. Unfortunately, the boat vanished and we are
still trapped on board the Santa Theresa. If there is anything we can do to
make amends, please leave us a message.
Derek.’
Nate
silently handed the paper back and Paul returned them all to his journal. “Are they in here now?”
“I
don’t believe so,” Paul replied.
“That’s
how much he knows,” Nick remarked
from the corner.
“Look
at the other man’s face,” Derek invited.
“He doesn’t believe a word of it.”
“When he leaves, we go too,” Nick
said. “We have to get access to the
log. Find out who the passengers
are. It’s either that or we cause more
panic by physically moving one of the sentries an’ going down there to see for
ourselves.”
Derek
slowly nodded. “When the Captain is
eating his lunch, I suppose, would be the best time.”
“Thank
you for taking me into your confidence,” Nate said. “I won’t tell another living soul.”
“Nate,
they are not ghosts drifted up from
the hold. Set your mind at rest over
that,” Paul urged. “They are just souls
trapped in time.”
“And,
by that definition, we are ghosts,” Derek agreed.
“When
will they leave?” Nate inquired.
Paul
shook his head. “I think they’re with
us to the end.”
“Maybe
even longer than that,” Nick commented.
“If you guys abandon ship .. we’ll watch you go.”
“Just
.. tell them, next time you speak,” Nate began, “to keep outta the way. If a storm is coming – ”
“It is. Tomorrow,” Paul cut in.
“Tomorrow,
then we’re gonna be a little busy. We
don’t want to be falling over ghosts from the future who just happen to get in
the way.”
“I’ll
tell them,” Paul replied. “You’re
dismissed, Mr Mate.”
“Here
we go,” Nick breathed, pushing away from the wall.
They
followed Nate out to the main deck and watched him walk away, slowly shaking
his head. Derek frowned.
“I
believe Paul has made his first error of judgment. That man is going to be a problem.”
“What
can he do?” Nick wondered. “No one
would believe him, Derek.”
“I
think that rather depends on who he chooses to tell.”
“They
can’t see us or hear us. It’s hardly as
if they can form a search party to hunt us down.” Nick opened the stateroom door.
“C’mon, we got a logbook to study.”
*****
Captain
Marriott’s lunch was served at precisely twelve forty five. It was a fairly decent and substantial meal,
served on china and it came with a crystal glass of wine and a pewter tankard
of ale, yet it looked decidedly lonely at one end of the huge table. As Marriott left his cabin to eat, Derek and
Nick slipped around behind him and went in.
Nick went straight to the desk, eased open the drawer, and took out the
leather-bound book.
“I
figure we got a half hour max,” Nick said, returning to the door to stand
guard. Derek nodded, going forward
quickly and bending over the log.
He
opened it at the start and began to scan read.
“Southern Mexico ... ” He
flipped on several pages. “Approaching
San Diego ... Ah. Here is where they docked to unload.”
He
read rapidly, his eyes skimming along the neat rows.
Behind
him, Nick leaned an ear toward the door.
His stomach was quietly growling.
Paul had done his best for them but Nick felt he had been put on greatly
reduced rations. The mere sight of the
Captain’s lunch had started an unceasing demand for food.
Derek
frowned. “He doesn’t say who they are.”
“What
does it say?” Nick inquired.
“
‘Having been approached by a messenger, I went ashore to conduct some
business. I have agreed that, as they
themselves have requested, the hold shall be utilized for our voyage home to
Monterey. I did offer them the use of the
lower deck but they say they are a threat to us and the hold would be better
suited. They number thirty, plus ten to
see to their needs. They will bring all
their own food and water. All we must
do is sail them to Monterey. For this,
they have paid five thousand dollars.’ ”
Derek glanced round. “That’s
all. He goes on to say how the ship was
left ready for them, all the crew ordered away. When he returned the next morning, the hatches into the hold were
closed. He ordered them sealed with the
sandbags.”
“Why?”
Nick frowned.
“To
prevent them getting out.”
“But
they wanted to be down there,” Nick pointed out. “It wasn’t as if they were forced. Prisoners, yeah, I could understand it, but prisoner transport
wouldn’t be a big secret. This was voluntary. Why would they want to get outta someplace
they wanted to be?”
“The
obvious answer isn’t always the correct answer,” Derek sighed. “What other reason could there be? The passengers themselves admit they are a
threat to the crew of this ship. If
they are not convicted felons ... ”
Derek thought, frowning deeply.
“Clearly, they are not passengers in the accepted sense.”
Nick
staggered away from the door as it opened abruptly. Captain John Marriott strode in, his eyebrows bristling.
“I
would like to know who you gentlemen are,” he said, his voice rumbling with
distant thunder. “I have seen you
around my vessel for several days now.
As thieves, you leave much to be desired in the ways of stealth and
secrecy.”
“You
can see us .. and hear us as well?” Derek wondered, amazed.
“I
am not deaf, sir. My ears function
equally as well as my eyes.” His gaze
switched to the opened log on his desk.
“What are you? Spies?”
“No,”
Derek replied.
John
Marriott nodded. “Then you must be the
infamous ghosts I have heard so much about.”
“He’s
bluffing,” Nick muttered.
“No,
sir, I do not bluff. My mother is
Emmaline Marriott.”
“The
spiritualist? The Emmaline Marriott who
contacts the dead?” Derek queried. “She
was eminent at the turn of the last century.”
The
Captain’s eyes narrowed. “My mother
still lives. And the century is new.”
“We
are from a hundred years in the future,” Derek replied. “Trapped here by .. a paranormal accident.”
“So
it wasn’t a whale we hit,” Marriott deduced.
“It
was our launch,” Nick responded. “We
just wanna get back.”
“Hmm. I see.
Well, gentlemen, I am Captain John Marriott. Welcome aboard the Santa Theresa. I think it’s time we talked, don’t you?”
*****
Nate
Tucker was convinced now, more than ever before, that the Santa Theresa was
cursed. He’d worked many a passage
under Paul Delacroix’s command and he liked and trusted the man. But it was very clear to Nate that Paul had
snapped. His mind had broken under the
strain. Nate was appalled. What hurt more was that he had no one on
board left to trust. He would do what
he could to protect the First Officer yet his duty lay with the ship and with
the men under his command. Nate went to
speak with Jonas.
“There’s
something I need you to do,” Nate whispered.
“I need you to change places with Harry and, when you’ve done that, I
want you to keep watch on the First Officer.”
Jonas
frowned. “Why?”
“Because
I just ordered you to!” Nate snapped and dragged in a breath. “He’s .. feeling a little unwell. Now, Jonas, listen good to me because this
is important, all right? I need to know
that you understand what I’m talking about here.”
Jonas
nodded.
“If
the First Officer tries to go below,” he whispered, “I want you to remember the
Captain’s orders.” Nate studied
him. “You got that, Jonas? You understand what I’m saying?”
“Aye,
sir,” Jonas said slowly.
“That’s
good. Now, you go change places with
Harry then you stay at your post, no matter what.”
“Aye,
sir.”
Nate
walked away. He’d done what he
could. The man was obviously a lunatic
now, talking about seeing the ghosts and speaking with them. Making up their answers and writing them
down in a different hand. Crazy
man. Crazy men had no place giving orders
on board ships, and especially on ships with a cargo like this one.
Nate
was a man of his time. He believed in
ghosts but he had real trouble believing they were capable of reasoned, logical
conversation. It was easier to believe
his First Officer had gone mad .. so that’s what he believed.
*****
Nick
finished off the last of the Captain’s lunch.
“Thanks. I was hungry.”
“If
it wouldn’t cause distress among the crew, I would have you work your passage,”
Marriott remarked. “But, as it would
distress them, I must see your needs are fulfilled at my expense. This should teach you a valuable lesson,
gentlemen. When boarding a vessel for
the first time, you should make yourself known to the captain. Most of us can negotiate a deal of one kind
or another.”
“You
saw me in here the other day?” Nick wondered.
“Of
course, and in the stateroom.”
“You
said nothing.”
“And
alarm Mr Delacroix? Not to mention
ruining my reputation which has taken years to build? Now, Derek and Nick,” he went on, sounding slightly awkward at
the informality, “I must ask .. and demand you speak the truth in turn .. why
are you on my ship?”
“If
you are familiar with the work your mother does, you will understand when I say
we are .. the modern equivalent,” Derek replied. Marriott frowned slightly but nodded. “In our time, a hundred years from now, this ship is .. the ghost
we were investigating.”
“It’s
haunted this stretch of coast for a century,” Nick went on.
Marriott
nodded again. “So this coming storm is
a killer.”
“We
must assume so,” Derek answered. “The
Santa Theresa will sink on October 4 at Lopez Point.”
“Hmm. Do we survive?” Marriott inquired.
“We
found no wreckage of boats on the seabed, no skeletons on board .. save one,
but we could not examine the hold because it was buried in the sand.”
“So
we may take to the boats and survive .. or drown anyway in the attempt. As ever, it all depends on the sea.”
“Yes,”
Derek confirmed.
Marriott
nodded. “So .. you were waiting there,
hoping to see the apparition and ..?”
*****
Ulysses
Farnham came onto the upper deck to check the course and assess the
weather. He was growing heartily sick
of this heat but he wore his uniform as it should be worn – cap on, coat
buttoned. He didn’t have to look aloft
to see the sails hanging from the yardarms and deduce there was no wind, not
even a breath of a breeze, but he did it anyway. Then he studied the shore, looking for landmarks. He made a mental note of their
position. If they had been lost, he
could easily have taken a boat, rowed ashore, found someone to ask, and rowed
back, they were moving so slowly.
Then,
finally, he checked the western horizon.
His throat dried. His mouth
would have dried as well but it was already parched. The horizon was black.
Thick, black, angry clouds dominated the ocean .. and they were getting
thicker, blacker and angrier. And they
were slowly getting nearer.
Ulysses
Farnham crossed himself and began to pray.
Dear Lord, we’re all going to die ...
*****
“The
ship appeared out of nowhere an’ hit us,” Nick responded. “How we managed to end up on board .. is
still unknown. It’s never happened
before, to our knowledge. Wasn’t till
the next day that we found out that no one could see us or hear us. We believed we’d be taken as stowaways, not
ghosts. After that, we came up an’
explored.”
“You
were where?”
“The
lower deck,” Derek replied, “in a storeroom, then we moved to an empty cabin.”
“Did
you disturb any of the hatches?”
“No,
sir,” Nick said.
“That’s
good,” the Captain commented.
“Captain
Marriott, what we don’t know yet is why the Santa Theresa becomes a phantom,”
Derek went on. “A storm can sink a
ship. There are many wrecks along this
coast, but they don’t all become phantoms.
There has to be a reason.”
“That’s
why you were reading the log.”
“Exactly. Looking for answers.”
“You
think it’s because of the passengers,” Marriott said.
“It’s
the most likely reason,” Derek agreed.
“Who are they? Why are they in
the hold at their own request?”
“It’s
really very simple, Derek.” John
Marriott leaned forward. “This is a
plague ship.”